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ssadumba55 · 3 years

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Damsel In Distress (Velma Dinkley X Reader)

Request: how about something with Velma where the gang is investigating some odd happenings at an abandoned amusement park? everyone splits into pairs to explore and she and the reader are paired together, and they eventually end up with the culprit chasing them and reader gets really protective of her. the gang catches the guy but Velma asks why reader was being so defensive, and reader accidentally blurts out that they love her and don't know what they'd do if anything ever happened to her. thanks! :)

“Alright, everyone! Let’s split up and look for clues!”

There was a loud groan from Shaggy and Scooby as the blond male said his signature line. Most of the group didn’t mind being split up, but the two ‘fraidy cats almost always ended up with the monster chasing them. Splitting up was the worst part of investigating mysteries for them by far.

“Don’t worry guys, the sooner the monster chases you, the sooner we can get out of this creepy place,” you grinned, hands on your hips. There was nothing like a good mystery for you and ever since you’d run into the gang, they’d become more frequent. Something that Shaggy and Scooby also liked to complain about.

Shaggy crossed his arms over his chest in a show of annoyance, but didn’t say anything else as Fred began splitting the six of you into teams.

“I’ll go with Daphne to check out that creepy coaster Scooby thought he saw something earlier, Velma, (Y/n), why don’t you two head over there?” Fred jerked his thumb in the direction of the other side of the abandoned amusement park. There weren’t many structures still standing in that part of the park, but there was an antique carousel that had you intrigued.

There was something about carousels you loved, and even better, this was a mysterious carousel!

“Like perfect! Scoob and I will check out the abandoned restaurant!” Shaggy volunteered himself. If there was one thing that could get the two reluctant members moving, it was food. Even possibly stale food.

The group split up into the three teams, each wandering off in their own direction. Even though the lot of you knew this would only last for a short while, until Shaggy and Scooby were inevitably chased out of their food comas by some monster.

“You think those kids really saw a monster out here?” You asked Velma, climbing onto the abandoned carousel and moving through the horses with practiced ease. Something about the carousel made you nostalgic, even though you hadn’t really rode them much as a kid. Maybe it was the amusement park as a whole that was making you nostalgic.

You went to plenty of those as a kid.

Velma adjusted her glasses, looking up from her laptop screen with an indignant snort. “You and I both know that monsters don’t exist, (Y/n).”

You shrugged. She was right. In all the time you’d been mystery hunting together, not one had turned out to be a real monster. It was always just some weirdo in a costume. You supposed in a way that was a cruel irony, humans were after all the biggest monsters out there.

Velma went back to studying her laptop screen, she carried that thing everywhere. Even, apparently, abandoned amusement parks. You took the time while she was distracted to study her.

A lot of people would argue that she wasn’t really attractive, but you begged to differ. Sure, she didn’t dress up like Daphne or put on loads of makeup, but the brunette was charming in her own way. She was the smartest in the gang, even smarter than you. You had always loved the way her eyes lit up when she was onto something, how excited she got when she realized she’d solved the mystery.

She was usually the first one too, because she was so smart.

Yeah, okay. So maybe, just maybe you had a crush on Velma Dinkley, but what’s so bad about that? She’s attractive! Her hair is really nice and her eyes shine so bright behind those glasses and the freckles…

“(Y/n)? Are you listening to me?” Her voice shocked you back to reality. Oh god, had she been telling you important information pertaining to the case? And had you missed it because you were too busy thinking about her freckles?

You opened your mouth to respond, already trying to form an excuse for why you hadn’t been paying attention when a massive shadow formed behind Velma. It was huge, twice or maybe even three times the size of you both, with glowing red eyes and long snaking arms that were reaching….

Reaching for Velma!

There was no hesitation from you, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards you, just out of reach of the monster. The long limbs collided grasping onto nothing but thin air, as for Velma she was startled and dropped her laptop. She made a move to go back and grab it but you pulled on her hand, leading her away from the monster.

“No time! We can circle back and grab it later!” You called over your shoulder, eager to put distance between you and Velma and whatever that thing was. Admittedly, you felt foolish as you ran from the exact thing you’d all been searching for since you’d got here. You’d never taken yourself for a runner, which was a good thing because Shaggy and Scooby pretty much cornered the market for that in the small group dynamic you all shared.

Still, here you were running. It was so out of character you almost wanted to turn around and go back. But you needed to keep Velma safe, that was the top priority.

The yells and screams you and your friend were making as you ran must’ve alerted the rest of the group. Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby came running (of course, once they saw the monster, Shaggy and Scooby quickly joined you).

There was a lot of panicked screaming and yelling, at one point Velma and Shaggy ran smack into each other, causing her glasses to fall. She immediately went down for them, bringing you down with her because your hands were still intertwined. You grabbed her glasses and she gratefully put them back on, the two of you laying breathless on the ground as the sounds of Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne and Fred’s panicked voices filled the air around you.

It was unspoken that neither of you wanted to move. So you just waited until the yelling stopped, then the two of you climbed to your feet and walked over to where Fred had successfully managed to catch the monster.

“Like, what’s with the hands? You guys aren’t still scared of the monster are you? Fred’s got it all tied up!” Shaggy pointed to you and Velma’s joined fingers. Immediately, the two of you flushed and separated.

In order to distract the group from the awkwardness, Velma stepped forward and unmasked the culprit. Who turned out to be the two kids who had told you guys about the amusement park. They explained their plan to the group, but you were barely paying attention.

“We would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for your meddling!” The taller boy huffed after realizing they’d been caught and would be in a lot of trouble for this.

The gang made their way back to the Mystery Machine. Another successful mystery in the bag, Shaggy and Scooby are furthest ahead, ready to get back to their precious Scooby Snacks. Not far behind them, Daphne and Fred walk, laughing to each other about something you can’t hear.

You and Velma bring up the far rear, walking a ways behind everyone else.

“Were you doing that on purpose?” She asked as the two of you walked, finally breaking the slightly tense silence between the two of you. It had settled there after Shaggy had pointed out your hands and hadn’t left the entire time.

You were slightly confused about what she was talking about, then realized. “Oh! The hands- no. I’m sorry, I forgot we were-”

“Not that, (Y/n). You were purposely shielding me from the monster back there,” as the two of you walked by the carousel, she bent down to pick up and dust off her laptop that had been laying there forgotten the entire time, “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle my own out here, I’ve been doing this a long time, you know.”

You were taken aback by her words. Of course you knew Velma could handle her own, that was one of the reasons you liked her so much. She was the smartest person in the room and she knew it, there was nothing that could get past her. She was also the toughest, not tough in the way Fred was but she was definitely her own kind of tough.

“I know that, I didn’t mean anything by it… I-”

“You don’t take me seriously.” She put the words in your mouth and you felt your face heat up, that was not what you had meant at all!

“Velma, no, I-”

“Then why don’t you do the same thing for Daphne. Or Fred. Or Shaggy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She was sure she had you figured out, so sure she had gotten to the bottom of this mystery. You almost wanted to agree with her just so you could see that light shine in her eyes as she pulled you back to the van to tell everyone else. Then they’d all never let you live it down.

As you were thinking this through, she took it as an opportunity to keep on rambling. You were tired, it had been a long night. It’d surely be an even longer night, because you probably wouldn’t be stopping again any time soon and Shaggy and Scooby would be hyped up on Scooby Snacks-

“I LOVE YOU, VELMA DINKLEY!”

You cut her rambling off, the words echoing through the abandoned amusement park. Up ahead, Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby froze, turning back to look at the two of you.

For once, Velma was speechless, so you decided to continue.

“And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let something happen to you. I know we just met less than a year ago and I know that mystery hunting isn’t a very romantic setting, but despite that I fell in love with you. You’re right, it’s different when Shaggy is being chased by the monster, because I don’t love him. If something happened to you, my world would shatter, it would be MY fault. If something happens to Shaggy that’s just another day out mystery hunting.”

Tears were burning your eyes, threatening to fall. There she had made you say it. She had made you say it all.

You didn’t even realize your hands were balled into fists at your sides until something nudged one of them and you realized Scooby had made his way back to the two of you. He’d seen you distressed and was offering his comfort. You placed your hand on his head to let him know you were okay.

“I had no idea,” the girl dressed in orange said softly from across you.

The amusement park was dead silent. Not even the other members of the team dared to speak and risk another outburst.

After a few tense moments, where everything you’d said hung weightily in the silence, Velma reached out her hand and took the empty hand of yours that wasn’t occupied with petting Scooby. She smiled softly, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry you thought that I thought you were a damsel in distress,” you smiled awkwardly as the two of you walked to join the rest of the gang, Scooby at your side.

“I’m sorry I thought you thought I was a damsel in distress,” she smiled guiltily, “I should’ve had more faith in you.”

As the two of you approached the other three, Daphne rolled her eyes.

“Will you two just kiss and make up already, we need to get back on the road or we’re going to miss that show Fred got us tickets to!”

“We can’t miss that! Like, I hear the food there is out of this world!”

“Reah, rout rof rhis rorld!”

You felt your face heat up, looking over at Velma. She shrugged and leaned over. Inches from your face, she stopped leaning forward quickly and pecking your cheek before bolting the rest of the distance to the Mystery Machine. Fred and Daphne climbed in the front as you pushed Shaggy out of the way to follow Velma in.

“Hey! That wasn’t a real kiss! You owe me another one!”

“(Y/n), we’re dating you can have as many as you want.”

#scooby doo imagine #scooby doo x reader #mystery gang imagine #mystery gang x reader #velma dinkley imagine #velma dinkley x reader

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softykooky · 3 years

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sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.

You’re such a fool, Y/N.

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.

“And I need to go.”

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

They would wait a bit longer.

Everything would be okay after dinner.

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.

You cry for Y/N.

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

He knocks again.

Nothing.

A third time.

Complete and utter silence.

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones.

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.

“America.”

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.”

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.

“What are you talking about?”

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.

“There’s been an accident.”

taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx, @thebleuprince, @dreamer95, @jinana-iactium, @holaaaf, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re, @katbonv, @embrace-themagic, @jiminmochee, @fanoffandomss, @mwitsmejk, @mrsfortune1306, @raadia, @kookima, @bonesfordayss, @dinoboysindahouse, @jiminie-lovely, @queenceline22, @jikooksgirl19, @somewhereinthestarss, @kookieskiwi, @lynnfanficreblogs, @vintageroses10,

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

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F&D - Search for Infinity ❤️‍🔥P12❤️‍🔥 Mission Impossible

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

The talk on the quinjet was brief. Your mind was elsewhere. You kept replaying the charade that was your life. You had grown up thinking your dad loved you, that he had died, you grieved him, mourned him, only for him to have been alive for all of those years. Not only that, he also wanted your family dead. Despite all of those thoughts, your mind kept returning you to the moment you extinguished him. The hate you felt. The distain you held for your own flesh and blood. It was sickening. After what felt like about half an hour, Steve landed the quinjet.

“We’re here.” He interrupted your thoughts.

“Here?” You replied, standing up.

“Yeah, about a two minute walk away.”

“Alright.” You nodded as you both exited.

The walk was quiet. When you reached the abandoned looking building, you first noticed the scaffolding around it, it looked unsteady. You wondered how long this building had remained off the radar, forgotten. Steve gestured for you to stand behind him whilst you both walked inside. The air was thick with dust made visible by the cracks of sunlight streaming inside from the broken windows. From what you could tell, the building was empty. Further in, there was a staircase. Considering that the ground floor was empty, you and Steve cautiously walked up the stairs.

“Stay behind me and stay vigilant, there could be anything lurking around.” Steve warned.

“Yes Cap.” You answered, rolling your eyes at his sternness. Once you reached the second floor, there was a room with clear windows around it.

“It’s that room.” Steve pointed before you both headed inside it. At first glance, it looked like a normal office room but upon closer inspection, you began to notice small details that assured you that this was in fact Scars hideaway. On the far left wall, there was a picture frame hung up. Walking towards it, you grimaced at the sight of you in the picture hugging your dad. Picking it up from the wall, you threw it to the ground causing a loud shattering noise.

“Try not to brake everything you don’t want.” Steve chuckled.

“I don’t want any of it, why are we actually here again?” You replied dryly.

“Fury wanted you to go through everything incase there was anything you wanted to keep. He knows that at he end of the day, you loved your father. You deserved to be the one to look through the last of his personal things.” He explained.

“I shouldn’t have come, there’s nothing here I could possibly want.” You averred.

“There’s also one last dark object that SHIELD haven’t been able to acquire, Fury was hoping we’d find clues here.” He added.

“Fine. Let’s search.” You settled. You and Steve rummaged through the contents of all the draws and cabinets in the room hoping to find anything that could lead you do the last dark object. After a while, you sat at the desk chair, spinning around. “It makes me sick.” You began “he was right here all this time, right under all our noses whilst I was what? Crying at an empty grave.” You laughed mirthlessly.

“Y/n, you can’t blame yourself.” Steve tried to comfort you, still searching through a box.

“I don’t, I blame him, the bastard.” You sighed.

