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samandcolbyownme · 7 months

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Summary: anon request - "Hi can u do one like should've stayed home but with Sam please and can u make it so they end up fighting about leaving and not wanting to leave and so the car ride home is silent leaving Colby feeling awkward until they get home then they make up after a little bit more arguing please please pleas thank u."

Warning: This one shot will get dark at parts and contain the reader being targeted by the spirits and some actions include; being touched, pushed, choked, scratched, spoken to, and other things some readers might find a bit creepy. There will also be mentions of murder and such at the place of exploration and other bad things some readers may be triggered by and there will be a short SMUT scene at the end.

I also kinda changed around the ending a little bit, hope you don't mind!

Word count: 8.1K

"What's up guys. It's Sam and Colby."

You stand off to the side, watching as they do their intro, "Today." Sam presses his hands together and leans in, "We are at the Agatha Asylum, or better known as the worst place to be sent if you were already having a bad day."

"It's said that people who had, or thought to have had any kind of mental illness were sent here for-" Colby puts air quotes, "-help.. and they were punished by being chained to walls, stuck in cages, beaten, and most even faced death."

"We are here today to see if we can get some answers as to why the person in charge, John Agatha, would do something like this." Sam glances over at you, "We also have with us a very special guest, y/n."

You walk over, standing in between Sam and Colby and hold your hand up, "I don't know why I'm here. I hate asylums."

"You volunteered to handcuff yourself to the wall, remember?" Colby jokes and looks at you. You raise your eyebrows, "The fuck I did."

"Anyway." Sam tries not to laugh, "We are currently waiting on the owner of this asylum to get here so we can get a tour and get a feel for what we will be dealing with.." Sam looks over at the road, "I think that's them now."

A car pulls up and parks, stepping out is a man and women.

"Are you Mark and Cindy?" Colby asks walking over and the man nods, "Yes, are you Sam and Colby?" Sam holds his hand up, "I'm Sam, this is my girlfriend y/n and that's Colby."

You all say hello and they jump right into it, "So.." Cindy starts out, "This is Agatha Asylum." She motions towards the building behind the fence, "This is to keep anyone out, since we're trying to get it ready to present to the public, we have it blocked off so people don't get in without us knowing. Or we try to at least."

"Have people gotten in?" Colby asks and Mark nod, "Oh yeah. We eventually set up security cameras around the perimeter. The day we noticed a broken window and spray paint lids, actually."

"What kind of things happened here exactly?" Sam asks handing the camera to Colby.

Cindy blows air, "Oh gosh, anything from restraining the patients inhumanly to keeping them locked in cages that were maybe, if they were lucky, a little bigger than themselves."

You raise your eyebrows, "What the hell?"

Mark nods, "most of the women who came in were attacked by the staff if you know what I mean so I'm sure the women are angry. I mean, hell I would be too if I was stuck here."

"Have you guys had any thing happen to you?" Colby asks, "Like personally or maybe to someone you know that has come here."

Mark nods, "Yeah, I've had my tools messed with, moved. Cindy has been pushed down the steps, and one of my guys who are working with me on getting this ready, was pushed from his ladder."

"Pushed off a lad- oh shit." Sam shakes his head, "Is there anything we need to know before going in there? Like maybe who to try and get in contact with or what not to ask?"

"John Agatha. He's the one who ran this place. Many people have tried to contact him but they never got any real answers as to why." Cindy says, "Just make your intentions known, I know some of the spirits in there can get pretty mean, so just keep reminding them that you mean no harm."

"Has anyone stayed a full night here?" You ask and they laugh, "No."

"No?" Colby asks raising his eyebrows, "Looks like we have a challenge on our hands, guys." He looks over at you and Sam and Sam shakes his head, "I'm already shitting my pants, dude."

"You all will by the time it gets dark. It's a pretty active place during the day, don't get me wrong, but not only me, but from other groups that came through as well, said it's gets worse at night." Mark sighs, "So. Who's ready for the tour?"

"You guys have fun, I'm going home." Colby pretends to walk away before turning back around, "No, let's go before I really do change my mind."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"So this hallway leads you to where most of the women were held.." Cindy points to the right and then to the left, "Men were held that way."

"Is there any specific areas as to where the most activity happens?" Sam asks laying his hand on your back as he steps around you, "Where were the cages kept exactly?"

"This whole place, honestly. You're bound to get activity anywhere in here and there were at least two cages per room."

"Per room?" You raise your eyebrows, "How many were kept in a room at one time?"

"Two but some held up to four, depending on many were here and came in and what not." Mark says looking around. He stares down the hallway and Sam turns the camera, "Did you see something?"

"A shadow moved across then end of that hallway there." He points, "No taller than you." He motions to Colby and Colby shrugs, "Sorry. I'm just that fast."

He starts pretending to Sonic run in place. You laugh and shake your head, "You can't be serious at all can you?" He shakes his head, "Not when I'm scared shitless, no."

Mark and Cindy laugh and start walking down the hall way. They explain each room briefly, basically what it was used for until you finally reach an old wooden door that's laying on the floor.

"This is where they kept, what they called, the worst of the worst." Mark lifts the door, revealing a steep staircase, "Watch your step as you come down."

"This is a really odd basement entrance." Sam says handing the camera to Colby, "What the hell."

Mark and Cindy go down first, followed by Sam then you. He helps you down, coaching you through the steps until you reach the bottom.

"What you're not going to help me?" Colby asks looking over his shoulder at Sam. All of you start baby talking to Colby coaching him down the steps and he stands there with his lips pressed together, "Should have never said anything."

Sam takes the camera, making sure Colby is good before turning around, "What is up with freaking jail cells in the basements of these places?"

"Literally." You mumble as you wrap your arms around yourself, "It's so cold down here. Did they have any sort of heat at the time of this place being open?"

Mark shakes his head, "They had a fireplace over there but as you can see it got filled from the outside in so who knows when that happened."

There's a loud thud from upstairs and you jump, "the fuck?"

Colby points, "That sounded like the door lifted up and dropped back down." Sam nods, "Yeah yeah yeah."

"Very well could have been. Doors opening on their own is very common around here." Cindy says, "Especially the third floor, that's where lots of the killings happened."

"Why the third floor?" Colby asks, "Why not down here?"

"The patients ended up dying all over the place, but if they were ordered to be put out by John, they would drag them up the stairs, kill them then dump their bodies out of the back window, into what was said to be a big wagon and then taken about half a mile away and they would just burn them and then just cover the hole with dirt."

"That answers my question about what they do with the bodies." Sam cringes, "I can't even imagine that."

"The hauntings and activity started a year or two after the patients first started to die. So if you can, try to contact.. oh shit. Was was his name?" Cindy looks at Mark and he shakes his head, "Oh, you mean Warren Summers?"

She nods, "Yes! He was reported to be the first to die, they ruled his death an accident but we all know it wasn't."

"Well definitely try to contact him, find out some answers." Colby nods and mark motions, "Alright, I need to get out of here, this spot makes me feel sick."

"Whoa really?" Sam looks at Colby, "Do you feel okay?" Colby nods and Sam looks at you, "Do you feel alright?"

You nod your head, "I mean, I feel like there's pressure on my chest, but it's not like, oh my god I can't breathe, kinda pressure."

"Let's get out of here and we'll just start in the main lobby." Sam says as he walks you over to the stairs. You go up first, followed by Sam and he turns around, "Come on, Colby." His voice is high pitched, "You can do it!"

Colby glares up at him from mid stairs and shakes his head as he laughs, "Thanks buddy. I needed that."

Mark and Cindy make their way up and she points to you, "Are you sure they're the ones not together?"

You sigh and shrug, "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a competition." You laugh and look over at Colby who does the, I'm watching you, motion.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Alright, guys. We have the REM pod here, and we're going to start out easy tonight by starting in the lobby." Sam walks over to the desk, setting the pod down, "It was said that there was a receptionist here who just so happened to be John's wife, Mabel, so she had to known everything you'd think."

"Didn't mark say that she disappeared randomly one day and no one really looked for her?" You ask looking at Sam, and he nods, "Yeah yeah yeah, maybe she didn't know what was going on and when she started to find out he silenced her?"

"John Agatha was a very wealthy man at the time of his death, so it very well could be or he offed her because she knew he had money?" Colby shrugs, "I mean, there's really only one way to find out."

Colby leans forward, switching on the pod and testing it a few times before stepping back, "Ladies first." He smirks towards you and you roll your eyes playfully, "Okay. Hello, my name is y/n. I mean no harm, I'm just here to ask you a few questions if that's okay."

The pod lights up and you straight up slightly, "If it's okay that I ask, can you touch that little light for me again?"

It lights up and you look between Sam and Colby, "Okay." You look back, "Thank you. Am I speaking to the wife of John Agatha? Mabel. If so touch that light for me again."

A few seconds go by before the light goes off, "Thank you, Mabel."

Sam hands the camera to Colby, "Hello, Mabel, I'm Sam. I come with peace and the possibility of finding out what happened here. I'd like to ask you something too if that's okay."

The pod lights up and Sam takes a deep breath, "Did your husband.. end your life?"

Right after the pod lights up, it stops and there's a loud crash from slightly far away.

You all jump, yelling out cuss words. You lean around Sam the look down the hallway, "What the hell was that?"

"It sounded like something big fell, like you know those big metal carts the food trays are served on? It sounded like one of those and everything in it just falling out." Colby moves forward, "Should we go check it out?"

The rem pod lights up three times in a row and you all look back at it before looking at each other.

"My name is Colby, I mean no harm to you or anyone else here. Was that a warning? Should we not go look?" Colby asks and it lights up one time quickly, "Make that go off for me if that was a yes."

Instantly turns on.

"Fuck, okay." Colby turns to Sam, "What do we do?"

Sam shakes his head, "If we're being told not to go there, we shouldn't."

"That hasn't stopped us before." Colby chuckles slightly, "Y/n."

You're zoned out on the dark hallway where the sound came from, you know that Colby has the camera on you, but you can't acknowledge it.

You feel Sam's hand on you, pulling you back as your body is trying to go forward, "Hey, hey. Y/n. Look at me." Sam steps in front of you, breaking your stare and you shake your head slightly.

He looks up at Colby and back to you, "What just happened? Talk to me." Sam lays his hands on your cheeks and keeps your head straight, "Hey."

"I felt something calling me towards where the sound came from." You lay your hand on Sam's bicep, "It was weird."

"What the fuck." Sam whispers as he looks back up at Colby and he shrugs, "Okay, we'll just go to the left wing, give whatever that is, time to do whatever it needs to do."

Sam pulls you with him, as you still felt drawn.

"So something just took over y/n pretty much." Colby explains, "Y/n, what happened?" He points the camera on you and you laugh slightly, "Um, I don't really know.. like you know how when you're so tired you just zone out?"

They nod and you sigh, "It was like that, but I swear there was a figure standing there, watching us and I was just having some sort of stare down with him."

"You started walking towards it, then. Like what happened with that?" Colby follows up, "Like did it say anything?"

You shake your head, "I knew you had the camera on me, and I knew Sam was pulling me back, but no. Nothing was said, it just stood there watching us and I just felt like I needed to go there."

"John Agatha?" Sam whispers, "Could it- do you think it was him?" You shrug, "Maybe? I don't know, it was the same figure Mark saw I think.. he was really no taller than Colby."

"It had to be, maybe he's trying to tell us to get out or maybe.. with a sliver of luck, he wants to explain himself." Colby shakes his head, "I don't know, let's just avoid that area until we cover this side."

Colby grabs the pod, switching it off as he turns back towards you and Sam, "Are you okay like do you feel alright?"

You nod, even though you feel like you could puke, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Sam rubs your arm, "You sure?"

You nod again, "Yes, Sam. I'm sure."

He could tell something was off, but he trusted you. He knew you'd stop if you really couldn't handle it.

"Where to next?" You ask as you take his hand into yours. Sam squeezes your hand and points, "I figured we could go into the day room, that's where Paul Yellow allegedly killed his roommate."

