#and there is beating the audience over the head with the idiot club

[blackchantilly]

Tagged by @rivetgoth to do my URL as song titles! Like in an acrostic way. Hold on, because once I start talking about music it's hard for me to shut up!

B - "Breathe" by Night Sins - One of my favorites of theirs. The new single has reminded me that I was obsessed with them throughout 2022 and part of 2023. Their music is pretty derivative, in the best way -- many of their songs sound like they were perhaps based on certain classic goth-adjacent songs. This one makes me think of "This Time of Night" by New Order.

L - "Life Itself" by Glass Animals - We first heard this song live in 2016, maybe a week or two after it was released. The show was fantastic. Their second album hadn't come out just yet (let alone "Heat Waves"!) and so nearly all of the songs we heard were from their first album, which I WORE OUT in 2014. But this song made an immediate impression. Somehow everyone in the audience apart from us already knew all the words, lol. I remember hearing everyone sing along and asking Brock, "What is this song and how does everyone know it?" but dancing like an idiot anyway. Eight years later I'm still not tired of it.

A - "Atlas Air" by Massive Attack - I have been trying to convince people that this album (Heligoland) had good songs on it, and I've been using this as a prime example. It's a perfect slow burn at nearly eight minutes long. I love the Middle Eastern influences that echo the subject matter and the explosive payoff of the outro.

C - "Cowgirl" by Underworld - A club classic for a reason! I have other favorite Underworld songs nowadays, but this one always goes over really well on the dance floor. Another excellent slow burn. Such good vibes and everyone loves it. You probably know it from Hackers, lol.

K - "Komboloy" by A-Head - I guess this is an X Marks the Pedwalk side project? I've only ever heard it in clubs in OKC, but it's another one that always gets people on the dance floor. My best friend heard it in my car one time and said the vocalist "woke up and decided to sound like a monster from the Labyrinth." I can't deny it.

C - "Close (to the Edit)" by the Art of Noise - I will die on the hill of referring to this song as EBM, lol. I first heard this on VH1 Classic and mostly remembered it because of the weird video. Heard it at a club in Tulsa a few years ago and was reminded that the song is also super cool. Later I found out it was also huge in '80s breakdancing circles, which is interesting to me with all the car sputtering, chainsaw noises, and the heavier beat.

H - "Happy up Here" by Royksopp - This is what the inside of my head sounds like when I'm staring off into space.

A - "Alive in the Night" by Sacred Skin - I love how danceable this band is, which is why it's funny that this is my second favorite of their songs. It is not danceable. It's like a goth power pop ballad. But the chorus gives me major goosebumps and I'll be damned if I can resist singing along in the car. Has one of my favorite bridges, too!

N - "New Decision" by Manufacture - A new favorite! IT'S SO CATCHY. I want this to be a club hit, but alas, it's 33 years old and that has not happened yet to my knowledge. I only heard it because I heard a couple of songs by this band and decided on a whim to listen to their two albums. Synthpop from the '90s is so tragically overlooked.

T - "True Colours" by Kite - One of my spring 2022 songs which means it's sometimes a little hard to listen to -- I was in the middle of a major crisis at the time, and the song is sad enough as it is. But this is my favorite example of Kite's DENSE synthscapes and brooding vibes. Listen when you're feeling wistful but like in a depressed way, lol.

I - "Iris" by TR/ST - Actually my favorite song by them! Now that I think of it, it's not dissimilar to the last song as it has the really thick-sounding synths, slow pulsating beat, and kind of bittersweet vibe. I WILL attempt to dance to it if I hear it played out (which has happened exactly once) even though it's like 90 bpm.

L - "L'appel du Vide" by Actors - I generally like them, but this song in particular is SO catchy and upbeat despite the darker lyrics. It is always getting stuck in my head. When people ask for examples of good newer post-punk I usually direct them to this song in particular.

L - "Land of Rape and Honey" by Ministry - This is one I've passively liked for a while, but then one of our local DJs started playing it semi-regularly and I remembered it existed and how much I enjoyed it. I've been listening to it a lot this spring. This is slightly on the heavier side of what I would normally listen to, but I adore the mechanical beat and the creatively used string sample. Also I appreciate that it's clearly a dance song and not as rock-oriented as some of the other songs on this album.

Y - "Young" by the Soft Moon - Still really sad about this guy dying. What a loss for the goth/industrial scene. This was one of my very favorites on this album; it really showcased his fusion of the post-punk and industrial genres. The slow, menacing beat is really effective.

I don't usually tag people on these, so if you want to do it then consider yourself tagged!

#(music)

[seijorhi]

Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified. 

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side. 

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to. 

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is. 

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him. 

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there. 

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up. 

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you. 

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe. 

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good. 

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway. 

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them. 

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red. 

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out. 

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back. 

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. 

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it. 

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight. 

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later. 

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now. 

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke. 

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you. 

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you. 

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

[svchengss]

king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

#neoturtles #pretty-neos #nshitty-frathouse #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct winwin #wayv winwin #winwin #dong sicheng #nct x reader #wayv x reader #winwin x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fanfictions #nct 2020 #wayv #nct #nct u #winwin imagines

[heliads]

Breaking Promises

When Julie has to suddenly drop out of a Julie and the Phantoms performance, the role of lead singer falls to her best friend Y/N, as she’s the only other person who can make the boys visible to the world. When Y/N seems betrayed by this, it falls to Luke to figure out why the girl he’s been crushing on seems so hurt.

masterlist

Luke is bent over his guitar, fingers mindlessly strumming the strings. He’s supposed to be tuning the instrument, he knows that, but every time he tries to set himself up for some small task he can’t help but start trying to figure out another song. It’s like he can find music in everything, and sometimes, the call to come up with another few chord variations is too hard to ignore. Especially now, when he should have finished tuning his guitar ten minutes ago.

Well, it’s not like he has a whole lot to do anyway. The different members of Julie and the Phantoms (minus Julie herself) are strewn about the studio. Reggie is lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling. Alex, for some reason, is trying to figure out if he can walk all the way around the room without his feet touching the floor once. His gaze is laser-sharp as he focuses, arms held out for balance as he carefully steps from ottoman to couch cushion.

Luke frowns over at him, attention finally broken from the guitar. “You know, walking on the rug does still count as having your feet touch the ground.” Alex holds up a warning finger. “Actually, the rules are that you can’t touch the floor itself. The rug is not the ground, so I’m fine.” Another voice rings out from across the room. “That’s a lie and you know it. Rugs have never been safe.” Alex folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve been playing The Floor is Lava for decades longer than you, Y/N, so I think I’d know.”

Y/N, however, is undaunted by this. “You can’t pull the age thing on me if you’re wrong. The lava would soak through any rug. It’s an obvious fact.” Alex makes a face at her. “I’m still right about this. Luke, back me up.” Luke shakes his head, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry, Alex. Y/N’s right. Rugs are totally out of bounds.” Alex shoots him a sour look. “Somehow I’m not surprised that you’d pick her side.” Luke’s mouth falls open as Reggie bursts out in laughter. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Y/N’s smiling now as well. “It means that he’s still jealous that we’re right. Pay it no attention.” She turns back towards the notebook in her hands, leaving Alex with the opportunity to look meaningfully between her and Luke. Luke shoots him a glare, which just makes Alex’s grin even broader. Sometimes, Luke wishes he wasn’t in a band with such idiots.

Luke’s irritation begins to fade away when he looks back at Y/N. Her hand is strewn across her lap as she studies her scrawled chemistry notes, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the go. It’s strange- Y/N seems like the perfect person for music. She always knows the beat to a song, and she seems to walk, talk, and breathe melodies just like Luke. Even now, when she’s focusing on her homework, she’s still coming up with drum beats on the fly. It’s astonishing.

Yet every time Luke asks Y/N about music, she always changes the subject. It’s never interested her, she claims, or she has always left that to Julie and Flynn, her two best friends. Those excuses don’t make sense, though- Luke’s been to Y/N’s house before and she’s got piles of sheet music stacked up in the corners, and dusty instrument cases hidden in the attic. Y/N has definitely had a history in music, Luke just can’t figure out why she’s hiding it.

Music isn’t the only mystery lingering around Y/N L/N. She isn’t a ghost, yet she can still see Luke, Alex, and Reggie as if they were all lifers. Luke remembers when they first met- Y/N had been Julie’s best friend, and so she had been inevitably dragged over to the studio to hear the boys perform and prove that Julie wasn’t crazy, just like what happened to Flynn. Unlike Flynn, however, Y/N’s eyes had caught on the boys from the second she walked through the door, even before they had started playing music.

She had greeted them with no problem, and then her easygoing smile had started to fade when she saw the looks of utter confusion on Luke and his friends. A wave of troubled realization crested over her eyes when Julie explained that they were ghosts, as if she knew exactly why she could suddenly see them. Julie had been confused as well, and then she had turned to Y/N with a look of thunderstruck understanding. 

“You can see them because of-” Her voice had cut off and Y/N had nodded quietly. “Yes.” The girls hadn’t said anything more, but Luke can still see the silent sadness that wrapped around both Y/N and Julie before they hurriedly changed conversations. They were clearly hiding something, but Luke doesn’t know what it could possibly be. They haven’t brought it up again, and they seem keen on hiding any possible reasons as to why Y/N has no problems seeing ghosts.

After a couple of minutes, Julie bursts through the door of the studio, out of breath from running to them. She stands in the doorway for a second, looking distinctly panicked. “You guys remember the gig we have planned in a couple of days?” Luke nods, along with the rest of his band. How could he not? It’s a fairly big show, at a premier jazz club. It’s no Orpheum, but it’ll give them some excellent street cred that the band could use to get even bigger.

Julie closes the studio doors behind her, and walks over to the assembled band. “We have a problem.” Y/N’s forehead creases, and she starts to rise out of her chair. “Here, I’ll let you guys talk this over in private.” Yet Julie shakes her head, gesturing for Y/N to sit back down. “Actually, I’m afraid you have to be here for this.” Y/N sits back down, looking troubled. Luke can’t blame her- Julie’s gaze keeps flickering over to her friend with a distinctly guilty expression.

Julie steeples her fingers in front of her. “Something came up with my family and I can’t make it to the show. I know the performance is a big deal, but I can’t miss this thing with my family. The only problem is that the jazz club has a strict policy on band cancellations, and we’ve already missed the window for backing out. We have to perform, but there’s no way I can make it in time.” Luke’s gaze falls. How are they supposed to play if they don’t have Julie? Without her, nobody will be able to see them.

Julie squares her shoulders, as if readying herself for a hardship. “We have to have someone performing with the boys so they can be seen and the club won’t think we’re backing out on them. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be you.” Instantly, Y/N’s gaze drops. “What are you talking about?” Julie holds up her hands as if to defend herself from an attack. “I know how it sounds, but hear me out. You have an incredible voice, and you already know the boys better than anybody else.”

Luke looks over at Y/N, and is surprised to see that she looks distinctly unhappy. Angry, even. Reggie, on the other hand, does not seem to have picked this up. He beams over at her. “Y/N, I didn’t know you could sing! This is going to be so good!” Y/N glares over at Julie. “Judging by the fact that the boys don’t know about this, I’m assuming that this was all your idea. You want me to sing in a band in front of a large audience? Why not ask Flynn, or even Carrie? She would be better for this.”

Julie winces. “I know how you feel, but it’s our only option. The boys have to perform with someone who can see them so they can be visible to the audience. It has to be you.” If looks could kill, Julie would be as dead as Luke. Y/N’s voice is slow and cold. “You know what this means to me. You know exactly what this means to me, and you’re still asking me to do this. I can’t believe you.”

Julie starts to speak again, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. After all, the future of this band is far more important than any of your friends, isn’t it? I know the songs, I’ll be ready. That’s what you really care about.” Y/N stands up, looking down at Julie with an expression of utter loathing. “When you didn’t want to make music because of your mom, I was there. I understood. But the rules only apply to you, don’t they? I will never forgive you for this.” With that, she walks swiftly out of the study, muttering something about needing to be alone.

Luke looks from the slamming door to Julie. “What was that about?” Julie looks sick to her stomach. “I never should have asked her to do this. She’s right, it was a bad idea.” Alex shakes his head, confused. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Y/N having to perform?” Julie just sighs. “It’s personal. If she doesn’t tell you, I don’t think I should either. I’ve already upset her too much.”

Luke gets up slowly. “I’m going to go talk to her.” Before Julie can say a word to stop him, Luke is already poofing out of the studio. He can see Y/N’s figure disappearing around one corner, then two. He follows her slowly, and feels a dull surprise creep over him when he realizes that she is heading towards the cemetery. What could possibly be waiting for her there?

Something in the back of Luke’s head is telling him that this is too personal, and he’s about to witness a scene that was not meant for his own eyes to see. Something else tells him that Luke needs to see this to understand Y/N, and to learn how to fix whatever problem has just split her friendship with Julie down the middle. So, Luke continues to shadow Y/N’s footsteps, always just behind a tree or out of sight when she looks back. He has a feeling that if he is sighted or makes a sound, Y/N will back down from whatever she is about to do.

Eventually Y/N stops moving, and kneels beside a gravestone. It seems fairly recent, not chipped away and eroded like the others. Luke peers closer at the stone and realizes that it’s inscribed with a girl’s name, and the last name is L/N. Also, the death date occurred about a year ago. All of a sudden, Luke realizes who Y/N is visiting. Could this be her sister, a sister that died? Is that why she’s so upset?

Luke’s thoughts stop churning for a second when he realizes that Y/N is speaking quietly to the stone. “Hi. It’s me again. I just had to come here because-” Her voice drops off and she takes a second to collect herself before she begins speaking once more. “I need to apologize. You know that band I’ve talked about before? The one that’s made up of my friends? Well, they have this performance coming up in a few days, and they need me to sing with them because they’re ghosts and I’m one of the only people who can see them. I know how it sounds and everything, but I have no choice-”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she stops speaking. There, standing a few inches in front of her, is a girl. She looks only a couple of years older than Y/N, and even without the inscription on the headstone Luke can tell that this is Y/N’s sister. He can see it in her eyes, the shape of her face. However, unlike Y/N, this girl has a distinctive scowl that never seems to leave her expression, not even for a second. Y/N seems startled at the sight of her sister. “You’re here? I thought-”

Y/N’s sister cuts her off. “What, you thought I wouldn’t be here and so you’d feel okay with pretending everything is fine? We had a promise, don’t you remember? If I have to die and never play music again, you have to uphold the bargain. That’s how it works.” The girl starts walking forward, and Y/N scrambles backwards out of her way. “It wasn’t my choice- I didn’t want to- I have to be there! I tried to argue but there’s no way out of it.” The girl clicks her tongue in disappointment. “I hoped that you would try a little harder. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping my memory? Well, I can think of another way to keep the promise.”

Luke’s head snaps up as he realizes what the girl is about to do. Just before the sister’s arm reaches Y/N, he has poofed into existence in between them, stopping the blow just before it lands. Y/N stares at him. “Luke? Where did you come from?��� Luke flashes her an apologetic smile. “I was trying to find you so I could figure out why you were so upset. I think I get it now, though.” Y/N’s sister huffs an irritated sigh. “Look at you, a friend to the rescue. This doesn’t concern you. The promise is between us.”

Luke shakes his head. “You don’t get to hurt her. Not like this, not in the promise. I want you to leave her alone. Only come back when you’re ready to apologize or treat her better.” Y/N’s sister scoffs. “And why would I do that?” Luke’s gaze grows steely. “Because I have friends who can make you. Have you ever heard of Caleb Covington? He knows me, and if I needed something I know he’d show up.” Y/N’s sister’s gaze falters. “You’re in touch with Caleb?” Luke nods. “I take it you know him?”

The girl looks terrified. “Any ghost who’s anybody knows about Caleb.” Her gaze cuts over to Y/N. “I’ll stop, I swear it. Sing with them. I don’t care. Just don’t set Caleb on my trail.” Luke squares his shoulders. “I won’t unless I have to.” Y/N’s sister fixes him with one last look, then poofs out again, leaving Luke and Y/N alone. Luke offers Y/N a hand, which she takes. She’s shaking slightly, which twists Luke’s heart like a knife. She glances over at him, confused.

“Wait, why did you bring up Caleb? I thought he hated you guys. You talked about him like he was a friend.” Luke spread his hands. “She doesn’t have to know that. I mean, all I really said is that Caleb knows who I am, and he does.” Y/N laughs incredulously. “You were bluffing that whole time? Even I believed you.” The two of them walk out of the cemetery, and only after they’re out on the sunlit sidewalk does Luke finally turn to Y/N once more.

“Was your sister the reason you didn’t want to perform with us at the club?” Y/N sighs. “Yes. We were closer than anything, and we had a little gig going as a joint act. We sang and wrote music together. We had plans of being this great band, and then she died one night in an accident.” Y/N stifles a broken laugh. “When I saw her again, I thought I was hallucinating. Then she broke my window and I realized she was actually there, albeit in ghost form. She made me promise that I would never perform again, because it wouldn’t be fair to her memory. Some part of me knew it wasn’t right, but I was afraid of her, I guess.”

Luke sees the doubt beginning to creep back onto Y/N’s face, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It wasn’t right at all. That promise wasn’t something she could ask of you. That’s not dedication to music, that’s just her controlling her. A real musician would want you to move on and grow. I mean, we all hate Bobby because he stole our songs, not because he kept performing. I mean, I’m proud of him for doing so well, even though he tried to write us out of history. The issue isn’t with you singing, I promise.”

Y/N looks up at him, and Luke feels lost in her gaze. “Thank you for having my back. I know I shouldn’t have blown up at Julie, but I was so upset that she would make me perform that I guess I just lost it.” Luke frowns. “Julie knew about the promise?” Y/N nods. “I dropped out of music class and she wanted to know why. I told her that my sister had died and she didn’t want me to perform anymore, but not about the ghost stuff. Obviously.” A slight smile begins to creep onto her face. “Honestly, I’m excited about performing. I haven’t sung in front of people in a long time.”