“Aww y/n look.” Steve smiled, holding up a picture. Standing up, you made your way towards him. Looking at the picture in his hand, you found yourself beginning to well up as you took in your attire. You were no older than Sev when that picture was taken. “Who’s the other girl?” He asked, pointing to the other girl in the picture who looked a couple of years older than yourself.

“I don’t actually know.” You answered honestly.

“Well you both look happy.” Steve simpered. Taking the picture from his hands, you turned it over to see the writing inscribed on the back.

My darlings Anna and y/n

You read the words aloud.

“Who’s Anna?” Steve asked.

“I don’t actually know.” You uttered before looking towards Steve “STEVE LOOK OUT!” You shouted, seeing a man approaching him from behind. Keeping you behind him, Steve managed to knock the man out before grabbing your hand.

“I guess we couldn’t find anything about the dark object, we better leave.” He asserted as you both rushed down the stairs.

“Seems like he was alone.” You commented, not seeing or hearing anyone.

“Ye—” Steve began, placing his hand on his neck before taking out a dart. “I-y/n run” he spoke before falling down the last few steps and onto the ground. You hurried towards him, keeping low as you tried to wake him until you saw a man approaching you. Standing up, you eyed him, delving into his mind. Using his fear of dogs, you managed to make him think he was being chased by three as he sprinted away. You heard a familiar voice scolding him before the person came into view. You gasped as you laid your eyes on them only to feel something blunt hitting your head before you fell unconscious.

Steve we are dead, we are literally dead. Abort mission 😂

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@eyesbluelikethetitanic

@geeky-politics-46

@laufeyson965

@immersed-in-mischief

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#loki x reader #loki x avengers #steve rogers #reader x steve rogers #avenger reader

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you.

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together.

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten.

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation.

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all.

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned.

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms.

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present.

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?”

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up.

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously.

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it.

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious.

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box.

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away.

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt.

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss.

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this.

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you.

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was.

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully.

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was.

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place.

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

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stormyoceansmain · 3 years

Text

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

#i don't have a solid enough grasp on the english language for any of this and yet here we are #you can easily spot where i didn't know what the hell i was doing #when i say im literally losing my mind over these two..#most self indulgent thing i've ever done im sorry for subjecting you to it #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #alpine #also - embarrassingly enough - i started to write this before the video of bucky saying he wanted to move in with sam #otherwise i would have made them roommate

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hqbbg · 4 years

Text

memorable.

pairing: kageyama x fem!reader

summary: you’re a virgin and kageyama’s about to change that

genre: smut

word count: 2.7K

warnings: 18+, language, aged up characters, fingering, loss of innocence, no plot tbh (but kinda friends to lovers?), awkward moments just for fun, slight hair pulling kink

author’s note: so this was supposed to be a response to a request but I'm dumb with fat thumbs and accidentally clicked the delete button on the post after I posted it (but thankfully I still had the story saved on my laptop uwu) but n e ways 👁👄👁 to the anon that requested this, I hope this finds you well and ALSO I HIT 500 FOLLOWERS!! thank you to everyone and I might have an event or something to celebrate idk yet 🥺🤧 ok sorry this a/n was long, hope you guys enjoy!! 💖

“Are you okay?”

You do your best to form coherent words, but you can only whimper as you nod your head, gripping Kageyama’s shirt in your fists as he slowly pumps two long fingers in and out of you while your shorts and underwear are abandoned somewhere on his living room floor.

It had started out as an innocent conversation as the two of you sat on his couch which had somehow shifted to the topic of sex. Kageyama was well aware that you were inexperienced, and you trusted him as one of your closest friends to not judge you for a lot of the different questions you had. Apparently being a pro volleyball player was a big plus in impressing the ladies no matter how awkward or intimidating you were, proven by Kageyama’s track record.

Perhaps you had overstepped a boundary when you’d asked him about his experience in fingering, but Kageyama certainly didn’t seem to mind and it was most definitely his idea to show instead of telling you just how good he was at it, even if he was super awkward in proposing the idea.

“Kageyama,” you surprise yourself at the sound of your voice that’s become hardly recognizable with how lustful it sounds. “Faster.”

He nods his head as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your sopping wet heat at a quicker pace. His fingers reach much further than your own ever could, and you feel almost lightheaded at the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he practically groans as he leans towards you. You throw your head back against the couch and soon feel his lips on your exposed throat, sucking and nipping gently at the skin. You arch your back as you feel his fingers brush a spot deep inside you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself and can’t help but cry out in pleasure. Kageyama is quick to get the hint and angles his fingers to repeatedly hit that spot, practically shooting you straight towards your first orgasm caused by another person.

“F-Fuck, Kageyama,” you moan as your toes curl. “I-I think I’m going to—”

Your statement is cut short as you feel Kageyama firmly press his lips against yours, swallowing your moans. You loosen your grip on his shirt and move one hand to the back of his head, weaving your fingers through his hair. He hums against your lips as you begin to tug on his locks, tightening your grip when you feel his thumb press against your clit, rubbing it in harsh circles. You gasp and feel his tongue slip inside your mouth as your body begins to tremble and before you know it, your walls are clamping down on his fingers and you feel your orgasm consume your senses.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama’s voice manages to reel you back down from your high as he pulls away and you look at him with half-lidded eyes, hearing a dull ringing in your ears.

“Never better,” you admit with a shy smile. He returns the smile and you notice that his cheeks have tinted a light shade of pink.

He slowly removes his fingers and you bite your lip to hold back the soft whimper threatening to slip out from the sensitivity. You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips and feel yourself blushing deeply at how erotic he looks, sucking and licking his fingers clean.

“You taste pretty good,” he says casually and you’re sure you look almost feverish from the embarrassment.

He leans forward again and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue and momentarily clearing your thoughts of anything but him. Your hands begin to wander down his chest to his waist and move towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Hey, we don’t have to go further tonight,” he says softly as he pulls away.

“I want to,” you say as you lock eyes with him. The dark blue tint of his eyes practically blends in with the lustful expanse of his blown-out pupils and you hate the idea of leaving him in this state without release.

“Are you sure?”

Your fingers graze over the growing hardness between his legs and you bite your lip as you nod, noting the increased pacing of his breathing. You know your friendship will change after this—whether it’s for better or for worse—but you’re willing to take that risk.

“I’m bound to lose my virginity eventually,” you say, your eyes flitting back up to look at him. “Plus, we’ve made it this far, so just make my first time memorable.”

“I think I can manage that,” he replies as he dips his head to kiss you again.

His hands take more liberty now as he uses one hand to cup your clothed breast, giving it a firm squeeze to elicit a moan from you. He slips his tongue inside your mouth and you feel him guide and maneuver your body so you’re laying down across the couch. He adjusts your positions, so you aren’t squeezed to one side as he hovers over you and slips his hand under your shirt, ghosting over the bare skin of your torso.

His lips move down your jaw and you sigh with content as he licks and kisses the skin behind your ear. Your own hands busy themselves with his shirt and he pulls his lips away for a moment to sit upright and lift his shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. You have a moment to admire the definition of his muscles, the way they ripple with his movements. He leans back down to kiss your neck and collarbone, and your fingers trace the existing lines on his abdomen before arriving at his waistband.

Before you can do anything, Kageyama tugs on your shirt and you prop yourself up slightly to get rid of it. Upon doing so, Kageyama’s fingers are quick to unhook your bra as well and free your breasts, leaving you completely naked before him. He remains sitting upright and licks his lips as his eyes take their time memorizing every dip and curve of your body. You raise your arms to cover yourself from embarrassment and it seems to snap Kageyama out of his daze as he grabs your wrists and gently pries them away from your body.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” he says softly as he leans back over you. “You’re beautiful.”

Just when you think it’s impossible, your face burns hotter and you can barely mutter a response as he captures your lips with his again. His hands knead your breasts, his fingers occasionally pinching and rolling your nipples to hear soft moans from you. Your hands find their way back to his pants and you begin to tug them down. Kageyama removes one hand to help you and pulls his lips away, muttering curses under his breath when his sweats prove to be troublesome as they refuse to simply slip off.

You can’t help but giggle softly at his visible frustration and watch as he eventually yanks them down, sliding them off and kicking them aside. The crease that had managed to form between his brows softens when he turns his attention back to you and instantly forgets what he was even upset about to begin with—the way your lips are tugged into a smile along with your pink-dusted cheeks stirs something in Kageyama beyond his current lust.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” You ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. He can see how shy and nervous you are.

“I just never thought this day would come,” he replies honestly. Before you can question anything further, he slips his boxers down, freeing his erect cock.

You bite your lip as you look at it, head empty of every thought that does not revolve around the naked man before you. This is your first time seeing a dick in person and to be quite honest, you’re intimidated by it; how’s it even supposed to fit?

“We’ll take it slow,” says Kageyama, as if he was reading your thoughts. Your eyes meet his and you nod, only partially comforted by the softness of his voice; your mind is still trying to wrap around how you’re supposed to wrap around him.

Kageyama kisses your neck and you sigh softly as he uses his hands to relax some of the tension you hadn’t even realized you had built up in such a short amount of time. You feel his fingers prodding back at your entrance before his index finger drags up your slit.

You feel him spread your wetness around a little before inserting two fingers again for the second time this evening and you moan as he begins to spread them within you in a scissoring motion. Your hands are on his shoulder and in his hair as he continues to suck on a sensitive spot on your neck, nibbling every so often. He continues to stretch you out for a little longer until you’re writhing and whimpering under him, begging for something more. He pulls his fingers out and you watch as he sits up a little to position himself. He coats his length with a mixture of your juices on his fingers along with the precum that’s been beading at the tip of his cock and you can’t deny that he looks undeniably attractive doing so.

He positions himself at your entrance, prodding your lower lips open with the head before a thought seems to hit him and he pauses, pulling away. You look at him with confusion and he looks back at you with sheepish realization.

“Let me go grab a condom.”

You’d been so caught up in the moment that you’d also forgotten to implement protection and can only sit and watch as he hurriedly rushes into his room. You sit up and wait patiently as you hear him opening a couple drawers and slamming them, muttering incoherent words to himself before rushing back out to you, his fingers fiddling with a recognizable square wrapper. He tears it open and grabs the rubber ring as he finally reaches his way back to you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find where I’d placed my condoms,” he mutters as he rolls the condom onto himself.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head with a small smile. “Better late than never to remember, right?”

“Good point,” he smirks back and climbs on top of you again. He gives you a chaste kiss before gripping onto his cock again and you spread your legs for him as he repositions himself. You bite your lip in anticipation as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy again, coating the condom with your dripping slick.

You watch and feel the anticipation building as he begins to push through and your hands scramble to grip onto anything tangible, one hand settling on the back of the couch and the other cupping over your mouth to conceal the pained whimpers escaping your lips.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asks gently as he pauses his movements momentarily. You feel the painful stretch and glance down to see that he’s barely halfway in before inhaling deeply and nodding. “If you need me to slow down or stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut as he begins to push his way in again, slowly easing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses as he leans over you, using one arm to support himself by your head. He dips his head to nuzzle his face into your neck, whispering and muttering sweet encouragements in your ear.

After what feels like an eternity of being stretched and filled, he finally bottoms out and remains still to allow you to adjust to him accordingly.

“Are you okay?” he asks once again, lifting his head to look at your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut with tears lining your lashes and he brushes some hair out of your face as you shift your body slightly to feel more comfortable, though you can’t imagine how right now.

Kageyama’s patient as he continues to mutter sweet nothings in your ear until you’re finally ready for him to move.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you manage to reply. He begins to slowly pull out and eventually stops right before his entire length slips out of you and pushes all the way back in. You can’t help but cry out as he repeats the motions slowly, pausing every so often to ensure that you’re doing okay.

So… this is sex, huh?

“Kageyama,” you say when you begin to finally feel the pain beginning to dull. “F-faster.”

You can practically see the enthusiasm on his face as he nods, his hands moving to your hips as he begins to thrust his hips quicker. You continue to moan and arch your back as Kageyama sits up, gripping your hips to stabilize you as he continues to snap his hips against yours.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to him to hit even deeper than before, causing you to practically see stars as you become undone under him, moaning and chanting his name. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout his apartment and you prop yourself up with your elbow, using your free hand to reach out to Kageyama and pull him down to kiss you. He swallows your moans as he grunts against your lips, feeling you fist his hair in your hand.

“Fuck, I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that,” he practically growls, and you can feel your walls tighten around him, the bubble of pleasure in the pit of your stomach growing. “or if you keep tightening around me—fuck, you’re so tight, baby.”

“I-I think I’m close,” you whimper as you push yourself up further so you’re nearly sitting upright. Kageyama rests his forehead against yours, panting as he locks eyes with you.

“Me too,” he says as he does his best to maintain his rhythm. He releases one of your legs and moves his arm forward to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in circles. Your back arches and an ecstatic moan of pleasure rips through you as you’re hurled to your second orgasm.

“Tobio, I’m cumming!” You cry out as you feel your walls tightening around him, your nails digging little crescents into the skin of his back and shoulders. He hisses as he continues his ministrations, allowing you to reach your climax first.