"These two men specifically had beef with each other.." Colby starts out as he hands the camera to Sam who lets go of your hand to take it, "..it was said that they would always be stealing from each other and would always be trying to get one another in trouble, but no one would admit to it, so the staff basically let them handle it themselves and that's when Paul came into the day room with a hammer that he somehow found, and bludgeoned Frank to death."

"Yeah in front of everyone but the staff were basically the only, " sam turns the camera around to him, putting at quotes, "Sane ones here, so they covered it up basically by saying that Frank fell and that was that."

"Wasn't Paul taken by the staff and tortured?" You ask as you look over at Sam. He nods, "Pretty much, yes."

As Sam and Colby explain what you guys were going to do next, you walked over to the window, looking out into the old courtyard.

"Come over here."

You turn around, walking over to Sam, "What?" He looks at you confused, "What?" You look between him and Colby, "Didn't you just tell me to come over here?"

Sam looks up at Colby and back down to you, "No I was getting the EMF ready."

You motion towards the window, "I swear to god, you said, come over here, when I was standing at the window."

Colby's eyes go wide, "He didn't say that." He shakes his head, "Oh fuck."

"So if you didn't sa-"

The sound of, what you think, is a metal trash can sliding across the floor makes you stop talking. It's quick, but you all hear it.

"Something just got drug or pushed across the floor." Sam whispers, "Fuck, fuck, okay. Let's get this thing going.." he turns on the EMF and you all step back.

"I'm y/n. I come in peace, I just want to ask a few questions. Paul Yellow, did you tell me to come over here?" You bite down on your cheek, waiting for the device to give you an answer.

"Were you over by the window with me?" You ask and it lights up green, "was it Paul?"

It lights up red.

"Are we talking to Frank?" Colby asks and it lights up green, "Did Paul kill you?"

Lights up red.

"Was it someone else?" Sam asks trying to keep the camera still and he looks over at you when it lights up green.

"Who else co-" you stop, "Was it one of the staff, Frank?"

Instant green.

"One of the staff did it then blamed Paul?" Colby looks shocked and he jumps slightly as it lights up green, "Holy shit, dude."

"I wonder if they've had anyone figure this out." Sam asks and he turns around, "Did you hear that?" You lean around to look, listening for the sound. Sam looks back, "It sounded like someone was walking and dragging their hand along the wall."

The sound Sam explained happened again and you look up at him, "That?" Sam nods, "Exactly that."

"Something is following us." Colby says quietly, "It has to be."

The EMF lights up green and you all look at each other, "Is it John Agatha?" You glance back at the EMF, "All you need to do is-"

It lights up green and you sigh, "Thank you." A thump against the wall makes you jump, "I don't think he likes being told what to do." You joke which makes Colby laugh, Sam just shakes his head.

"You good, bro?" Colby pushes his arm and looks at him. Sam smiles slightly, "Yeah, no I'm good."

You find yourself being pulled into that stare again, this time it's in the corner of the day room, but nothing is there.

"Colby. Colby." Sam says as he grabs you by the waist. You try to pull away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, "Y/n. Snap out of it, come on."

You lean back into him, "There's something over there."

"You aren't going over there alone." He fights back as he switches his flash light on, revealing just the ripped wallpaper, "See. Nothing."

"There was." You turn around, "he was watching us."

"Who? John?" Colby asks and the EMF lights up green, "Maybe we should try the-" the loud crashing sound makes him stop talking instantly.

"You don't think people got in here do you?" Sam tightens his grip on your waist, "We tweeted about coming here.. so like.."

"They have cameras all around the perimeter they said, and I'm sure they would have told us if they saw something." Sam says as he pulls his phone out, "Let me call Mark, see if he can tell me if there was anything outside."

As Sam calls mark, you close your eyes, resting your head back on his shoulder. Colby walks up, squeezing your arm, "You still with us?"

You open your eyes, nodding, "Yeah I just got really dizzy."

Sam looks down at you and puts the phone on speaker, "There was nothing outside?"

"Not since you went back inside." Mark says on the other end of the phone, "If you do decide to leave just make sure you lock the gate and we can get the key tomorrow."

"Alright, yeah. We'll let you know." Sam says and they end the call, "So it's just us in here." He looks down at you, "Are you okay?"

You nod and stand up, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not dizzy anymore?" He brushes hair from your face and you shake your head, "No I'm good."

"I'm thinking we move from here and we go to the third floor." Colby walks over and Sam stops you from following him, "We can leave if this is too much."

"Sam. I'm fine. I promise."

"I don't like the way you just zone out and try to walk away. That's not like you, that isn't you." His eyes scan over your face and you weren't sure if it was the place effecting you, but you just wanted to keep going, "Something is drawing us to that hallway."

"What do you mean?" Sam shakes his head, "Y/n, I don't want you out of my sight, this place is too big and too dark for you to just go off away from us."

"Then put me on a leash or something, because I'm not done here."

You've never spoken to Sam like that. Ever. So when you said it, you were both surprised, "I'm.. sorry, I don't know where that came from."

"My point exactly." Sam chews on his lip, trying to tell himself over and over again that this place is a lot more powerful than they thought.

"What's going on? You guys okay?"

"Yes." You say the same time Sam says, "No."

Colby looks between the two of you then back to Sam. Sam sighs, "This place obviously has a hold over you, y/n. So everything is not okay."

"What-" Colby starts but you cut him off, looking directly at Sam, "Sam. This is what we do. you can't expect me to just back out every time something hap-"

Sam cuts you off, "Yours being pulled by what we can only assume is a dark entity. How do you expect me to act? Just let you walk off into the sunset with it? No. No thanks."

"Guys, come on.. just take a deep breath. There's absolutely no need to argue." Colby tries to settle the situation but it only seemed to fire up the ghosts because it sounds like a table is lifted then dropped back down.

Sam instantly grabs you, pulling you to him, "You're staying close."

You don't put up any more of a fight, knowing that Sam would drag you out himself if he had to, "Fine."

You knew he was right. As soon as you seen the figure in the hallway, something switched and it was like you needed to follow it.

And you didn't know why.

"Why don't we just go there?" Colby says as you guys leave the day room, "Where the sound happened. If it gets bad we can just leave, we always have that option."

You knew Colby wanted to stay, too, but he was also worried about Sam because he was worried about you, "What do you want to do, Sam?"

Sam thinks for a moment before sighing, "If you zone out one more time and try to walk away from us, we're leaving."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The investigation went on to be better than you guys thought. Nothing happened to you. Nothing happened to them, you thought that maybe your small argument with Sam helped, but you'd soon come to find out that was not true at all.

"So as you guys could see, there hasn't really been much activity going on, probably for the last hour or two." Colby says and motions towards the spirit box, "We brought this to the third floor, hoping to see if we can figure out what exactly happened to some of the patients."

Sam sets the camera down on the one table, angling it towards you guys and the box, "Okay, we'll sit this right here and.." Sam stands up and turns around, "Did you touch me?"

You shake your head, "We've been over here."

"My whole body like shifted and it felt like someone's hand on my side." He lays his hand right where he felt it, "like right here exactly." Colby walks over and Sam demonstrates on him what he felt.

"fucking hell that's creepy." Colby shakes his head, "You know when we were walking up the stairs, it felt like someone else was behind us."

"I thought I heard someone whistle or whisper, I don't know.. it was like a quiet high pitched sound, but I couldn't make out if it was a word or not." You look around, "This floor honestly makes me nervous, and those creepy steps didn't help."

"Those stairs the whole way up I just kept thinking about how people were actually getting dragged up and sown." Sam shakes his head, "let's just.. get this thing going."

Sam was off, and you picked up on it quickly. It was almost like what took over you, took over Sam.

"Sam?" You step towards him, "Sam... Colby.. colby."

He stares at the floor and Colby walks up to him, "Sam, dude. Hey."

You shake him slightly and he looks back up, "Let's get this thing going."

You look at Colby and back to Sam, "You already said that." He looks at you confused, "Huh?" He laughs nervously, "No I didn't."

Colby nods, "You did, man. You zoned out after, looking at the floor."

Sam looks at you, "Did it come after me now?"

You shrug, "I was thinking that, because isn't that what I did?" You look at Colby and he nods, "yes but the only thing is he didn't try to walk off."

Sam switches the box on, "What do you want with us?"

"... I want ... to know.."

"You want to know what?" Colby asks loudly, "did you take over y/n and Sam?"

"... Miss.. it ..."

"You miss what?" You ask, "Do you miss being alive?"

" ... alive ..."

"You are not welcome to touch us. You cannot control us." Sam says, "What do you want us to see?"

"... the... truth .. in here .."

"Were you murdered here?" Colby asks and it sounds like something bouncing down the steps, "Was that you making that noise?"

"... must get ... out..."

"Are you telling us to get out? Or do you want to get out?" Sam presses his fingers to his lips, "Can you tell us who we're talking to?"

"... he's in.. here .."

"Who? Who is in here?" You ask staring at the box, "Can you tell us who is here with us?"

" ... John .. murder .."

"John and murder?" Colby looks at you guys, "Did John murder you? Were you murdered by John Agatha?"

"... liar .. he lies ..."

"Did John lie about your death?" You ask and step closer to Sam, "What did he do to you?"

"... tried to run.."

"Did you try and escape? Did he punish you for that?" Colby asks and jumps next to you when the door to the one room slams shut, "Who is here with us? Reveal your name to us."

"... John .. is mad..."

"Is he mad that we're here trying to find out what he did?" You ask and Sam looks at you, "I think we should stop."

You felt the need to keep going, "Can he come in here with us?"

"Y/n." Colby looks at you then to Sam, jumping as heavy footsteps come down the hallway, "Sam's right." Colby reaches to switch off the spirit box, but you stop him, "Just wait."

Sam nods at him, chewing on his lip as the footsteps start again.

"John Agatha. If you're here, tell us why you killed those people." You glance towards the door, only to snap your head back to the box,

"... they needed to die ..."

"No they didn't. They were sick." You argue and Sam pulls you back, "That's enough." You push away from him, "Sam. We're getting answers."

"No, you're arguing with something that we're unsure of. You don't know the power of this thing. " Sam runs a hand through his hair, "I think we're done. I don't like this-"

"Colby do you want to leave?" You look at Colby and he holds his hands up, "I think I'm with Sam on this one."

You roll your eyes, "Of course you do."

"Y/n. What the hell has gotten into you?" Sam looks at you shocked, "You have never acted this way during one of these and that's why we're done." He grabs your wrist, holding onto you, "We are done here."

"... no .."

Sam shakes his head and turns off the box, "I'm not doing this. We can talk about this at home."

You turn around, finding Colby no where in the room, "Colby?" You call out, "Sam. Colby is gone." Sam's heart starts to race, "Fuck, yo Colby?"

No answer.

"Fuck. Fuck. Come on." He hands you the camera, and turns on his flashlight, yelling for Colby as you make your way to the stairs.

"Careful, careful." Sam makes sure you make it down okay before stopping at the bottom, "You don't think he went to the basement did you?"

"Or where the sound came from? That's where I was feeling drawn to." You look around, sighing, "Fuck. Fuck. Colby?!"

You hear a loud thump come from where the first crash happened, "We have to." You look at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, yeah. I know." He interlocks his fingers with yours and pulls you with him.

You both yell out for Colby, looking for any kind of sign, "Colby? Come on this isn't funny." Your voice kinda breaks as your fear builds up faster and faster.

"Colby. Come on man, we're leaving." Sam yells out and you stop when you see a metal cart laying on its side, old trays spilling out from the door that is open.

"He was right, that's what that sound was earlier when we started." Sam shines the flashlight on it and looks up, "Colby?"

"Wait." You stop Sam, "Isn't John's office over here?"

His eyes go wide, "Fuck, yeah it is." He turns towards the walkway, "Colby!?"

You perk up, "Wait. I think.." you whisper, "Yell out to him again."

"Colby?!"

"This way." You pull Sam down the hall, half preparing yourself for when Colby jumps out and scares you both, or at least you're hoping that's what he's doing.

"Colby? Please." You beg, hoping you can find him.

"If we just left when I said.."

You stop, cutting Sam off, "No. we aren't playing the blame game because right now our friend is lost and we have no idea where he is."

"Where who is?" Colby walks up, and you Sam let out a scream.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Sam yells, "You just up and left us dude. Why?"