Luke returns her smile. “I’m excited to hear you. To be honest, I’ve been hoping to hear you perform for a while.” Y/N’s brow furrows. “You knew I did music?” Luke shrugs. “I knew music was important to you so I took a guess. I know you’ll be amazing.” Y/N laughs. “How do you know that?” Luke leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I just have a feeling.”

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot

[namelessayakashi]

Merlin/Arthur Fic Rec List

This is going to be a long post, so the recs start blow the cut!

I wanted to make a fic rec list!! So, here I am. Should be doing my uni homework that's due tonight but I am a terrible procrastinator.

I will probably make another one later on when I have more time that is more organized, but this one is in no particular order.

Last Updated 23 Sept. 2021

Also, quickly, a big thank you to @kickassfu for the making gif above for this post, ilysm Maf!!

Onto the fics!

Unsaid Love by AeonTheDimensionalGirl

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Return Fic; Angst with a Happy Ending

Wordcount: 4,022

Quick Summary: Songfic for the song Unsaid Emily from Julie & the Phantoms. Follows Merlin through the years as every century on Arthur's birthday more and more of a song is revealed to him when he goes to sleep. [Regency setting fic]

-- I am still not over this fic of @aeonthedimensionalgirl's, this fic is literally incredible. It is so good. I recommend reading it with Unsaid Emily playing on repeat in the background.

The Wisdom Of The Ages by tehfanglyfish

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Fluff; Getting Together

Wordcount: 4,200

Quick Summary: "Saving Arthur while disguised as Dragoon the Great was all well and good until the king decided the old sorcerer deserved a reward. On the run from Arthur, Merlin finds sanctuary in an elderly women's social club. What was supposed to be a one-time visit becomes a regular part of Merlin's week, as he returns each Friday to discuss recipes, commiserate about aches and pains, and lament the state of his love life." - Summary directly from AO3

-- Such a good fic, honestly, like. Merlin befriends Camelot's elderly ladies. Need I say more? It's great.

Forgetful Days by OnceFutureEmrys

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Fluff; Modern AU

Wordcount: 620

Quick Summary: "Arthur is very forgetful. Luckily, Merlin is there to help." - Summary directly from AO3

-- Seriously, @oncefutureemrys this fic is so cute and it's just great, def recommend it

Home in Your Arms by OnceFutureEmrys

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Pining; Fluff; Modern AU

Wordcount: 1,574

Quick Summary: "Arthur is missing Merlin when when he hears someone knocking on the door..." - Summary directly from AO3

-- Yes, another one from OFE, because I love her and her fics. This fic is so sweet, it is a modern University AU!

Ink On A Page by Hisa_Ai

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Pining; Fluff

Wordcount: 2,170

Quick Summary: Merlin writes his feelings on parchment, because if they are on paper, they are just words on a page, and not really his and didn't hold any meaning. One day Arthur notices him writing on one of these pieces of parchment.

-- Literally so beautiful. I loved this fic so much, and I recommend it so much. It is a canon era confessions fic, and it's just so good.

Fool Me Once by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Type: Humor; Magic Revealed; Dark Humor

Wordcount: 18, 728

Quick Summary: "Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic, but can’t seem to kill him. Merlin is just trying to protect Arthur. They become a begrudgingly effective duo. Arthur doesn't understand why they think he isn't noticing this." - Summary directly from AO3

-- I mean, can I just recommend this entire series? Seriously, the series this fic is in is just--excellent. I love this fic. It has Immortal Merlin and Uther Knowing about his magic. Seriously, though, just this series is amazing ahah Exceptionally Exceptional, Calling the Middleman, Returning the Favor, In Which Arthur Lets a Sorcerer Live and Regrets It, just to name a few, are incredible and I definitely recommend reading them.

for my beating heart is far too small for the entirety of my love for you by kickassfu

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Fluff; Established Relationship

Wordcount: 1,566

Quick Summary: Arthur is trying to learn a little magic to surprise Merlin at his coronation after their wedding.

-- So, I actually gave @kickassfu the prompt for this one. And oh my gods. How they did it? So soft, sweet. It is so good, and I 100% recommend you check it out!

That’s my Man by AeonTheDimensionalGirl

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Magic Revealed; Arranged Marriage; Angst with a Happy Ending

Wordcount: 2,287

Quick Summary: "By ancient, prophesied law, Arthur Pendragon must wed Emrys.

Problem is no one knows who they are." - Summary directly from AO3

-- I told you Aeon would be on here again! Love this fic so much. Love magic reveals, love arranged marriages. Seriously, this is great.

the house is flooded (as is his heart) by powered_by_notes

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Domestic Fluff; Return Fic

Wordcount: 2,281

Quick Summary: Arthur leaves to do some work in town, and Merlin runs into a bit of trouble with the cottage and their chickens while he's gone.

-- They have chickens. Enough said. No but really, this is so good, they live in a cottage and they have chickens and I definitely recommend this fic.

Emrys the Really, Truly Terrible by lindenwaverly

Rating: Teens & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Magic Reveal, Emrys Reveal

Wordcount: 15,241

Quick Summary: Arthur has repealed the ban on magic, but Merlin still hasn't come clean about his identity. The issue comes in where, Arthur wants Emrys to be his Court Sorcerer

-- literally. cackled. this is so great, i loved this one. i read it in the morning and do not regret it one bit. some of the dialogue just killed me. it's a great fic, and you should definitely read it.

Arthur Pendragon's Business Judgment Rule by oddishly

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Woke Up Married

Wordcount: 27,459

Quick Summary: "Arthur and Merlin wake up married. Camelot is in the middle of treaty negotiations with a visiting king. It's okay, Arthur has a plan." - Summary directly from AO3

Lord Drake's Bequest by Pennyplainknits

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Type: Modern Era, Fake Relationship

Wordcount: 9,966

Quick Summary: " "To my great-nephew Arthur I bequeath Tintagel Distribution, wholly and without reserve, save for one condition. You must marry, and stay married, for a period of no less than six months. You're a wonderful businessman Arthur, but a full life needs love and companionship, not just a string of affairs. Settle down young Arthur, and your life will be the richer for it." " - Summary directly from AO3

of all things magic, a cerulean haze by powered_by_notes

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: None Apply

Type: Magic Reveal

Wc: 7,092

Summary: "When Arthur goes missing, Merlin goes off on his own searching for him. He knows to look for things that the others simply do not and has things at his disposal that the others, again, simply do not.

. . .Magical things, of course.

In all his power, worry, anger, and relentless searching, he has no idea the missing king is being shown all the things that Merlin is doing with that power.

. . .Magical things, of course." - Summary directly from AO3

-- Loved this sm. Gods, I was supposed to read this ages ago, but only FINALLY just found the time to last night and it was so great. Arthur is kidnapped while out doing smth for Merlin and it's just really good.

On the Run by Sorceressofdragons

Rating: E

Archive Warnings: None Apply

Type: Modern AU

Wordcount: 18,155

Summary: After an unsuccessful attempt on their lives, new neighbours Arthur and Merlin decide to take off into the woods. Their destination is Morgana’s country estate, but these two city boys don’t know anything about survival—so if the foxes don’t get them, the lack of Monster Munch might. Featuring sex mishaps, weird food, walking in circles, and some obligatory cuddling. Oh, and Merlin is hung. - Summary directly from AO3

-- fucking KILLED me. This was just -- it was great. Literally, from the start I SWORE i knew the who and why only to discover I was totally off with the *why* and it was fantastic.

Hear Your Heart Sing (Love, Love, Love) by schweet_heart

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: None Apply

Type: Soulmate Au, Modern Au

Wordcount: 15,834

Summary: Merlin used to like the idea of finding The One – until he fell in love with Arthur Pendragon. Now he has a boss he can't date (but can't stop thinking about), a soulmate he can't find (who has terrible taste in music), and a best friend who can't believe he still hasn't got his act together (even though it's seriously not his fault).Sometimes, life is unfairly complicated, even without your soulmate singing painfully catchy tunes in the back of your head. - Summary directly from AO3

-- This one was just great. The soulmates, the songs, the misunderstandings--it was great. I loved this one.

Note to Idiot by tinylilremus

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warnings: None Apply

Type: Harry Potter AU, Modern AU

Wordcount: 9,762

Summary: Arthur and Merlin are members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad who work different shifts and share the same office. Arthur, who works the day shift, can't stand the rain. Merlin, who works the night shift, can't concentrate without it.

When they both get tired of changing the weather in the magical window in their underground office, is there a more British way to settle their differences than with a few passive-aggressive memos? - Summary directly from AO3

-- HP AU! A Ministry AU at that! I literally. I loved this so much. Merlin & Arthur are both in the AMRS, different shifts, and it's just hnsdsjdkh it's so good. Really, it's great. And we get to see them on the job a bit!!! Which is fun. This one is def a great one to read, esp if you like HP AUs

as stated previously, this list is being frequently updated with more fics!!!

#merlin #arthur #merthur #bbc merlin #fic rec #fanfic rec #fic rec list #not my fics #merlin bbc #merlin fanfic #merlin fanfiction #fanfic rec list #merlin/arthur #angst #humor #fluff #modern era #AU #alternate universe #long post

[narukoibito]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Am I Your Lockscreen?

Summary: Harry misplaces his phone.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This took absolutely forever (months!), but here it finally is. Thanks for the ridiculous prompt Anon. This is complete, unadulterated fluff. It’s ridiculous, and I just can't. Haha, I hope you enjoy!

*

Harry was in the middle of stifling a yawn when he heard the rumbling downstairs.

Must be Fred and George, he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let them fall back on the cot, with a content, food coma induced sigh. He was thinking about taking a little kip when Ron stirred on the bed beside him.

“Sounds like Ginny’s home early,” Ron grumbled.

“Ginny’s home?” Harry perked up, only to cough self-consciously at the strange look Ron gave him. Right, best mate’s little sister, he reminded himself. Except she was so much more than that. As if on cue, he heard the tinkling of her laughter below.

“Oh, I guess that’s nice,” Harry said casually, leaning back into the cot and pretending to go back to napping.

After a moment, Harry sneaked a peek. Ron had returned to fiddling with his phone. Texting Hermione probably.

Good save, Potter.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached into his pocket to protectively touch his phone. Only to come back empty-handed.

His eyes popped open.

He straightened and immediately began to pat the blankets around him, his hands searching with a growing franticness.

“Mate?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my phone?” Harry looked under his pillow and the sheets, on the verge of panic. He always, always kept his phone with him, especially —

“Er, no?” Ron sat up, confused. “Let me call you.”

Harry waited with bated breath as Ron dialed his number. He glared at the rumpled sheets pooled around him, willing them to start ringing.

Finally, there came his tell-tale ring! Only it was…

Shite. Shite, shite, shite!

It had been a moment of weakness. At her last football game, he had snapped a photo right when she’d made the winning shot. Then, like the idiot he was, couldn’t resist saving it as his lockscreen.

“Harry?” He heard Ron’s cry of surprise behind him as he moved, wrenching open the door. He bolted down the stairs, taking two, then three steps at a time, racing toward the ringing.

Just as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny. Even in the midst of his panic, he couldn’t stop the way his stomach swooped at the sight of her standing there in her football training kit, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders, her freckled skin that glowed, her pale fingers that he longed to hold.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as those very fingers reached toward the dining room table.

Fuck.

“Whose phone—?”

“Argh!” Without thinking, Harry launched himself into the air. 

His fingers triumphantly curled over the phone.

Sweet relief coursed through him as an invisible audience cheered him in his head. Safe! He was safe!

Only of course his foot caught on something, and Harry went tumbling headfirst onto the floor. All those years of football training meant he automatically rolled, protecting his head, even as he crashed against the cupboards.

“Harry! Are you okay?”

He blinked away the spots in his eyes to see Ginny looking down at him, her brown eyes bright with concern. She leaned in, her face tantalizingly close.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he croaked, his face flooding with color and not only because he was upside down.

And he was fine, despite the spinning room, because Ginny was here, smiling down at him. The fluttering in his chest mixed with the squeeze of relief that she wasn’t looking down at him in disgust or, worse, pity at having uncovered his secret.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for dramatics,” she said wryly.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, pleased when she laughed at the reference to that ridiculous counselor from that summer camp their parents had enrolled them in as teens. Counselor Moody used to do all sorts of mad things to scare them, like popping out of the bushes. Harry and Ginny used to catch each other’s eyes and laugh about it back when she was nothing more than his best mate’s little sister.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from her face, only to flush and snap his eyes upward. She certainly wasn’t so little anymore.

“Let’s get you right-side up, and then maybe you can explain why you were pulling a Moody.”

His stomach curled into knots at her proximity as she helped him. He tried to think of something charming to say, which was hard when she was dusting him off and unintentionally sending goosebumps up his arm.

“I was testing your reflexes,” Harry blurted. “I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, like that really counts when you suddenly shout and fling yourself at me.”

Why was it that the challenging look on Ginny’s face only made his heart skip a beat?

“Element of surprise.” He reached up to adjust his crooked glasses, something tickling in the back of his mind like he was forgetting something. Focusing was difficult with the intoxicating scent of flowers short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, for all your bluster…” With a mischievous glint in her eye, Ginny triumphantly raised his phone screen to his line of sight. “You still lose.”

Harry’s heart dropped to the floor. His eyes darted from the phone to her face and back again. He made a wild swipe for it, but Ginny was prepared.

“Whose call were you so eager to answer, hmm?” she taunted as she ducked into the family room.

“No, Ginny!” He followed her frantically, nearly knocking over a vase. “Come on, don’t—!”

“Not Cho, I hope?” She ran around the couch, strategically placing it between them. Her hand waved the phone tauntingly at him.

“No,” Harry said, slowly drawing nearer, adrenaline drumming in his ears. He frantically looked for an opening. “Cho and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Then it’s no problem if I check, is it?” Ginny turned the phone toward her, eyes slowing lowering — with his heart lodged in his throat, Harry lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry groaned at the sting from where his head had connected with the floor. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to be on the bottom, which was good because Ginny hadn’t felt the brunt of the fall. But as the pain began to recede, he was suddenly very much aware of the soft curves pressing into him, her legs tangled up with his. She moved, wiggling enough to make him yelp.

Oh God, was this it? The only time he would ever get this close?

How pathetic could he get?

“Harry?”

He winced and waited for her to punch him and call him a pervert or something. When it didn’t come, he dared to open a tentative eye. Ginny had lifted herself up, hovering above him, her fiery red hair a curtain around them. Unable to stop himself, he stared up at her, bewitched by her freckles up close, the growing flush on her cheeks that reminded him of a sunset.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest twisting painfully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Her lips quirked upward. “Planned on keeping it a secret for life?”

“Worth a shot,” he said dryly, even though his pulse was racing. She was smiling — could that possibly mean…?

“Yes, well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are you going to do about it?” Her eyes flashed.

His traitorous hand reached up, lightly brushing her hair back. As his fingers skimmed her cheeks, she released an unsteady breath that whispered against his face. Ginny, his best mate’s little sister, his brilliant friend who could kick his arse, who made him laugh until his cheeks hurt.

“Ginny,” he said, barely able to think over the hammering in his heart, trying to form the words he had been reciting endlessly ever since she and Dean split up. “Will you be my lockscreen?”

Wait. Did he just…?

Mortification surged inside him. Where was a hole to bury himself in when he needed it? He would never be able to show his face around the Weasleys again — how was he going to explain that to Ron? He’d go abroad, Scotland maybe, explore castles or woods, anywhere really, just somewhere far, far away.

A peal of laughter tore him from his runaway thoughts. Ginny gave him such a bright smile, it was hard to look at her straight on. She was leaning closer, her eyes blazing. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Fair is fair,” he said, holding her gaze for what seemed like an impossible time, the tension between them making his chest want to burst, and then suddenly they were kissing.

He had imagined this moment many times in the past few months since his feelings had all but clobbered him over the head when he and Ron bumped into Ginny and Dean snogging under the bleachers. He’d replaced Dean with himself, imagined his hands around her waist, his lips fused with hers.

But this — this was so much better than anything he could have imagined. All conscious thoughts were obliterated by a warm sunshine that effused his every nerve.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed heavily when they finally broke apart. The smile she was giving him made him smile what was surely the soppiest smile in existence. “That was…”

“Lockscreen worthy?” he asked like an idiot.

She chuckled, her body shifting against him, turning that sunshine inside him to molten heat. “Might need to double check.”

“Happy to oblige,” he said, as she leaned down and kissed him again. He ached to be closer, his hand tangling into her soft hair, and she pressed closer as if also driven by the same reckless desire. He was so lost in her, he only barely registered the distant noise that was getting closer.

“Where’d you go, Har— oh my God!” Ron’s cry pierced through Harry’s hazy brain. “Get off my sister!”

Fear spiked through Harry. He looked up at his best mate (who was hopefully still his best mate), who looked as if he had been clubbed on the head.

“He can’t get off me, I’m on him!” Ginny replied unhelpfully.

“Oh then… Get off my best mate!”

Ron grabbed her ankles and started pulling her off of Harry, but Ginny, in a fit of rebelliousness, clung onto Harry harder.

Over their bickering about “bro code” and “we don’t need your permission” and “took you both long enough, but no snogging in the family room,” Harry let his head fall back with a thunk against the floor.

Nevermind – Scotland it was.

#i wrote a thing #fluff and humor #lol wth it's fluff #i didn't know what to do with myself with all this fluff #but have a sweet macaroon #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #Harry/Ginny #Hinny #anonymous #prompt #this took forever #but i do intend to get to all the prompts #one day #hope you still enjoy it after all this time #muggle au #but that should be obvious #they have phones lol

[maraudersftw]

If you're still doing the drabbles - 21. Don’t you know who I am? (Yeah, I just don’t care.) for anyone 🧡

Look at me, getting to these prompts after 60 years. Thank you for the ask! I went a little crazy with this one, but I hope you like it 🧡🧡

Insufferably Annoying

“Of course, the Minister has the right idea of it,” the woman babbled on, either appallingly unaware that she’d lost the attention of her audience, or just uncaring. “The Dementors are a necessary evil, given the state of affairs outside. Minchum understands how to implement difficult decisions despite their unsavoury nature. Mark my words; that man will bring about the reformations that our society gravely needs.”