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as you throw your head back, moaning his name as the bubble in your stomach bursts and white flashes before your eyes, your whole body trembling. Kageyama is close behind as he hisses, his movements growing increasingly sloppier until he also finally begins to release his load whilst being inside of you.

Your body feels spent as he slows down, thrusting his hips a few more times before stilling completely. The room is soon filled with the simple sounds of both of your heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asks again once he’s recovered from his climax. He gently brushes some hair away from your face and you see how soft he is now in comparison to mere moments ago.

“Yeah, I think I’m more than okay,” you say with a bashful giggle.

“Good,” he replies with a soft smile and leans forward to kiss you. Your hands move up and cup his face, holding him close to you for a few more moments before he pulls away.

“I’m going to pull out, okay?”

You nod and wince as he pulls out, unbelievably sensitive. You’re also now more aware of the growing soreness between your legs and find it hard to close your legs.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” says Kageyama as he helps you move so you’re sitting upright on the edge of the couch.

Kageyama is the first to get up and begins to make his way towards his room before stopping and turning to look at you.

“So, was your first time memorable?”

“Definitely,” you reply with a nod. The smirk you see on his face is one you only see after he wins his volleyball games and another thought crosses your mind. “What if I said it wasn’t?”

“Then maybe I can try again until I get it right.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x you #kageyama x reader #hq kageyama #hrnybbg

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tojitiddies · 3 years

Text

✰ [GHOST] BUSTING MAKES ME FEEL GOOD

pairing ⋆ connie springer x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ you don’t know who’s crazier. your ghost hunting boyfriend or you for even dating him.

warnings ⋆ paranormal encounters, slight ghost coercion, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie

ꔵ there was no doubt about it, your boyfriend connie was an oddball. like tin hat wearing, crazy conspiracist, dark reddit forum odd. his friends often asked him how he’d bagged a chick like you in the first place and honestly you were curious too. you’d met him at a halloween party your best friend mikasa had thrown. one wild night and two awkward dates later you both became that sickeningly sweet couple that everyone hated to love.

at this point in your relationship you had grown used to connie’s random 3AM messages about some spooky forum he’d found or him sending random true crime articles he wanted you to read. he and his roomates jean and sasha all ran a somewhat popular youtube channel — they called themselves “the phantom philosophers” — where they covered different cryptid and ghost stories sent to them by viewers. they also went on numerous ghost hunts to try and speak or communicate with ghosts. you were always curious about your boyfriend’s odd way of life and even appeared on one of his streams once — his subscribers couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend. so, when connie asked you if you wanted to come along with him, jean, and sasha for a ghost hunt you jumped at the opportunity.

that’s exactly how you found yourself in front of an abandoned church while your boyfriend and his friends began setting up their equipment. tonight they were looking for the ghost of a pastor who secretly ran his own brothel beneath the church. one of the women had turned on him and murdered him while they were having sex. the story seemed completely made up, but connie assured you it was legit.

you watched as connie started setting up his body camera and clipping it to his jacket. “so...anything i can help with?” you asked, rocking back on the heels of your sneakers. connie looked up at you as if he’d forgotten you were there. “huh? oh, no babe you’re fine. just stand there looking pretty.” he replied sweetly. you forced a smile towards him, letting it falter when he went back to messing with his equipment. you had only agreed to this because you wanted to spend time with him, but this entire trip he’d been so distracted. you were so used to having his attention all the time, it was starting to take you out of the mood.

you decided to go find out what sasha was doing. she had a boyfriend too, niccolo. he was really nice and an amazing cook. earlier you’d asked her why he didn’t come with you all, to which she told you that niccolo was secretly a huge fraidy cat. when you approached her she was sitting in the trunk of jean’s pick up. she seemed to be really focused on...some sort of device? “what’s that?” you queried, sitting next to her. sasha beamed and shoved it into your lap. “this, my friend, is a modernized proton pack like the ghostbusters use! i’ve been engineering this baby for a couple months now and this is gonna be its first field run!” she squeals as she begins to point out all the functions and uses of the device. it looked sort of like a portable cd player.

while sasha babbled on about her “precious baby” jean and connie approached you both, equipment and cameras ready. “here you are ____.” jean presented you with a headlamp and a frequency tuner. “now first rule of ghost hunting, do not be on your own. you’re always gonna want a buddy. i’m assuming connie will fill that role?” he asked, looking between the two of you. you were still annoyed with him but you nodded anyway. you’d bring it up when the two of you were alone. “alright then. sasha you’re with me. and don’t even think about trying to spook me this time, i took self defense lessons and i’ll definitely clock you this time.” he scolded, to which sasha responded by rolling her eyes. “oh please, it was just a joke pony boy.” she taunted. jean shot her a glare. “keep it up.” he warned before turning back to you.

“second rule, do not under any circumstances curse a ghost. not only will that anger the ghost and make it mad at you, it will also get mad at everyone else and we don’t want any part of your beef. so keep it to yourself.” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “jean you don’t need to mansplain ghost hunting to me, i’m not stupid. plus i watch you guys’ channel all the time.” you say, sliding off the truck and situating the headlamp on. “i’m ready to get to some ghostbustin!” sasha hops up and high fives you. connie laughs and wraps his arm around your waist. “ah don’t worry jean, i’ll be with her the whole time.” jean stares blankly between the three of you before shaking his head.

“whatever. connie go ahead and start your body cam. it’s time to head in.” connie chuckles at jean’s annoyance and switches on the camera, a small red light peeps out to signal it’s recording. jean has one on as well, tapping his slightly to test it out. “alright gang, buckle up. i’m trying to meet a horny ghost.” he said with a grin, beginning his march into the church, the three of you following close behind.

ꔵ inside the church it was dusty and reeked of mildew. you pinched your nose as you and the others switched on your headlights. “jesus christ, it fucking stinks.” connie remarks. sasha elbows him in the rib. “dude we’re in a haunted church, you can’t take the lord’s name in vain.” she scolds him before crossing her shoulders in silent prayer. you giggle as connie rolls his eyes at sasha’s ridiculous antics. a strong gust of wind blows through the church, causing the front entrance to slam shut. you shriek, grabbing ahold of connie’s arm while sasha laughs at your frightened behavior. “don’t worry ____, ‘s just the wind.” connie reassures you, rubbing your shoulder.

“alright guys enough fucking around. it’s time to split up and cover more ground.” jean says, taking charge. “sasha, you and i are gonna explore the chapel and the pastor’s office. connie and ____, you both are going down to the abandoned brothel in the basement.” he instructs. connie groans and folds his arms. “seriously? that’s probably where his ghost is hiding.” connie complains. you tense up at that. it was only your first ghost hunt and they were sending you right into the fire. “that’s the point dumbass? sasha and i will be up here gathering frequencies and seeing if we can find any phantom residue. if you two can get in contact with the pastor, we can probably record his frequencies from up here to listen back later.” he explains.

sasha pulls some weird tool from her fanny pack, holding it up. “this is mission is perfect for using my tuning fork! i’ve been wanting to try this for ages.” she squeals, her voice echoing through the church. “damn sasha, lower your voice.” jean mutters, to which she responds with another giggle mumbling out a quiet “sorry”. jean looks back to the two of you. “well we have our assignments, lets get this show on the road my fellow philosophers.” jean salutes you both and opens the doors to the chapel, sasha waves and follows after him before shutting the door behind them. “jerk.” connie mutters under his breath. you squeeze his hand and smile up at him.

“c’mon connie, i wanna see my boyfriend bust some ghosts.” you say, hoping to cheer him up a little. connie nodded, barely acknowledging your attempt before starting to head off towards the doors leading to the basement. “alright babe, stick close. i have no idea what’s down here.” he instructed. you hummed in disinterest and began to follow him in his descent. amazing! astonishing even! you were practically throwing yourself at him, yet your boyfriend was still more interested in some stinky old pastor ghost. as you traveled deeper downstairs, the air around you began to get warmer like a stuffy room. by the time you’d gotten down to the basement there was a humid temperature surrounding you.

“is it to supposed to feel so warm down here?” you asked, taking connie’s hand to be as close as possible to him. connie whipped his head around the basement floor shining his headlamp on all the different doors. “you would think it’d be cold with all this concrete, it’s weird.” he finally answered, switching on his frequency tuner. you followed his movements and did the same. “good weird or bad weird?” you asked again, growing a bit concerned. connie shrugged before making his way towards one of the doors, his frequency tuner picking up. you glared at him, having had enough of his nonchalant attitude.

seduce him.

you blinked as the thought came from seemingly nowhere. you shook your head, deciding to ignore it. you watched connie peak into the room that was making his frequency tuner go off the wire, letting out a gasp. “____! you’ve gotta come see this!” he exclaims, grinning back at you before making his way inside. you follow after him, curious to see what surprised him so much that he actually acknowledged your existence. when you stepped inside you were surprised to find the room...spotless? there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. the decorative rugs and tapestries that hung on the walls created an erotic atmosphere. the large bed looked clean and comfortable as well, an oil lamp sitting on the bedside. “i thought this church was abandoned, who’s doing the upkeep?” you observed, still taken aback by the surprisingly clean and crisp room. connie pressed his hand down on the bed, feeling it out. “no idea. even the mattress and blankets feel fresh.” he marveled.

seduce him and gain his favors!

this time the thought echoed louder through your head, making you feel a bit lightheaded. your knees buckled causing you to drop down to the floor. connie whipped his head around in shock, instantly rushing to see if you were alright. “you okay baby?” he asked, concern lacing his words. you nodded and took his hand to help you stand back up. almost as instantly as you were back on your feet you felt the pressure in your head drop to your chest and then to your arousal. you let out a small whimper at the sudden wave of pleasure that came out of nowhere. connie pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch felt like lightning.

“are you sure you’re okay? maybe we should — “ the door to the bedroom slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t really care. all you could think about was satisfying the sudden hunger that had come over you. connie jiggled the doorknob trying to get the door back open, curses spilling out of his lips. you sauntered up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist, swirling them up to lay your hands on his pecs. “wha — ____?” he turned his head to his shoulder, trying to get a view of you. you giggled and kissed his shoulder. “awh baby, we can stay in here and get comfy.” you whine, pressing yourself against him. connie tensed up in your embrace, caught off guard by your sudden switch in attitude. the oil lamp beside the bed flickered on, casting the room in a warm dim orange glow. connie grabbed your hands and snatched them off his chest. he spun around to face you, cupping your face in his hands.

“____, hey get ahold of yourself!” he tried snapping you out of it, his fingers popping between your eyes. you leaned up and kissed him under his chin. “i want you to get ahold of me.” you murmured, grabbing his wrists to place his hands on your waist. you batted your eyelashes at him with those puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn’t resist. connie gulped, his hand hands instinctively squeezing around your waist. “y-you’re not yourself, this isn’t right.” he muttered under his breath, more so talking to himself.

you snaked your arms up and around his shoulders walking back into the bed, flipping around to push him into the bed. “you made me very upset, ignoring me all night for your dumb ghost hunt.” you said, planting yourself in his lap, running your thumb along his lips. “how are you going to make it up to me?” connie frowns furrowing his brows. you don’t even wait for him to answer before letting your head fall to the side, kissing over the expanse of his neck.

connie shivered, falling prey to your advances. you snatched off both your headlamps in a playful demeanor while your other hand trailed down to the seat of his pants, letting your fingers splay out across his crotch. “____…w-wait a moment.” he breathed, letting out a slight moan when you squeezed your hand around his clothed length. you giggled softly, slithering from his thigh to between his legs. you nudged his crotch with your nose, looking back at up at him. his face was flushed and his eyes were glazed over with lust. that was all the indication you needed to begin to undoing his jeans.

your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend fucking your mouth and praising you with all the attention you’d yearned for. you pulled down his pants and boxers, licking your lips at his erect cock, leaking with precum. taking your thumb to his tip, you gently began to spread around the sticky substance. your tongue darted out to kitten lick the little mess you made, leaving connie hissing and squirming. “you’re such a tease.” he grunted. you grinned up at him knowingly before tilting your head to kiss along the length of his shaft.

connie desperately bucked his hips slightly as your kisses became wet and suctioning. done teasing him, you eagerly wrapped your lips around him sucking his tip before bobbing your head further. your tongue swirled around his shaft expertly, causing him to groan and buck his hips. you moan as his cock travels further down your throat, the vibrations of your voice stimulating him further.