"You guys were arguing and I thought I heard someone in the hallway, so I came out to see and then I was halfway down the steps. I thought I saw people, like teenagers run to the left and my first instinct was to just go." Colby explains, "I don't know dude. Really, I was running and then I was like wait, I'll get lost so I turned around and now we're here."

"You could have been hurt, Colby." You push his shoulder and he just shrugs.

"Sorry man." Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, "last I knew you were right behind us."

He nods, "it's fucking crazy. This place is a maze, and I don't mean physically either."

"Let's just.. go get the stuff and head out to the car." Sam sighs, pointing the camera to Colby, "We found him. He says there were people here but we aren't sure about anything, and I mean that about this whole entire place."

"I don't even know how to describe it other than what y/n said. Like that tired feeling and then I wasn't where I remember I was." Colby explains and you nod, "Yeah like you can tell what you're doing but you aren't focused on what you're doing."

"Alright well I think that's it for-" Sam stops talking and looks behind him, "There was just.. three knocks." He whips around looking at you guys when it happens again, "that.. that.."

"What the hell is that?" Colby whispers and you're pushed towards the way the office is, "Do not touch me. Do not touch any of us." You hold your hand up, "Fuck."

"Y/n. We need to go." Colby steps towards you and you shake your head, "we can't leave."

"We aren't arguing again, y/n." Sam walks towards you and when he goes to grab your hand, he's pushed back.

Colby snaps his head towards the hall, "Someone just said don't touch her." He looks at Sam, "I swear to god dude. A clear as day whisper like right behind me."

You feel something grab your hair and lift it off of your shoulder. You jump and brush a hand over, "Something just played with my hair."

"We're leaving."

As you go to collect the equipment, that's when things take a turn for the weird.

"So, maybe Colby was right. We heard things..." Sam says as he tries to control his breathing, "We aren't sure what it was exactly, right now we're just ducked down behind this desk thing."

"That's what I heard earlier, but you'd think if it was actual people they'd make a lot more noise than just footsteps, right?" Colby whispers leaning in towards you and Sam. Sam's grips on your hand tightens as the foot steps grow closer.

They stop abruptly and Colby stands up, "There's no one here." Sam pulls your arm, "Let's just make a run for it."

You guys book into the door, breathing heavy as Colby closes it with a slam. Sam pulls you away from the building, "you okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, yeah are you?" He nods and pulls you into him, hugging you tightly.

"That was fucking crazy." Colby says walking around you guys, "I've never experienced anything like that. Like we were affected in a way we can't really explain in depth."

"This doesn't feel finished, though." You pull away from Sam and he stares at you, "What?"

You look between him and Colby, "Exactly what I said."

And you meant that. You wanted to come back here, get more answers about this asylum. You knew more happened here than what people have said.

"You're going to really stand here, and tell me that you want to go back in there." Sam scoffs, "Even after what you had happen? What I had happen? Christ, y/n, Colby went missing for god knows how long."

He puts his hands on his head and spins around slowly, trying to comprehend as to why you'd want to.

"Because there's more in there, more stuff that people don't know and I want to be the one to find out exactly what it is." You point to the building and drop your hand, "If you don't want to then I'll come back myself."

"The fuck you will." Sam shakes his head, "Y/n. You could have been the one lost. You could have been the one lost in there, alone.. and I don't-" his voice cracks and he clears his throat, "You're not coming back here and I mean that."

"Why don't we -"

"Stay out of this, Colby." You and Sam say looking over at him.

He holds his hands up and walks over to the car while you and Sam still argue.

"You didn't know what you were doing, y/n. Okay? You could have easily got lost." Sam looks at you and you shrug, "But I didn't."

He stares at you a few moments before shaking his head, "The only reason you want to come back here is because whatever is on the other side of that door is making you want to come back."

You clench your jaw, knowing that he's right but since you're fighting, you don't want to let him win easy.

"That place changed you." Sam says lowly, "We have never, ever fought like this, we've never fought at all. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Never said it didn't, Sam." You mumble as you walk towards the car, getting into the back. You glance over, seeing Sam bend down slightly before kicking the rocks on the ground and walking over to get in the passenger seat of the car.

"Home?" Colby asks starting the car.

You and Sam both mumble a low, "Mhm." Colby takes a deep breath and starts to drive out of the gate, "I have to lock up. Don't kill each other." He gets out, jogging up to shut the gate.

Sam glances back at you and you look at him. He sighs, "I'm still mad, but I love you."

You try not to smile, "I love you."

Colby gets back into the car, "Did you guys makeup yet?" You both refuse to answer and he laughs sarcastically to himself, "Oh this is going to be such a wonderful quiet ride home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"We have like half an hour left, do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Colby looks at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, that works." He looks back at you, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." You say lowly with a slight nod.

"Are we finally speaking to each other?" Colby acts surprised, "Wow. It's about time."

You roll your eyes and Sam scoffs, "I'm mad, that doesn't mean I don't care about her still."

You smile slightly, looking away from him so he doesn't see it. You get out of the car and go to walk in but Colby stops you, "We weren't us back there. Don't hold it over his head."

"Tell that to him." You mumble and he nods, "I plan to, trust me. I just got to you first." You laugh as you walk in to the store and Colby walks up to Sam, telling him the same thing he told you.

As you're standing there, looking at the snacks, you feel hands slides around your waist and pull you back, "You know.."

"What do I know?" You ask as your nails gently graze over his hands, "Even though you pissed me off.." his voice goes quiet, "The way you argued with the ghost was such a turn on."

You smirk and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Is that your way of saying you're sorry?" He bites his bottom lip as he looks at you, "I'll say it when we get home."

He winks at you and leans in to kiss you. You slide your fingers in his hair, humming against his lips slightly.

Colby walks up, "Now that's what I like to see."

You and Sam pull away and look at him. He has a big cheesy smirk on his face and you can't help but laugh, "What would we do without him?"

Colby buts in, "Oh i don't know, probably give each other the silent treatment until days from now."

Sam chuckles and sighs, "That wasn't any of us back there." You look up at him, "Yeah.. that was bad."

Colby nods, "I've never seen you act the way you did, y/n. Honestly it was kinda badass. Arguing with a potential demon."

Sam nods, looking down at you. You look up at him, "I learned from the best."

You grab your snacks and head out to the car, getting into the back as they get up front, "So now that this is no longer a quiet ride home, and I am no longer feeling awkward, can we please talk about what happened?"

"Mhm. Yeah sure." Sam mumbles as he stares down at his phone. Colby looks over at him before he starts driving, "What are you doing?"

You phone vibrates and you see a message from Sam, "Colby don't look at his phone. I beg you."

"Why can be so-" he reads over the message that was sent from Sam's phone, you've had me low key turned on this entire night, when we get home I'm going to show you just how sorry I am.

"Well, okay." Colby sits forward, "That awkward part is back."

You laugh, replying to Sam, just how are you going to do that?

Colby clears his throat, "Can we.." he laughs, "Can you stop sexting each other for one second so we can do the outro please?"

You sigh, resting your phone down on the seat next to you, "anything for princess Colby." He lays his hand under his chin, "As it should be."

You and Sam both laugh and he gets the camera rolling, "We are currently on our way home. Tonight was.." Sam sighs and looks at Colby, "I don't even know how to explain it."

"A big mess." You laugh and Colby sighs, "It was definitely something like that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were .. taken over basically."

"Yeah, yeah no. That part was absolutely fucked up. I luckily didn't have it happen like y/n or Colby did, but it was still a surreal feeling to have people telling you that you zoned out with absolutely no recollection of it at all." Sam points his thumb back to you, "And then you got Mrs I like to argue with ghosts back here, but that's a story we'll post on our other channel, maybe, who knows, but we are done for tonight, like I said, it was a whirlwind of events and we are so excited for you guys to see what we experienced tonight at the Agatha Asylum."

"Drop a like if Mrs I like to argue with ghosts should be made into a sweatshirt." Colby gives a thumbs up and Sam yells, "Ayyyy yes. Y/n." He points the camera to you, "How would you like to have your own collection."

"That would be pretty sick." You smile and nod, "I actually like that a lot."

Sam points the camera to himself, "Well have to work on it. See you guys in the next one."

Sam cuts the camera off, "Mrs I like to argue with ghosts." He laughs and looks back at you, "I'm getting you a hoodie that says that."

You smile and nod, "I'll wear it everyday."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Have fun. I'll be down here editing away from all the noise." Colby says as he grabs his laptop off the counter.

Without any hesitation, Sam grabs your hand and up the stairs you go, laughing with him as you try to keep up.

You run into the room you share, falling on the bed with him on top of you, "You drive me insane, but always in the best way." His lips press to yours as his hand pulls your head close to him.

You drag his sweatshirt up his back, telling him you want it off. He leans up, slipping it off in one perfect motion and you pull him back down to kiss you.

He grinds himself against you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you." You moan slightly, shaking your head, "We weren't us." You cup his face, "This is us."

He smiles and kisses you again. You quickly grow into a heated make out, clawing the rest of each other clothes off and slipping under the blankets.

"If I ever yell at you like that again, just sacrifice me to the demons, babe." He chuckles slightly, brushing hair from your face before sliding his hand down to pull you closer.

"I'd be coming with you. We're inseparable." You nudge your nose against his and he nods, "Damn right we are."

He rolls on top of you, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, "You were so.." he lets out a low moan as he slips his cock into you, "..fucking hot back there.."

He pushes his hips to meet yours, "You always amaze me."

You run your hand through his hair, biting down on your lip as he starts to thrust, "Fuck.." you whimper and look up at him, "I'd do anything to protect you."

"I'd die for you." He stares at you for a few seconds, still thrusting deep and slow, "I mean that wholeheartedly. You mean the most to me and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

You smile and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

He kisses your lips, whispering a low, "I love you."

He leans up a little bit, "Now roll over so I can punish you for yelling at me." He winks and gives you a cocky smirk before pulling out. You smirk as your stomach does an excited flip.

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam's body is immediately on yours, his cock back in to where it was before, "I wanted to shut you up in anyway I could."

You moan as he thrusts slow, "Why didn't you?"

"Would have had to cut a lot of the footage out." Sam says lowly in your ear, "Plus I don't really want Colby seeing how pretty you look while you're gagging on my dick."

Your eyes roll back as he pushes all the way in, "Because you my love, are fucking gorgeous."

You grip the sheets, moaning as his hand slides around to your throat, squeezing as he whispers, "Or how pretty you look while I'm in between those legs.."

"S-Sam." You squeeze his cock with your walls, "Fuck, I-I'm so close."

"Go ahead, baby." Sam groans lowly, "Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer either." He hooks his thumb over your bottom jaw and you immediately suck.

He moans lowly, pounding into you, "That's my girl."

You moan around his thumb, trying to move your hips but you can't go anywhere. Your moans are growing louder as you reach your point, squeezing him as you claw at the sheets.

"Come on, baby." He pleads, "Cum for me."

You whimper and moan his name over and over again, letting your head fall back as you cum, "Fuck fuck fuck."

Sam suddenly pulls out, his cum spilling on your back, "Fuck, babe." you let your head fall forward, resting on the bed as your breathing is heavy.

"You okay?" Sam asks getting up to get you a towel. You look back at him, "Oh yeah. I'm so much better."

He smiles and shakes his head, "You know, I wonder how much of us arguing was actually caught on camera."

"Probably all of it, Sam. And if I'm being honest, it'll probably turn me on again." You roll over once he wipes you off and smirk up at him.

"You too, huh?" He smiles as he bites his bottom lip as you nod, "Uh huh. Very much." He pulls you up so you're standing in front of him, "I really don't want to yell at you again, but if it's something that'll get you going then.." he leans in, kissing you, "then we might just have to work something out."

You suddenly hear Colby yelling, "Oh shit. No fucking way!"

You quickly throw on clothes and run down, "What? What? What!?" Sam asks going over, you hand still in his, "Bro what the fuck is that?"

"That my friend is what was controlling us tonight." Colby turns the laptop towards you and Sam and you gasp, "That's exactly what I saw."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

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driaswrld · 7 months

Text

lovers rock — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.7k

summary : over a bottle of ill-gotten vodka, the trio has a tipsy conversation about kisses.

part of : the star paradox collection.