“Hmm.” James took a sip of the expensive spiced mead sloshing around in his glass, eyes staring beyond the woman’s shoulder, obviously distracted. Around him, some notes of pretentious, uppity music floated through the room, mingling with the sounds of highfalutin conversations that were rather characteristic of Slug Club parties.

He hated Sirius for ditching him.

“But let’s not bore ourselves with such tedious political talks, Mr Potter,” continued Mrs MacFarlan, misinterpreting James’s distraction as disinterest. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong; he was disinterested. “My husband and I watched your latest match against Hufflepuff. Truly impressive performance there. Of course, there are many talented players in your year at Hogwarts, but Horace assures me you’re one of a kind…”

James had to quickly reign in the humourless snort that wanted to escape him; he knew very well that Slughorn only cared about him because of the Potter family name and nothing else. His firm conviction stemmed a lot from the fact that he was entirely rubbish at Potions and he certainly hadn’t done anything else to merit the favour Slughorn extended to him. While James knew he tended to be arrogant—and rightfully so—about most things in life, this was not one of them.

Similarly, he was under no delusion that the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Hamish MacFarlan, and his wife, Viola MacFarlan, had come to watch his match—a school match—for any reason other than the prestige they stood to gain from having him. Nothing would serve their department better during such times than adding another ruddy Pureblood name to it.

“He’s just exaggerating,” James said eventually, voice flat. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

That was a lie, but he’d rather eat a handful of Cockroach Clusters than simper at the woman like she’d clearly expected him to do. “I don’t think you should be throwing away all that talent carelessly, Mr Potter.”

But James had tuned her out, eyes latched onto the flash of red hair he’d caught at the end of the room. “I think I can decide that for myself,” he said. “You're wasting your time. Please excuse me, I just need to—”

“I beg your pardon?” her eyes widened with affront. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I just don’t care,” James shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mrs MacFarlan, I’m just not interested in Quidditch professionally. I was, a few years back, but now—there are more important things in the world.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

“Like tedious politics,” he said pointedly. “Don’t get me wrong, Quidditch is great, but I know I can do more for the people I care about. I’ll be joining the Auror Department after Hogwarts.”

His eyes flicked away once more, and he spotted Lily near the exit, walking out briskly.

“I think you should reconsider—”

“Can’t. There’s no time,” he was already brushing past the woman. “Thank you for the offer. Goodnight.”

James didn’t wait to observe just how badly MacFarlan had taken his ill-mannered dismissal, for he was too busy making his way through the throng of students and out of Slughorn’s office. 

“Evans!” he called, voice echoing down the hallway. The sequins on her dark blue dress glimmered as she halted, sudden, surprised. James rushed up to catch up with her when she started walking again after a few seconds, slower. “Lily, wait!”

The back of her neck was flushed by the time he caught up. “What do you want, James?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. Why have you been ignoring me?”

Green eyes flashed up to him, lashes curled, liner popping. His heart flipped over. “I’m not ignoring you; you’re ignoring me.”

“Um,” he frowned, speeding up so he could stand in front of her. They stopped walking, alone in a long corridor on the sixth floor. This close to her, James caught an intoxicating waft of her floral perfume. “Given the fact that I literally had to chase you down, you’ll find that I’m not.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yes, because it’s convenient for you now.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She shook her head. “I’m not ignoring you, alright? We’re fine.”

“Are we? Because you seem pretty pissed at me still.”

“I’m always pissed at you, James. You’re insufferably annoying.”

He cracked a smile for her effort. “Then let me live up to that image. Why were you ignoring me?” he repeated.

“I—” she swallowed her words, clearly spotting the stubbornness in his eyes, and pursed her lips. “We were just at a Slug Club party, yeah? Do you know what happens at those?”

James ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous thanks to her intense gaze. “Uh, we meet a bunch of people with sticks up their arses?”

“Wrong,” Lily said, stepping closer. One slender finger poked his chest. “We dance, we talk, we get drunk.”

He couldn’t breathe right. Her lips were so red. “Um, okay?”

“With our date,” she hissed, cheeks flushing despite the bite in her words. “A date that I didn’t have for tonight because I’d rejected everyone who’d asked.”

A beat passed, and he absorbed her words, found the meaning behind them. The hallway was suddenly brighter, the air warmer. James’s heart sung. “Why?” he breathed.

Lily made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat, leaning away. “Clearly, because I’m an idiot, that’s why!”

“No, no, hang on,” he grinned, pathetically gleeful as he pulled her back to him by the waist. “Are you saying that—that you wanted me to ask you to be my date, Evans? Is that what you’re saying?”

She tensed under his fingertips, skin hollowing between collarbones as she held a breath. “Maybe,” she exhaled. “Because I thought you would, but—”

“Are you saying,” James pressed, dipping his head closer to hers, “that you would rather go with me than any other bloke at Hogwarts?”

Lily’s eyes flicked to his lips, back to his face. “Check that ego, please.”

“Impossible,” he grinned.

“Why didn’t you ask?” she croaked when it became evident that he fully intended to close the space between them. “I felt like such a fool, hovering around you, waiting. I thought you were deliberately ignoring me.”

He paused, lips almost brushing against her mouth. “I honestly didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“Idiot.” Lily nudged his nose with hers, one hand on his cheek, one hand on his chest. “Insufferably annoying.”

James admitted that he certainly was; he didn’t let her up for air until their lungs were screaming.

#asks #claudia writes #claudiawrites #jily #jily fic #jily drabble #jily flash fic #james potter #lily evans #james potter x lily evans #james x lily #hodgepodge #insufferably annoying #jily canonverse #just another slug club drabble #dear penny #prompts

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #storm #professor x #kitty pryde #uncanny x-men #emma frost #cyclops #nightcrawler #stevie hunter #colossus #sebastian shaw

[quillify-tries-to-talk]

Yet Another Rewrite (Part 2)

For the thomstair appreciation week by @youngreckless ik it's over. Sorry I'm late :(

You can read part 1 here then come back and read this one.

Thomas and Alastair working things out part 2. Enjoy!

Tw: mentions of racism, bullying, abuse, colonialism

"Even our angels have mercy, Thomas." His voice was hollow now. 

Despair threatened to pull him under. It wasn't worth it. Anything. He would always be like this. It was a miracle even Cordelia was able to look him in the eye without hate. He did deserve this, he thought, settling back on his bed, all the fight drained. He deserved every blow and every bruise he'd inflicted on others.

Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa 

Funny that he now remembered his Latin lessons.

The bed dipped under Thomas's heavier weight, and he felt a flash of warmth when hesitant fingers crept over his skin. Too close. He was too close. 

Let go, he wanted to say, but lies seemed to evade him whenever Thomas Lightwood was present. His eyes looked dark brown in the dim lighting. There were  dents on his bottom lip where he must have bitten it. It took everything in him to not let his hands rise and trace the lines of his jaw.

"I remember Paris."

Alastair's eyes widened. He sat frozen, and Thomas took that as his cue to continue. "You were kind to me when I was very alone, and I am grateful." He looked up, face a bit red. "It was the first time I realized you could be kind.”

He tried not to let the last comment needle him. “It is my favorite memory of Paris as well.”

“You don’t have to say that. I know you were there with Charles.”

His jaw went tight. Not that. Anything but that. "Charles Fairchild? What about him?”

Thomas cocked his head to the side, his expression innocent. “Wouldn’t that be your best memory of Paris?”

“Exactly what are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything." His tone indicated the exact opposite though. Cheeky little–

"I’ve seen the way you look at Charles, the way he looks at you. I’m not an idiot, Alastair, and I’m asking …” Thomas shook his head, sighing. 

He was going to say it. Right here. Angel help him.

“I suppose I’m asking if you’re like me.”

There it was. 

Perhaps he could salvage this conversation. He gathered his thoughts, straightened out of his slouching position.

“Thomas Lightwood,” he said. “I am nothing like you."

Thomas stared as if he'd been clubbed on the head, eyes dazed in shock again. He was shuffling from side to side, probably preparing to launch himself far, far away from him.

A bit more effort, dâdâsh, Layla said in his head, amused and exasperated.

Right. “I am nothing like you, Thomas." His breathing was faltering again, throat closing up, fighting against the vulnerability he was exposing. “Because you are one of the better people I have ever known. You have a kind nature and a heart like some knight out of legend. Brave and proud and true and strong. All of it.” 

He smiled bitterly. “And all the time you have known me, I have been a terrible person. So, you see. We are nothing at all alike.”

His head snapped up, surprise etched on his features. His eyes started twinkling again. What was he doing to him? Even looking at him made Alastair want to smile. 

He hadn't wanted to smile in a long, long time.

"I'm not—" Thomas broke off. "That's not what I meant."

Don't I know that, eshgham? "I know what you meant." His voice had softened. The words hung in the air for a moment. But he needed some answers of his own now. "How did you know about Charles?"

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in Paris,” Thomas replied. Alastair thought he heard a note of hurt in his voice, but promptly dismissed the notion. “But you mentioned Charles, over and over again, like you got pleasure out of just saying his name. And when you came to London this summer, I saw the way you looked at him. I know what it is to have to hide the—the signs of affection.”

“Then I imagine you may have noticed I don’t look at Charles that way anymore.”

What did you just say, Carstairs? Admitting to your own failures now? Couldn't even hold on to first love?

His jaw tightened again. Get out of my head, baba. Charles. Get out, both of you.

“I suppose I did,” Thomas said. “Though for the past four months, I’ve been trying not to look at you. I told myself I hated you. But I could never really make myself. When Elias died, all I could think about was you. What you must be feeling.”

His father's name reopened the gashes on his heart. Heat sparked behind his eyelids. “I insulted your father and blackened his name. You were under no obligation to care about mine.”

“I know, but sometimes I think that it is much harder to lose someone who we are on bad terms with than it is to lose someone with whom all is well.”

“Bloody hell, Thomas. You should hate me, not be thinking about what I must be feeling—” Alastair passed a hand over his face. It came back wet with tears. He didn’t even know when that happened. He’d never had an audience for his crying before. 

"But I do," said Thomas softly. His fingers ghosted higher along Alastair's wrist, making his heart skip a beat. Once, twice, three times.

Bewildered, he marvelled at the sensation such a small touch could cause. 

"I'm sorry." Thomas's voice was soft, filled with guilt. His head bowed as if in prayer. "I—what you said. What happened at school." His gaze trailed over Alastair's features, and he shook his head. "I always found you beautiful. Then and now. I didn't know people hated how you looked. You're like a poem, but in human form."

"Poem," Alastair repeated numbly. If his brain had short-circuited before, it was blown to bits now. No one had ever called him that.

Charles had called him a beautiful secret. His safe haven. His comfort and best friend.

Never a poem.

"Yes." Thomas's cheeks were slowly flushing rose. Another nice contrast with his skin and hair. "Graceful. Elegant. Confident. You were always so poised and sharp. Like one of Jamie's knives. You were smart, managed to turn people over. They listened to you. Look what you did just now. I didn't know what to do. If I wanted you. Or if I wanted to be you. Remember when I followed you around school?"

Alastair's rusty throat muscles regained a bit of their ability. He wanted me? It wasn’t the best, but it was okay. Charles had wanted him. It hadn’t been too bad. Until the end. Until the horror of his actions had dawned on him. Until he realized that all his time spent with Charles had been wasted in tending to his needs, not Alastair’s. He hadn’t even known a relationship required his own needs to be taken care of. That it was a necessity. 

"I remember,” he managed. “Then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I thought you were beautiful. But I was still caught up with Charles—” He broke off, regret weighting his stomach. “Just another thing I’ve wasted. Your regard for me. I wasted my time and my affection on Charles. I wasted my chance with you.”

Thomas blinked. And blinked. And blinked. A pulse had started in the base of his neck, thudding against the delicate skin. Alastair raised his eyes only to find him already staring. 

"Thomas?" His name tasted strange on his tongue.

"You said angels too have mercy," he said in answer. "I—I must apologize. I'll admit I didn't know how people treated your family. I have been sheltered in that regard."

"You must know where those indigo-dyed silks came from," said Alastair softly. They were from India. Ariadne had mentioned it during their little dance, the news that had trickled in. The brown-skinned, hollow-eyed servants brought in for labour by mundanes and Shadowhunters alike. "Or why England never has a shortage of adamas, but my country does." 

That one was still going on. Britain liked guising their nefarious schemes behind offers of trade. 

He released a sigh, shaking his head in despondence. "They never tell you. Layla and I knew because we saw it happen; we know our histories ever since we could walk and talk. And it still happens. It's more than demons and humans for us. It’s always been that way." He held one brown hand up to the light, and Thomas’s eyes followed. “This isn’t apparently how we were supposed to look. I tried changing that, and it did work for sometime but.. I hated myself even then. I hated my family and my culture and my books. Do you flinch from your own face, Thomas? I always did. Still do, sometimes. 

“I hate that my skin isn’t like yours. If it was, perhaps people wouldn’t have said so many things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have as many bruises.” He leaned his head back against the wall, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “In another life, perhaps we would’ve had our chance, you and I.”

His words ended with a plaintive note; the bone-deep weariness that there was nothing he could do, aside from ripping off his own skin or trying to be like his father. In appearance, at least. They remained silent for a long while, but it was the thoughtful sort. Alastair didn't know how many hours he passed by just counting the cracks in the walls when Thomas's voice pierced the quiet.

"Teach me."

He jerked awake. "What?"

"You said there are things I don't know about you. About where you come from and what you and Cordelia have to face. And… perhaps I'd like to know. I'd like to understand how the world works." A small smile ticked up the corners of his mouth, and Alastair found himself besotted by the expression.

By the Angel. Definitely not coming out in one piece.

"You'd like to… umm…" Words had fled when he'd needed them most. Damn you, Thomas. 

Thomas’s fingers enclosed over his wrists. The warmth was steadying, comforting. His expression was hesitant, at odds with the way his body commandeered space. “I want help. Really, truly. I found myself fascinated in Spain by the difference in language and culture. And then Paris. One-time travel gave me a different perspective, so imagine what more knowledge would do.” He was practically shaking with excitement at the prospect of learning of his ancestor’s atrocities. “You’ll be teaching me, so it won’t feel like a debt to you.”

“Are you sure you want to know, Thomas? People have done some terrible things.”

“I need to know what I’m redeeming myself for before I ask for forgiveness.” His hazel eyes were clear, expression determined. Like a knight readied for battle. A scholar rewriting history on pages. 

Alastair felt his throat tighten at his excitement. He wasn’t used to any of this. Apologies. Forgiveness. Love. Hope. His story was supposed to have died after all his attempts to apologize to The Merry Thieves. He’d failed then to ask for friends, so why would someone give him another chance?

“And maybe you’re wrong,” Thomas added in what was supposed to be a nonchalant tone, but Alastair detected a slight tremor in it. “About me.”

“Speak sense, Lightwood.” His tone sharpened, a defense against his wrecked emotional state. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this.” In answer, Thomas hooked his hands around Alastair’s shoulders, and the sudden onslaught of warmth and gentleness made his body sway with the sheer impossibility of the situation. No glass. No manipulation. Nothing but warmth and truth and compromise. The good sort. 

This had to be a dream. He would wake up any time now, but he couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn't stop admiring his smile, the brightness of his eyes, the shape of his mouth, that damned pulse at his throat. And more. His strength. His passion for learning. His bravery in venturing after a killer alone. The openness of his heart.

I’m not worth it, Alastair wanted to say, but by then his head had fallen on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of Thomas’s neck. He felt lighter than air. For the first time, his head felt empty of anything: trouble, grief, responsibilities, duties. It was just them. Thomas with his arms around him, holding him in the storm of his life. His heartbeat was a steady clock that Alastair could time his breaths to. 

With Charles it had been all heat and desire, and the furious pounding of his heart in the thrill of being wanted by someone. This felt like coming home, sitting down for a cup of tea with his favourite book. Warm and right and natural. Tears slipped down his cheeks, freed after years and years of being locked away for the sake of his family. 

Thomas set his lips to Alastair’s brow. 

His body seized up at the soft pressure. It felt like someone had poured sunlight into his veins. Another tear slipped down his cheek. Impossible. Wake up, now. Happiness wasn’t a part of your life. But he was still here, feeling Thomas lean his cheek against his hair. Through the swirl of emotions, he heard his voice again.

“We’ll get past this together. I will relearn you, Alastair.” The sound of his name on Thomas’s lips sent his heart careening again. “Negaran nabash.”

Don't worry. Even with the different cadence, it would’ve been hard to miss. Thomas had just spoken in Persian. 

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh. Umm. Just something…” That adorable smile surfaced again. “A little hobby? Like Kit and his test tubes?”

Shaking his head, Alastair allowed himself a little smile. Perhaps, it had been worth it to risk his neck. For this. Only for this.

Taglist: @cherilyn-rose @youngreckless @eugeniaslongsword @nott-the-best (2nd part eeeeeeee🥳🥳🥳) @cant-think-of-anything @livingformyself

#thomstair appreciation week #ik its over but i was never very punctual *sigh* #tsc #tsc: fic #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #alastair carstairs #chain of iron spoilers #thomas lightwood #choi spoilers #cordelia carstairs #coi spoilers #james herondale #thomstair #jordelia #carstairs siblings supremacy #tw: abuse #tw: colonialism #tw: racism #tw: bullying #kamala joshi #grace blackthorn

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Hollywood Ghost Club- Ghost!Luke and Ghost!Reader

A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT.

WARNING: SMUT, 18+ MATERIAL

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You and Luke were one of the greatest love stories, you were his muse in everything he did. In life and in death, you were the focus of his love. He died in the most comical way, from a tainted hot dog, while you died in a car wreck the same night. You were so distraught that you ran off the road, dying on impact.

But Luke never knew you faced the same fate he had- death.

For 25 years, you had wandered looking for Luke. Only to conclude that he had already crossed over and was enjoying a ton of pizza and his music. But you were wrong- he had been trapped in a different dimension almost until Julie released them by playing their demo.