“fuck baby…keep sucking me in just like that.” he huffs out, trying to keep his moans from pitching. his hands nestle in your hair, bringing your head down further. you relaxed your jaw as he continued to fuck your mouth, saliva collecting and dripping down your chin. connie bucked his hips into your mouth with fervor, you could tell he was close. “your throat feels so fucking good around me, keep swallowing me down just like that.” he praised, letting his head fall back against his shoulders.

he takes another deep thrust before you feel him spill his thick warm release down your throat. his cock twitches on your tongue as you slowly drag his length from your mouth. connie sits breathless on the bed, panting from the climax he’d just had, but you weren’t finished. you rose back up to your feet and stripped off your jeans and panties before crawling on top of him. with your hands slowly lifting your shirt over your head, you ground your wet cunt against the underside of his length.

connie stared up at you, his daze apparent on his face. “my turn.” you whisper, kissing the side of his mouth. you raised your hips slightly positioning his cock at your entrance before sinking down. you whimpered as you felt him filling you up all at once. connie took ahold of your hips, hissing as you clenched around him. “shit…your pussy loves sucking me in.” he groaned, bucking his hips again.

you whine, rocking your hips back against him. “it’s because i wanna feel you, right here.” you move your hand to your lower stomach, where you wanted to feel connie push against. connie smirked, lifting his knees up on and raising you up to hover over him slightly. “i can do that for you baby.” he growled into your ear before rapidly thrusting his cock into you. you grabbed ahold of his shoulders as he bucked into you, trying to keep your balance.

connie kept his word, fucking you balls deep with no mercy. you were so overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t realize how loud you’d become. the oil lamp flickered as connie swiftly switched positions so you were on your back. he pushed your thighs back exposing your wet cunt that gaped for connie’s cock. he smirked and spit against you clit rising a whine from your throat. he chuckled cruelly before burying his cock back inside of you, his thrusts causing you to lurch up against the bed.

you clawed your hands over his his shoulder blades as he fucked you deep. “you feel so good, don’t stop!” you moan, arching you back as he hits your sweet spot. connie groaned from the way. you squeezed around him before leaning down to kiss you, his tongue swirling around yours. the sinful noises that came from between you both, echoing through the room. connie moved his lips across your jaw, praising you as he kissed and sucked your skin. you dazedly let your head fall to the side.

then you saw him.

a young man dressed in preachers robes, watching you both intently. you cried out clinging to connie — connie assumed it was a moan and continued to fuck into you. the preacher grinned at you and faded from your eyesight. just then connie let out a grunt. “shit baby, i’m gonna cum.” you were too dumbfounded to respond but it didn’t matter. connie had already grabbed your waist, pulling you down on his cock faster. the movement shocked you out of your mindstate, making you forget about the whole “pervy preacher ghost in the corner of the room” thing.

“fuck connie keep going!” you whine, your hand coming to grab your tits to keep them from bouncing out of your bra. connie fucked you like that until your legs became jelly and you creamed all over his cock. just as you were catching your breath connie came inside you, spilling his thick seed all over your walls. connie collapsed into your chest taking deep breaths.

“shit.” he breathed out, his hand squeezing your waist. “you okay baby?” he asked, tilting his head back to look at you. you smiled and nodded, massaging his short silvery hair. connie seemed to have a thought of realization and frowned. “i’m sorry ____. i should’ve done more to make you feel like i wanted you here. i must’ve looked like such an asshole. i was so focused on busting ghosts, i forgot the most important thing i wanted out of this was to introduce my girl to my uh…hobbies.” the sincerity in his eyes had you swooning. you cupped his cheek and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “you’re forgiven.”. you say, before sitting up.

not a good idea.

your head was spinning. you moaned and grabbed your head, massaging it. “____? baby, what’s wrong?” connie asked worriedly, sitting up as well. then just as quick as the dizziness came, it went. you blinked. “i have no idea. maybe you just fucked me too hard, hm?” you teased, poking his shoulder. connie pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. you couldn’t read his expression, tho it looked like a mix between a shock, confusion, and disappointment. in short, nothing good. “what?” you ask.

connie shook his head. “this is gonna sound crazy, but do you think you were possessed?” he blurted out. you bit your lip, remembering the preacher and the strange echoing voice in your head. “ah…maybe? but i wanted that, it was me no one was controlling me. it just felt more like someone was egging me on.” you explained. even coming from your own mouth it sounded delusional. “oh my god connie, did i get possessed?!” you squealed, snapping your legs shut.

connie laughed and leaned forward, pulling you into his embrace. “no it wasn’t possession baby. just a bit of paranormal influence, like in the poltergeist.” this did not reassure you whatsoever, but connie was already sliding off the bed. “c’mon let’s go back upstairs and see what jean and sasha found. don’t tell them what happened okay? jean’ll kill the shit out of me.” he chuckled, kissing the top of your forehead. you did once over of the room again to make sure there was no ghost priest hiding in here before starting to get dressed again.

ꔵ “finally you two are here! you’ve gotta come see this!” sasha exclaimed as she saw the both of you approaching. sasha and jean had hooked up some sort of computer and were huddled around it. “what is it you?” connie questioned, taking your hand and hurrying you towards them. you smiled, relieved that he had meant what he said and was starting to finally include you. “it seems like whatever you guys did down there worked! we recorded these weird frequencies and we think we might have caught the pastors attention.” jean said, clicking around the screen.

you and connie exchanged wide eyed glances. “uh…what did you hear?” you asked, instinctively squeezing connie’s hand. jean and sasha shrugged. “nothing, we couldn’t hear it until it finished recording.” jean grinned up at the two of you. “but you arrived at perfect timing, now we can play it back together.” jean pulled up the sound byte. “jean i don’t think — “ connie started to protest, but jean had already pressed the space bar.

the empty church echoed with the sounds of your lewd moans and connie’s sensual praises. the heat rushed into your cheeks as you looked down in shame. you didn’t wanna see anyone else’s facial expressions. after what seemed like forever sasha’s hand darted out to pause it. safe to assume you were never invited to go ghost hunting with you boyfriend and his friends again. however you and connie did some extensive research afterwards.

connie’s body cam had mysteriously became static when he walked into the bedroom, so there was no footage of the ghost — you were honestly just relieved the two of you didn’t film a sex tape. however, apparently the ghost of the priest wandered the church, waiting to lure couples into the brothel rooms so that he could gain pleasure from seeing his brothel still be put to use. seven other couples who had visited the church also reported a strange occurrence where they ended up having sex in the brothel as well. you wondered how jean had missed that key part of research about the ghost.

“we may not have busted that ghost, but he sure made us bust.” connie cackled, nudging you. you gave him a pointed look. “you make awful jokes.” you told him, nudging him back. though the experience was a bit of a mindfucker, it truly brought you and connie closer together.

author’s note: hello again! this took me a really long time to write and yet it still feels really rushed :( i tried to do what i could in the edits but this probably isn’t my favorite. i would appreciate feedback if anyone has any though and if you did actually like it, thank you! i promise i can do way better though lmao </3

#connie x reader #connie smut #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie springer smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot #snk smut #snk #x reader

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 3 years

Text

..."STAR-CROSSED LOVERS"??? YES.

Thank you so much @cheri-translates for translating Victor's SAND AND SEA DATE. You're an angel. 🥺🥺🥺

Now I'm gonna start blabbering since I've many feels about this date LOL~ 🙃

⚠️Warning: There are some spoilers regarding Victor storyline from the main story chapters that haven't been released in EN yet.

🌹

From "I won't save you a second time" [CH 1] to "I don’t need you to save me a second time." [The date in discussion]-- LOL as hilarious as this is, the irony.💯

Ngl this date felt like, the writers thinking since, under the context of the theme, the physical pain of time travel & crossing countless of dimensions & timelines is not possible-- let's just nearly kill him by spilling blood & dehydration but still we gotta nearly kill this man cause he wants to be in love.🙃

Idk why I'm getting so emotional LOL but there are so many call-backs I can remember on top of my head right now--

[The lines & moments from the date are indented & in bold letters.]

MC: "Victor, I’m helping you look for a water source. Let go!"

🌹 The sad broken cup scene from [CH 18-16], MC urging Victor to let go & him stubbornly refusing, until she gives in.

MC sacrificing herself to revive the river, part of it is to save Victor- other part of it is also for the greater good of the people in the city.

🌹 [CH 18-18] MC's monologue- "This time, put everything on my shoulder & let me be your hero one last time."

& sacrificing herself for the peace of the world even though it only made more chaos.

Victor releasing the hand that supported him at the edge & deciding to sacrifice himself with her. & the vow- "No matter what awaits you, I’ll be with you."

MC's monologue: "It turns out that no matter what the ending is, he’s willing to be with me."

[CH 18-28] Victor deciding to use the sundial watch one last time despite knowing that'd kill him for sure & might lead the world to perish as well. Dummy & Selfish in that moment. His final vow before MC disappeared, "No matter where you are, I'll always find you."

[CH 19-6 Dream World Victor route]

MC: "What if this really is a dream. Then what?"

Victor: "Then I'll turn it into reality."

[CH 25 phone call- In the Hospital]

"No matter what you are facing in other space-times...Wait for me."

[CH 36-10, after Victor returns from his 10K years time travel]

Victor: I thought you are never going to be afraid again?

His warm breath moistens my eyes. I inhale through my sore nose. Resisting the urge to bury my face in his chest, I look up, staring straight into his eyes-

MC: I will never be afraid again. Because you really came back. Victor is standing here before me like a treasure once lost and now found. What do I have to be afraid of?

Victor is stunned for a moment. The corners of his lips loosens a bit, while the contours of his face softened a lot. He raises his hand to wipe the wetness from the corner of my eyes.

Victor: It seems that this dummy has grown up a lot during this period. Listen carefully, I will never return to a world where you are not.

[CH 37 PV line]

"Whatever choice you make, I'll always be here."

[CH 37 karma by-line]

"I will accompany you on the road leading to the future."--

Basically the eternal insistence of him having an internal MC GPS tracker LOL ALWAYS being by her side.

Kidnapping incident.

🌹...[CH 30-7 to 30-10] Agio Street underground gambling den mission- wants to say a hello.🙋‍♀️

Abandoning the honor & glory of leading a comfortable life as a feudal lord to restore the river & to find the fateful couple, probably hoping to find his love too, but won't admit cause even if it's AU, he be like- "I'm still Victor" LOL

[CH 11 karma by-line]

"I won't let go of you & the world."

The physically-mentally painful exhausting wait & time travelling of 10K years, walking through endless dimensions & timelines, only to start from the very beginning every single time- hoping to find a way to save the world & protect the girl-- wants to say a hello too 🙋‍♀️

MC's monologue: Still, I want to have one more look at Victor… before leaving.

🌹 This specifically reminded me of a [CH 37-5 Victor split route] monologue from MC--

"It didn't matter what was waiting for me. I would face it with my head held high. Even so, I still wanted one last second...just one second. Let me call his name one more time...let me take a good look at him...just one last time..."

Victor: In that case, stay here. Stay by my side.

🌹 He has said the same sentence in different ways under various circumstances but one I can remember right now,

[CH 24-12 Black Cabin reunion]-- "But right now...Just stay by my side."

MC noting down how she always finds herself in his arms whenever she's fainting or getting in trouble. How Victor has been quietly taking care of her & protecting her. How the person before her walks in steady steps with forceful heartbeats.

When she was in her most depressing state [CH 18], he was there like the steady pillar of support, helping her in every way he could. He was pretty much the glue that kept her in one piece.

Again, in winter world, he stood by her side even as a stranger.

Not just these two incident, throughout the entire game, especially in the latter part of the story, they work together like partners, she learns to trust him with pretty much everything & they work through everything they can together.

Those few mentions in the date-- could be referred to how Victor has always been the constant source of warmth, encouragement, strength, support, protection in her life. No matter what world or when, he never really changes. He is still the same man. & His constant state IS choosing MC every single time.

Victor lies on the sand quietly, and it’s as though everything has returned to the beginning when we first met.

🌹 Indication towards how their storyline ALWAYS goes back to square one or comes in a full circle-- from Victor saving her from the car crash as a kid [& this being repeated many times afterwards, even in winter world], to the lightning incident [MC jumping in front of Victor both as a child & an adult], to both being in coma for week, staying in the hospital & taking care the entire time [MC in CH 11, Victor in CH 32], to stabbing each other countless times. [CH 18, CH 36-- & every other times Victor has seen those incidents happening before his eyes while time traveling.] *que tears*

🌹▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️🌹

I could possibly make a full blown essay which I already kinda have out of some other specific call-backs I can remember right now. Specifically the theme of the date being star-crossed lovers-

Legend tells of two lovers. Because of the pressures of their nations, they could not be together, and decided to drown themselves in a river for love.

Because of this, the River Goddess was enraged, and she cursed the land nourished by the river which was under her control. Since that day, the Socya River gradually dried up.

The Goddess left an exhortation-when the fateful couple reappears on this land, the river will be surge once again...

& This perfectly echoes the canon theme of Victor x MC storyline--

🌹 As in, Victor being someone who, objectively speaking, seemingly has everything & yet sacrificing practically everything--

[giving up over-seas university offers, staying in the city instead of moving abroad even though his business could be expanded more, relentless search of 17 years, appointing private detective for 6 years, building up Souvenir etc.]

--- to find MC & then in the mission of keeping her safe, even at the cost of his own existence. Trying everything beyond his limits to prevent the destined deaths of MC he has foreseen- from happening & it being doomed to no end every single time.

🌹 Every single time he had to give up the ONE thing he wanted to protect the most or wanted the most.