(comment if u wanna be tagged for tsr!!)

notes : this is heavily based off the fact that reader DID in fact have secret feelings for geto and gojo but never said anything ab it until before the star plasma incident (fic ab that coming soon dw) you may interpret this as reader fell first, they fell harder bcus that's exactly what happened fr

other : satosugu makes fake IDs (based off that one fanart), literally underage drinking??? toru cant hold his alc but wbk this, suguru smokes here too, suggestive convo, mentions of like one curse word i think

current casette : lovers rock - tv girl (anything by tv girl is a tsr song okay?)

The dorms at Tokyo Jujutsu High operate on one solid rule.

All lights out by ten, no exceptions, no buts, ands, ifs or becauses. Curfew is at ten, be in your damn room by ten.

Naturally, Satoru and Suguru mistake ten for twelve.

It’s 9:53 when you walk into your dorm room, and the first thing that greets you are hushed whispers and a smoky smell.

Why is it so dark in here?

From your place at the door frame, your eyes flit to the back of Satoru’s head, silver white strands tickling his nape, uniform replaced with a blue hoodie. Suguru’s sitting across from him, slouched, cross legged like Satoru, hair tied into a ponytail and lips twisted into a thin scowl.

“—wasn’t yours.” Suguru grumbles beneath his breath, a pair of dice clinking softly in his palm, the light from your bedside lamp giving you a sneak peek of the numbers resting.

Three and six. Oh, no, that's definitely five.

“Cost me six hundred yen to get it.”

Satoru seems to ignore him, letting out a huff in defiance.

Suguru grunts, leaning over the side of the bed to pick up a half smoked cigarette, pressing it softly against the edge of your favorite incense holder to collect the stray ash.

“Broke ass.” Satoru mumbles, and though you can’t see his expression from here, you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Freeloader.” Suguru counters, cigarette lodged between his middle and index, and he brings it up to his lips and draws in softly.

He leans forward to drop the dice on Satoru’s leg.

“We’re supposed to split it equally.” You hear a clinking noise coming from Satoru’s lap.

“Like hell we are.” Suguru scoffs, a wisp of smoke leaving his mouth.

“I should get first share, it’s only fair.”

Suguru gets up from the bed, back turned to you as he slides the window open halfway. “We’re not sharing anything.” He flicks the cigarette outside. “I don’t know where your mouth’s been—”

“You tryin’ to fight—”

“Are you two getting high in my room?” Your voice makes them both freeze, and Satoru folds over the bed backwards, head upside down and staring straight at you with a guilty grin, all while Suguru is discreetly trying to fan the rest of the cigarette smoke out the window.

“What gave you that idea?” Suguru murmurs, squinting his eyes to make out your expression in the dim light with a faux innocent smile.

You breathe a chuckle, dropping your bag by the door and clicking it shut behind you. “How did the studying with Nanamin go?” Satoru asks, as if you can’t see him folded over the bed like he’s hiding something while Suguru fans the smoke through the window.

“I fell asleep halfway through, we got boba with Haibara instead.” You say, feeling blindly on the wall for the light switch.

“And you didn’t bring some back for me?” Satoru gasps, near offended.

“Don't change the subject,” you roll your eyes, pinky finger bumping against the light switch, and you flick it upwards with your index. When the light comes on and you face them, your jaw drops.

“Surprise…?” Suguru’s cheeks puff up in a wide thin lipped smile, almost mockingly. Satoru is still hanging off the edge of the bed, cigarette ash curdled on your incense holder, the pair of dice laying on the bedsheets and sure, they kinda made a little mess of your room.

But it's the bottle of vodka sitting between Satoru’s legs that takes the cake.

“You have to be kidding me—”

Suguru shrugs his shoulders, sliding the window fully open, the night air wafting inside.

It's almost curfew. And here they are. You're not even surprised, this is totally in character for them. “Wow, no, Satoru, you're such a rebel?” Satoru kicks his legs back and forth, voice mimicking a girly pitch. “Bad boys are so hot! Tell me all your secrets, toru-kun! None of that?"

“I was there too, idiot.” Suguru grumbles, shoving one of Satoru's legs aside as he steps over to the bedside table to grab the ash covered incense holder.

Satoru flails his legs like Suguru just smacked him, ever so dramatically. “How did you do it though?” You ask, with a near wince, exasperated but curious.

Unexpectedly, Satoru swings the vodka bottle sideways and into Suguru’s arms, the glass making a soft set of clink! sounds from Suguru’s rings as he catches it, both your eyes going wide as Satoru stands on the bed, striking some sort of elaborate pose.

“The date, June fifteenth ‘06—”

You turn to Suguru, confused but he only shrugs in response. “My assistant Sugi-san and I walked into Shinanoya—” Satoru continues his elaborate presentation, meanwhile you and Suguru whisper between his words. "Never call me that again—"

“So that's what you two were doing while you were supposed to be exorcising that curse?”

“He forced me to go along—”

“With these!” Satoru pulls out a mini plastic card, which is supposed to look like an ID, but really it's as flimsy as a piece of paper. You had to admit though, they really did get his good side in the picture. If he even has a bad side, that is.

“And we got the liquor at half price.” Suguru mumbles as you nudge him, and he pulls out his own fake ID, which looks the same as Satoru’s — you think you might want to print these pictures for a scrapbook or something some other time.

“I thought you said it was six hundred yen!”

“I added my service charge.”

“Service? What are you, a whore?”

You take the bottle from Suguru to feel the weight in your hands, and the liquid inside sloshes a little to the side.

Out of sheer curiosity and despite your better senses, you mumble, “Let's play a drinking game then.”

Forty minutes later.

It's drawing near to eleven. The lights are turned off and all that's coming from your dorm room are the sounds of yours and the boys’ whispers and hushed giggles from time to time, barely drowned out by a soft song playing from Suguru’s phone, playlist laying open on his phone, one of Satoru’s picks.

Are you sick of me?

Would you like to be?

“—turn it to your head if you can't answer.” Satoru grins, cheek resting on his palm as he lays across the bed. “Have you ever gotten freaky with a milf?”

A chortle leaves your mouth when Suguru twists his lips into an expression of shock and utter disgust, and you have to cover your mouth to not laugh out loud.

“A milf? Like… forty or something?”

“Not really — just like a hot older woman.” You say.

“Oh, she was around that age then, I guess…” Suguru grumbles, clutching the half empty vodka bottle in one hand, eyes squinted. “I didn't sleep with her though— I don't just… sling dick around like Satoru— I have morals.”

“Says the one who sucked tongue with an elderly woman.”

Suguru scoffs and takes a swig from the bottle, passing it over to you.

You shrug, coming to Suguru’s defense with a mumble. “I mean, Satoru… you are common—”

“Don't pretty it up, he's ran through—”

“Like hell I am!”

The three of you fold over in a fit of laughter, gasping for air, faces hot from the alcohol and the sheer idiocy of the moment.

It takes all your energy to muffle your combined laughs, and Satoru leans over Suguru’s phone to increase the music volume just a little, lightheaded and nearly knocking the vodka out of your hand, mouthing the lyrics with a lopsided toothy grin.

You like a pretty boy

With a pretty voice

“Your turn.” Suguru nods to you and the liquor in your hand sloshes to the side. “Make it good—”

Satoru tries to interrupt but has to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when you take a whiff of the vodka, head tilting back and mouth forming an ‘o’ shape — sure, you three were already a little tipsy, but you’re pretty sure this is way past your limit.

Not like you could hold your alcohol anyway.

Suguru was the only one who could survive, you and Satoru were certified lightweights by default.

“Dare me to do anything and I’ll throw up on you.” You huff, and both boys raise their arms up in surrender.

It’s these things, small moments like these that make you want to live forever.

Minus the aging part, or maybe with the aging part — if it meant doing stupid stuff with Satoru and Suguru, young or old, you’re sure you’d have no complaints.

Because it’s them.

“You scared?” Satoru chuckles, drawing you out of your thoughts.

The way he says it, in that tone – it’s the same tone that would make you follow him anywhere.

The same tone that makes Suguru roll his eyes so far in the back of his head you’d think he had a leading role in The Conjuring.

“Should I be scared?”

It’s paired with bated breath, and the way Suguru looks up at you, dark eyes glazed over with a hint of inebriation, waterline bordering on crimson from the lit cigarette tucked between his middle and index – it makes you feel naked.

In a way you’ve never felt before.

“That depends,” he murmurs. You gulp. It’s like the air in here has changed, foggy with a foreign feeling surrounding you three. “Do you wanna be scared?”

Suguru takes a deep inhale of his cig, leaning over to breathe out a plume of smoke. You and Satoru inhale it like you’ve neglected oxygen your whole lives.

Maybe if it were anyone else you’d call it want. Or need.

Something in your soul tells you it transcends that.

She might want a kiss before the end of the song—

“Suguru—” His name doesn't get the chance to leave your mouth entirely, Satoru’s thumb and forefinger already have your chin in his grasp, turning your gaze to him instead.

“What’re you looking at him for?” Satoru mumbles, and you hear Suguru stifles a laugh across from you.

“You think he’s gonna save you?”

You want to laugh, it’s a running joke anyway.

No matter what, you run to Suguru to put Satoru in his place. That time Satoru got you kicked out of a movie theater, or the time Satoru tripped you up during a mission in front of the first years, or the time Satoru ate the cheesecake you hid in your mini fridge —

Whenever little name gets her strings pulled by Satoru, she goes running off for Suguru to save her, right?

But it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about that.

“You need me to save you, name?” Suguru chuckles, and from the corner of your eye, you see him pull his hair loose, dark strands cascading over his shoulders.

“Gonna let him call you weak like that?” He chides, and the cool pad of Satoru’s thumb taps against your bottom lip twice, as if challenging you to say something – to give him your attention instead.

“Nah, don’t need a hero.” You whisper, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Toru might though.”

Suguru bites back a snicker, head tilting back as he draws in another inhale of smoke. “Aw, don’t bully him, name.”

Because love can burn

Like a cigarette

“C’mon, don’t look at him,” Satoru tilts your head in his grasp, a soft grin forming on his face, dimples on showcase. “Look at me.” He whispers, tugging you closer, and you have to tighten your grip on the neck of the bottle so it doesn’t slip, your palms sweating from the proximity.

“Satoru—”

“Don’t double back now, you laughed a bit too hard at me just now, y’know?”

You open your mouth to protest, shivering when the tip of your tongue grazes the pad of his thumb. Satoru makes a noise in the back of his throat, something between a groan and a scoff.

You wonder if the vodka made you imagine the way his pupils dilated. “Just ask the stupid question—” You try to turn your head away in vain, and this time, Suguru laughs at your expense.

“You ever been kissed before?”

And leave you with nothing

You stiffen, gaze snapping up to meet Satoru’s, only to find him dead serious.

Ofcourse you’ve been kissed before. But not like that— not like—

Like… oh no…

And if you start to kiss—

You bring the bottle of vodka to your lips, and both boys watch with amused gazes, and hint of something you don’t have a name for yet.

“You could’ve just—” Satoru’s hand falls loose over your shoulder as you take a swig, and Suguru shifts forward in curiosity. “—said no.”

“Nobody’s kissed you?” Suguru echoes and you grimace from the alcohol and the sheer embarrassment, shoving the open bottle to stand in the space between Satoru’s legs.

“Your turn,” you grumble, wiping remnants of the sweet liquor from your mouth with the back of your palm.

And the record skips—

Satoru and Suguru exchange a look, one you immediately assume is them reading each other’s minds and gearing up to laugh in your face.

Truly, you wouldn’t blame them — because here you are about to graduate in a year and still haven’t gotten your first kiss.

And it’s not like you haven’t like… gotten close to it— it’s just that the circumstances are never perfect and other things always get involved and you get all in your head and your mind just starts to do the thing—

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, and your palms go clammy, folded over your lap. “We don’t care about it, it’s nothing.” He whispers.

“Pretty sure there’s nobody who even deserves to kiss you anyway.” You glance over to Suguru, who’s already outing his cigarette and scooting closer.