When Willie told you about this ghost band he found- you didn’t think much of it. People die every day so of course new ghosts appear. That was until he mentioned the cute guy- Alex… and you knew exactly what band he had run into.

Sunset Curve had finally made it to the ghost scene, or more so to the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“Willie do not tell me you invited them here- you know what Caleb is going to do” You stressed, anger beginning to drip on your words.

“I-I-I-I I didn’t know what to do… Caleb owns my soul, he would destroy me if I didn’t do as he said” Willie said, afraid of your anger. He knew you loved Luke more than anything and now- Luke could be in danger.

“Okay- I need you to find Alex and tell him to act like they don’t know me. I cannot… I will not let them get hurt because I am here. Go Now” You said, fear in your voice. You knew what Caleb would do to them if they acted like they knew you or even came close to you.

You were his main attraction, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get near you- especially if they convinced you to leave the club.

You began pacing back and forth before you were set to go on- you almost became nauseous at the thought of seeing Luke again. He was your great love story, and death came too soon for the both of you.

Caleb appeared down the dark hallway as you paced, “Nervous?” He said, the creepy tone griping his words.

You could barely catch his gaze- you knew he would be able to read you like a book, just like he had been able to for 25 years. He knew every little thing about everyone, and that is how he was able to control everyone in the long run.

“Always… I have a need to be perfect” You said, sarcasm dripping your voice. You wanted him to just drop it and go do his opening act. It was the same every night, he opened, and you closed. Same music, same routines.

He sent you his signature glare- before stepping onto the stage. “Hello, Hollywood Ghost Club! I hope you are having a wonderful evening- well a wonderful afterlife!”

As the curtains opened and closed behind him- You could spot Alex in the audience, meaning that Reggie and Luke were out there too. Running your hand through your hair, you cursed under your breath. They shouldn’t be here- a horrible feeling running down your spine.

You gripped your mic a little tighter as Caleb’s music was coming to an end. You knew you had to go out there and smash this performance- Luke hadn’t seen you in 25 years.

The beginning music to your song started- after Luke and you met the same fate, the music was flowing out of you. You thought he had moved on into the light and left you here alone but truly he never left you. But the aloneness made lyrics and melodies fall out of you, and that is how Caleb found you. You were the missing piece in his ghost club, and he knew he needed you.

So here you were- trapped in a world that made you miserable. A world without Luke, and without the life you both deserved.

As you were zoned out, the beginning notes on the piano began to dwell and the beat began to rise-

Don’t blink

No, I don’t want to miss it

One thing

And it’s back to the beginning

Cause everything is rushing in fast

Keep going on, never look back

As the words came out of your mouth- you couldn’t help but make eye contact with Luke. He looked startled to see you- he had no idea that you had died too. He thought you had lived on, started a family and a career, but no- you died the same night as him.

As the song ended, a smile creeped onto your face. For the first night in a long time, you felt proud of yourself- for your music, for your performance, for everything. You had Luke to thank for the extra bout of confidence. He gave you wings when you felt like you were going to fall, in life and in death he gave you the world.

The final bow was something so magical, watching the boys and Willie cheer for you in the audience. Watching Caleb’s creepy ass smile as he watched your every move. It was a night full of happiness, yet the fear of something happening to Luke because of Caleb.

You smiled, walking off stage. You made your way to your dressing room to take off this ostentatious outfit that Caleb had picked. You wanted nothing more to be in your comfy clothes, and just enjoy your evening. But the outfit you chose was something symbolic- it was Luke’s Sunset Curve t-shirt, it had rips and holes, but you couldn’t part with it.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts- God you prayed it wasn’t Caleb.

As you swung the door open- you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It was Willie, who happened to be eyeing your outfit with a smirk on his face.

“Hey Y/N. You good?” Willie said, trying to refrain from smirking even more.

“Yeah I’m good. If you are gonna make fun of my outfit- leave me alone William” You said crossing your arms over your chest. Clearly irritated with him just showing up at the door.

“I-I-I um… Luke is waiting for you in the alley, he wanted me to tell you. I think it’s kind of important” He said, trying to avoid my eyesight. You couldn’t even find the words before he spoke again, “And don’t worry- I’m going to keep Caleb busy”

You laughed as he winked at you before heading off down the hallway. You could feel the smile growing on your face as you slipped on your slippers, heading to the alley door. For being dead- the air was sure cold in LA right now. It was incredible you could still feel things like this.

Your hair whipped in the wind, as you turned to look down the dark alley. You could see a shadow walking towards you, and you knew by the walk it was Luke. A smile erupted on your face as you ran towards him, you could hear his chuckle as your got closer to him. You jumped into his outstretched arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Silent tears ran down your face as he gripped you tightly, he couldn’t let you go, and you didn’t want him too.

“Baby… oh my god” He said, running his hand through your hair as he held you up. You gripped onto him for dear life, and you couldn’t bare being in this world without him any longer.

You could barely squeak out a “Hi” as sobs racked your chest. Your feet quickly hit the pavement as you looked into his eyes. His beautiful eyes, that always seemed to change colors. He was trying to take your appearance in- like it was the last time he was going to see you.

“What-what- what happened to you? How are you here?” He said, cupping your face with his large hands, pressing feverous kisses all over your face.

“I died when-” He cut you off, “I know you died stupid- but how did you die? Clearly I was the idiot who ate a bad street hotdog”

“Oh, shut up- I died that night too. I heard what had happened, that you… you all died, and I was driving to the hospital to try and make some sense of it. But I was so upset and distraught that I got in a crash and died on impact. I thought you guys had crossed over because I never saw you… I thought you had left me” You said, silent tears still pouring down your cheeks, as you caught his eyes a small smile formed on your cheeks.

“I could never ever leave you- not intentionally. I love you more than music can express. You are the one my heart loves” He said, tears forming in his eyes. You slid your hands into his as you leaned in.

Your lips touched and it was like fireworks coursing through you, he untangled your hands and gripped your waist tightly. He pulled you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. A silent moan escaped your mouth as you felt the first amount of pleasure in a long 25 years.

You pulled away from him, searching his face for the love you so deeply missed. You winked before poofing the both of you out of the dark alley. You took him to the one place you deeply loved before your untimely demise. It was the treehouse Luke had built you in the Patterson’s backyard.

You spent many of nights here alone, praying for a sign from Luke. The fairy lights always stayed on; I think it gave his parents comfort in his absence- well in both of your absences. They didn’t just lose a son; They also lost a daughter that night. His parents always knew that you and Luke were endgame, the full life of marriage and kids, growing old.

But that night- everything changed. The future they envisioned for the both of you had disappeared by a series of unfortunate events. This was the one place that Luke and you could have some time to yourself, away from the guys, your parents, and the world.

Luke was in awe at the place as he looked around. It was like he had forgotten how beautiful and full of memories this place was filled with. Your first kiss, your first date, your first sexual encounter, your first promise. Every bit of firsts had happened in this place, and now a new memory was going to be made. A restart to your relationship- 25 years down the line.

You couldn’t help but look at Luke in awe, he was the most handsome man. Even after all this time, it was like nothing had changed between you.

You walked over to him, running a hand down his chest. Catching his lips in yours, taking him by surprise. He was so in awe of you, and the relationship he cherished. You smiled as he gripped your hips, pulling you towards him. It was like you were falling into your old ways again, full of lust and pleasure.

 ~IF YOU ARE YOUNG, IT IS TIME TO BOUNCE 18+ MATERIAL~

 You reached up, gripping his longer hair in your fingers and pulling gently, earning a moan from his lips. His grip on your hips tighten, knowing good and well he would leave bruises, you know if ghosts could bruise.

He chuckled as he moved a hand to your cheek, gently rubbing your cheek causing a blush to erupt on your cheeks. The kiss was soft yet animalistic, as you pushed him back onto the bed.

Discarding your shirt, well Luke’s shirt you hijacked as well as your bra as you caught Luke’s lips back in yours. As you straddled his lap, he was gripping your thighs tightly, slowly the kisses began to travel down your neck and to your breasts. Taking your hard nipple in his mouth, causing a slur of moans erupt from you.

You began shifted your hips, rubbing slowly against his sensitive crotch- making his hips buck from under you. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer if you continued that motion, so he quickly flipped you over, so he was hovering. He quickly stripped out of his shirt, before moving to your pants. Your leggings quickly flew off your legs, and he took no time diving between your thighs.

You could feel his hot breath on your sensitive heat, as he licked up your slit before hitting your bundle of nerves. It sent a jolt through your body as he continued to explore your heat. Your hands flew down to his hair, pulling tightly as your orgasm began quickly approaching.

“Uh-Uh- Luke… I-uh- I’m cloooseee” You moaned as you pulled his hair even tighter, he continued to lick at your heat as your orgasm graced his tongue for the first time in 25 years. You could barely catch a breath as you caught Luke’s gaze from between your thighs. You took in his appearance, his face glazed with your orgasm as a smile graced his face.

“So, mind telling me why you are still half dressed?” You said, eyeing his jeans that were constricting his crotch. The smirk he gave you as he unbuttoned his jeans was something you so deeply missed. As his jeans slid down his legs, his cock sprung free.

He laughed as the look on your face, you were practically drooling at the moment you were about to have. An encounter of the century.

Luke began hovering over you before pressing his cock past your slit. He was watching your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. The pleasure was overwhelming as you adjusted to his size.

You met his slow thrusts with your hips, moving against him. His brows began to furrow as you continued the motion. He growled under his breath, “Stop that- I am not going to last”

You couldn’t help but smirk up at him, catching his lips in yours once again as your hands roamed his body and tugged on his hair.

Your orgasm began to overtake your senses, as Luke’s thrusts began to fall out of rhythm. His grip began to tighten on your hips as your orgasm washed over you. Your walls spasmed around his cock as he began to unload inside of you, filling you up.

“Holy god” Luke said as he collapsed on top of you, it was like you both forgot how much you enjoyed this time together.

“That’s all I get? It has been some time, I am sure I can do it all again” You said, flipping the both of you, so you were on top of him. You just giggled at Luke’s expression as he brushed your hair out of his face.

“Oh, I am always been down for a round two” He said winking as he began nibbling at your sensitive spot, causing a moan to erupt from you.

For the first time in 25 years- you felt more complete than ever before. Luke was back into your world full of life, and love. The Hollywood Ghost Club was the last thing in your mind as you spent every last moment with the man of your dreams.

 TAGLIST:

@notasofti​ @julies-molina​ @parkeret​ @calamitykaty​ @kcd15​ @crybabyddl​ @all-in-fangirl​ @gia-kerks​ @morganayennefertyrell​

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson smut #luke #alex #alex x reader #alex julie and the phantoms #alex and willie #alexsmut #reggie #reggie x reader #reggie julie and the phantoms #reggiesmut #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie x reader

[jaeminscoffee]

Lo contrario al amor | q. kn; s. jn

Lo contrario al amor- The opposite of love.

Pairing- Seo Johnny x reader x Qian Kun

Genre- Smut.

Word count- 4.14k

Warnings- threesome, sexual themes followed, stripper!reader au, richceo!kun and Johnny au, overstimulation, horrible depiction of how a strip club works, light spanking, dirty talking, praise kink, honestly a filth, why am i even bothering with the warnings-, pet names: princess, doll, slut, baby girl. Sir kink. Also kinda rushed because I'm an idiot (actually, it's cause i wrote this a day before my sociology exam so..-)

Synopsis- The way they looked at you seemed close enough to love. You thought it looked quite the opposite of love. And your definition of the opposite of love was lust.

Type- Requested! I'm sorry this took long! I really had to push myself to write this oskekke

Raven's up next, you've got 2 minutes!" Jacob screamed in the changing room where you all lined up according to who's going up the stage next, all dolled up, the actual costumes underneath the loose shirts handed to you for coverage until the performance. 

"Raven's not performing today. She's got a few other works to do"

Stripper. Not many are usually proud of that line of profession. But you thought nothing wrong of it. You were proud to blurt out "I work at  N-WV club as a part time stripper and part time server". You loved dancing and you loved the attention you got, you thought it was great. And you got paid handsomely too so that's a plus one. 

What made you love your job further more than you already loved it was the regulars you had during your days of performance. 

The thing you liked about your club was they never reveal personal identity. You each had a code name of your own. You were given the name Raven by the audience due to your dark tresses and the variety of black outfits you'd worn and performed and not to mention, absolutely rocked in. Another reason to love your work. Safe identity with no harms to personal life whatsoever. 

Hel and Hades. You'd ridiculed the names when you first heard them from your co-worker. "Which idiots would name themselves after the vikings and the death god??" you'd mocked until you actually met the owners of the names. 

Always sat the farthest away from the stage but dead in the middle which showcased the entirety of the stage in one screen was the table labelled by their names. Two young sat always adorned in a suit, the coat of the tux shrugged off their body with it loosely hanging over their shoulder, the tie tugged loose with the collar button undone and the sleeves rolled up to their elbow. 

One, Hades, the male with dark brown hair that was swept neatly to the side with a few strands resting freely on the forehead. Seemingly a little more built than the other, eyes stoic with focus on each and every one of your moves with the bottom of his perfectly shaped lips between his teeth. His gaze never failed to make you shudder. The only way to explain would be deadly. 

The other one, Hel. He wasn't all that bad himself. Far from bad. Faded turquoise hair tousled carelessly at the crown of his head perfectly portrayed his exhaustion at work. But that only added as a charm to him as his messed up hair gave him an ethereal look. He'd always have his arms folded over his chest. Almost the same build as the other. A smirk played on his lips each time you'd discard a material from your body and then another. The look was still the same as deadly as Hades'. A little softer and subtle ton of sin hid under his angelic features. Intoxicating would be the right word for him.

You turn towards the owner of the club just as you hook in your hanging diamond earring, fixing the rhinestone choker "What other works?" you ask confused and a little taken aback at the same time. Mr. Kim (who'd asked you on multiple occasions to just call him Doyoung) was the organized and no 'last minute' booking type of guy. If someone wanted him to do something for them they'd have to let him know that at least a week or two prior. Whether it came to booking a private performance, or booking a VIP seat. It had to be done within a week before the actual work. 

"Come with me." he replied calmly with his hands dug into the pockets of his formal jeans. 

 "Yeah, let me just get my masquerade mask-" 

"Leave it behind". You stand in place, still with the motions of rush still going on around you. Leave the mask behind? That'd reveal part of your identity and that definitely wasn't a part of the club. "Huh?"

"It's a private booking, you don't need the mask, doll" Doyoung exclaimed as though he hadn't just failed to let you know of the private booking before the day. "I don't have any private performances scheduled for today, Doyoung" 

"Now you have, darling. I'm sorry but they're important to this club. And to me." with that he whipped his head towards the exit door before nodding at you to follow behind him.

You quickly discard the loose shirt, opting to wear a robe around your outfit before you follow behind him through the dimly lit, sketchy yet posh passage across the club to the section where tiny cabins were situated. 

You jog slightly to catch up with his long strides while clutching onto the rope of your robe. "Who are they? The oh so important people?" you ask from behind him. 

"Mr. Seo and Mr.Qian." 

"Who?" you inquire, face contorted in confusion at the unfamiliar names. "Let's say, You'll see once we get there." he replied, taking a sharp turn towards the more isolated regions of the club. 

You say nothing in reply, silently following him a few more steps before he comes to an abrupt halt in front of one the cabins at the end of the hallway. He knocked twice on the door, reaching out to the door knob twisting it to unlock the door. 

Names of gods of hell was a smart choice.

 There sat inside the room were the two regulars, looking absolutely sinister in clothing as simple as formal work wear. " Ms. Y/ln at your service just as you asked for" Doyoung spoke up first after stepping into the room. Expecting him to call you by your work name, you were once again taken aback at how he regarded you with your last name but did nothing to correct him, instead chose to stand silently beside him.

' Must be important enough to break his own club rules. '

"We'll take it from here, Thanks Doyoung" smiled the brown haired lad, Hades. 

"My pleasure, Johnny" Doyoung nodded at the other in acknowledgment of his presence before turning back facing you, smiling at you with a tilt of his head and a pat at your robe clad shoulder and headed towards the door with that, exiting the room and leaving you in the closed space with the two men. 

You hear the click of the lock from behind you, only now lifting your gaze from the ground as you shift your weight from one feet to another, looking at one male then the other. Your clothing does nothing to help you feel secure under their eyes, strong enough to make you feel bare with two layers of clothing on your body. Weird how you, the confident on stage with at least 50 or more pairs of eyes on you, was now feeling conscious of yourself in front of just two pairs of eyes. 

"Hi, I'm Raven-" you start, finally shaking off the nervousness to get your job started and done with, something about both looking at you as though they'd devour you whole having you shaking the slightest. 

"Y/n, that's your name, hm?" the one, Johnny, or so called by Doyoung, spoke up, interrupting your mid sentence as the blue haired just leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, absolutely loving the way you were taken aback, the same everyday smirk displayed on his feature. 

"Yes. But here in this club, we go by our code names. Please refer to me as Raven, Sir." you reply, stepping out of daze as you tried keeping your tone as polite as possible. "In this room we go by our real names, doll" he finally spoke up, the one beside Johnny. "I'm Kun. That's Johnny. There, we all know each other's names now" Kun, spoke in a smug tone, eyes darkening shades as they roam around your figure. 

"But sir, that's against the rules of our club" you try explaining, only after scoffing in your mind as you recalled back to how the owner himself went against the rule. "Here, Inside these four walls, the rules to be followed are only to be set by us, that's what we paid for, princess" Johnny beat Kun to speaking up. 

"Yes, sir" you reply after a moment of silence as the two males shifted into a more comfortable position on the leather couch. You stood awkwardly beside the pole in the middle of the room, fumbling with the knot at the center of your stomach, trying so hard not to keep a continuous eye contact with them. 

Dangit. What's it with me today? 

"So, will you put on a show for us now or do we have to wait a little more?" Kun asked with his eyebrows raised. 