🌹 Both of them being so willing to put each other in the front line just to give each other happiness.

🌹 Another running theme of their storyline-- both of them keep losing each other countless times & then find each other again.

• Victor losing MC as a kid, finding her as an adult. Victor nearly losing her in CH 10.

• MC losing Victor due to the time rift in CH 14 & finding a way to contact each other through the sundial watch.

• Victor losing MC in CH 18 first-hand. MC leaving Victor behind in CH 19- dream world.

• CH 24 Black Cabin reunion & CH 27 OG timeline reunion

• MC nearly losing Victor in CH 32, due to him going to coma

• MC losing Victor in CH 34 due to Victor going on the time-travel journey of 10K years

• Final reunion in CH 36 [Then we have the journey to S2. But that's a whole new discussion.]

🌹So...both of them being able to truly be with each other is actually-- defying fate & writing their own destiny. *SOBS*

🌹I wanna end my blabbering with two precious moments from [CH 36- Victor split route] that echoes this theme even more.

MC: "I've always chased after your silhouette and I was never afraid. Because I know you'll always be there waiting for me. Victor, if you really disappear... I will be with you, and we will both be forgotten by the world."

MC's monologue: "Victor, once we have crossed countless dimensions and futures, and returned to each other’s embrace. If everything has to disappear with time, as dust into the wind... Then, I'm glad that we have our final promise."

[She's referring to the promise she made of being forgotten by the world to be with him & the promise Victor made earlier to never leave her again.]

#classic tragic love story at it's finest #yEs #mlqc victor #mldd victor #mr love victor #mlqc li zeyan #victor #li zeyan #mlqc zen #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn

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cyclicalaberration · 3 years

Text

Unrecorded Histories

Eret is a historian. The server changes so fast that events get forgotten in less than two months sometimes, so trying to preserve it was crucial. Historians are few and far between nowadays, griefing and abandonment and time decaying all documents.

They have only known one other, but he is highly specialized, knowing more about the wastelands of 2B2T than any has cared to know in decades, as the warzone was under constant change.

Recording history is hard on many servers, but it feels that the SMP is harder to record than most. Few people remember more than a decade back, and most information is lost faster than that with the amount of times old builds have been griefed. Eret has been around a long time, and they are still learning new things.

It’s ironic that the one dedicated to preserving history cannot remember their own.

They remember a city of four, they remember white eyes. They remember the smell of spruce wood, coal dust and ozone. They remember the squelch of netherrack, redstone particles, gold. They have always hidden their eyes. They didn’t use to hide their eyes. Conflicting accounts. They remember thunderstorms.

They remember being loved, they remember dancing. They remember singing, and spinning, and laughing. They do not remember more from before the SMP.

They have no problem remembering the smp, the horrors, the hurt. They have no problem remembering the torment. They do not remember the life they led before.

They sit upon the pedestal in their castle, staring as the redstone particles dance. They and Foolish have been searching for weeks, to no avail. They don’t remember. The netherrack is warm beneath them, and it pulses every once in a while. They don’t remember. They don’t even know what they are.

Their glasses sit in front of them. They stare at their reflection, blank white eyes staring back at them. Nobody reacts well to their eyes, only Foolish. Decay creeps up their fingers again, the withering lingering as their hands, their cheekbones, their chest, burn. They have never died to a wither, but they have the lingering effects of one who’s withered a thousand times over. Their joints creak and they massage their hands.

They don’t even know what they are. A hybrid, certainly, but they don’t know what their other half is.

“Okay, now he’s just Herobrine,” echoes through their head, Philza’s first reaction upon seeing their eyes. They can’t shake that name.

They shove their glasses on their face with shaky hands, gloves hiding their ashen fingertips, and clip their cape on, gold clasp gleaming with the crest of their kingdom, a kingdom near dissolved. Their crown sits unworn. They don’t need it where they’re going.

“Eret! Old pal! What brings you to my temple?” Foolish drops the sandstone he was moving, turning to face them, rows of teeth betraying nothing but excitement, emerald eyes shining. The gold beacon on his pyramid spins, and Eret takes a deep breath.

“Hey Foolish.” Foolish’s face falls, and he shrinks down so they’re the same height,

“The withering bothering you again?” Eret nods. There was no point in denying it, the ash was creeping out from under their glasses. They massage their hands again, ignoring the burning in the middle of their chest, the pain where their glasses press on the withering skin, but that wasn’t why they’re here.

“That’s not why I’m here. I just-.” They flinch as another bolt of pain shoots through them, but this time it doesn’t fade. Their face burns and itches and screams in agony, and when it pulses again, they bite their tongue so hard it bleeds, the taste of iron filling their mouth. They’re blind with pain. Their eyes burn, their face burns, their hands burn. They try and speak and they start to cough, each cough sending more pain shooting through their body.

They are sitting down when they can think again. They don’t know when that happened. They can see again shortly after, unimpeded by sunglasses. Foolish is crouched in front of them.

“Old pal, that isn’t phantom pain! That’s active withering! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Withering- usually isn’t that bad.”

“Withering- Withering has a lot of long term consequences! In most mortals, repeated withering can cause cataracts, loss of joint function, temporary paralysis, night terrors, insomnia- Eret, how many withers have you fought recently?”

“I don’t remember- twelve? Maybe? Twelve I’ve used for beacons.” Foolish’s jaw goes slack, and another, smaller, spasm of pain shoots through them.

“Have you properly- of course you haven’t. Foolish, foolish, of course they were gonna be rediscovered-”

“What are you talking about?” Eret looks up at him, trying to climb to their feet on shaking legs. Foolish offers them a hand and they take it, leaning on him.

“Remember when I mentioned the wither cult? We tried to stop it from happening again, destroyed all information we could get our hands on. We were young and stupid, and of course it’d be rediscovered in this area. Lets see if I have the stuff to take care of this-” Foolish’s hand hovers just over Eret’s ashy cheek, just under their eyes- “You just stay here, I have to look for my supplies.” Foolish helps them to sit on the tail of his snake statue, and starts to dig through his chests, muttering quietly.

“There’s not much I can do to keep it away until the withering retreats, but this should make it hurt less, and send it away faster.” Foolish pulls out a tube of what looks like homemade burn cream, but darker, and wipes it over their face, letting them massage it into their hands. “Is there any other decay I should know about?”

Eret nods, dropping their cape and gesturing towards their back. Foolish hisses.

“How long?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Drink this.” He hands them an instant health potion, and then a glass of milk. “Can I help you with this?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you really outdid yourself old pal. I thought you might’ve learned your lesson, but you really haven’t changed that much.”

Eret smiles, and Foolish stands up and steps back, handing them back their cape. “I have another potion after this, but until the decay decreases, I don’t think there’s much more we can do. So let’s get to the bottom of this memory loss then.”

Herobrine is a god. He is a god with empty eyes. He is a god who floats. He is a god who builds. He is a god of fear. He is older than the nether. He saw wither skeletons with their flesh still tied to their charred bones. He saw the river that flowed through the soulsand valleys. He saw the nether in its prime. He is older than Prime. He is older than XD.

He strips trees of their leaves, leaving them twisting, skeletal husks in the dead of summer. He is a mischievous god, a vindictive god, an evil god, a god of chaos. He saw the monuments when they still saw the sun, unflooded and unguarded, still worshipped at. He saw the temples worshipped at, he saw the mine shafts dug. He saw the fortresses built, the strongholds the last ditch effort to avoid the devastation.

He is older than the end.

He is old, and he got bored. And boredom makes gods antsy, makes them stressed, makes them bored. Bored gods are dangerous gods. And Herobrine had been bored for centuries. So it was to be expected that upon his first contact with another being, he caused mischief. He was a bit vindictive, perhaps.

But Steve grew used to him, and Alex grew exasperated, and he grew fond of the adventurers. He couldn’t scare them any longer, and eventually they grew fond of him as well.

Eventually, in their travels, they set up a base. And he built. Alex and Steve would hunt, farm, explore, mine, but he would build. He built cities, villages. And sometimes, sometimes he would strip forests of their leaves, but only if he was extremely, extremely bored.

Finding a child in the nether was the strangest event in a few centuries, but that didn’t say much. Finding a godling was.

He named it Eret. Alex was confused, Steve was adoring, Herobrine would die for them.

Eret grew slowly, as godlings tend to do. They were smart, and fast, and at some point they set out, exploring new areas of the world, and they returned, a totem of death in tow. Eret and Foolish, as he had been named, were close. They were ever so close, and ever so chaotic. Herobrine laughed, when the angel of Death visited to tell him that his kid was interfering with the Blood God’s business.

Alex was less amused. Steve found the whole thing rather endearing.

Eret was home for a while, telling them about a time traveller they met, when they were summoned. They were there, and then they were not, and he had no idea where they went. Steve said they’d be fine, Alex sent out letters to everyone they could think of, and Herobrine sent a letter to Foolish.

Foolish sent him back a letter, saying they were fine, saying they were alive, in a land of XD’s making, a land where he had no power. He didn’t know it would affect their memory.

Eret shakes their head, the sand hot against their skin, in shock.

“I- I don’t remember. I’m so sorry, Foolish.”

“You will. In time, you will, I promise. We will figure this out together, old pal, on my word, I will help you. And if you don’t remember, we’ll make new ones. Now,” Foolish slides a disc into his jukebox and bows to them, extending one hand. “Let’s start here. May I have this dance?”

#Long post #Eternal duo #dream smp fic #dream smp #the eret #Foolish Gamers #Foolish G #Wither Lore #mic writes

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honkster · 3 years

Text

Why the Dream SMP’s way of storytelling is IMPOSSIBLE to recreate in any other medium.

This has been in the back of my mind for the longest time. I think I finally got it.

People have talked about this before, and they’ve put forward some good points, and good for them – most of them are correct. It’s the way the ccs interact with each other, it’s how plot is mixed in with banter, that’s all good! I wanna put more out there.

So you know how you open a book to read, you start a new show, you sit down to watch a movie – that’s all produced by some sort of company, someone who made it specifically for you to enjoy. You expect a certain dramatic flair to it, certain cinematic choices, certain ways of writing, certain camera angles, certain reactions to things. That’s just ingrained expectations of things now.

The DSMP? Doesn’t have that.

The low expectations work very much in its favor. It’s a Minecraft role-playing server with a bunch of famous youtubers/streamers, who are all good friends and have great dynamics with each other. So when you expect “just another Minecraft video” but in stream form, or you watch the videos because there are certain people in them, you don’t expect to be dropped into extreme lore and sensitive topics, realistic situations proposed in game form, a combination of serious stuff and just fun times with friends goofing around – and you’re pleasantly surprised.

We, the fandom, are used to it a bit more now. How excellently they manage to make a serious story in such a “ridiculous” medium, how much it affects us all and gets our creative juices flowing. But even the ccs can’t predict some of the things that happen. And that’s fun.

The whole election ending the way it has? That was on us. And it made some of the most angsty content there has been in the DSMP. People still theorize about the arc and make connections to now – that’s pog!

Fundy being adopted by Eret – that sparked the whole “Fundy just wants a dad – let’s get him some love” thing that made FundyWasTaken and other Fundy+someone ships happen. I see a different person paired with Fundy every week, and somehow, I agree with all of them. I really got into Fundy because of that stream where Eret “slept through the adoption” and Fundy confronted his real dad and spent time with his granddad. That little stream gave us more insight into Fundy’s whole character (Nevermind Fundy showing off his acting skills – you go you funky little fox), but also justifies some of his actions now. DryWaters? Wanting to kill Technoblade? Fucked up reasons, but we still love him.

Phil being broken out of house arrest ahead of time – still made a great stream and Phil agreeing with Techno’s want for revenge – that made us all very happy. The SBI!!! The AE! And that’s also a thing!

That even if we do know or have predicted what’s going to happen, begged it out of the ccs basically, it is still incredibly fun to watch. Where some books/shows/movies fall short and reveal too much and end up being “too predictable”, they’re not fun anymore. I read this somewhere before, that sometimes holding back EVERYTHING from the reader, and relying on shock value to make a good story is just bad. Whereas if you progress the story naturally and let the reader make some predictions of their own and then they end up being right – that’s a lot of serotonin right there. It’s the re-readability that makes it slightly better the second time.

The DSMP takes this concept and fucking yeets with it. Letting fans engage in the story, letting them theorize and then be right, even acknowledging the fanart that was made, just engaging with the community that their roleplay created – that makes it so much more fun. I bet that even if the whole script was revealed to the fandom we would still watch every plot stream. Even if we knew vaguely what happens in the stream, we would tune in and enjoy every second of it. Because the ccs are just that good, we love them that much, we love this plot that much.

Oh and the unpredictability helps too. Tommy in exile was the vague concept of a lot of the streams – it’s taken that and ran with it in a lot of different directions. All quite enjoyable.

Having said all of that… The fact that this type of telling a story is impossible to recreate in any other medium is… kinda saddening? It is incredibly unique, and I’d say has things that not a lot of the people that produce mainstream media would even consider. “Just friends hanging out” – how would that make the script progress? “Engagement with the fandom, even considering their wishes for the characters” – but we’re telling a story here!