Flip it over

And sit a little closer

If anything, it makes you swell with shame rather than comfort.

“Not like that, I didn’t mean—”

“Great job, Suguru—”

“As if you were doing any better—”

And despite yourself, you chuckle. They’re idiots. God, they’re fools.

Now, how many men have you kissed?

Satoru’s fingers dip under the collar of your shirt, playing around with the loose thread.

They made you laugh, that’s enough for him, always has been. He knows Suguru feels the same, but why… why doesn’t he feel satisfied with just that? Like there's something else he should be doing?

“Not fair,” he mumbles beneath his breath, cheeks flushed as he slumps forward, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You think he might be past his drinking limit, he always gets all babbly like this when he is.

“Not fair?” Suguru questions, resting a hand over his knee.

“Yeah, ‘s just not fair — who wouldn’t wanna kiss her?”

“I’m literally right here—”

“Keep listening then, it’s not like I’m lying or nothing.”

You’re not strong like Satoru and Suguru.

You’d say you’re not as beautiful either, or eve half as smart sometimes – you never compare yourselves to them but in the great grand scheme of things— you’ve never wanted to be kissed anyway, not by anyone you don’t feel for.

Not by someone who doesn’t know you in the ways you don’t want to be known.

Very few

In the way you know Satoru hates alcohol, but he only ever drinks it when you and Suguru are around. The way Suguru never likes taking pictures but manages a smile when you and Satoru pull him in for a group photo.

“If I kissed you, I’d never stop.” Suguru breathes, laying back on the bed, rumble of a sigh leaving his lips.

But you offered me a kiss

In the way they both know what you’re thinking before you even say it. The way grocery runs, 24 hour mart stops, week long missions, midnight talks, belly laughs and breaching curfew feels like a love language – something only the three of you speak – like something so foreign yet so familiar.

Why?

“I don’t think I’d remember to breathe again if I kissed you.” Satoru grumbles in the crook of your neck, somewhere between a yawn and whine. “You could have anyone you want, name, a whole line full of kisses…”

“Never really wanted to be kissed to be honest,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, your eyelids drooping shut.

Such a foolish reason, I’m afraid.

I just wanted… to kiss you.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk x reader

836 notes · View notes

moineauz · 5 days

Note

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

#( the house of musica ⨾𓍢ִ໋ )#—stellaronhvnters.#writing ᝰ.ᐟ #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill x gn reader #boothill honkai star rail #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #hsr fluff #boothill x you #boothill x reader #boothill angst #boothill fluff #hsr boothill

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lw6-woso · 5 months

Text

coping mechanism (Leah Williamson x reader)

OCD, it was something. when you first joined the Arsenal squad in 2018 the girls took notice quickly that you were some one of a clean an organising freak. the first time they really noticed was when they walked into your apartment for a team bonding night. everything was highly organised, you books you food and everything was perfectly clean like it was really impressive.

so when you and Leah moved in together, Leah got first hand of the struggles of our OCD and not just been organised and neat. the anxiety, the mood swings all the bad things Leah has witnessed.

it was a normal day and you both had just gotten back from training, you both showered and Leah went to do some work in the office whilst you were doing some organisation in the kitchen since it was getting on your last nerve. you were currently taking out everything from the cupboards and cleaning the cupboards, the things in the cupboards and then organising everything.

Leah had walked in half way through you being in your moment, and signed knowing that you were getting bad, that's what the girls like to call it it was stages, you would clean simple for example hoover and polish, you would clean excessively like lamps and do a real spring clean and then you would slowly get worse with organising closets, clothes and then going through the house and organising every part of the house over and over again. during these stages your wellbeing would get worse with your mood changes, sleep it would all get worse. worse was a key word in this situation.

Leah always struggled with this sort of things, never knowing the triggers as you didn't even know, it just happened.

"hey baby what you doing" she asked leaning on the door frame.

"this kitchen has been bothering me for a while" i said finishing off another cupboard.

"okay so what do you want for tea tonight" she said not knowing if the kitchen will be in cooking conditions tonight.

"takeout" you said almost instantly.

"okay what food you thinking" She said.

"i don't know I'm not that hungry you can choose love" you said to her and she nodded leaving you to it. Leah walked back into the office and ordered food and and asked Kim for some advise.

you were really getting along with the Kitchen finishing all the cupboards and sweeping and mopping before leaving the kitchen. you were walking towards the office still feeling awful you couldn't even describe the deep feeling you had within you. walking into the office you sat next to Leah fidgeting about.

"come on" Leah said getting up and grabbing your hand.

"what" you asked.

"we are going for a drive" she said as you walked out of the house. you didn't question what she was doing. you just let Leah drive off.

"what about food" you asked.

"we will pick it up" She said, and you did just that you picked up the food and continued to drive and drive hoping it'll clear your head. Leah parked up in front of the sunset, you sat there in silence not knowing what to say.

"what caused it" she said and you knew exactly what she was going on about and you knew the answer.

"my therapist suggested to change my prescription" you said.

"oh love, why didn't say anything" she said.

"i don't know i just thought id be fine" you said.

"so how do you feel about it all" she asked.

"in my gut i think its good idea like i haven't had to many slips and I'm progressing with everything but in my mind i think that if it change everything its just going to get worse and ill end up like i did after covid and i cant do that again" you said.

during and after covid was awful for you the germs and the news go to you and to summaries it all you refused to play football and when you did start to come back to training you went through a breakdown and you didn't come to training or play for almost a month.

"you won't because you have a strong support system and i think personally i think that you should try to change your dose so then if it doesn't work then you really know where you are and if you are improving and if it does work then your getting there its a long process as you know" she said.

"yeah" you said.

"one step at a time" she said and you looked at her and kissed her.

"i love you" you said to her.

"i love you more" she said back.

"not possible" you said to her kissing her again.

"right lets get home I'm shattered" Leah said and you agreed it had been a long day.

you both went home and straight to bed. over the next couple of weeks you agreed to change your dose and it had been the best decision you had made during the journey, you felt more free. you obviously had your moments with cleaning, that will never change as you were always a clean person before your diagnosis, but Leah was right with having a strong supportive system all the girls were rocks, and Leah especially having her to come home to made life so much easier.

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cobragardens · 8 months

Text

CORRECTED & UPDATED Clothes + Equivocation = Romance: The Husbands in 1793 (Part 2)

From Part 1:

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what the husbands communicate to each other without using words or actions to do it, and how their clothing choices help them do that.

Hello. I'm here and I know you're in a spot of trouble. I like you.

It's you! I'm so happy you're here!

Sheen's voice and face when Aziraphale says Crowley's name in this moment makes me think that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley--the demon Crowley, not the angel who became Crowley--long before he consciously realizes it in 1941. The way Sheen has Aziraphale say Crowley's name is so soft.

The way you're he way you're lounging there and what you're wearing are uncomfortably sexy and also incredibly inappropriate for the Bastille at this moment in history. I suppose this is very on-brand for you.

Crowley: I listen when you talk about your interests and goals and keep track of your general whereabouts and pursuits.

Either they've spoken with each other recently or Crowley has been keeping tabs on Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn't upset that Crowley knows what he's been up to, which suggests the former, which in turn suggests they're in semi-regular (every few years or decades) contact at this point.

Also we've now got a general idea for when Aziraphale opens his bookshop.

Okay, brief tangent while I point out two things here.

One, my favorite thing about Aziraphale is that he is a sensualist. This is libertine behavior, y'all. He 'popped across the Channel' during the Reign of Terror because he wanted a specific carnal experience of a specific really lovely food.

And two, even when Aziraphale does weird, frivolous, silly, ill-advised things like this, things that clearly baffle Crowley...Crowley never makes fun of him. He never laughs at him. He always has this look of disbelief on his face, like Am I hearing this?--

--but Crowley never, not once, shuts Aziraphale down.

Until Aziraphale asks him to go back to Heaven.

Anyway. Back to our scene.

Aziraphale: I am unwilling to abandon my sartorial sensibilities even when it threatens my corporation, and I am insane, so I think this is reasonable. At least I'm not wearing a Slutty Monarchist outfit.

You're happy to see me, aren't you. You're relieved to see a demon. Go on, say it.

Tennant's delivery of this line cracks me up. It is so gloating and flirtatious and smarmy and indulgent of Aziraphale.

I am very happy to see you and lucky you're here, and I am willing to say so sincerely even though you are gloating about it.

And then there's the exchange where Crowley very carefully doesn't answer Aziraphale's question about why Crowley's in the area but also reassures him that he didn't cause the French Revolution and Aziraphale can still like him.

We can't speak openly about this. It's dangerous for me.

Message received: I won't mention what you did again. But I want to show my gratitude and spend time with you; is it safe for us to get lunch together?

Yes, but one of us is going to have to change so we can walk the streets of Paris without getting arrested again, and I'm the one doing the rescuing here so it's not going to be me. Your 'standards' will have to take the hit.

Fine, you've got me over a barrel. But hey, if I have to wear the silly hat anyway I might as well go all the way and wear your colors. Except not monarchist. And not slutty.

Oh, I don't know, I thought you looked pretty slutty too. (Meaning 2) I'm having this guy killed for touching you, btw. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. I see you are having the guy who assaulted you killed in a copy of the clothes he would have killed you for wearing. I wholeheartedly approve of this (Meaning 3), your sexiness in those clothes notwithstanding. The utter insouciance of Crowley's little sniff and the inquiry about what they'll have for lunch drive home hard that Crowley could not be more unbothered by Aziraphale having the man who tried to harm him beheaded.

What really tickles me about this line is not only that Crowley's joke has three distinct meanings, but that Meaning 1 (the meaning that exists without reference to Crowley's clothes) is the opposite of Meaning 3--Anybody wearing clothes like that deserves what they get (Meaning 1) versus It rocks how you just killed someone who tried to kill you for wearing those clothes (Meaning 3)--and yet because of the clothes he's wearing, both meanings come through with perfect clarity, dependent only on whether the listener(s) can see his clothing and know its significance. Aziraphale can, and does, so he receives Crowley's real meaning. Hell/Heaven can't, and don't, so they just hear Meaning 1.

And then we get Aziraphale's pleased little smile and look of tranquil interest as he watches Jean-Claude dragged off to his death. Its such an interesting facial expression for an angel watching a demon have someone killed having someone killed, isn't it?

Crowley has just told him they're probably being listened to by Hell. That means Aziraphale, Crowley, and the audience all know this is the most Aziraphale can safely react. Aziraphale can't show any overt approval of anything an agent of Hell does, because by definition anything a demon does is demonic and angels must be against That Sort of Thing. In light of the fact that Aziraphale is the one who causes Jean-Claude's death, I now argue that this responsibility not to react too positively to something the other side has done falls on Crowley, and that the reason he makes this joke is primarily to tell Aziraphale I see what you've just done, and I like it without identifying aloud what exactly has just happened for their presumed eavesdroppers because an angel arranging a human's murder is the sort of thing in which head offices might take undue interest.

The awareness that their conversation is not private means the audience and Aziraphale know they need to be watching and listening for multiple meanings from Crowley, and it also means the audience and Crowley know we need to be watching Aziraphale's face closely right now. And that little smile shows us that Aziraphale has received Meanings 2 and 3 of "he was asking for trouble."

Or, at minimum, Meaning 3; even if Aziraphale picks up on Meaning 2--You looked really sexy in your vintage clothes, you crazy weirdo--that's not a message he can afford to react to at all. But he does react to the other coded communication Crowley is sending when he says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" while dressed for trouble himself: I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. People who think your clothes give them the right to hurt you can go to Hell, and I am delighted you just sent one of them there.

You just had someone beheaded for assaulting me, I acknowledge and am pleased by your delight at my cleverness. and I could not be happier. Would you like to come enjoy one of my very favorite sensual pleasures with me?

***

EDIT: To be honest I like this reading better than my original, incorrect understanding of the story despite the fact that it is slightly less romantic, both because I love the idea of Crowley as a thirsty witness to Aziraphale quietly being a vengeful badass, because it gives us a glimpse of something important about Aziraphale's character that we don't get to see elsewhere: Aziraphale doesn't have a problem with killing per se.