"Ah! Yes." you reply quick, making fast steps forward towards the corner of the room where the speaker with a remote on top was situated. You pick up the controller and pressed play, a sensual tune immediately vibrating through the speakers, filling the silent room with the tune. You place the controller back on top of the speaker, inhaling sharply before getting into the mood, shaking off all previous nervousness, instead replacing it with a seductional look and a smirk on your face. 

You run your fingers through your hair, intentionally messing it up to make you look even appealing than you already did. You turn towards the front, walking one leg crossing the other towards the pole, circling it, with just your fingers grazing the cold metal as you stare at them one after the other enough to have them hooked at your doings. 

You give them a wink before lifting a leg up with a push, the other rooted at the base of the pole as you clutch tightly onto the pole for balance while your body twirled around the metal, the robe still on.

You continue playing around the pole, ending the pole segment with a drop down to the ground in a rather seductive way. The tune passed half of the song, changing into a much faster beat to which you finally hooked your fingers onto the knot hiding your black lace dress under, slowly undoing it while their gazes got much harder. Your eyes travel lower on both of their bodies, a soft dent forming over the blue jeans making you feel proud. 

The robe now off, you felt bare than ever with just a black lingerie now adorning your body, but you kept going. You stand dead in front of them as they lean back in their seat. 

You move to the beats, feeling yourself finally let loose as the cockiness of all the attention on you got to your head. 

Lost in beats, you let out a yelp of surprise when you feel your wrist being tugged at, making you stumble steps and land onto Johnny's lap. You stare wide eyed at him as the domineering aura he had made you feel small under his gaze. You grip onto his shoulder for support to keep your bottom half from touching his muscled up ones. "Keep going with the performance, darling" and so you did. 

You'd given lap dances before. But that was at a frat party which was forced and half hearted as it was a stupid dare posed by one your friends. So you were a little nervous as the undying want of making them captivated by you strong enough to overpower the nervousness as you lower yourself and get back to moving to the beats. On Johnny's lap this time around. 

Grinding your hips against the latters, you see from your peripheral Kun's head thrown back as he kneaded himself through the material of his jeans, the sight making you whimper softly as you grind harder against Johnny, earning a groan from him. 

The song comes to an end slowly, the beats slowing down the same way your movements did, completely coming to a halt once the music stopped. You were panting slightly, palms resting against his built chest (you can literally feel the indents under your hands) when you feel yourself being lifted, in a swift motion over from Johnny's lap to Kun's with your back facing his front. 

You look up after having your eyes closed in surprise at the sudden motion only to have Johnny close the space between the two of you, Kun's hands finding their way around your waist. Face buried in your neck. The initial shock of a really good looking guy kissing you while the other played with the skin of your neck washed over your body with a jolt. 

Yes, you're loving the feeling. Having the attention of two absolute sinful men, not to mention, good looking ones was heaven. There's no denying that you felt attracted to them. But it went against your club rules, and most definitely against your morals. So you shake off Johnny, placing your hands between your bodies to create some space between the two of you, "I can't -we can't, if Doyoung finds out I'll lose my job, i can't afford that-" you explain as you cower further into Kun's lap at Johnny's strong gaze, feeling like you've just disappointed him. "Then so be it. You can work for us." he leaned in once again, only to be stopped by you for the second time. "No, we shouldn't-"

"No one gets to know what happens inside these four walls and you get to keep your job, how about that?" Kun offered, mumbling into your neck which had you screwing your eye shut at the sensation, "But this is wrong" you try rationalising. 

"Oh darling this is wrong in all the right ways, don't worry" and with that you let yourself relax onto the man's body, Johnny forcing himself onto you once he heard you heave out a tiny 'okay'.

One hand holding you still against him, Kun let his other hand travel up while Johnny pressed his lips against yours in a teeth clashing kiss, not wasting a second to bite down onto your lower lip to have access into your mouth. You groan out at the feeling of hands all over your body as Kun kneaded your breast, lips traveling up your neck, to your ear lobe which be nibbled on, while giving most of his attention in playing with your breast.

Eyes screwed shut, your body fall limp on top of Kun's body the moment Johnny cupped your heat through the material of your lingerie, the only thought you had being 'fuck morals' when this is how good they're making you without even directly giving attention to the parts you need them the most. Johnny pulled away from your lips, a thin trail of saliva still keeping you connected as he applied pressure on the bundle of nerves through the material of your clothing, well, barely covering clothing.

"You have no idea how long we've waited for this, baby girl." Kun whispered against your hair while shifting his attention to the unattended boob. 

You jerk forward when Johnny enters the clothing, now touching you bare. The feeling of his cold fingers against your sex had your head roll back and rest against Kun's shoulder. "That feels good, right baby?" Johnny inquires while using his thumb to apply pressure on your clit, drawing small circles on the swollen bud the same time Kun pinched the sensitive bud of your chest, making you able to only nod your head at the lads question, "Words, baby. Use your words"

The expression on Johnny's face had you thinking better than wanting to disobey him, "Yes!" you moan out at the increase of speed in stimulation as Johnny's other hand helped keep your legs apart. "Yes what, doll?" 

"Yes, s-sir.. " you mewl, feeling a familiar knot form at the bottom of your stomach making your face contort into an expression of pure bliss. "There we go" he cooed, moving his attention from your clit to the entrance, plunging two fingers in straight into the wetness as your sleek wall gave enough access to do so, immediately setting a fast pace, coaxing you to your first high with a shudder in your body.  Johnny kept his fingers moving to help ride out your high while you feel Kun shift behind you, "My turn" 

You feel yourself being lifted off of his lap and placed on the couch. You hiss when you feel Johnny remove his fingers from within you and into his mouth, licking your juice clean off his fingers. But you don't get much time to intake the sight as you feel soft muscles working their way on your now sensitive core. You look down to see Kun buried between your legs. You were probably too dazed to notice him drag your lingerie bottom down and place himself there. 

You whimper as he circled his tongue over your clit while Johnny took his place beside you, kneading himself the same way Kun was a few moments ago. You close your eyes tight at the feeling of Kun's mouth working wonders at your core, a mixture of moans and curses leaving your mouth, "You taste so fucking sweet, baby" the vibrations of his voice sent shocks of pleasure down your core, added to that a finger being inserted into the the messy hole triggered your second high,

 "Kun oh!-"

The sounds of him lapping at your juices made your skin heat up, blood rushing up your cheeks while you choke out a sob at the faint pain you're now feeling at the continuous stimulation. 

"You did so well, baby" Johnny hushes you while Kun still kept going. Johnny caressed your hair, trying to distract you from the aftermath of being overstimulated. 

The feeling being too overwhelming, you finally close your legs over Kun's head, making him come to a halt as he leaned back from his kneeling position. The lighting in the room highlighted the wetness on his chin and lips as you finally got some time to catch your breath.

"Who's going first?" Kun inquired, looking more at Johnny than you while wiping the residue using the back of his hands. Instead of considering giving a reply, Johnny looked at you with tilt in his head and a smirk on his face while you shy away from their gaze. "she'll take both of us like the little slut she is, isn't that right baby?" he asked, a probably rhetorical question while his gaze stayed hard. At the lack of response from your side, Kun took a step forward, bending down slightly, reaching out to clutch your face a soft yet firm grip, forcing you to look at him. 

"Aren't you going to answer him, doll?" 

"Yes, Johnny." you answer, mind a little clouded to think straight but still managed to form coherent sentences, enough to give a proper reply. "The pleasure really got to you, huh baby?" Johnny inquired, standing up while working on undoing his belt, "It's sir for you slut. Get on your knees. Now"

You scramble quick onto your feet, mumbling a silent 'I'm sorry, sir' and dropped down on to your knees, hissing at the slight irritational burn between your legs but had no time to get distracted with it as the lad in front of you placed himself right before you, tugging harshly at your chin to make you look up to his eyes, "I don't think i need to tell you what to do from here, baby. Get to work" And so you did, you were about to reach out to grip the shaft when you felt Kun rub at the skin of your ass, while providing a soothing feeling for a second before you felt his hands come down with force, making you yelp out of shock with your mouth wide open. 

Taking this chance, Johnny let go of your chin, finding comfort in the warmth of your locks instead, pushing himself forward and forcing his hardness into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your tongue being flat laid out below his member. "You look fucking stunning like this, princess" 

Focused on the sounds coming out of Johnny's voice, determined to pull out more, you start bobbing your head forward and backwards, taking in as much as you could each time you pulse forward. You try relaxing your jaw and focus on your breathing as much as possible, to try and not activate your gag reflex when Johnny's hips start thrusting his hips forward, following the same rhythm as your head making the head hit the back of your throat, sending jolts all over your body. 

Too focused on making Johnny feel good, you fail to notice Kun enter you from behind, slowly pulsing inch by inch into your still sore wetness, catching you by surprise as you let out a throaty moan, spending waves of pleasure up Johnny's body, pulling him closer and closer to his high. 

"How fucking wet." You hear Kun groan from behind you while slowly starting to move his hips once he had completely eased into you, making you lose your rhythm you'd kept for pleasing Johnny, stilling and letting him fuck your mouth instead. 

"She's so fucking wet, John. And wet. You're a little whore for all this, aren't you?" the blue haired lad questioned as though expecting an answer, "you love being used like this, don't you?" 

Too occupied with being stuffed with a cock in your mouth and Kun picking up his pace from behind you, all you could do was lean forward and balance yourself on all four while letting them take care of your pleasure and theirs. 

You feel Johnny's hip stutter, seemingly getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. His face contorted in pleasure, seeming desperate to chase his high. The vibrations from your moans and whimpers only dragged him closer, added to the fact how you sucked on his shaft like your life depended on it.

"I'm going to come, baby. You'll be a good girl and swallow all of me, right?" He asked, while buck forward from a rather hard thrust from behind, Kun's groans mixed with yours and Johnny's slightly high pitched ones, along with the sound of skin slapping pulled you close to your high too. 

Unable to answer with being stuffed, you nod your head as much as you could while flattening your tongue out and giving one last hard suck, earning a loud groan from Johnny as he came to a halt, thrusting slowly to empty himself completely in you and partly to ride out his high, you keep your mouth wide open to allow him to do so, while screwing your eyes shut while Kun reached out from beneath you, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing quick circles on it. 

Once Johnny pulled out, you immediately swallow all of his essence, not wasting a drop of it while letting out a sob when a particular thrust had Kun finding your soft spot, coaxing you closer to your high making you convulse around his shaft, "Open up, babygirl" Johnny tapped at your cheeks, while his chest heaved up and down. You open, showing him that you'd down aa he asked you to, and immediately closed it again, pulling at your bottom lips when Kun's ministration grew faster and hurried on your clit, "I'm so fucking close, baby. So, so fucking close" 

And that was shown by how sloppy his thrusts had gotten. Johnny mumbled out a soft 'good girl' and flopped down onto the leather couch while watching his friend destroy your core. 

You reach your high with a loud cry, closing around Kun even frequently that before as pleasure finally turned into pain, your core practically begging for a breather. Your whimpers, and the constant opening and closing around his shaft threw him off the edge as you felt his member twitch inside you before warm fluid shot up inside your sex. Kun whimpered out praises while slowly pulling out once he'd completely emptied himself inside you, running his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner while Johnny looked at your face. Tears running down your cheeks from the constant stimulation, sweat from previous doings and hair disheveled by his grip on it. Drool rolling slightly down the side of your face while yours and Kun's essence spilled out from your core down your thighs.

You were feeling ecstatic. A warmth from being so full. The feeling could be mistaken as love;

"You're incredible, doll" Kun let out with an airy chuckle while Johnny agreed along

But you knew it was the opposite of it and so did the other two in the room. 

It was the feeling of your desires being fulfilled. 

#kpopscape #wayv #wayv scenario #qian kun #kun scenario #kun fluff #wayv imagine #wayv ff #kun smut #nct kun smut #nct johnny #nct smut #nct johnny smut #seo johnny smut #johnny x reader x kun #qian kun smut #Qian Kun smut #Suh Johnny smut #seo johnny ff #nct ff #nct au #nct preferences #nct preference #nct u smut #johnny scenario #doyoung smut #nct 96'line #nct 95'line #nct kun

[bangtaninink]

Why is your hand on my ass

With Yoongles 😈

DRABBLE NUMBER......... 008 MEMBER............................ min yoongi (suga) AU......................................... rock band

"good news!" jimin announces, walking into the room with a grin. "we're on the list for friday at 'house of beauty'."

"ooooh!" taehyung says, fingers pausing on the strings of his bass guitar. "good job, min."

"told you guys i could do it."

"how many songs are they letting us play?" jeongguk asks, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair.

"three, and then it'll be up to the vibe from the audience if we get to do an encore and play more."

"mmm, i guess we should play our second best stuff then," yoongi says, lighting a cigarette from where he's seated on the tattered couch of the band's practice room, a small studio in hongdae that you all pay a generously discounted fee to use.

"second best, hyung?" jeongguk asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"yeah. we play our second best stuff, people like it, and if we get to do an encore, we play our best stuff, and bam. new fans."

"oh. oh yeah, that makes sense."

"hey, hey," you say, walking into the studio with your guitar, cheeks flushed slightly pink. "sorry i'm late. some idiot dropped a whole six pack of beer, and i had to mop that shit up."

"what a waste!" jimin sighs, shaking his head.

"did i miss anything?"

"nah, we haven't started," taehyung says. "jimin managed to get us to play at 'house of beauty' on friday though."

"ooh, fancy! i like it. how many songs?"

"three, with a potential encore if the audience likes us."

"sweet. what're we playing?" you ask.

"i think we should go with 'night chills', 'crucible', and 'asleep'," yoongi says, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "and then our encore can be either 'insatiable' or 'the space between'."

"i like that," jeongguk says, nodding. "that sounds like a good plan."

"okie dokie. let's get practicing," jimin says, picking up his drumsticks.

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

"let's give another round of applause for heaven sent!" the crowd erupts into loud cheers, the band members of heaven sent thanking the crowd before stepping off the stage, freeing it for you and the rest of the group. "now, let's give it up for the talk of the city: smeraldo!"

"you ready?" taehyung asks, grinning as he chews his gum.

"pfft. always," you answer, winking.

the five of you step up on stage with your instruments, taking a minute to set yourselves up, plugging your guitars into the amplifiers, jimin adjusting his seat that the drums, and jeongguk adjusting the height of the mic stand.

"hey, guys," jeongguk says, chuckling when someone in the crows whistles at him. "we're smeraldo. this first song is called 'asleep'..."

the five of you manage to hold the attention of everyone in the club, all eyes on you as you play three of your songs, back to back, without a single mistake, and by the time your band has finished your set, the crowd is up on their feet, roaring with applause and cheers.

you lock eyes with yoongi as jeongguk finishes the last song with an extended note, grinning as the both of you seemed to share the same thought - encore.

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

the club promoter lets you all know that you'll return to the stage in an hour and a half for your encore, once the remaining bands and performers had completed their sets too.

surrounded by adorning men and women, jeongguk, taehyung, and jimin revel in their newfound popularity, accepting drinks and collecting phone numbers with almost-empty promises of calling back.

you and yoongi, however, find solace at the bar, nursing a drink each with a nod and a smile to anyone who approaches you both, and declares themselves a new fan.

"i'm surprised you're not over there with the other three," yoongi chuckles, taking a sip of his jack and coke.

"please. i can't compete with jeongguk, and his unbuttoned shirt and tattoos," you snort, crunching on a piece of ice. "these lashes are good for making me look like i'm not just surviving on four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. that's it."

yoongi turns to look at you, silent for a moment, expression not giving anything away.

"i wrote a new song," he says after a beat.

"you're always writing a new song, yoongs." you look at him, rolling your eyes and grinning.

"i want you to listen to it."

"sure."

"just you."

you raise an eyebrow, surprised.

"woah. and... to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"it's... not exactly the kind of song we'd play to a crowd," yoongi says, rolling his glass between his palms. "i was just experimenting with some stuff... some sounds. i don't know if i'd call it anything 'official', really."

"interesting. well, considering me intrigued," you say, finishing off your drink, ice clinking against the glass. "i would be honoured to listen to it, oh wise one. you wanna dance? we've still got some time to kill before we're back on stage, right?"

"yeah, we do. nah, i'm... i'm good."

yoongi watches you walk off, joining the crowd dancing near the stage, the rest of the band joining you not long after once they spot you. he sighs quietly to himself, realising that you hadn't picked up what he'd been implying earlier. he takes another sip of his drink, resisting the urge to thumb at the usb drive that he's held in his pocket for weeks already.

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

oddly, yoongi finds himself joining you and the rest of the band in the crowd, not dancing, but letting himself be pushed and pulled in all kinds of directions by you or the others, smiling at the grins on your faces.

you recognise the band that plays now, familiar with the members who you've all crossed paths with before, and you find yourselves singing along to the song they play, waving hello to hoseok, namjoon, and seokjin when you all meet their eyes on stage.

"_____!" yoongi calls out, trying to raise his voice above the volume of the music.

"yeah?" you ask, still mouthing out the words to the song.

"do you... wanna go on a date with me?"

"what?"

"do you wanna go on a date? with me?"

you stop jumping, panting quietly as you look at yoongi, the smile on your lips evening out. the music becomes white noise as you try to process what he just said.

"yoongi."

"yeah?"

"why is your hand on my ass?"

"what? oh shit!" yoongi pulls back his hand, nervously wiping it on the back of his jeans as he chuckles, embarrassed. "sorry. my bad."

"you really wanna take me out on a date?" you ask, leaning in close to his ear.

"yeah."

you lean back and look at him, a smile playing on your lips.

"hey! c'mon, we're nearly up," jimin says, tugging on your arm and nodding his head towards the stage. "let's go get ready."

you watch him step out of the crowd with jeongguk and taehyung behind him, before turning back to yoongi with a grin.

"ask me again when we finish the encore."

#min yoongi #suga #bts #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts drabble #rock band!au

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[supersilversleuth]

You Can't Save Me (Leave Me Here And Live) by SuperSilverSpy

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson-centric,Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2021, beatings, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump

“Will not leave. Take you with us.”

“There’s no time,” he rasped out.

His siblings ignored him, simply picking him up, one person under each arm, and then they were half-dragging him along.