The only thing I can think of that would come close to the vibe, would be just a bunch of writer friends coming together, thinking up a universe and general plot, and then each deciding to write a few of their own characters in that universe. When one author focuses on their main characters, the side ones can feel left in the dust, or not fleshed out. The DSMP is just “every character can write their own story”, which takes a lot of the strain from the “main writers”. But the general thing of “just friends hanging out” would be taken away from it. We’re being serious here, why would we change the tone so quick?

With all of that in mind… I kinda wanna make some predictions? And I don’t know if they’re correct, but it’s fun to theorize. See?

1. L’manburg will die.

And not just because Techno has 54 withers. The country is cursed – it definitely is. There is little sentimental value that can be felt for a few flimsy stilts built on top of a crater. It might go out in a blaze of glory, with the withers (Is history repeating itself an interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?), but it might just be forgotten. Yeah there have been some angsty headcanons about how “no one cares about L’manburg anymore, save for two people” and it just gets abandoned, but how about it just becoming irrelevant?

This all comes back to Dream, it always does! His want, need for the server to be “one happy family again”, it just means one thing. He wants the server to return to the peaceful anarchy that it was before L’manburg. No rulers, no factions, no nothing.

That’s never going to happen.

Try as he might, Dream cannot affect that change that L’manburg did to the server. The introduction of a faction, one that can exist without the interference of a higher power – why do you think so many factions have sprouted up since? And it’s not even serious factions a lot of the time, it’s just a few friends deciding to build their bases on a plot of land that they claim is a nation now. L’manburg has changed the mindset of these people, now an alliance with somebody is a political move. An alliance doesn’t exist if it doesn’t have a faction, and that faction can remain neutral for only so long.

Basically, L’manburg introduced the factions mod into the server.

And the fact that every faction now has enough relevance to hold weight in a war also means that every nation on the server is doomed to follow the downfall of L’manburg. Eventually, they will get into a fight they can’t win, go up against the wrong people, anger someone they shouldn’t have. All factions will either be destroyed, or lose relevance, until their creators, residents and such just… move on.

(And really you can go into meta and talk about real governments and compare them, but it’s far more simple than that. The server isn’t built for peace, it isn’t meant to be a relaxing place where you can just vibe, it may have been made for a few friends to play Minecraft together, but it has turned into An Author’s Curse. The curse that follows any kind of story being told – the fact that peace is boring. People watched the first streams of the DSMP because they liked the ccs, and that’s valid. But how many more people tuned in to watch the war streams because there was PLOT and there was CHAOS and there WASN’T CALM PEACE ANYMORE – that’s the curse of every writer. That you can write about someone just living their life drama-free, you can make interesting peace with characters or circumstances, but it’s always leading to one inevitable conclusion – war, drama, because people read that. And at this point, it’s just a predictable outcome. No matter how much you say that you are retired, that you’re done with violence (Technoblade), something will happen that will prove to you that you believed in people too much. No matter how “neutral” you may be in the matter, no matter how much you claim that you have no allegiance (Philza), you will be forced to pick one, because out of all the bad things, you pick the least worst one, the most appealing to you, the one that can benefit your want of revenge.

And I can go on, but this is far too deep for one simple reason – The Author’s Curse is so prevalent here because THERE ARE ABSOLUTELY NO STAKES. It’s a video game – you die? You respawn. Something gets destroyed? You can just rebuild. Sure, you’ll want to kill the person who did wrong to you, but whatever they did wrong can just be replaced, remade, recreated. So why not have wars? Why not cause massive amounts of destruction “for the plot”?

It’s literally a playground. How all authors have their little playground with their characters that they meticulously plan out, the DSMP is that playground for all of these people.

And it’s fun! Sure! I like it! I’m just really skeptical whenever someone in character says that they “just want peace”, “are retired”, “swear off violence”, “are building just a little city for themselves”. Because you can do that, nothing wrong. But eventually, no matter how much you distance yourself from all of the chaos happening, all of the wars, you will return.

Because it is just much more fun.

It’s the curse. A cursed cycle.

And everyone is in it.)

2. The prison.

I don’t have anything on the prison because I don’t have anything on the book. Yeah I’ve done a whole post where I overanalyze what it could be, but it doesn’t make it any clearer. Whatever it is, it’s made out to be a huge plot point, something that can only be revealed when the prison is finished.

Cursed. The prison’s reason for being constructed is the book, but the book is only relevant when the prison is finished. We can only wait, and theorize, as we do.

(My only theory is that the book is information about another op on the server. Or at least something related to op or creative mode. Dream only fears one thing on this server, and that’s Technoblade, so if his one fear is the most skilled player on the server, what else could give him existential fear?)

3. The SBI.

Again, I don’t have anything! Yeah the reunion seems to be going smoothly, one member at a time, but there is already conflict in their beliefs among each other. And all that’s happened is a vague “maybe one day we’ll strike”.

Is history repeating itself an interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?

Is L’manburg’s destruction AGAIN really necessary to hammer home the idea that no one likes that place anymore?

I don’t know. Whatever happens, no one’s in the right. No one’s in the wrong either. They’re all not good people and that’s that on that.

4. The Clingy Duo.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

That’s all.

(Okay seriously? All of these arcs are connected. You know what happens when everything seems to be connected to one another?

A giant, dramatic final showdown between the two opposing sides.

Cause it’s just Chaos vs L’manburg. Those are the sides. People that want L’manburg to exist and people that want it gone. There are no other sides, there isn’t someone who’s like “Well maybe it can exist if we do this and this” cause no one wants to put in anymore effort into this cursed country. The only people were the clingy duo and now they’re separated and everyone is just leaving and Tommy is on the Chaos side like at this point he doesn’t care about L’manburg he just cares about Tubbo but he has to convince Tubbo to leave L’manburg but will Tubbo be convinced but will Tommy even consider leaving L’manburg and breaking free from its curse AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Goddamit.)

5. The Egg?

Dunno shit about it. Like the prison – it seems important, but we’re just not being given enough information. Is it a coincidence that the moment Dream commissioned the prison the Egg popped up? Or are the two directly related?

I don’t know. But as long as someone is finding ways to fight the Egg, that’s fantastic. Bad juju indeed.

6. Oh the Butcher Army want to kill Dream!

Hah.

Okay I’ve seen people make the case that the Army is just a bunch of people with trauma repeating the cycle of ab*se that they went through and yes.

Just yes.

And the fact that no one is actually looking at it that way and no one is there to like.. help them or even help them understand that what they are doing is just irrational, even though their reason for doing it and the result they hope to achieve is YES and the only thing that a lot of the people of the server who want peace should try to go for as well, they cannot stand up to Dream on their own. They just can’t, they will get punted into exile. They need allies, and they need powerful ones, people that have also been wronged by Dream and want him gone.

But the cycle continues, and no one knows where it ends.

(Okay but from a writing perspective? Getting rid of Dream is the end goal. It is the be all end all of all conflict, well… most of it, at least most that’s related to the supposed “good side”, or “the side that’s been most victimized”. But from the same perspective, that side is just… no longer. It has proven that is just as bad, if not worse than the final boss. I have to agree that Techno has to pay for his crimes, even though I like him a lot, but Techno did in fact cause insane damage. Yeah L’manburg rebuilt, yeah Wilbur probably caused more – still he isn’t completely free.

But that’s a discussion on morality more than laws.

L’manburg is doomed to die. Dream is doomed to be fought, and probably won against (simply because he has won far too many times already, you know how everyone seems to hate OP characters…). But the Butcher Army is doomed to fail against Dream. So how does that work?

Welp.

Is history repeating itself and interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?

The answer is no.

I’ve repeated that question three times now, and the answer to it is no. No it is not. L’manburg can be destroyed again, and it can be rebuilt again, but the sentimentality that people feel for it will not remain. The cycle of history ends somewhere, and it’s not too far a fetch that it ends here.

So what happens when Technoblade, Philza and Tommy roll up to L’manburg with withers and a destruction wish, only to be met with a bunch of traumatized children with axes and a death wish?

Well, I’ll spare the details, but from a purely writing standpoint…

The two sides team up.

Think about it – The Butcher Army doesn’t care about Technoblade anymore. They’ve seen that Dream is the one pulling the strings, they know that even if they do care about trying to eliminate Technoblade again, they have to get rid of his strongest ally – Dream. But through their anger, they’ve lost their fear. You should fear Dream, he’s a fuckin op. Techno is correct in not wanting to go against him.

But after Tommy? After seeing the Butcher Army at their lowest, screeching about Dream being the villain?

Will Techno finally go past his thinking of “government is evil, always government is source of problem” and realize that Dream has the most evil government in mind for his rule?

I’m still kinda sad that Techno isn’t making the conclusions he should about Dream. But he’s starting to – and really, the SBI-Butcher Army team up is the most logical thing that could happen.

Watch me be completely wrong or miss something and I’ve got ALL of it wrong. I would love that.)

(Also it’s very funny to me that Dream is literally simping for Techno while he’s just here like “Listen bud I would stab you on sight if you didn’t have creative mode”. Dream KNOWS that Techno can and will kill him given the opportunity. Techno knows that that opportunity may never arise.

It’s a weird type of stalemate, to be sure. But goddamn is it interesting.)

Anyway... if you read through all of this... I could bake you a cookie? Thank you! I like to ramble.

#dream smp #gooood its just a block game #ITS JUST A BLOCK GAME #...dammit #anyway #debate me #on everything please

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softomi · 3 years

Text

HQ Characters as NIKI songs and lyrics.

Friends - Bokuto Kotarou

You trade my promises for your feelings, we’ve gone too far to turn back

We should try to coexist, should have never even crossed the line

Can’t fall in love with somebody like you, I’m not meant for somebody like you

Akaashi once told you that Bokuto was the type to fall hard; when he tripped he’d tumble harder and faster than you had ever seen anyone do. But what you didn’t know was that Akaashi meant love; Bokuto was the type to stumble into love. His feet would tangle over his own and he would fall, he’d fall hard. Like cold waves crashing into him to wake him up, when the dust settled, when the fog disappeared; all he saw was you.

He pulled the blanket to cover your shoulder, his arm tucked under your head, he was on cloud nine. He grinned throughout the night. The lack of sleep didn’t bother him, seeing you covered in his sheets was worth the sleepless night. He was just heading out the front door when you walked out his bedroom, the blanket wrapped around your body as you were shuffling to grasp your clothes.

He couldn’t help himself, footsteps trudging themselves to you, “Morning beautiful.”

His hands trailed your arms, cupping your cheeks; you pull away, “Kou.” You’re looking at him, “I hope you know that last night wasn’t anything romantic.”

“Oh.” The smile on his face falters for a moment, “Then what was it?”

You’re pulling his sheets to keep them covering yourself, “We were both drunk.” He wasn’t, and you knew too well that you weren’t, “It was just purely physical, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Your walking back to his room with his heart already in your hands.

Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. It was thrown out the window the moment you decided to go back to his place that night. The jacket you had forgotten from the previous night suddenly dropped back onto its place on his couch. Fingers tugging against his hair, his lips pressing kisses against your skin; as he breathed against your shoulder, you were too aware of the line being crossed.

It was absolutely dreadful, he was the worse at pretending things didn’t happen. His hands were on your waist, when Akaashi noticed the action, you were quick to swat the man’s hand off. Akaashi raised a brow, you tried to brush it off; waving a hand to dismiss the action, trying to play it as Bokuto’s friendly manner.

“Don’t you think you’re making a mistake?” Akaashi sips his coffee, he was quick to question you once Bokuto left to the bathroom.

You’re smiling innocently, “I don’t know what you mean Keiji.”

He takes a deep sigh, “He’s chosen to sit next to you which he rarely does, don’t think I didn’t see how he was touching you by the waist, and don’t get me started on how he’s staring ‘lovingly’ at you every chance he gets.” Akaashi takes another sip from his cup, “Also, he told me about your little adventure that happened last weekend; you can’t trust him to keep a secret.”

You run a hand across your face, “It’s okay. We promised that it wouldn’t amount to anything.” Albeit, promises were made when you were on top of him.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You’re suddenly uncomfortable because the way Akaashi looks at you, the way his eyes narrowed with his statement; it was not you he was worried about.

Newsflash - Oikawa Tooru

Go be someone else’s hangover

Newsflash, I can do better you.

Mr. Casanova won’t you, save your intrigue and all your techniques

It was absolutely annoying, he was always accidentally bumping into you; as if he was trying to do a meet-cute. The flirtatious smile on his lips as he hit you with another line, there was even a moment when he had reused a line he had said to you a month earlier. It was incredibly revolting the way other girls practically fell to his feet.

He was no superstar in your mind, he neither the knight in shining armor nor the prince many girls claimed him to be. In fact, you knew too well that his hunting ground mainly consisted of girls from different schools; he was clever enough to keep it all on the downlow. But the moment he laid eyes on you, he was intrigued.

“Well, what a coincidence.” He’s cheeky, throwing you a peace sign as he nears you.