We learn from the business with the Antichrist that, like Crowley, Az. can't bring himself to kill children. We learn from his perturbation at the Flood and the Crucifixion that he doesn't hold with killing innocents. He gave away his flaming sword. But this scene establishes that Aziraphale will actively cause someone's death if he feels they deserve it. That seems like an important character note for him that may become relevant in Season 3 (feathers crossed that it happens).

And I think there's something else in there too, something about how Aziraphale kills Jean-Claude, not with outright violence but with a trick. One party thinks he's in control of the situation; with a wave of his hand, suddenly a turnip has turned into an inkwell an executioner has turned into the condemned--or at least it seems that way long enough to get the job done. It's a bait-and-switch, like stage magic, and it slots right in to the motif in Good Omens of sleight-of-hand, of characters wearing other characters' appearances (for more on this, see fan theories re: Maggie is possessed), of supplying false meanings to an audience to disguise the true actions going on behind the scenes.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens analysis #good omens clothes #good omens costumes #ineffable husbands #aziracro #azcrow #azicrow #good omens equivocation #good omens 1984 #good omens clothing and equivocation #good omens 1793 #good omens clothes and equivocation 2

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her-devils-advocate · 1 month

Text

I drag myself like a rug in the rain

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: sickfic / fluff

summary: You are sick with the flu, yet refuse to admit it before a certain stern captain. He easily makes you swallow your pride.

The title is taken from The Amazing Devil – Blossoms. It was also a quick drabble written from my own frustrations of being ill!

word count: 1,015

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55134844

“You’re not going and that’s final. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Levi’s voice is stern, leaving very little room for argument, but despite his harsh words, his hands are gentle as he pushes you back down on the bed.

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm more than capable of joining the meeting!" Your voice is strained, the words coming out jumbled as you rush to finish the sentence before being overtaken by yet another coughing fit. You weakly glance up at Levi, the man standing before you with crossed arms and a highly unimpressed look on his face.

"Right," he drawls out, moving to the other end of your small bedroom to lean against the door as if you were capable of rushing past him to escape his scrutinising gaze. Part of you is tempted to try, just to cause some amount of annoyance. The more rational part stays still, knowing that in your current state, you would just prove his point faster than you’re willing to.

"If you can walk over to me with ease, then I'll believe you."

You scoff, ignoring the harsh tickle in your throat that the action causes, and slowly rise from the bed. Your body protests, the stiff muscles aching with each movement while your vision blurs. You push it down, refusing to let it show on your face as you slowly place a foot forward, doing everything within your willpower to take a firm step.

"When I make it to you, you promise to let me attend the meeting?"

"If you can make it over here, then sure. It’s not like I want to keep you locked up in here, lazing around all day when we have shit to do.”

“When.” You argue weakly, refusing to back down despite the nausea growing worse with each passing second.

“Besides, you know the meeting is important, especially since it's about the upcoming expedition. We can’t afford to miss a single one now that it's approaching us.”

He rolls his eyes, shifting his position to get comfortable against the cold stone, almost as if he's expecting to be stood there for a while. “Stop stalling. If you want to go to the shitty meeting so much, you know what you have to do.”

You give him your best glare, yet from the way his lips twitch with a concealed smirk, you know you must look like a mess. You have hardly slept, the night spent in a feverish daze, despite retiring to bed earlier than you usually would. The day prior was spent pushing your body beyond its usual limits, wanting to train as much as possible despite the chill air, the change of season growing more noticeable. You groan, regretting the past yet being unable to change a thing.

“You could simply order me to stay in bed, that way we could just avoid this whole song and dance. The fact that you aren’t giving the order proves that you think I’m fine.” You mirror his stance, crossing your arms against your chest with fake confidence and wishing that he doesn’t notice the slight trembling of your hands.

This time Levi lets out a small laugh. The sound is airy and unexpected, and your eyes widen momentarily, convinced that your sickness has finally caused you to hallucinate the rare, but welcomed sight.

“Nice try. We both know you wouldn’t obey the order, regardless of how sick you are, I’m not going to waste my time giving it. So if you would like to get this ‘song and dance’ over with?” Levi says as his eyes fixate on the way your breathing grows more and more laboured the longer you stand.

You deflate, knowing he has called your bluff. You give in and place your weight on the extended foot, shakily moving forward. Your bones feel like glass and your chest burns, but you manage to take the first step. You forget to keep up the appearance of health, more focused on actually getting your body to function under his piercing stare, yet you silently celebrate the hollow victory.

The mental celebration is cut short when you feel your legs give way, you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to feel your weak body collide with the solid ground. Instead of the unforgiving floor, you are met with strong, firm arms wrapped tightly around you. You slowly open your eyes to be met with his silver glare. Annoyance is painted clear on his face as his lips thin into a straight line.

“This is why you should have stayed in bed, instead of wasting time and arguing with me over it.” Despite the glare, his voice is soft as it reveals his worry. Your health has always been his top priority, even when it's just a common cold making its way through the scouts.

Levi slowly lifts you and brings you back to the warm comforts of your bed. You snuggle against your pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as he brings the blanket up to your chin. He tucks you in tight and you let out a small, slightly delirious giggle, you almost regret it when his hands pause and he stares at you expectantly.

“Are you trying to make it so I’m physically unable to leave this bed?”

His features soften and he continues to help you get comfortable, smoothing out the cover until each crease that dares to mar your blanket retreats, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

You’re not sure if you want to bask in the compliment or argue that you’ve had better ideas and that he knows it. Your mind is made up the moment he continues to speak.

“That way we can minimise the amount of surfaces you can infect with your germs. We don’t want you infecting the others at the meeting, do we? Now stay put while I bring you some food.”

And with that, he turns to leave the room, a soft smile on his face as your strained shouts of protest and offence follow his retreating form.

#♥. writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk #aot levi

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kinktae · 2 years

Text

most undesirable || (M)

Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.

pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader

word count: 5k

genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut

warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents

A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)

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PART ONE **UNEDITED**

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A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.

You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.

"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.

You crunched your nose, "Shh."

Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.

Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press.

You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.

"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.

You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you.

"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy.

You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face.

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench.

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here."

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed.

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm.

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-?

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate.

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch.

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly.

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide.

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…"

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief.

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two.

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chrissturnsgirlll222 · 3 months

Text

second, never first

part one | part two | part three | part four

chris x fem!reader

summary - you grew up hating one guy all of high school but suddenly become close friends, but as time goes on feelings develop, only its one sided.

warnings - underage drinking, throwing up, use of y/n, BOYS (no smut… for now lol and yes i am 18) currently not proofread or written with pristine punctuation

word count - 2500+?? (i know its long but i had a bunch of ideas for the beginning)

this is also my first story so pls be kind :) also just wanted to mention that i wouldn’t have the courage to write and post if it werent for other writers on this app so i would just like to tag and thank a few accounts who inspired me to write<3

@lovingmattysposts @flowerxbunnie @strniohoeee @lacysturniolo @strawberrysturniolo @flynnriderishot @stuniolobbg

for as long as i could remember, being the second option was all i knew. just always being the backup, never the go to.

this constant course of events led to my passion of reading and writing, pretty much consuming myself with content or sources that provided me with a sense of belonging, or just putting myself into a different reality.

i always had been drawn to romance. its a un-comforting comfort for me, if that makes sense. i love reading about it and watching movies about it but love just seemed so out of reach. im sure many people feel this way but i just believe there are certain people in the world that just go through life without any sort of romantic experiences. now while that may be true i also think thats just something i made up in my head to comfort myself from the fact that i have never had a single romantic experience, ever. i mean im 17 years old and havent even had my first kiss. hell i havent even held hands with a boy.

that of course all changed during my senior year.

“oh my god look at what cody sent me” anna says.

anna is my best friend, though at times she felt like my biggest competition. she is everything im not. constantly talking to boys, what people consider ‘boy pretty’, very out going and popular. the fun one.

i look over at her phone to see a text from one of the many boys shes talked to in the past year “i thought you guys were done?” i say

“yeah were not talking like that anymore but i still talk to him here and there” she says

“i dont know if thats the best idea, i mean if you guys keep talking hes probably going to get the wrong impression”

“your such a buzz kill sometimes” she says slightly annoyed. i stay silent. I might sound like a complete bitch here but when your friend is constantly talking or complaining about guy, a, b and c you eventually get bored and exhausted of hearing about it, I try my hardest to be understanding when she brings up guys, but I’m apparently never supportive enough to her standards. I suppose she wants me to be there and give her advice but what do I have to offer to that conversation?

we were driving through the school parking lot to park in our usual spot next to chris.

chris is, well complicated. ive known him since 7th grade and hated him up until about 3 months ago when senior year started. the friendship started off with him just parking next to my car everyday and him just pestering me all the time but the longer we kept parking together, the more we grew to enjoy our casual conversations.

we both roll down our windows.

“morning” i say waving at him, anna does the same “hey, i wanna skip first block if you guys are down” he says “you know i would never say to to that” anna says “ehh i dont know about today i have a bio project i need to work on and didnt getting the planning sheet so i should probably head in” i say

“alright, anna come on i wanna get mcdonalds” chris says tapping on his passenger seat.

“looks like its just us this morning! y/n me and chris can just go get food and ill bring you back something for lunch” anna says turning to me.

“ill see you guys at lunch” i say grabbing my bag and locking my car doors as anna gets in to chris’ car and they drive off.

if you havent caught the weird passive tone from anna, thats how she was. no matter how much i tried she always had to be the centre of attention . i honestly dont even think she does it on purpose. i love her and she is my best friend but i just find her insufferable at times, its just who she is. chris is a great friend to me but i always caught the vibe that chris liked anna or at least thought she was hot. which is also why i think he treats her with more respect than me.

now when i said we grew to like eachother i left out a slight detail.

even though i hated chris for most of high school for the way he treated me and constantly teased me, i couldnt help myself from starring at him from time to time as he talked or even looking at his hands. not only was he visually pleasing he could be really sweet and the conversations we shared were really meaningful at times. was he attractive, yes. was he a complete asshole to me for years and still hasnt apologized, yes. did i completely fall head over heels for him when he began to show me his nice side, sadly yes.

its so cliche but i fell for my “bully” so to speak. i hated myself for it but what i hated even more was how much i let my feelings for him effect how i saw myself even more as the second option. if it came down to it and me anna and him were the only people in the world he would still fuck anna before he even though about kissing me.

i know that i might only feel this way towards him simply because hes the only male thats shown me any attention at all. though it hasnt always been positive or romantic it was still something that i had never experienced from a male before.

like i said, second option.

i finish up my final class and head out to my car and wait for anna who is doing god knows what considering i drive her home everyday after school. while waiting for anna, chris gets into his car and starts it to heat up as it is the beginning of winter. i watch what hes doing through his car window as he scrolls on his phone for a sec and then storms into the backseat of my car, always the backseat.

my head whips around to look at him and he looks annoyed. “why do you look mad” i say. “look at what this bitch said to me” he says leaning up to the middle console shoving his phone in my face and i read texts from a girl hes talking to.

friday 3:14pm

alice: chris i cant keep talking to you

chris: what do you mean

alice: i mean that i cant keep talking to you what were doing is messing with my head and i dont want to be a victim of one of your fuck and dumps

chris: im sure i have many other girls who would kill to be in your position

alice: then go have them i dont want to be apart of your sick and twisted hookups

“ok wow” i say my eyes wide “i didnt even know you were talking to alice”

“well now you do, and im not anymore apparently” he says throwing his arms up as he sinks in to the middle seat. “we have been fucking since the halloween party, remember when i kissed her infront of you?” he says in a duh tone.

ah yes halloween. the night i went home crying after said kiss was shared infront of my face.

“yes i remember” i say blankly.

“we were supposed to hangout tonight but she decided to blow me off, i was ready to get my dick wet but i guess ill just have to be fucking boring alone” he says as i make a disgusted face.

“well i dont know what to te-“ i was cut off by anna coming into the car.

“ok sorry i took so long but i was just getting the details for a party tonight!” she says out of breath. chris sits up at the news, “maybe i will get my dick wet then.” he says smirking and jokingly raising his eyebrows.