OR Dick's been beaten in a warehouse

No. 14 - UNDER PRESSURE crush injuries | beaten | force

Series:

Part 14 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 784 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1

Dick coughed, spitting blood on the boots of the idiots who’d somehow managed to take him down.

“That's the best you can do?” he asked, voice hoarse and cracking.

“Not even close,” said the leading thug, grinning down at him.

Dick resisted the urge to sigh. This was too cliché, why didn’t they ever switch things up a little?

Behind his back, he worked at the knots tying his wrists together. They were well tied, but Dick was better.

“The rest of the bats will be here any moment,” he said, deciding to go the way of the bluff, “I’d run if I were you.”

“Well,” said the man, leaning down, “You’re not me, and I happen to know the bats are busy tonight.”

Dick did his best to grin cockily, “And here I thought Gotham’s criminal underground was smarter than to fall for our ruse. Guess I was wrong.”

The guy growled, stepping back to kick him harshly in the side. Dick coughed wetly, trying to roll away as the rest of the thugs advanced.

“Really? A..beating? How—unoriginal,” he gasped out.

There was a foot slamming into his chest.

“Uncreative.”

A club to his stomach.

“Typical.”

A kick to the back of the head

“Rudi…Rudimentary.”

Something bashed into his kneecap.

“G—ah! I’ve…dealt with…worse…”

One of his ribs might’ve cracked under the onslaught, Dick wasn’t sure. All the pain was blurring together.

“You guys…probably don’t even…know what those words mean…”

A strong kick to his face practically flipped him over, and he lay on his back, trying to muster the strength to curl up and protect himself. This time he was silent, mouth filling with warm copper from a badly bitten tongue.

Just then, the leader got a call from who Dick assumed was his boss.

Alarms started blaring in the warehouse, and the thug ended his call. He walked over to Dick and kicked him once more in the ribs, cracking at least one from what Dick could tell.

“Looks like you weren’t bluffing after all,” the guy muttered, “doesn’t matter, this place will come down on top of you and any of the other damn bats in a moment. We’re not sticking around to watch.”

Soon, they’d all disappeared, leaving the warehouse with a haste only cowards could show. Dick lay on the ground, trying to get himself to roll.

He really hadn’t expected anyone to come for him. Not because they wouldn’t want to, but because last he’d checked they were all busy.

“Nightwing!” yelled a familiar voice, young and serious.

Dick tried to turn his head. “Robin?”

“I’m here. Black Bat accompanied me as well.”

Cass was in town then, Dick hadn’t known that.

“You...You should still be recovering, Robin,” he said, giving his little brother a look.

“Tt, as if I would leave your safety in the hands of incapable fools...anyone besides Black Bat.”

Dick grinned with his bloody teeth, “I knew you were warming up to her. Now hurry, you need to get out of here. I think there’s a bomb in the building.”

The boy scoffed. “I will not depart without you, Grayson.”

Cass stepped into Dick’s field of vision, standing besides Damian. She nodded solemnly.

“Will not leave. Take you with us.”

“There’s no time,” he rasped out.

His siblings ignored him, simply picking him up, one person under each arm, and then they were half-dragging him along.

Dick tried to help, to get his own feet back under him, but they couldn’t seem to cooperate. “Leave...me…”

“Shut up,” said Cass, from where she walked with Dick’s arm around her shoulders. Damian was recovering from a stab wound injury, so Cass was taking most of Dick’s weight.

He sighed, “We’re not gonna...make it...in time...I want you guys...to live.”

Damian glared at him, “We will survive.” he said.

They hurried forwards, heading for the entrance to the warehouse, Dick trying not to show how much pain he was in as they went.

The bombs began to go off, loud and sudden. The walls and ceiling shook around them, and Dick pleaded one last time for his siblings to run.

“Please, you have to go...”

Shaking their heads at him, the two just forged on ahead, tightening their grips on his limbs.

They were just reaching their destination, already passing through the doorway, when the whole thing collapsed.

Dick’s legs, which had been trailing behind him, were not yet over the threshold. Everything came down at once, landing harshly on his legs, crushing them instantly.

He barely managed not to scream from the pure pain of it all before he passed out.

#Whumptober 2021 #no.14 #Under Pressure #crush injuries #beaten #force #Batman Fandom #DCU #Fic #Implied/Referenced crushed legs #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Dick Grayson Whump #Hurt Dick Grayson #Dick Grayson-centric #SuperSilverSleuth #SilverGrayson #SilverWhump

[bi-bard]

You’re Better Than This- Roman Sionis Imagine (Birds of Prey)

Title: You’re Better Than This

Pairing: Roman Sionis X Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,025 words

Warning(s): Depictions of violence, manipulation

Summary: Everything was in order and relatively logical... until a drunk Harley Quinn stumbled into the picture. After that, everything was a mess and (Y/n) started asking a lot of questions that had never really been raised before.

Author’s Note: Hey! I’m just letting you, I may be posting a little bit less. I’m trying to apply to college and scholarships, so everything is a little hectic. Thank you for understanding.

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0

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

I jumped when I heard a loud scream over the music of the club. I had been in this scene for a while but there wasn’t usually a lot of violence in the club. Roman tended to keep a close eye on that. 

I looked up to see Roman already walking over to where the scream came from. There were men helping Roman’s driver out and Harley Quinn was casually lounging on the sofa in his place. I walked over quickly, wanting to know everything I could.

“Where is that little partner of yours,” was the first thing I heard out of Harley’s mouth when I walked over. “Oh, hiya, (Y/n).”

“Hey Harley,” I grinned. Roman stood up straight and looked at me. “So, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing, dear, driver’s mistake,” he shrugged. I raised an eyebrow.

“He called me a slut,” Harley added, waving a hand at me. I nodded.

“Well, our apologies then,” I said. Roman had turned around and told Victor to find him a new driver. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Quinn. I’m sorry again.”

“Aww, it’s alright, sweetheart,” she promised. 

Roman nodded his head before placing a hand on my back and gently leading me towards the bar. He stopped for a moment and turned to the still silent crowd. 

“What’s a party without a little drama,” he shouted happily. “Play the music!”

The party was immediately back on track. I waited until Roman and I were both at the bar before I held a hand over my mouth and laughed quietly. 

“She really is something else,” I said. Roman tilted his head at me. “Your driver was an ass, Roman, I told you that. I had my money on this happening eventually.”

“I should’ve trusted your intuition,” he replied before kissing the side of my head. “I have a brief meeting to go to. Are you going to be alright on your own?”

“Of course I am,” I nodded. 

“Okay,” he said. “Don’t leave the bar without Victor and keep an eye open. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” I promised. “Now go do your business thing so I can have an evening with you.”

He nodded before walking off. I turned to the bartender and asked for a water. The drinks here were fine but I was already tired tonight. Roman insisted that I went. I was quietly giggling at the people dancing when I saw Dinah walked over to the bar. She sat down next to me.

“Hey, you sounded amazing tonight,” I complimented. “If I had your voice, I’d never stop singing.”

“Thanks,” she replied awkwardly. 

“You want some food,” I asked. “I can get us something really fancy... or just junk food. Whichever you prefer.”

She chuckled at me. I think Dinah knew that I meant well. I wasn’t trying to manipulate her. I just wanted her to be happy... or as happy as possible.

“I’m alright but we should try-”

Dinah was cut off by Harley running into her shoulder. I sighed and looked down.

“Singer-lady-woman,” Harley shouted. I chuckled at her, sending Dinah an apologetic look.

Dinah traded a few half-hearted responses with Harley before just kind of ignoring her. Harley slid even closer to her. 

“Do you know what a harlequin is,” Harley slurred. 

“A janky ass clown with bad eye make-up,” Dinah asked sarcastically. I covered my mouth to hold in the embarrassingly loud laugh that I almost let out. 

“Ooo, ouch,” Harley said. “A harlequin’s role is to serve. An audience. Her master. A harlequin is nothing without her master. And no one gives two fucks who we are beyond that.”

I was gonna roll my eyes and ignore her when I spotted Roman. He was chatting with a couple of women at one of the tables. I bit my lip and turned around. 

“I don’t know who you think I am, lady, but I’m not her,” Dinah replied.

I stood up and waved at Victor, who was standing off to the side of Roman. I pointed towards the penthouse and he nodded, understanding what I meant. The last thing I heard before I was out of earshot was Harley saying that she and the Joker broke up. 

--Time Skip--

“Roman,” I called as I quickly walked into the room. 

“What is it,” he snapped at me. My shoulders tensed and I tilted my head at him. 

“I had something interesting for you,” I explained.

“One moment, we’re discussing the crossbow killer,” he held a hand up to me. I sighed, rolling my eyes at him. 

“Roman,” I said after another minute of his senseless rambling. “Roman... Roman!”

“What,” he yelled back. He grabbed my upper arms. “What’s so important?”

“Harley and the Joker are done,” I replied. “I heard it from her.”

“Really,” he asked softly. His grip loosened on my arms and I nodded. “Oh, this is brilliant.”

“It’s open season on Harley and she called it on herself,” I chuckled. 

Roman’s hands moved to the side of my face, squeezing a little bit harder than I was okay with but I didn’t question it, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” I mumbled. He kissed me gently before turning to Victor. 

“Go get her, would you?”

“Yes boss,” Victor nodded his head before leaving the room.

“God, I owe you a ring,” Roman said, throwing his arms out to the sides.

“I’ve been saying that for months,” I shrugged. “You’ve bought me enough gifts for a lifetime, Romie.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped quickly before shaking his head and smiling again. “I’ll continue giving you presents for as long as I can... and I promise the next one will be a ring.”

“Oh, I’m so going to hold you to that,” I laughed before hugging him tightly.

--Time Skip--

I scooted as close to the opposite door as I could as Roman shoved the kid into the backseat. I saw something fall out of her pocket. A grenade. I leaned down and stashed it in my pocket as Roman was getting the door shut. 

“Where are we going,” I asked as Roman told the driver to go. 

“An old dock,” he replied. “It’s close and it’ll be easy to dispose of the kid.”

“Roman, she’s a child,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why would you-”

“She swallowed the diamond.”

“That doesn’t-”

“One more word and I will shove you out of the car.”

I bit my tongue and looked through the back window just in time to see the car behind us crash. I placed a hand over my mouth.

“Harley and the Crossbow Killer,” I said simply. “Gaining!”

“Drive faster,” Roman snapped at the driver.

I watched Harley fling herself onto the trunk of the car. 

“Shoot her,” Roman told the man in the front passenger seat. The man leaned out the window and started shooting as we got closer to the docks.

I looked at the kid, who just looked back at me in fear. She was just a small pickpocket. I was too... years ago. She didn’t mean to get wrapped up in this. She stumbled into it by mistake. I gave her an apologetic look before turning back towards the front of the car.

I quickly covered my head, bending over as Cassandra grabbed Roman’s gun, trying to save Harley. There was a reason I told Roman to give me a gun and he always refused. What an idiot.

The door next to me opened and Harley went over me to punch Roman. Why exactly did she not grab me? 

“Uh-oh,” she mumbled, diving away from the door. 

I looked forward and panicked. As if it was an instinct, I pulled Cassandra over, hoping to protect her from the inevitable car crash. Roman leaned into the front of the car, steering us away. We still hit a statue at the entrance of the pier but it was better than death.

“Let’s go,” Roman snapped, pulling Cassandra from my arms and onto the pier. 

I followed quickly, now confused and scared and secretly hoping that Harley would get here. I didn’t want this young girl’s blood on my hands.

Roman dragged the girl over to the edge of the pier between two of the statues. I hide around the one next to him. I heard Roman’s speech echoing from all ends of the pier. Something about Harley not being able to stand on her own two feet. I could hear Harley’s monologue, jumping when a gunshot hit a statue. 

“Hey,” I shouted when I heard the gun cock again. “Harley, just put the gun down.”

“Out of bullets anyway,” Harley admitted quietly. 

“That was super embarrassing,” Roman said through a laugh.

“Sure was,” she shrugged. 

“You think you can beat me,” he asked. “You’re a fucking moron.”

“I’m sorry kid,” she looked at Cassandra. “I’m sorry that I tried to sell you. That was a dick move. For what it’s worth, you made me want to be a less terrible person.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Roman shrugged off her little speech.

“(Y/n),” Roman stopped when Harley said my name. “Are you really okay with this? You and I both know that you’ve never liked the killing. You just accepted it because you thought Roman was what you wanted. Can’t you see? You’re Roman’s harlequin! You don’t want this girl’s blood on your hands. You just wanted love and acceptance and Roman made you think he was the only one who was going to give you that. Well, it’s bullshit! Stop him now and you’re your own person. You’re better than this.”

“I don’t have time for this crap-”

“Roman, wait,” I snapped. His eyes widened at me.

I walked over and I cupped the side of his face. He grinned at me, moving the blade from Cassandra’s throat so he could carefully touch my arm. I smiled back, tears building in my eyes.

“Roman,” I mumbled. He raised his eyebrows and hummed as a sign that he was listening. I slowly and carefully moved my other arm, making sure his attention was still on my face. “You forgot the ring.”

“I get the ring as soon as we’re done here,” he promised.

“You don’t have to,” I shook my head, stepping back a little before holding up the ring of the grenade. “I already got one.”

In Roman’s moment of panic, I pulled Cassandra back with me. I hugged her tightly, mumbling “I’m sorry” more times than I could count. Harley obviously noticed what happened back her next move was to basically chuck Roman over the edge of the pier. I closed my eyes as I heard the grenade go off behind me before stepping back from hugging Cassandra. 

“Thank you,” Harley said as the other women helping her walked over to us. 

“Thank you,” I replied. “I guess I just needed someone to say what I’d been thinking.”

“So, what’s next for you,” Dinah asked as we all started walking away. 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I have a criminal empire that thinks I watched the love of my life die. Roman gave the order that I was in charge if something ever happened. They’re probably waiting for my call. Or...,” I looked over at the cop that was with us, “I could turn in the entire operation and get a hefty reward.”

“I’d wait,” the cop advised. “Your life may end up on the line if you turn everyone in.”

“We’ll be here to help you,” Dinah promised. “I’ll even sing at the club.”

“Oh, I’ve gotta redesign that,” I chuckled. “You guys want to redo a bar?”

“Do we get free drinks,” Harley asked.

“I’ll give you two free drinks,” I said. She giggled and hugged me tightly. “Thank you so much, Harley.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “You’re better than him. You’re the boss now.”

I smiled and nodded. I glanced back at the pier for a moment. I was in control now. Everything was my call... and I was going to do a far better job than the man before me. 

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

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[arigatouiris]

zenosyne // m. atsumu x reader

Author’s Note: I like breaking cocky anime men that I find attractive and giving them a lot of angst because I’m evil and how much I love Miya Atsumu is beyond comparison uwu Hope ya’ll like this angst fest~

Also I understand that cheating is a bit of an iffy topic, and I’m sorry if this material offends anyone here. I can picture this scenario and I’m sorry if some of you don’t agree. Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Word count: 5649 words

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, trigger warnings, abusive households, alcoholic parent, fluff at the end

The average human being took 21 days to break a habit; but if that average human was Miya Atsumu, breaking the habit was as sporadic as the weather in Tokyo. He never liked Tokyo as much, and found home within Hyogo, but his games had him move so much that it sometimes made him yearn for a place that no longer existed.

Miya Atsumu did not have habits that he wanted to forget. Unless that habit included staring into the stands, searching for you, it was harmless.

After their penultimate win for that season, the MSBY Black Jackals celebrated; the crowd was loud, the cheers were everywhere—Atsumu always hated the loud that came with the audience, but he tolerated it because you would stand among them, waving at him, a large grin on your face, all directed at him. He’d raise his hand and hold it in the air for a couple of seconds, for you to see, and you would—before your grin only got wider. Atsumu would never admit what that sight made him feel, a sight that he believed he’d see for the rest of his life; but there he was, during their penultimate win that season, and you were not there.

It wasn’t even a force of habit, because his eyes never landed on the stands before. Or had they? Did Atsumu always do this? It had been over three weeks since permanently severing ties with you, and yet, his eyes kept travelling back there.

Three weeks—as long as it took to break a habit.

It was no breakup, Atsumu remembered very clearly how the phone conversation went. There was no verbal acceptance of the relationship ending, it was just one fact over another, and a misplaced goodbye from your end. You’d always managed to bag the good person card, and he didn’t mind giving it to you, either way. 

     “Miya-san!”

Shoyo’s form created a disturbance in the blond’s mind—the shorter male’s hands were raised to give him a high-five, which Atsumu absentmindedly delivered. But his mind was elsewhere. They say absence was also a presence, on a metaphysical level, the absence of scorpions falling from the sky itself contains the absence. The moment the mind comprehends the absence of something, that something is perpetually present. It was inevitable to miss you, because your absence screamed your presence louder. And he hated himself and hated you, too, for the ruin you’d made of each other. 

But, you would be there. During every single game.

Starting from high school to how his career passed in the Black Jackals, Miya Atsumu’s sassy girlfriend would be present in the stands, cheering quietly, chuckling at his misses, nervous at his slips, and ecstatic at his victories.

Miya Atsumu wouldn’t call you perfect, but he knew in all angles that you were. Once you let someone in, you were impossible to forget. There was something about you that crawled inside a person and built a nice comfy home there, your goodness expanding until it filled every limb. You were strangely relatable to an M&M, he thought. A reverse M&M, all sweet and smooth on the outside with a tough shell inside.

It went without saying that back in high school, he was a bit of a jerk; not just anyone would catch his eye. And if Miya Atsumu was dating just one girl from his third year till he finished university and entered a sports contract with the MSBY Black Jackals, you were truly something else. In high school, you were in a non-canon school band, you sang, played the guitar, and you were part of the track team. You scored well in studies, you wrote papers based on some research findings that he barely had any idea about—you were practically all over the place and it was hard to miss you.

Miya Atsumu wouldn’t call you perfect, but he knew he’d be an idiot if he used any other word to describe you. 