You barely give him a glance, “Not really a coincidence when our classes are right next to each other.” While you weren’t interested in any romantic relationship with him, he was still interesting to talk to.

He’s pulling into the seat in front of you, he always claimed it until it was time to leave for his class, “So, what are you doing this weekend?” His fingers dance upon your notebook, trying to draw your attention to him.

“Not spending it with you.” You don’t look up from your notes, “Perhaps you could find another girl; maybe the one that’s been hanging on your arm this week.” You finally bring your eyes to meet his, “Your girlfriend, right?”

He hums, the tip of his finger touching against your nose, “I was thinking we could go see a movie.” His arms fall over your study material, “at my place? I have the comfiest bed in the world.”

Your elbow leaned onto the desk, your chin resting on your palm, “Do the other girls fall for that?”

“What other girls?” The moment your lips start spouting his previous partners, he’s pressing a finger to your lips, “Please, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“Oh Mr. Casanova.” The sarcastic tone in your voice bites him, “I will never go out with you.”

That never stops him; it only eggs him on. Even with the girl attached to his arm, he still stares at you in the halls. He still brushes his hand against your thigh when he walks by; he still presses himself against you in the library to grab that book you needed, his hand lingering on your hip.

“You’re making it too obvious, love.” He whispers in between bookshelves, “You’re falling for me.”

The book in your hand smacks against his head when you turn, your tongue pokes out at him, “In your dreams, Romeo.” He follows the way your hips move across the library, your hand dragging across the back of your boyfriend; your eyes locked on his as you kiss the man.

Lowkey - Suna Rintarou

Be as quiet as you can, cause if anyone see’s they’ll just blow shit up

You ain’t even gotta lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, love me

Be discreet, gotta dodge all the tabloids

The party was winding down, the last of the alcohol barely keeping people entertained; you knew that when Osamu and the girl volunteered to get more drinks, it meant they weren’t going to come back. Many were already passed out on the couches, your eyes lingering onto the male across from you. For someone so quiet, he was a heavy drinker. After a while, it was just the two of you awake; it was just the two of you making out over the small coffee table.

It was discrete, the back of his hand pushing you more into him; the taste of alcohol still on his tongue. Your hands on the table, holding yourself enough to not disrupt the shot glasses on the hardwood. But the stirring of the male behind you makes you both halt. He was so inviting, his pinkie dragging yours along as you two abandoned the living room; opting for a bedroom.

He’s hushing you, despite his usual slow demeanor; he wasted no time pulling you onto his lap, “Be quiet.” He’s covering your mouth, the knock at the door makes you two turn.

“Suna?” The male on the other side is drawing his words out, “Hey, did you see y/n leave? I swear I saw her just a second ago.”

Yeah, you were pressing kisses onto his neck; your tongue drawing circles over his collarbone, “Yeah, she went home.” The sound of a door shutting makes him relax, “If you don’t want them to blow this out of proportion, you’re going to need to keep quiet.” Even in bed, he wasn’t much of a talker; but you on the other hand, he keeps your sounds low with his mouth over yours.

He snuck you out the morning after, it wasn’t much sneaking as the boys of the apartment were still unconscious. It’s just like him to let you leave on your own, no attachment, in fact; he enjoyed watching you walk out the building in your clothes from the night before.

“So who was it?” All the heads turned to you, your eyes fell on Suna; he wasn’t even a tad interested in the conversation, “I saw you doing the walk of shame.” Osamu looks at every male at the table, “You slept with someone at this table.”

You’re feigning confusion, “I honestly don’t know what you mean Samu. I left during the night, maybe you saw someone who looked like me?”

“Just because you did the walk of shame doesn’t mean you have to drag others in too.” Suna interjects, the men in the group all hum in agreement. Osamu is dumbfounded as he begins a defense for his argument.

Your phone vibrates in the middle of his monologue. Let’s get out of here. It’s unnoticeable, the wink he sends you when you look at him.

“Suna and I need to prepare for our psychology exam.” You’re waving your phone at Osamu, “You can text me your little rant.” The two cell phones vibrate against Suna’s desk, your head buried into his pillow; you feel like your teeth might shatter if you continue to keep quiet.

I Like You - Kita Shinsuke

You wanted fun, I served you threats.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m the joke; the punchline they got too old.

It’s so typical for me to fall for your kind.

It wasn’t every day that you got to see him; he only came to the cities every few months or so to deliver rice to Onigiri Miya. It was how you met him; during a particularly lively employee dinner that Osamu insisted he join, the cute rice farmer offered you a ride home. Only, he ended up staying the night; pushing you into the sheets as you gasp for air. He hadn’t left a cell number or any contact information; he only insisted he’d see you next time.

From the time in between, you pestered Osamu to give you little details about his high school friend. The small facts he gave you made your heart flutter, it made you crave him more. When he arrived the next month, he lingered in the restaurant past closing; Osamu bid him farewell, leaving the two of you to close shop for the night. The shop’s light was still on until the middle of the night.

“I like you.” You whispered against his lips, he stopped. His eyes stared into you, almost like he wasn’t sure if he was hearing right. You laugh, your arms wrapping around his neck, “I’m joking.”

Your smile faltered as he lifted you, somehow that night wasn’t like the others. The pleasure mixed with sadness; his lips tasted more like poison than it did sweetness. Your mind jaded, he was noticing your lack of enthusiasm.

“Are you okay?” His concern made your eyes snap to him.

A sigh leaving your lips as you sat up, your hands grasping onto your sheets, “Yeah. I don’t think I’m feeling it tonight.”

“Okay.” He was apathetic, even as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead, it was infuriating.

Two months pass from the day you last confessed. For two months, you cursed yourself out. You promised to never see him again; but the moment he stepped back into the restaurant, the moment the rice farmer laid eyes on you; you knew you couldn’t resist.

It was like time had gone back, the same events happened from the first night. The employee dinner, the offer ride home, the entrance into your bedroom. Your nails dug into his back, the ringing of your cell phone was drowned out by your voice bouncing off the walls.

“Do you know if Kita’s ever dated?” You looked at your boss.

Osamu shrugs, “I guess I’ve never seen or heard about him dating. He’s kind of a private guy.” Osamu turns to you, “Why? Are you interested?”

You flush, “Maybe.”

His words would later echo in your head as Kita presses love bites on your chest.

Pretty sure he’s seeing someone in the cities; why else would he deliver ten bags of rice every month.

You’re pulling him up, sloppy kisses on his lips, you’re grinning; he was just so beautiful.

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #suna x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #bokuto #oikawa #suna #kita #bokuto koutarou #oikawa toru #suna rintarou #kita shinsuke #hq

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 3 years

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DAY 2: ABANDONED TERRACE [SIRIUS BLACK X READER]

february writing prompt masterlist // february prompt challenge list

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Prompt: Abandoned terrace Warnings: A little bit of angst

You hadn't been here in years. The house had changed a lot; the years had slowly torn away at it, nibbling its life slowly hour by hour, brick by brick. The last time you'd been here everything had been different, and you hadn't felt so alone. So disconnected.

You walk round the grand house, hand brushing along the bannister. Your eyes can't help but glance to the dark green wallpaper, and the darker, less sun-bleached squares on the wall, where the moving portraits should be. They hadn't been here in a long time though. The family that use to live here would be disgusted to the fate that befell this house, and you can take some satisfaction in the fact they'd definitely hate what was about to happen to it now.

Something draws you up further and into a room: his old room.

There's hesitation in your motion is obvious, but nevertheless you persist. Your footsteps are loud against the wooden floor, the tattered carpet had long been removed. Practically all the surfaces in the room are covered in dust, and it felt hollow of any emotion it once had.

You recall being here before: it was one winter when Sirius had insisted you come home with him for Christmas break. You almost said no (you knew how the Black family treated Sirius, and you weren't sure that you could keep your mouth shut around them), but his pleading puppy dog eyes meant that you couldn't said no. It goes without saying that the Blacks were not happy you were there, but they didn't forbid you from staying. You were polite at least and his mother almost gave you a compliment: something along the lines of 'at least your more polite than Sirius' mudblood scum.' Nice woman.

Sirius had dragged you into his room to get you away from his mother. His room was huge, a little gloomy (but that was the whole Black house), but nonetheless his. He had pulled you out to the terrace connected to his room. It was his favourite part of the whole house; he could smoke, as well as look out to the world and hope it could get better.

Before you know what's happening, you're on the terrace, now abandoned.

Your thoughts fill your mind. You don't hear the footsteps approaching behind you. And, you don't even register a figure standing behind you until they cough.

"Sirius?" you ask in shock, turning round to face the man.

"I wasn't sure you'd come... I hadn't heard anything from you in years. Thought you would've escaped somewhere beautiful with an exotic lover by now. Forgotten about me- a-and the cause."

"Oh, Sirius, I could never forget you."

You reach out for his hand, and gently hold it.

"I... I never moved on," you confess, "I thought about it... A couple of times. I travelled... I went to the places we said we'd go but every time I got there I couldn't help thinking... I couldn't help thinking Sirius would love this. Sirius should be hear with me."

"I'm sorry I did that to you-"

"-It wasn't you. It's not your fault," you reassure him.

You give him a sad smile, and turn to the stars casting over the terrace.

"You know, I never forgot that night... On this terrace."

"It's the first place I kissed you," Sirius smiles, "I thought about you... While I was in there. I thought about you every day. I was hoping I'd get to kiss you again."

You turn to face him, and gently stroke his hair, now long and more grey than when you had last seen him. But, he is still beautiful. He will always be beautiful to you.

"Sirius, kiss me."

"Are you sure-"

"-I've been thinking about this day for years, Sirius. I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you reassure him.

He kisses you with a gentleness you had missed in your life. Your Sirius is back, and for as long as you can hold him, you will. For as long as you can kiss him, you will. For as long as you can keep him, you will.

Even on this abandoned terrace.

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jiikyu · 3 years

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Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter V. It’s becoming painfully clear you find comfort in the wrong things. Like the smell of the ocean. A smile that’s far too blinding. In the way calloused hands always seem to find their way back to you. Despite everything — Can you really be blamed for falling? ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Manipulation / Breaking & Entering, tho we don’t really elaborate on it this chapter? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter In Progress... Taglist. @missyredbean @yandere-romanticism