“what? alice blew you off already.” anna says turning to chris. i dont bother questioning why anna knew and i didnt because im sure i know answer.

“yep and im scoring tonight.” he says fake punching the air as me and anna giggle.

anna and i finished getting ready at her place, her wearing jeans and a hot pink tank top and me in black jeans and a white long sleeve crop top. i stare at myself in the mirror when i hear annas phone go off with a text from chris.

friday 10:27pm

chris: here

“anna! chris is here!” i yell grabbing my phone and my drinks for the night from my bag and start making my way downstairs as i hear her close behind me. i tie up my shoes as i hear her grab her drinks from her fridge and say bye her parents. i wave goodbye to her parents as well and we make our way out to chris’ car.

upon entering were greeted by matt, chris’ brother in the passenger seat.

“hey matt i didnt know you were coming out tonight!” i say smiling at him as loud music blasts from chris’ speakers.

“yeah nicks also going so i just tagged along, plus i need to drive you guys home since chris is drinking tonight.” he says lightly punching chris in the arm. “oh yeah, speaking of nick where is he?” i say. “nicks already there he came with his friends.” i nod in response and sit back starting to chug down one of my drinks. i may be a buzz kill in annas eyes but i knew how to party and loved drinking with my friends.

matt is chris’ triplet brother along with nick. i never really got to know his brothers all that well, i just know that matt has become a lot more comfortable around me and anna as we have started to spend more time with chris.

once we arrive to the party me and anna walk around to see whos there and we meet up with some of our other friends. i can see chris from across the room laughing and talking to nick and matt.

the night goes on and i finish my fourth cooler of the night and head out to the car to grab another. when i step outside the cool air hits me and i instantly regret the 2 shots of tequila i had on top of the fruity coolers i had throughout the night. shivering and rubbing my arms i continue walking to chris’ car to sit down for a sec and when i reach the backseat i see chris’ naked back and steamy windows. i take a step back once i realize whats happening.

i knew he was going to end up fucking someone tonight since thats what he said his plan was but i did not need to fucking see it. hes not mine for the taking obviously, but seeing him constantly with girls just hurt.

i turn around to walk back into the house but suddenly feel sick to my stomach. i hunch over and throw up in the middle of the road. i cough and collapse to my knees continuing to gag as strings of spit come out of my mouth. i hear a car door shut behind me as i try to stand up wiping my mouth. i feel arms grab my waist and pick me up bridal style and thats the last thing i remember before everything went black.

i wake up in a car with the same clothes on from the party, still drunk, my hair crispy and the smell of cologne. i look around me and realize its chris’ backseat im laying in but its still pitch black out.

i hear faint voices outside and the door my head is resting on swings open and my head flys back.

“holy shit chris are you trying to kill her” i hear matts voice. “shut up, i didn’t know you put her head there.” chris says as he starts pulling me out of the car.

“chris” i say quietly. “holy shit your awake” he says leaving me to sit up. “yeah i am, what happened. i think i- blacked out.” i say slurring my words.

“well i was in the middle of getting with summer-“ he says getting on his knees to talk to me better “and i just heard gagging outside the car and it was bothering me and i looked outside the car and you were bent over on the middle of the road throwing up. i just grabbed you and told summer to fuck off and put you in the car while i grabbed matt and anna.”

“oh my god” i say as i nod off.

“woah woah stay with us here, chris lets get her inside now” matt says placing my head back up.

“where is anna?” i question.

“we had to drop her home and bring you to our house since she said her parents couldn’t see you like this.”

“of course” i say

classic anna.

“what time is it?” i ask rubbing my eyes.

“2:44am” chris grunts taking me out of the car.

“ok lets get you inside” chris says pulling me up to stand. “you think you can walk inside?” he says still holding me up. “ill try.”

he lets go of me and i slowly make it up to the front of their house but start wobbling once i reach the steps and feel both matt and chris grab either side of me and help me up to the front door. matt holds on to my arm as he uses the house key to get inside and i walk in.

they walk me over to the living room couch and i slump over resting my head on the arm rest of the couch.

“where is she going to sleep?” matt says. “my room obviously.” chris says as i smile to myself.

“come on y/n” he says picking me up again and bringing me to his room to lay on his bed. “im gonna give you clothes to change into since yours are covered in vomit.” he says opening drawers. i nod my head as my eyes close.

he tosses me a big white shirt with some graphic designing on it “can you dress yourself or-“ i cut him off “yea- yeah i got it” i say sitting up right and hiccup.

he turns around so i can change into the shirt. i begin taking my long sleeve off and i get one arm off before i get stuck. “chris, help” i say quietly and he turns around to see me with my arms slouched and my eyes closed. he rushes over “lift up your arms” he says pulling my hands up. i hold them up as he grabs the hem of my shirt and slowly pulls up. i admire chris as he pulls off the shirt completely throwing my shirt across the room all while being careful not to look at me.

he grabs his shirt and places it gently over my head and then threading my arms through the shirt. “wait” he says walking over to his closet, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and walking over to me with them. i sit there with my eyes closed smiling as i had thought about the scenario of him taking my clothes off many times, just not the me being so drunk i cant dress myself part.

he takes my jeans off and helps me in to his sweatpants still being respectful and not starring at my body. “ill be right back just sit here im going to get you water and an advil.” he say as he walks out of the room. i just sit there, my eyes still closed, still smiling and nod at his sentence.

i lay back down on his bed and wait as i hear him rushing upstairs talking to matt and nick before walking back in to the room sitting down at the end of his bed. “sit snd open up.” i obliged to his words before he places two advils on my tongue.

“im going to fill up your mouth with water so don’t breathe.” he says opening up a water bottle and slowly pouring some in to my mouth while my head tilts upwards slightly. he watches me with concern as i swallow the water.

“please never get drunk like this ever again, you really freaked everyone out kid.” he says. i don’t respond and nod at his words.

kid, the all too familiar nickname chris gave me. it always made me feel weird when he called me this as if he was an authority figure or something.

i lay back down on his bed and close my eyes and quickly drift off to sleep. the last thing i remember from that night is him crawling in to his bed next to me and turning off his light.

“goodnight kid”

thank you for reading!!!

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x y/n

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carrotkicks · 8 months

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Fugitives arc - Abridged vrs.

(part of the sends them to school au)

hehe so guess what! I took my insanity to new heights and I actually tried to write (horrifying) do tell me how it goes for you

It took exactly 9 seconds to find the extra bandages. Dr. Mori was always reliable about keeping medical supplies ready on hand but Dazai counted anyway. It’s a habit she’s grown over the years. Her eyepatch had gotten rather grimy after a long day on the run, and the bacteria that may have collected could give her another infection, so she might as well change it, right?

Right! That’s a good start. Redoing her bandages is an excellent next step in her plan to somehow get herself and Chuuya out of this debacle.

Speaking of, Chuuya was currently in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear that was left lying around in this safe house. Dazai had helped her take a bath earlier, and it took a lot of effort on her part to not freak out. Not that Chuuya noticed, of course. Chuuya might have a second special ability to be completely oblivious to some things. Like when someone’s putting the moves on her, or when she’s in pain. It’s as though she entirely lacks self-preservation. Does she have a death wish or something? Oh wait –

Dazai freezes that horribly ironic train of thought to remind herself she’s in a bathroom surrounded by puddles of Chuuya’s blood and tattered clothes. After the bandages, I’ll clean this mess. That’s a good next, next step.

Chuuya had gotten injured, somehow. A deep gash on the back of her neck, like a creature sunk its claws in her and pulled something out. Dazai frowned at the thought as she pulled her patch off. Chuuya hasn’t said a word about why they were hiding but after the events of the past few days, Dazai’s overactive mind was starting to paint a bleak picture.

Chuuya wasn’t at school for the past few days. On the third day of her absence, her literature teacher pulled her aside with a packet of coursework in hand.

“I know you’re close to Nakahara-chan. Perhaps you can deliver her the materials she’s missed this past week so she doesn’t fall too far behind. And check in on her too, okay?”

Of course, Dazai readily agreed. Their Sensei has always shown exasperation towards Chuuya’s poor attendance habits, but today there was a strange tightness in her smile that made Dazai’s stomach settle uncomfortably.

Kunikida decided to join her to deliver the notes – “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of it on your own. I’m putting up with you because it’s a dangerous location, and I would like to see how Nakahara-san is doing” he declared. Naturally, Dazai had cheerfully wrapped an arm around his waist and accepted his chivalrous offer. Kunikida may give the pretenses of aloofness but he worries too much for the act to hold any weight. That’s how Dazai managed to figure out what happened after that disastrous mistake on her part last Friday.

Kunikida and Yosano both agreed to this story: Chuuya looked very pale when they entered the club room. She claimed she was ill and decided to leave after minutes in. That’s where it ended, frustratingly enough. At yesterday’s Detectives Club meeting, Ranpo mentioned to her briefly “I don’t think things look very good at home for Chuuya-kun.” Dazai nodded.

I figured as much too.

That’s why when she and Kunikida stepped up to a ratty-looking apartment unit in a ratty-looking apartment complex in the Suribachi neighborhood on the outskirts of Yokohama, she had Hirotsu in a van full of Mafia guards parked two blocks away. Her security detail was also following close by but she’s not supposed to know about them, so if anyone asks, what security detail?

“This is the right place?” Kunikida asked, looking back at the surroundings. The area didn’t seem safe, at least for a couple of kids wearing uniforms for one of the most prestigious private academies in Yokohama. Even if those kids were ability users.

“It’s the address Sensei gave me,” Dazai responded in a relaxed fashion. She gazed back to where Kunikida was looking. An armored truck hidden under the shade of a tree.

“Supposedly there’s a military base nearby,” she rationalized. Kunikida only nodded uneasily.

Dazai grinned and began ruffling through her bag for the handouts. “Hey, if Chuuya answers the door, she won’t be in her school uniform.”

“Hm.” Kunikida stepped forward and knocked. Three times.

“I bet she has an awful fashion sense. She seems like the type, right?”

“Anything Nakahara-san chooses for her style will be an improvement to your bandages, Dazai-chan.”

“Tch. Rude.”

The door opened. The timer starts.

Standing there was a tall man wearing a lab coat and a gentle smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” He has glasses and graying hair. He’s keeping his hands in his pockets, one of which seems to be holding something. 6 seconds.

Kunikida must have picked up that Dazai wasn’t willing to talk, and took over. “Hello sir, is this the residence of Nakahara Chuuya-san?”

“Yes, I’m her father. She’s not well right now, so I’m afraid you can’t see her.” 18 seconds. From what Dazai could see there wasn’t any furniture other than a sofa, coffee table, and coat rack. Chuuya’s signature boots weren’t by the entrance.

“That’s… alright. We just came to deliver some of the notes and homework she’s missed. We’re classmates.” The blinds in the apartment were drawn, and there was something in the shadow that Dazai couldn’t make out clearly. 23 seconds.

Chuuya’s “father” accepted the offered papers swiftly without a second glance. “I’ll see that she gets these. Anything else?” 31 seconds. A glint of metal, that looked the shape of –

“Nope, that’s it! We’ll take our leave then. Please tell Chuuya we hope she feels better for us, sir” Dazai cut in. She nudged Kunikida’s foot Come on, time to go.

Kunikida gave a courteous bow. “Thank you for your time, Nakahara-san.”

At that, a strange smirk crossed over the man’s face, as if he heard the world’s most ironic joke. “Of course.” He made eye contact with Dazai for a moment and she really hoped she was giving him a polite smile because her eyes felt far too wide to be anything other than manic. Then the door slammed shut.

The entire encounter lasted 42 seconds, and Dazai already figured out more than she wanted to. “Chuuya wasn’t there. That man wasn’t her father” She tells Kunikida when they’re far enough away from the building. Her friend gave her a sharp look, but it wasn’t an "I don’t believe you". It helped the tightness in her throat clear a little.

“How do you figure?”

Dazai furrowed her brow, “That apartment isn’t lived in at all. None of Chuuya’s possessions were to be found. And…” She halted. Kunikida stopped beside her. “Inside I saw a glimpse of a rifle, a military-grade one. There was definitely an armed soldier hiding in the back, and likely the rest of their squad too.” Soldiers, a military base, a man in a lab coat, and a missing ability user. A terrible combination.