He loved every second of being with you because you wouldn’t make it easy for him. The second Atsumu felt like things were becoming stagnant, you’d either go missing or you’d throw at him a new challenge—you’d even fucking beat him at volleyball if you had to (thankfully, this never happened). You were constantly moving, leading the way, the complete opposite of what Atsumu thought most relationships would entitle with him around. it wasn’t that you tried hard to please him, no; it was that you were this way all this while, and Atsumu was just lucky.

You confessed to him first, serenading him in front of the entire volleyball team—throwing him for a toss and then laughing at his reaction of absolute surprise. It was as if he wasn’t allowed to be surprised at all, because there you were, pointing at his face and gawking, laughing till you had tears in your eyes.

     “What’s with that face, ‘Tsumu-Tsumu?”

Oh, how you got on his nerves. 

After that incident, when the school walked around talking of how you’d humiliated Miya Atsumu by throwing a pretend confession, he’d known the truth. You’d never pull something like that without a base; he knew that your words and feelings were true, but he also knew that you’d not just stop there. So what if you liked him? That did not mean you were under his beck and call—and god, that drove him crazy.

     “Go be someone first, pretty boy,” you’d said and he had no idea what the fuck you meant. 

As much as Atsumu loved back and forth flirting, with you, it just got frustrating because he knew that he was the one being thrown under a bus more than you were.

Two weeks went by with air flirting and tension filled winks in the corridor, which thus forced the blond to physically drag you into the broom closet in Inarizaki’s volleyball club gym, and seduce you using the mere power of his lips, tongue and hands. His words were a demand and that made you chuckle, that chuckle that made him want to simultaneously end your life or scream into the skies—he had no idea. But, you would never admit that the way he kissed you right then had stolen your words and the laugh was merely a shy response to maintain the cool demeanor you had so flawlessly carried out till then.

     “Miya-san, is everything okay?” Shoyo’s voice alerted Atsumu when they were heading out of the stadium.

Atsumu ruffled the boy’s orange head before chuckling, “Ya just caught me a bit off guard there.”

It had nothing to do with Shoyo. He walked out with his team toward where the bus was, and a slight ringing sounded in the blond’s ear. He was aware that hearing a C minor in your ear constantly when no noise surrounded them was an indication of deafness, but right then, only your face kept flashing in his mind because you were the one who told him that.

You would tell him a lot of things, starting from random facts about volleyball players in Russia, to the way dolphins communicated, or even about the first man who climbed the tallest peak in the world.

But, Miya Atsumu never realized that you would never, ever speak about yourself. The attention was always directed either at him or the world, and it hurt Atsumu to even think of how he never even noticed that she remained invisible all throughout this time. it was as if she didn’t want to speak about herself, like she was living a double life but there was no way Atsumu would know about it because he just never asked.

Dating Miya Atsumu, he realized, was like dating a narcissist; the only difference being, he genuinely cared for you but he wasn’t accustomed to think of others before himself. 

No one had told him it was a problem until Osamu had pointed it out, just days after breaking up with you. He was a walking box of angst waiting to spill onto the person who tried to help him, and there wasn’t anyway Atsumu could change unless the person came equipped. 

It was unfair, and strangely, close to impossible.

     “You were looking at the stands.” Shoyo pointed out, when they got into the bus.

Atsumu blinked before humming, wanting nothing more than to ignore this boy’s curious claims. But, Shoyo’s eyes were nothing like yours—your curiosity was directed at him at all times, but it was never demanding. 

Even if you weren’t the sort to direct any attention toward yourself, Atsumu didn’t want to think he was so bad that he wouldn’t have listened if you had just asked. If you had just told him, about anything at all that was bothering you, he’d downright throw everything aside and listen to you; but saying that now, after everything was broken, was rather easy and convenient, even his mind was telling him that these excuses were privileged.

You came with a stubbornness he hated in others, but somehow grew to love in you. And that trait of yours prevented you from telling Atsumu anything about your life at all.

*

The first time Miya Atsumu tried to break up with you, he wasn’t really thinking straight.

The relationship was moving in a steady pace, something he wasn’t used to with girls. You were busy with track, he was busy with volleyball—what he didn’t know back then was that you were busy with academics, track, your band, and a whole lot of other things he’d only learn of years later. But, the reason Atsumu chose to break up with you for the first time was because you were just never around.

You’d come to his every game; this went without saying, but you’d disappear right after. You’d reply to his messages hours after he’d sent them. You’d come to school earlier than anyone he knew, and he’d see you leave when his practice was about to end.

Communicating you became a task and Atsumu didn’t need to be responsible for that, and while this remained a good, solid reason to break up with you, he still never asked you if you were okay. If Atsumu could go back in time, he’d slap some sense into himself, but things passed in a way only to make him regret in the future—he had no say in it now.

He approached you one evening just before practice, noticed how your winter uniform clung to your skin, your face a bit red from the biting cold, your hands buried in your pockets. Atsumu wouldn’t miss the way his stomach flipped at your eyes sparkling to meet his.

     “What’s up, Tsumu?”

     “Ya know... This ain’t workin’ out.”

It was the first time he had seen you cry. While 17-year old Atsumu believed it was mainly because he tried breaking up with you, 23-year old Atsumu recalled the way your eyes were already red before he told you, of how there was a mild bruise under your left eye, how your hair was disheveled—and he remembered faintly hearing you tell him that you don’t get cold too easily, so the fact that your hands were shoved in your pockets meant that you were hiding something.

If only Atsumu had known back then.

     “H-Hey, (y/n)?”

Just before you were about to tell him it’s alright and it was stupid of you to burst out crying like that, Atsumu’s arms wrapped around your considerably smaller frame and pulled you close.

     “We’ll work it out, yeah?”

He was a tad bit annoyed that it didn’t go according to plan, but if he knew how much of a dick he was being back then, Miya Atsumu could have saved himself a great deal of hurt.

Pulling away, he noticed you’d already wiped your tears away. You smile at him, apologetically, invariably throwing his heart to the side, and take his hand in yours.

     “I’ll make it up to you.”

And you did. You delivered each time and Miya Atsumu was always thrown for a toss. But, there was a gnawing feeling at the back of his throat, which Atsumu would only realize was guilt years later.

*

The first time he finds out that your father was a drunk was when you make a dark joke about it. 

I’d say that my dad is an alcohol enthusiast, not alcoholic, per say.

The way you said it, it sounded hilarious to him right then. You were laughing, the boys around him were laughing—he should have judged from Osamu’s expression that one of your habits was to turn trauma into humor, but Atsumu ignored his twin brother’s expression and just focused on how intoxicatingly hilarious you were.

As he sat in the bus that was taking the MSB Black Jackals home, Miya Atsumu regretted laughing at that joke. 

If only. 

Those must be the saddest two words in the world, Miya Atsumu thought.

On some nights, he wonders if his heart would be filled with anything but this regret that was blinding him day in and day out. He had a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts; the ones when he’d simply just lie in bed awake and replay all those things he didn't do right. Because, as he knew, nothing solved insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.

     “Yer a cool girl, aren’t ya?”

     “Is that what you see me as, Tsumu-Tsumu?”

He remembers chuckling, ignoring the fact that your eyes looked puffy.

     “Yer the coolest girl in the world to me, (y/n)-chan.”

It was then, drowning in regret, while the bus moved him back to his hotel room, did Miya Astumu realize that living with heartbreak was easy if only it weren’t accompanied by regret.

He hates thinking of how you’d been so supportive, and how you’d still visit each of his games being a grad student, and yet—he was the one who went ahead and threw it all away. The itch in the back of his throat, the one that he felt for the first time back when he was trying to break up with you for the first time, was starting to grow. The itch was getting a bit difficult, Shoyo had to give him a bit of water, slap his back—and yet the itch didn’t subside.

     Tsumu-Tsumu, did you try breathing?

Why was it so difficult to breathe with you absent? How dare you take his breath away and never, ever return it?

Some part of him wondered how hard you’d laugh at him if you saw him right then. He was the one who hurt you, he was the one that wronged you, yet, he was the one who broke up with you. If there was a class for disgusting people, Miya Atsumu topped that list effortlessly. It’s true, he never really cared about people disliking him but the thought of you greeting him with anything but a smile twisted his heart in painful ways.

When he was signed with the Black Jackals, Miya Atsumu thinks of breaking up with you for the second time.

He’d have to keep moving, which meant most of your relationship would be long-distance. He wasn’t sure if balancing a volleyball career and a relationship would get him where he wanted to be—so he decided he’d just end things with you before it got too serious. 

If only he’d understood back then that a three-year relationship was serious enough, Miya Atsumu would not have gotten drunk and would not have made out rather provocatively with a strange woman whose name or face he did not remember the next day.

The love he felt for you was a borderline comfort that he had drawn out during his high school days. Miya Atsumu pictured it to be the sort of love that is mostly evident when you’re around, supporting him, cheering for him in that quiet, endearing way that you do—but thinking that way was giving you way little credit for what it actually was. Loving you was building a time bomb for himself the second you were not there. Loving you was building the anticipation for your exit, which then brought in the tragic, dark, bone-crunching pain that only came because he had hurt you in so many ways that you’re now forced to push yourself away because he is clearly not good for you, and you clearly deserved better.

The first time he saw you ever since kissing someone else, Miya Atsumu took nearly three seconds to come clean. But it was after spilling the words ‘I cheated on you’ did he notice something that inevitably shattered his soul.

You had a bruise on your chin, your eyes are red, your skin dry, your hair looked terrible—you clearly were not having a good time. 

How could he have been so blind?

     “(y/n), what happened—”

     “Atsumu, you what?”

Heh, he thought before his mind reminded him of his narcisism. How many times had he even asked you how you were doing? What you were doing? How many times had he bothered to ask you if you were doing alright?

The answer devastated him.

     “So, this is it then,” You said, and it was when you looked away did he find a splotch of red in the white of your eye.

His heart was rummaging in his chest. The gnawing feeling was back at the edge of his throat. He’s standing there, knowing something was clearly wrong with you, yet all he was acting out on was his own selfish desire of breaking up with you because the thought of continuing this and getting hurt later on was scaring him more.

Miya Atsumu was festering his own demise and he had no idea that he was doing it.

The expression in your eyes was as bitter as nightshade. Atsumu could feel his fingers shaking at how your lips were quivering right then, but you were doing everything you could to hold on. He could see now so clearly how your eyes were welling up with tears, but you chose fortitude over displaying emotions in front of him so you shoot him a smile and tilt your head the way you’d always done before—one of the reasons why he chose you in the first place.

     “Tsumu, I hope you’re happy wherever you are,” All he wanted was to scream her name out loud, “That’s all I want.”

How much he hated you right then because every word you said you meant it.

*

The night three weeks ago, he remembered getting back to his apartment and vomiting his guts out. Miya Atsumu released everything out into his commode, the contents of the food he ate the day before and perhaps that morning—tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he sat there, haphazardly, breathless and tired; hair disheveled but eyes constantly bringing your image to him again and again and again.

What’s done is done, he keeps telling himself, but fuck, why does it feel like he just killed someone?

He was so blinded by your apparent perfection that he didn't recognize the tremendous pain behind your work. You gave him hundreds of images, so many chances to see that you were in trouble. He had failed you.

Atsumu shut his eyes and felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning to his right, he noticed Shoyo, looking at him curiously.

     “We’re reached, Miya-san. You look ill.”

The gnawing feeling at the back of his throat was growing. 

     “Oh! And,” Shoyo grabbed something from the back of his pocket. Taking out his new cellphone, he displayed something to the blond, “Today’s the reunion!”

Fuck, Atsumu thought before running a hand through his hair. It was too late to cancel, Osamu was already going. A part of his heart hoped you’d be there, but he knew that it was wishful thinking. 

     “Did you have a highschool girlfriend, Miya-san?”

     “Hm, yeah—”

Her name was (y/n).

Suddenly, Atsumu grabbed his bottle and chugged the water down, hoping the gagging feeling would subside. 

     “Miya-san?”

     “Yanno, I’ll see ya later, squirt.”

The reunion was placed in a dingy looking bar, only because it was the closest to the university. Atsumu chuckled when he saw Osamu sitting at the corner, looking annoyed. Waving at his brother, Atsumu walked over to sit beside him, in absolute silence, before hearing Osamu click his tongue.

     “You smell disgustin’.”

     “Nice to see ya too, Samu. I just had a game—”

     “Couldn’tya shower?” Osamu sighed, running a hand through his hair.

It didn’t take long for Atsumu to bring you up.

     “She ain’t here,” Osamu said, rolling his eyes, “Head from ‘er friend, Sakura something, that ‘er life is practically shit.”

Atsumu wasn’t too surprised to hear this, but there it was again, the gagging feeling at the back of his throat.

     “Didja even know ‘er father used to drink, Tsumu?”

He did. He knew. 

     “So fuckin’ self-centered,” He heard his twin whisper to himself. “Tis a surprise to me that she was even with ya for so long.”

He knew. Yet, he never once addressed it. Never once asked you how you were. Never once bothered to allow himself to know; it was as if he was comfortable being praised within the bubble you had created for him, sheltering him from your nasty background. Only now when he thought about it did he realize how terrible he was, as a friend, as a boyfriend, as a lover—he had failed to be a decent human being to you.

     “O’er there’s Sakura something,” Osamu said, pointing to a girl Atsumu remembered would always stick by your side. “She was in the track team with (y/n).”

Atsumu normally would have stayed away; maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the deep mourning he had been feeling from the past few weeks, but in actuality, it was the gnawing feeling that was threatening to spill, it was killing him.

     “Sakura-chan, it’s been a while.”

The way this girl sent a glare to Atsumu’s direction almost made him laugh.

     “Let me guess, you want to know about (y/n).”

     “Was it that obvious?” Atsumu rubbed the back of his head.

Sakura sighed, “Listen, I ain’t tellin’ you shit because you asked. I’m tellin’ you because it’ll do her good to see someone right now and it might as well be you because it clearly won’t be anyone else.”

What the hell does that mean? 

     “A month ago, (y/n)’s father left them,” Atsumu’s eyes widen, “She had to almost quit college, but her mum found a job at a convenience store. But, (y/n) moved out of her dorm and lives at home now, saving up on the grad school money and helping out.”

     “Her father... He...” 

     “Listen,” Sakura snapped, clicking her tongue, “I ain’t tellin’ you no more of this. Go see her or don’t, she doesn’t need you. God knows you ain’t good for her.”

Atsumu almost nodded at the girl’s statement. 

     “She told you nothin’ because well, did ya ever ask?”

He goes back to his room after that shit-fest of a reunion, Osamu patting his shoulder a couple of times before making a move. Once he was back, Atsumu instantly broke down—the tears stinging his eyes as they fell, it was as if his tears were made of acid because it had been that long since he had cried for anything.

His hands were shaking, and he needed to do something to stop them from shaking—the feeling was intense and he hated every second of it. Throwing a nasty punch to the wall, Atsumu’s hands were bruised instantly before he realized he was a pro-volleyball player. Heading to the sink, he placed his hands under the running water and breathed, noting that his breath was hitching. He looked out into the water and just stared. Closing his eyes, Atsumu’s legs found themselves dragging him to every corner of his hotel room—finding an inch that could comfort him that night. He settled for the balcony, under the stars, where he found himself begging the sparkling lanterns of light to cure him of himself—his past and the kaleidoscope of mistakes, failures and wrong turns that have stacked unbearable regret upon his shoulders.

*

The loss of their final game of the season did not him him as hard as it would otherwise have. In the dressing room, he felt his phone buzz and his heart jumped out of his ribcage at the name that had popped up on his phone. 

(y/n): Jump set, back set, one set, two set, if setting were easy, they might let you set!

It takes Miya Atsumu less than a few seconds to call you. 

     “Tsumu? Is everything okay?”

     “Where are you?” It was eerie that you were whispering, but it was even eerier that he didn’t know where you were.

He always knew; it felt so strange.

     “I’m at work, actually—”

At work? Aren’t you a grad student? He wanted to ask, but words refused to slip out of him right then. The silence stretched out, heartbeat after heartbeat – taut, excruciating. And then, finally, came the first sound: 

     “I want to see you.”

His voice betrayed him; he didn’t sound like himself, but here he was, stretching out far and thin by a person who made zero effort in ruining him but had invariably managed to do so.

It takes Atsumu even less time to book a cab and head to your location. What surprises him is that it’s the very same convenience store that your mother supposedly works at, but why did you say you were working there? Atsumu’s sudden curiosity over your wellbeing, over your life threw him for a toss. This was not how things were, but this was how things were supposed to be.

And there you were, standing outside the door, hands in your pockets, the green uniform of the convenience store over your clothes.

You stood there, in all your candid glory, confident, yet shy, and angel-like. Your (h/c) hair always seemed to capture whatever available light there was, and your skin, much to Atsumu’s annoyance, was flawless. Today you were wearing a black turtleneck that accentuated every curve and your jeans were structured in a way that they made sure they highlighted the best part of your legs. You had a thick aura of battle around you, and your face was almost doll-like, it was so pleasant to look at.

     “Ya work here?” Atsumu wasn’t grinning, you felt odd.

Blinking, “Mum’s a bit tired so I’m covering her shift. Are you—”

     “Why didn’t ya come to the reunion?”

     “I had to submit a paper earlier today. Sorry, I’d have loved to see everyone!”

Your cheerfulness kills him, and he only hopes it doesn’t show. But, he takes a good long look at you. Yes, you’re just as beautiful—but you have dark circles around your eyes now. You’ve lost a bit of weight. You’ve lost that spark in your eye.

Clearly, you were having a difficult time. Miya Atsumu finds that his heart is breaking at the revelation.

     “Tsumu, are you okay?”

Fucking hell.

     “Stop.”

Your eyes widen, “Eh?”

     “How am I? How are you?! Tell me what’s wrong, (y/n)! Tell me what’s happenin’ with you, I never... I never asked ya so ya never tell me? Am I really that fucked up of a guy? That ya can’t... I loved ya, (y/n), I still... Damn it! I fucked up, okay? I fucked up big time! (y/n)—”

You walk over to him and pat his head, but Atsumu instantly slaps your hand away. You shoot him a glare before patting his head once more and pulling him down forcefully, his head on your shoulder, breathing into it. 