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re fading or — At least that’s what you’re starting to suspect. Time seemingly has escaped you. Who knows how much time has passed with you holding of the bathrooms door handle. The metal resting loosely against your skin is now warm from the shared contact and it’s beyond disappointing because — It’s the farthest you’ve been able to will yourself. Motionless you find yourself stuck at standstill. You hate it. You hate the invisible thing stopping you from opening the door, like you would have if it were any other day. It’s not the dry clothes that stick uncomfortably to your skin or the wet droplets coldly clinging to you. Something familiar yet foreign. Settled in the pit of your being, it claws and begs you not to abandon the shelter these thin walls provide. You know what’s taken hold of you and god, does that make it so much worse. You just want it gone. But, how do you kill fear? There is no reason for your hands to be clammy or for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand raised. All you’re doing is making the situation worse, for yourself and — For Mirio. He’s probably worried. Plus, it’s not like you can stay locked away forever. Right? Only when you’re able finally gulp down the passing mania and turn the handle do you realize that you’re alone. Light pours from behind you, spilling into the empty hall. Your E/C eyes take a moment to adjust but it’s clear that Mirio is nowhere in sight. How long had it been? The stillness is broken by the familiar ding of your microwave from the kitchen. “Just in time Y/N!” And just like that the shame eating away at you disappears as quickly as it appeared, lulled into submission by the voice calling out to you. It should probably frighten you. How fast your troubles seem to melt away with the sound of his voice. Leaving the bathroom you forget the jacket still hanging from the tubs edge. Your footsteps are muffled by the carpet underneath, it’s then that you notice the sweet scent dusting the air. You follow the faintest hints of sugar and — milk? Rounding the corner you spot the familiar silhouette standing under fluorescent white light. And it’s hard to miss just how comfortable he appears to be in your kitchen. The jug of milk has been removed from the fridge, garnished with paper towels littering the back counter and a lone spoon sitting forgotten... Oh and one of the cupboard doors has been left hanging wide open. You’re really not sure what he’s done to cause such chaos. The last thing you notice are the two steaming cups, filled to the brim. It’s so faint but, you swear it smells like honey — “Sweetheart I don’t know how you do it!” And suddenly all the thoughts buzzing around your head just stop. A total short-circuit. He just called you Sweetheart. And the bastard doesn’t even bat an eyelash, he just lets it slip past his teeth without any repercussions. Though, if you’re being honest — You’re not even sure Mirio realizes he’s said it. It’s fine, really, it’s not that big of a deal. There are plenty of people around the world that use nicknames. Something as simple as a title of endearment shouldn’t have your heart doing backflips and cartwheels. But it does. You’re absolutely screwed. “There’s barely enough room in here for one person!” His words have you more than a little confused. To demonstrate what exactly he means he lifts his arms in the air. From one hand to the other he practically touches the walls that represent the beginning and end of the kitchen. “See, it’s no good!” Huh. You suppose Mirio’s right in some sense of the word. But it’s him that makes the space feel small. “Well...” You can’t help but chuckle between words at the man T posing in your kitchen. “I guess for you it might be a bit much.” “Nah I think I’m onto something. You’ll just have to move in with me!” It’s hard to tell sometimes when Mirios joking because he always wears a wide grin. But there’s no way it’s a serious offer. Maybe your missing the point, but you don’t see the problem at hand. Sure your dorm might not be as uh — spacious — as the ones meant for rising star heros. But you’re nothing if not appreciative, the space had came with all the basic necessities and for that you couldn’t be more grateful. You’re lucky enough to even have the opportunity of sleeping under the roof of your dream school. “Now you’re pushing it.” Your tone is lighthearted. “My place isn’t that bad.” Though your smile brings warmth to his little heart the moment is soured. He cannot help but stare at the puffiness just under your eyes, from where tears had fallen and stained. A reminder that has the blond to biting into the meat of his cheek. Mirio would be lying if he said felt comfortable with your living situation. It’s far too small — Let alone for the both of you. But most importantly, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of heavy bolts on the front door. He doesn’t like it one bit. Maybe it’s just the itch of anxiety from what happened but he’d much rather see you someplace safer. Somewhere you weren’t forced to be alone, preferably someplace he could stay by your side. Like his dorm. “What’d you make?” Freed from his thoughts it takes Mirio a second to process the question, his eyes follow your stare — The two cups cooling on the counter, the steam vanishing as it rises. He’d almost forgotten! “Oh! It’s honey milk.” Suddenly one of the cups is pushed across the smooth counter surface, till it sits within your reach. “My dad used to make it for me when I was a kid, usually when I was upset or had a bad day.” His smiles softens when he ends with. “I thought you might like it.” What he can’t tell you is that he made it in desperation. A distraction from what he’d done. “Thank you.” Blue eyes watch your fingers wrap around the heated smooth surface of the ceramic. “Really, it means a lot.” He can’t help but stare as your lips part to take the first sip. “Anything for you.” Those words are your wake up call. You’d got caught up in his antics... Are you really that weak around him? Because, now you understand there’s a deeper promise there. One you almost wish had remained in the dark. Almost. “If you want we can watch a movie, or —“ “I think.” You stare into the swirl of milk and honey before continuing. “Maybe we should sit and... Talk about what happened.” Your words always seem to have an effect on him because his pulse begins to race. It’s fear. “Yeah.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re in trouble. Even with the suppressants dulling your senses they’re not strong enough to block the scent of seashore and sandalwood now permeating the walls. Not strong enough to hide the fact that your dorm is already starting to smell like Mirio. If people knew you allowed an Alpha into your home, let alone an unmated one, you’re reputation would tarnished. You know this, it’s been drilled into your head since presenting as an Omega, but... It’s Mirio Togata that’s seated next to you in your kitchen. The one exception — Or at least that’s what you hope. The cheap material of the barstool digs into your back and there’s a constant drumming of fingers against the laminate countertop, a harmony of tension. The thing that held you captive in the bathroom is back and whispering in your ear. It doesn’t use words, no, instead you’re haunted by awful unintelligible garble. Of blood filled lungs struggling for air. This is a bad idea. You can already feel your mouth becoming dry, but there’s no going back — “What happened during the fight?” It’s the one question that could’ve caught Mirio off guard, and his smile falters, if only for a split second. “Oh you mean —“ A hand rubs the skin of his neck sheepishly, as if you caught him redhanded in the cookie jar. “I guess I did go a little overboard on that guy, didn’t I?” He says half jokingly, he wants so badly to be able to sweep the whole thing under the rug. A little overboard? “But don’t worry! From here on out I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you.” Even without his quirk, he’ll manage. “I promise.” Even if it means he has to get his hands dirty. He reaches an arm to wrap around your shoulder, so you know your hero will always be there for you and — You flinch at the touch. ... Mirio blinks a few times because he’s not sure what happened. You hadn’t meant to flinch. You really hadn’t meant it. But it’s too late. It’s clear as day, he sees it in your eyes. And you know it when his smile begins to fall, it’s plummeting. There’s fear in your eyes. Somewhere in your subconscious you must’ve been praying. Stupid, so incredibly stupid. Praying that you were strong enough to hide it from him. And it makes what comes next all the worse. “Wait you’re —“ Blond brows knit together, still grasping the change in atmosphere. “You’re not afraid of me... Are you?” There it is. The air is suddenly tens times heavier, like breathing through a straw. Your throats so dry you’re not even sure you have the ability to speak. When Mirios only answer is deafening silence does he become hyper aware of the situation. You literally see the moment it clicks. It’s in the way his mouth opens and closes in disbelief, in the way his blue eyes widen in realization. It’s like watching an incoming car crash in slow motion , you know it’s going to be horrible but there’s nothing to stop it. You have to tear your eyes away before the inevitable collision and when you do... Mirios panic truly sets in. He had been afraid of you to thinking less of him. But never in a million years did he think that you might see him as a potential threat. This is a nightmare. He’s sweating bullets. “Sunshine I know — I know I messed up.” Another nickname. “I never meant to scare you. I’m sorry — I don’t know what took over, you know I never would have let it go that far but the guy, he —“ Each word more unsteady than the last, more desperate, because you won’t even look at him. And it’s killing him. He can’t take it anymore. Mirios scarred hands find your shoulders, slowly — Like you might crumble away from the touch but this time you don’t recoil from the fingers pressing into the material of your shirt. “Will you please look at me Darling?” Having averted your eyes you don’t bare witness to the pain carving his face but god, do you hear it. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. And despite it all, despite having watched him beat a man within an inch of his life, the last thing you want is to hurt Mirio. So you give in. And you look up to see a man on the edge. It’s worse than you imagined. You see the wild storm of blue, one that could easily ravage everything within its reach. “This is all some sort of misunderstanding right? I was just protecting you that’s all, you know I would never hurt you.” One of his hands has left your shoulder to snake its way to cup your face, thumb stroking languidly over the cherub of your cheek. Desperate for contact, for anything he can get from you. “Please just — Say that you’ll forgive me.” Everything.

From the way Mirios voices wobbles weakly to the way he looks at you with desperation. It’s enough to crush every last bit of reason within you.

You break. This is the man that little voice inside your head screamed and begged you to stay away from? The man who lost everything to save a little girl from some madman? The man who rescued you and is now pleading for forgiveness in your kitchen? That man? Life is cruel. You’re finally able to find your voice. “Mirio. What you did was horrible —“ His heart just about stops beating right there. It hurts. Having his name associated with something so terrible in your eyes, even if to him it was something he’d done out of devotion... It’s a stab to the gut. “And despite everything.” Is this how it ends? You’re going to break up with him. “I — I can’t find it in myself to be upset with you.” Those words leave your lips and Mirio can finally breath. The blond hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath till now, the lack of oxygen straining his lungs. But you’re not done yet — “I’ve never met a person quite like you. You are the sweetest, definitely a little dense.” By the end your lips have started to curl upwards, it just comes naturally. “What I’m trying to say is that — I still care about you, and this isn’t the end —“ It’s like the worlds gone silent, your words are going in one ear and out the other. All he knows is that. You’re here. You’re smiling. And you’re not leaving him. It’s all Mirio needs to understand. The swell of emotions is just too much for him. It just sort of bursts out. “Though, you’re —“ “I love you.” ... The last — What? Six hours of your life have been nothing but a rollercoaster, one you’d like to get off of now. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re wearing the most wide-eyed expression of your entire life. But you couldn’t care less, because you’re far too busy replaying those magic words over and over in your head. You’re not sure you heard right. Maybe your skull was smashed against the pavement at some point during the fight and this is all some weird fever dream. That’s right. You’re probably in some hospital with IVs hooked to you. “Mirio —“ Pinching your inner arm before continuing, it’s almost concerning when the tinge of pain feels real. Very real... And you’ll be damned if you can’t find the reason for the sudden lack of common sense in the room. “Did you hit your head?” “I — What no? Y/N I’m being completely serious here.” “Are you sure? M-maybe you should you lie down, just incase?” You’re starting to panic because — Dear god, what if he needs medical attention and he’s here because of your own problems? As if reading your mind he understands. His heart skips and stutters because it’s him you’re worried about. He hasn’t lost you yet. And as much as he would love to tease you about how cute you are — He’s having none of it, because he just admitted his true feelings and your too worried about a stupid concussion! Suddenly he’s no longer seated next to you but standing and... He’s taking a few steps back? Once far enough away he outstretches his arms forward so that his thumbs mirror each other. “Could someone with a concussion do this?” In one swift motion his hands are planted to the floor with both legs kicked to a point in the air. A handstand. “One, two, three —“ Of course, nothing can be easy when it comes to Mirio. Show off. “— Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty!” Twenty seconds. Your jaw would’ve hit the floor if it were physically possible. It’s impressive. More than that. “I can go longer if you want.” When he hops back to stand on his own two feet the floor trembles. “But, I’m not sure you want to watch me do a handstand all night.” He’s smiling and laughing. It makes you feel small and irrational, that you’ve been overthinking everything. That you’ve made something out of nothing. The panic starts to settle, like a layer of soot waiting for its next opportunity to suffocate. But you gotta ask one last time. For your own sanity. “So... You’re really okay?” If he’s fine then that would mean — “Never been better! Because — Here, let me say it again.“ He says stepping closer, like there’s a magnet between the two of you, he closes the gap. Before you know it large hands find yours, with the outmost care. You can only describe it as being bathed in sunlight, warm and glowing, your digits are dwarfed in Mirios own. It’s slower this time, softer. “I love you.” Has your heart ever flown this high before? “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not but, you’re the only person that’s made me feel this way — The only one for me.” You know there’s no way for you to come down unscathed. “I was being serious earlier you know? That... We could move in together.” His thumb maps the tiny hills of your knuckles. “So, won’t you please consider moving in with me?” Really now, it’s got to be one of the most ridiculous things you’ve be asked in a while. Hadn’t you only just admitted your feelings a few hours ago? Doesn’t he care what others will think? Why are you even entertaining the idea? Even as the list continues to grow, reasons on it’s unrealistic, why — Sitting perched atop the stool your feet dangle, support-less. You’re helpless because those blue irises are looking down upon you like your the only one in the world. It’s too much. “I —“ Why won’t the butterflies stop swarming you? “I need to sleep on this Mirio — This. It’s just a lot.” You’re certain now, now more than ever before. You’re in far deeper than you ever could have bargained for. Because you still haven’t said no yet. “Of course!” Voice soft and lighthearted, Mirios hands give yours a squeeze. Whether in reassurance or in fear of letting go he doesn’t know anymore. “Take all the time you need.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The night ends with you helping bandage-up Mirios knuckles. Rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and Hello Kitty bandaids. The ugly futon you found at a garage sale and a few spare blankets are included in the five star Hotel experience. The springs groan back to life when Mirio unfolds the furniture. You don’t know how long you stand in the doorframe of your bedroom, there’s just so much — Why’d he have to pile everything on you at once! You just need time, that’s all. Time to think. Once you get your head out of the clouds you’ll be able to let him down gently, because it’s a childish idea after all. One you’d never agree too. Right? And maybe if you hadn’t succumbed to a night of stress you wouldn’t have failed to notice the bottle of pills missing from your nightstand. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ At some point sleep overtook you in your exhaustion, because your phone now reads 10:12AM. After laying in bed for an extra twenty minutes you finally sit up and only when your feet touch floor are you startled fully awake. Something touched your left foot, and it rattled at you. Your eyes adjust enough for you to see the culprit, it’s your bottle of suppressants. They must have rolled off your nightstand while you were out. It’s quiet. If you didn’t know any better you would say it felt like any other regular morning, besides the lingering fatigue. That’s why when you open your bedroom door it takes you by surprise, the lumpy, vaguely looking human shape on the futon. Mirios sleeping form barely fits the ancient pullout. One of his arms hangs off the side with his fingers resting against the floor. Only with the glow of the television are you able to make out his sleeping face. Whatever miraculous hair gel he buys no longer keeps the mess of blond together, bangs of gold hang over his soft features. A normal persons heart probably wouldn’t flutter at something so simple. From under the blanket peeks the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for at least a day now. The same one you cried into. In a few days the scent of calming sea waves and citrus will fade. And you’ll be all that’s left behind. It’s a realization that leaves you feeling, empty. You find the more time spent mulling over the situation the blurrier everything becomes. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince yourself, no matter how many hours you spend staring at your ceiling in the dark of your bedroom — It won’t change the way your heart beats wildly whenever you’re around him. You can’t help but wonder. Is it really such a bad idea?

And you know you’re a terrible person because the curve of your lips is real as you gently place your hand on his shoulder. There are roots that have already taken hold of you long ago.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #bnha mirio #yandere bnha #mywriting #remember when i said this would be ready by thursday????????#sorry im slow :'(#pls forgive me ya'll #hopefully u guys like it tho! I dont know how many chapters are left

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