     “Dad left us,” Atsumu freezes at your words. “He used to drink. He’d throw things sometimes. He didn’t really hit anyone until we’d go over to stop him—”

     “That’s fuckin’ horrible—”

     “He had his own issues.”

Atsumu pulls away before cursing, “Stop bein’ so fuckin’ understandin’ all the damn time!”

You find yourself giggling at his actions. 

     “It’s okay now.” You said, giving him a kind smile.

Atsumu shakes his head, “It’s not. It’s not okay, (y/n). What the fuck—Why... Why were you even with someone like me? What the hell is wrong with ya?”

He could see how the anger built up in your eyes, but he wasn’t finished.

     “You’re so fucking... perfect,” He rubs a hand over his face in frustration, “Grad student, supporting yer mom, you... you came to every single game o’ mine. Every single game, damn it... I never knew ‘cause you barely showed any signs, but why... Why the fuck were ya with someone like me—”

     “Tsumu... You kept me alive, you know?” He refused to believe it. “When I was with you, I could forget things from my life that would have otherwise destroyed me. I grew to love you because of how passionate you were and that passion blinded me,” You went ahead and held his hands in yours, not ignoring the freshly formed bruise on his knuckles. 

     “I was with you as a choice, Tsumu, and I’d choose you every single fucking time. I wasn’t with you because i had nowhere to go. Don’t ever think that, okay? Because I can very well live fine by myself! I chose to be with you because I love you and I’ll do anything for the people I love,” 

He had never seen this face of yours. It was enchanting.

     “And I get it, people say choose yourself over boys, but maybe, choosing you was what kept me healthy, because look at me, Tsumu,” You point to yourself, tears leaking out of your eyes, “Take a good long look!”

Miya Atsumu’s eyes widen. You’re so tired, it’s as bright as day now. The spark in your eye almost gone.

     “Loving you helped me, and I’m not saying that your self-centered assholery is toxic, no. Yeah, sure, it can be toxic, but I needed it at the time. I... I am not perfect, Tsumu. I’m so far from perfect that it’ll knock your socks off!”

You were rambling now and he remembered that trait of yours—a rare aspect from his past; you’d ramble when you got nervous, your hands flailing cutely in front of you, tracing invisible lines in the air as you tried to narrow down your words. Atsumu’s gaze softens, as he lets you.

     “P-Perfection doesn’t come from someone hiding their pain well, it’s... it’s dark and gritty and bloody and sweaty, because it’s so fucking hard—” Your voice breaks in the end.

Atsumu doesn’t waste time in pulling you to his chest, shushing you and kissing your cheeks in the next minute; he holds your face like you are the most precious thing ever. 

He takes a breath before asking you something he was afraid to, “I cheated on you, didn’t you get mad?”

You nod, “I got hella mad, I’m still a bit mad, of course! Hey, just because I’m madly in love with you doesn’t make me a doormat, yanno?” You fumble.

Atsumu notices how red your face is now, and he smiles. A genuine smile—one that you hadn’t seen on Atsumu in so, so long. Your hand is in his and he bends to your level, his forehead on your shoulder, and it first comes out as a whisper,

     “I’m so sorry, (y/n).”

Your eyes widen slowly.

     “I’m so sorry, I love you so much. I’m sorry—”

A second later, you wind your hands around him, hugging him, and it shushes him. 

You don’t hesitate, “You gotta make it up to me, you know?”

Atsumu smiles so warmly as he wipes the tears off your eyes, nodding. His hand glides down your arm, folds over your hand. His fingers lace with yours, palms kissing. You could feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.

     “I’ll do that for the rest of my life, (y/n).”

You make a disgusted face a second later, “Stop being so sappy, Tsumu, ewwww.”

Your hands grasp his collar and bring him down to your level, as you plant a kiss him on his lips. Atsumu kisses back but you could feel the hesitation in his bones, and it annoys you. You pull away, and say the one thing Atsumu has been dying to prove to you.

     “Kiss me like you missed me, Atsumu.”

They say a kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear. When Atsumu kisses you right then, he could have been whispering the secrets of the universe to you, but you didn’t care. His mouth came down on yours. And that was it. All the self-control he’d exerted over the past weeks went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Your arms came up around his neck and he pulled you against him. His hands flattened against your back, and you were up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing you. He clung to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, trying to tell you, with the press of his mouth on yours, all the things he could never say out loud. 

     “I love you so much, Miya Atsumu,” You say, your hands on his cheek, “I’m sorry for not opening up to you.”

With a shake of his head, “I’ll never let ya go, (y/n).” 

At that second, neither of you realize that Miya Atsumu would never look at another; the gagging in his throat was gone, replaced with the need to constantly wonder about you—a need to have you by his side permanently. Perhaps, this was growth. One would never know. But, whatever it was, Miya Atsumu was glad that he had found a habit he didn’t ever have to break anymore.

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #inarizaki #msby black jackal #shoyo hinata #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #reader insert

[good-rwbyaus]

Can we get Pyrrha's reaction to Professor Ruby?

Becoming AU:  [ Piece 1-5 ] [ P: Weiss ] [ P: Yang ] [ Piece 6 ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// Yes you can! Here ya go. Also, Happy Thanksgiving for those who celebrate it! Also Cardin vs Ruby. Yes. - lilac

Perspective : Pyrrha

The pairing system had picked Ruby and Cardin to fight in the sparring ring, which was a shame because she really wanted to give the guy a second beating today. However she wasn’t feeling too much loss, because she’d finally get to see how the girl who stole all the spotlight from her would perform.

Not that she was jealous or anything – well, a tiny part of her that had gotten used to the adulation might’ve been, but for the most part, she felt relieved and grateful. She wasn’t the one who had to carry the weight of people’s expectations anymore; it was Ruby who bore it instead. Despite how grateful she felt, she still wanted to fight the other girl – wanted to experience how the presumed professor-in-training fought.

Beyond their brief interaction in the Emerald Forest, she didn’t really know Ruby – the girl who’d been the center of rumors since her arrival, and it was hard to distinguish truth from lie. Maybe this spar, Ruby’s first public debut against another Hunter-in-training, would help elucidate things.

Now Cardin wasn’t a bad fighter by any means – a bad person, yes - but he knew his strengths and could leverage them well. However, her own strong points coincidentally met Cardin’s strong points perfectly; his strength and tenacity might’ve matched hers, but she had far more agility and flexibility. Combine that with subtle uses of Polarity to magnify the strength of her strikes, it was easy to turn a parry into both a disarming blow and quick surrender.  

However the strong points that served Cardin well countered Ruby’s strongest point, her speed. And the sparring ring was not suited for long range combat; it would be a tightrope walk if the younger girl wanted to employ guerilla tactics.

Yes.

It’ll be interesting to see how Ruby would approach this.

-----

“Are you sure you’re a professor?” Cardin taunted as he swung around aggressively, Ruby darting side to side to avoid his crater-creating blows. Their chase had lasted for over several minutes now, neither gaining much ground against the other.

“Are you sure you’re not an idiot? Weren’t you there when the Headmaster made the announcement?” The girl growled back at the clearly touchy subject as she fell back, creating distance and retaliating with sniper fire. The bullets pinged off Cardin’s armor for the most part, and the ones that headed for his uncovered extremities were deflected by his mace instead.

“The school’s still talking about you being one. And well I’m not impressed,” he posed with his mace on his shoulder. Several quiet cheers came from the audience. An inevitable thing honestly. Cardin was the perceived underdog in this situation, a student versus a professor-in-training. The only odd thing was that Professor Goodwitch hadn’t told the class to quiet down.

Ruby’s reply was a shot to his nether regions, one that he quickly deflected but the resulting clang still made a good portion of the class wince.

Incited, Cardin charged forward with a rage-filled yell, and their game of tag begun once again.

Ruby’s movements were always efficient and purposeful. Instead of constantly stepping back, she staggered her motion diagonally, never allowing Cardin to fully use his gathered momentum. However, the rare times she’d be forced into melee combat, they’d exchange a couple blows, never actually hitting each other, but then Ruby would always be the first to disengage, limbs trembling.

For a while, she thought the trembling was due to Cardin’s blows being heavier than what the younger girl could handle. But that wasn’t right. Ruby would never fully block a hit; she either parried a blow cleanly or avoided it entirely. If she were forced to directly block, she didn’t resist the blow’s momentum at all and allowed herself to fly away like a petal in a breeze.

It was those rare blows that made it seem like Cardin was winning, even though their Aura levels were equally low. She couldn’t help but feel like the younger girl was holding back some, though that didn’t make sense. Ruby didn’t like Cardin, especially after he messed with Jaune a couple times. Of course, Cardin didn’t do these things where Ruby could see him; Cardin was after all a bully and still afraid of the girl’s potential authority.

In any case, holding back was only if you wanted to spare the person embarrassment or if you wanted to hide your trump cards. But from the irritated look on Ruby’s face, she clearly didn’t want to do either of those. So why hasn’t the younger girl won yet? Everything was in her control, so why did she continue dragging things out?

Cardin cornered Ruby again, and it looked like they were again going to physically clash. Cardin swung for the girl’s shoulder, but Ruby had already swung to parry like everything was preplanned.

But what would happen if she….

… if she took away that control for just a moment...Pyrrha’s finger twitched.

The swinging mace suddenly acquired a slightly higher, slightly faster arc, enough to bypass the scythe that was swung to meet it. The young girl’s silver eyes rose in panic, and her feet were already pivoting and stepping back in an attempt to absorb the bl-

Crack.

...That wasn’t what she intended.

The blow struck the young girl cleanly against her shoulder, her red aura flickering as though it were about to disperse. She could see Cardin’s lips open to declare his triumph, but the younger girl swiftly spun with the momentum Cardin imparted to her. The moment Cardin finished out his swing, the muzzle of Ruby’s weapon already slammed straight into his throat, silencing whatever he was going to say.

That wasn’t what caught her attention though. It was Ruby’s eyes, previously angry and colored with emotion – now calm and calculating and empty. Were they always that cold shade of silver?

She saw Ruby’s finger press against the trigger of her weapon.

There was about to be an accident.

No. What has her meddling done?!

But the gunshot she expected never occurred.

Instead, Cardin stumbled backwards onto the ground, his mace clattering by his side. Choking noises came from his figure. His hands were clutched around his throat as he struggled to breathe, eyes bulging out in pain.

Ruby meanwhile shakily stood, her entire body trembling and barely keeping herself upright using her weapon as support. She kept her head lowered as she panted, her eyes covered by her bangs. No one could see the girl’s expression.

Cardin’s fear-filled eyes said it all though. Pyrrha wasn’t the only one who knew how close he came to dying; he also saw how close Ruby had been to pulling that trigger. Cardin might’ve still had Aura in reverse, but after a blow to the throat like that, even if the subsequent sniper shot didn’t outright kill him, it likely would’ve left him hospitalized for months – if he got out all.

Professor Goodwitch’s voice broke through the sudden chatter that erupted in the classroom.

“Miss Rose’s aura is in the red zone. Mister Winchester is victorious.”

================================

================================

The fight haunted her. Not only did she nearly cause an accident, she led Ruby directly into a loss against someone she didn’t like. All she wanted to do was make the younger girl panic a little to see what’d she do, not directly take a mace strike with her body. For over a week, she saw the girl tentatively rub her shoulder on occasion and even wince when accidentally jostled.

Maybe that was why when the Weapons Club started, she volunteered to be Ruby’s assistant as a means to atone, and it was through this that she got to truly know the other girl. First of all, Ruby knew her stuff when it came to weapons, even more so than fighting. The girl was a genius in this area, able to figure out how a weapon generally worked within a few seconds of manipulation and then determine the areas where it needed improvement a couple more seconds after that.

Honestly, Ruby outperformed most diagnostic machines in both time and accuracy, and that expertise really cemented Ruby’s reputation as a professor despite all her vehement denials.

It also rooted the impression that Ruby, despite being bubbly and generally friendly, was a strange and weird girl. For one, she rarely remembered people’s names, but she’ll remember your weapon down to the type of metal, its style of smithing, and whatever dust options it had - oh, and the name you gave it too. Also when she thinks no one’s paying attention, she’ll talk at the weapon she’s holding as if it were alive.  

She couldn’t help but feel that Ruby was lonely at Beacon. Apart from team JNPR and RWBY, she didn’t really have anyone else. When she spoke to her team about it, Ren had put it quite nicely. The girl’s perceived position made it hard for her to have friends outside of those who already knew her well: you could certainly be friends with a teacher, but there are always something things you’ll feel more comfortable telling your peers than an authority.

And the more she interacted with her, the more she felt like Ren was correct. Ruby denied being a professor so aggressively because the girl clearly knew this reasoning deep down inside, and all Ruby wanted to do was to live a normal student life. And it was sad because if there wasn’t this rumor going around, a lot more people would be unofficially adopting an adorable younger sister to their team.

Pyrrha glanced over at Ruby, sleeping over a bunch of well-marked papers and documents: books on leadership, documents on practical marksmanship, and pamphlets on basic dust usage. A hint of drool was hanging by the corner of the girl’s lips.

“Why do you try so hard?” she couldn’t help but ask to the sleeping girl.

What made a fifteen-year old work this hard? Maybe only Ruby knew the answer to the question. 

...All that hard work that she nearly managed to completely sabotage. Guilt struck her once again – she’d been meaning to apologize, but she just didn’t know how. How could she explain it to her friend now?

‘Oh sorry Ruby. I manipulated things to make Cardin win. But I really don’t hate you at all. I just wanted to see what would happen.’ Ugh. She guiltily glanced over the sleeping girl – Pyrrha still couldn’t figure out what had gone over her.

She probably would’ve cared less if she didn’t like her – she’d still feel guilty, yes, but it’d bother her less. But now that she’d gotten to know Ruby – became close friends with the lonely girl that’s always full of bubbly energy and the occasional snarky comment – she could feel the guilt eating away at her inside.

She’ll atone. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to tell her, she’ll pay the price through her actions instead. She’ll stand by her side no matter what, because in the end Ruby was one of her best friends. She owed this much to her.

Speaking of, it was getting late, wasn’t it?

Shaking her head free of the morose thoughts, Pyrrha smirked mischievously and quickly pinched the girl’s cheek before pulling.

The younger girl immediately woke and yelped, hands flailing and sending papers askew.

“whatthehellareyoudoing?!gidoff!”

================================

================================

They were alone now. Jaune had cut down the Ursa and in the process saved Cardin; with any luck, the bully would stop bothering Jaune about his transcripts now. 

But in the process of doing so, she revealed her Semblance to both Weiss and Ruby. And from the way Ruby stayed back, she was now going to pay the piper.

“So you did it,” Ruby said quietly, “You were the one who interfered with my fight.” The girl turned around with a betrayed expression on her face. “The Executioner didn’t move that way on its own.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Pyrrha quietly said, hand against her arm and slightly squirming against the shorter girl’s laser-like gaze, “I’m really sorry. I-“

“Do you know what could’ve happened?” the girl cut her apologies off, throwing down her arms angrily.

“I…yes.” Pyrrha nodded her head, looking straight at the ground and unable to meet Ruby’s eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ruby gained that oppressive demeanor from Professor Goodwitch.

“Then why?” Ruby nearly all but screamed. It was then she knew that day had left its mental scars on the Huntress: how close Ruby came to ending the life of a fellow student, both of them knew. It was clear the girl wanted an explanation now, and she definitely deserved one. The only question was if she could accept it.

“I was stupid,” Pyrrha admitted. “I saw you were holding back. You kept the fight completely under control to the point no one in class noticed… And I wanted to see what you’d reveal once you lost that control.” She shook her head, “I never... expect all that to happen.”

“You. Just for that stupid reason.”

Ruby was right. It was a stupid reason. She kept her bowed down low, the guilt weighing her down. “Yeah, I was being stupid. I promise you it had nothing to do with you specifically. I just wanted to see how well a good fighter would adapt.”

“…I’m sorry that I put you in that position. I’m sorry that I got one of my best friends hurt,” Pyrrha sobbed, “I…”

Ruby glared at her and then shook her head. The girl turned around and started walking away, the sight leaving Pyrrha cold inside. She lowered her head once more, watching her tears fall to the ground. She’d just lost a good friend this day. She wanted to say more things, but it was clear that Ruby had nothing else to say to her. 

The younger girl didn’t want anything to do with her now.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Huh?

Pyrrha lifted her head. A crimson blur was the only thing she registered before it slammed straight into her. Immediately, she bowled over and cut a course through the dirt. Her body felt sore after the collision, and she managed to get enough of her bearings to see the younger girl that just slammed into her stand up.

Stepping to the side, Ruby crossed her arms with a frown and declared, “Okay, I’m still mad at you, but now we’re even. ” Ruby paused briefly, probably having noticed the confusion in her face, as she further explained, “We weren’t friends then, but we’re friends now…”

“Right?”

Pyrrha, slowly sitting up, nodded her head, “I… Yeah.” Her tone became more confident and empathetic. “Of course.”

Ruby offered a hand to her, the corners of the girl’s lips curling up slightly despite her clear intention to maintain her frown.  

“So yeah, we’re even,” the girl repeated.

Taking up the offered hand, Pyrrha felt herself being lifted up before Ruby’s grip suddenly slackened, and she fell back down on her behind with a plop.

Somewhat shocked, Pyrrha looked back up at Ruby and couldn’t help but choke at the sight – whether it was a laugh or surprise she didn’t quite know.

The younger girl was hobbled over, holding onto her now red hand and opening her mouth in silent agony.

Before she could apologize, Ruby was already speaking.

“Ow! Ow. Ow. Pyrrha, how much milk do you drink to make your shoulder so hard?” the younger girl accused.

“Uh. Sorry, Ruby. But after working with Pumpkin’s Pete’s, I don’t really drink milk anymore.”

The affronted look on Ruby’s face was priceless.

It was there that she knew that everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

#rwby fic #rwby au #rwby #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #cardin winchester #mod lilac #Anonymous #becoming au