Kunikida muttered what was absolutely not a curse. “We need to find Nakahara quickly.” He says, not wasting a moment to pull out his phone to dial who she thinks is Ranpo.

Dazai nods, already feeling more confident. But Yokohama’s a big city, how are they supposed to find one tiny person like –

***

“Dazai. Dazaiiiiiiii! Are you- oh!” Chuuya rushed out about as quickly as she entered. Dazai had scrambled to throw her hands up to hide her uncovered eye. She exhaled heavily as she tried to suppress the irritation that flared up in her chest. That was terrible timing on her part, and she should have accounted for Chuuya being her spontaneous self.

“Seriously, Chibi? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first?”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be indecent.” Dazai isn’t naked, just bandage-less right now. Oh, Chuuya’s trying to be funny.

“Humor isn’t your thing Slug-chan. Hhh, tell me. Did you see it?” Dazai doesn’t know why she’s feeling so self-conscious. Her eye healed a long time ago, even if seeing out of it is still quite blurry, it looks perfectly fine. But in the year since the … injury … Dazai has only been able to bear looking at her own unobstructed reflection for only a few minutes at a time. The only other person who could be comparable was the Good Doctor himself.

There’s a silence behind the door. Then, Chuuya says, “I saw you, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it seems like Chuuya may have realized because there’s a hesitant turn of the door handle. Dazai puts her hand over the right side of her face for good measure.

The door creaks open and the redhead shuffles in. Literally shuffles, Dazai realized, those clothes were huge on her, practically swallowing her frame. The sleeves of the collared shirt she found were rolled up to her elbows and the black slacks she was wearing must have been cuffed 3(?) times. They must be Dr. Mori’s, a little voice in Dazai’s head supplied. She looks cute in them, an unhelpful one adds. She looked cuter covered in blood, to be honest, another, more unhelpful, eviler voice continued. Hold on, has Dazai ever seen Chuuya wear long pants before?

Whatever. It didn’t matter because obviously, Dazai laughed out loud at the sight. Maybe overcompensated even, she really needed this chance to tease Chuuya. Any chance she’ll get. For her part, Chuuya must have anticipated this reaction because she just huffs out in annoyance and drags herself closer. When her giggles died down, she realized that Chuuya had grabbed her hand and was looking directly into her eyes, and a self-satisfied grin settled on her face.

Ah, Dazai’s mouth felt dry again, so she lowers her head. Chuuya took that as a cue to start talking. “It’s only fair, Dazai. You got to see all of me, so I deserve some leverage on you too.”

Leverage? Oh… Dazai thinks she gets it. Chuuya’s at Dazai’s mercy right now. Dazai’s father owns this safe house, Dazai’s people are guarding the perimeter, and Dazai’s the one who can treat her injuries. Chuuya’s asking for some control over the situation. She’s asking for trust in return. Dazai can handle that.

She looks up, but Chuuya’s already turned her head away, cheeks a faint red. She detaches her hand but Dazai grabs it before it can retreat further.

“Hey.” Dazai brings Chuuya’s hand close to her face. Chuuya meets here eyes. She seems confused. “A while ago I got into an accident.”

“An accident?” If Chuuya doubts her, she wouldn’t show it.

“Yeah. It really messed up the right side of my face. It used to look really bad so I always bandaged it. It became a habit.”

Dazai hesitated on the next part. “And when I see myself without the patches, I get reminded how human I look.”

Chuuya’s gaze was unreadable now.

Shit. Don’t say more. Dazai found herself stuck explaining, “And it makes me a fraud because I’m not a human. Not inside. Not where it matters” Stop oversharing! She can feel her heartbeat going faster “Ahh ~ that part’s not really a big deal, though. How’s my face, Chuuya-kun? Is it cute?”

“What the hell are you saying, Dazai?” When she’s upset Chuuya’s voice goes down an octave from her usual high throaty pitch. It seems that’s the case here. Dazai stayed transfixed to the anger brewing in her eyes, and didn’t noticed that Chuuya’s hands landed themselves on either side of her face, cupping it gentler than her expression would have let on.

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again! You're not human? That’s complete bullshit.” Who taught Chuuya how to curse, anyway?

“Chuuya I-”

“Shut up. Don’t you understand, Dazai?” She really doesn’t understand. Chuuya’s expression melts into something Dazai can’t recognize. Her thumb strokes her right cheek and then Dazai is being pulled closer to the Earth. At some point her eyes close. Some muddled thought about trust floats around her head.

“You’re the most human person I’ll ever meet.”

Something soft and warm. Right under her eye. Dazai snaps back into awareness as Chuuya pulls away, red-faced, like a shrimp. A shrimpy color on a shrimpy person. Or the color of crab. Dazai loves crab. Dazai loves- Chuuya squirmed under her gaze. Oh, right. How much time did she just lose?

“You took me by surprise last Friday,” Chuuya confesses, looking away in embarrassment. “And then I got scared, because I felt so good in that one moment with you, and then I had to go back… Home.” She shuddered. “And I’ve been trying change, you know? Because I didn’t feel alive until I met you, and then suddenly I wanted to feel alive for you.”

Dazai didn’t know how to respond, so she wrapped her hand around the back of Chuuya’s neck, carefully over thick patch of gauze that protected her injury. Chuuya looked breathless. “And then last week, I realized that my freedom had run out, so I took a chance and escaped. And now we’re here. And it’s all your fault Dazai. I did it because of you.”

There’s something dark and stormy in Chuuya’s eyes.

“And that stupid goddamned kiss. It was fucking incredible .”

Dazai closed the distance between them again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again andagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain –

***

So their night went peacefully after that. Dazai never ended up rewrapping her eye, just for the sake of savoring that adorable flustered look on Chuuya’s face. Cleaning the bathroom was a more irritating chore. Dazai had nudged the pile that was Chuuya’s blood-soaked uniform and a random set of green and yellow gardening gloves she somehow acquired. (“Hey you sure you didn’t go and murder anyone, Slug?” she had taunted. Chuuya ominously didn’t answer.) Dr Mori had kept a huge stock of spicy instant noodles in the pantry and the two of them held a contest to see who could handle the spice better. It ended in a tie because Dazai refused to admit she had a runny nose and tears in her eyes.

And now they were in bed, in each other's arms. Dazai hugged her… girlfriend? partner? … closer. Chuuya was so warm. Like a human furnace. Dazai could happily die right now. Until Chuuya spoke up.

“Dazai, why did you tell me I would look cute in a cage right before you kissed me. ” Death needs to arrive a little faster. Dazai is a little spent from the embarrassing and soulbearing conversations earlier.

“It. It was a dog joke Chuuya. Because you’re my doggy.”

“Likely story. You just want me to have no freedom under you instead.” Dazai pointedly didn’t wrap herself around Chuuya more, to prove her self restraint and respect for Chuuya’s autonomy.

“Please drop it. You don’t understand my prodigal mind.”

“Hmm. How about never?”

A comfortable silence settled over them again. Chuuya pushed herself deeper into Dazai’s hold. She was wearing a pair of oven mits that she found in the kitchen, and Dazai didn’t bother to ask why. What did matter was that this moment never ended.

“Dazai.” Chuuya started. “I’m…”

“Hm?” Dazai shifted her position so she could see Chuuya’s expression. It was horribly vulnerable.

“I… don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.”

The unspoken words rang clearly in Dazai’s mind. She smiled and ran her hand through the short red hair. There was a light shining in Chuuya’s eyes. If they were going to pull an all-nighter, then Dazai better start counting.

“Yeah. Me too, Chuuya”

***

Dazai woke up to the barrel of an assault rifle pressed to her temple and a tall man in a white lab coat holding Chuuya in his arms.

#i never actually written like. normally non-essay context b4 so sorry if it doesn't work well.#but here lemme ramble a second.#i skipped around a bit like where dazai actually finds chuuya. or this part where black lizard fights the military fight to let skk escape #i've always had this fixation with dazai timing things to the second. whether it be for plans or to help him analyze things quickly #or just a habit #i'm obssesed with flipping the script for these two in the au. chuuya get's to be 'ur literally peak human' to dazai this time #minor headcanon abt dz's right eye #I wanted to put a little effort into Kunikida and dazai's friendship here too! he's such a reliable bro. putting an emphasis on trust yknow #you can ask about the oven mitts but i can't really give you a response #no apologies for the ending :3 #anyways. escalate escalate escalate escalate #no more school! time for the Horrors #what's next on schoolkoku trauma hour?#dazai finally gets the bigger picture and then it becomes sends them to jail au.#fukuzawa and mori must team up to post bail.#and the return of Coach Frankenstein???#bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai #chuuya #kunikida #mentioned: yosano ranpo mori and hirotsu.#skk #fem soukoku

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f1crecs · 2 months

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Fic Rec List - Sex Worker AUs

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Lando/Oscar

nsfw: dancing on quicksand by @tearstrung | E | 3.3k Lando is outrageous, and Oscar struggles to understand what's a joke and what isn't - until he sees a link on Twitter. This fic is red hot, very funny, and perfectly characterised! Oscar's special brand of bamboozlement is especially wonderful here, as he comes to terms with Lando's job on the side. The ending is like a beautiful punch to the gut. Love it!

'Though, the guy’s skin is similar in color to Lando’s—olivey, the natural tan Lando wears year-round, even if he’s barely been in the sun with his shirt off. The same big hands, which don’t really match up with his small stature, rippled with lithe muscle; followed by a wide ribcage that slips down into a tiny, tapered waist. Nipples, shades darker and always hard from what Oscar can see from a long scroll. At the tips of the guy’s fingers, Oscar notices leftover chew marks, the skin pulled back, nails bitten short into nubs.'

Carlos/Lando

nsfw: when the time comes by @venerat | E | 7.6k Lando asks his friend Carlos, an escort, to arrange an appointment with another male escort for him. Lando has never been with a man and wants to have the experience. When Pierre falls ill and has to cancel, Carlos decides to go in his stead. Only one problem, though - Carlos is in love with Lando. Will he be able to keep his emotions in check? This situation could have been awkward but Lando is nothing but sweet and kind with Carlos. The encounter results in a lot of revelations for them both, and although they seem to start the next phase of their relationship a bit backwards, they clearly have a future together.

Time doesn’t seem to be very real. Carlos thinks. He thought it would be different than this, that’s all. Different from the way it’s—happening. Because the way it’s happening feels like sex. Real sex. It doesn’t feel like work. It doesn’t feel like a transaction. It feels like—trite; cliche, of course, but—it feels like passion.

Charles/Pierre

nsfw: pièce de résistance by @capsize (copenhagenborn) | E | 14.5k Pierre, a sex worker, is approached one night by the assistant of someone calling himself Marc. Marc, it turns out, is really Prince Charles of Monaco and is looking for an arrangement. This is quite low-angst for a royalty AU (don't get me wrong, I love my angst) but this fic just has them slot together so easily. Pierre is rather happy as a sex worker, which is actually a nice change when it comes to sex work fic. The relationship side of things is slow burn and even the inevitable miscommunication part of the story is done so well I enjoyed it.

'Pierre does spend the night. He sends Charles a picture of his gateau marcel and soaks in the tub as he finishes the bottle of wine they were supposed to share. The house is predictably a mess when he gets home: George is crying on the couch with his eyes glued to the television, a small Union Jack pulled from somewhere and now proudly displayed in front of him. Alex is sitting by his feet, badly hiding his laughter as he scrolls through what Pierre can only imagine being memes. Lando is passed out in the corner, a bottle of vodka close to his hand, while Oscar stares at him with an oddly closed-off look in his eyes. Pierre isn’t quite up to date on the current geopolitical relationship between Australia and the rest of the commonwealth. Pierre sits down next to Max at the dining table, sips his water and goes, “What does it mean if someone has to be summoned after the death of dear old Lizzy?”'

nsfw: cause baby, I'd be satisfied forever by @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 88.5k Pierre, retired from racing after a career-ending injury, is closer to 40 than 30 now and has reinvented himself as a designer. He's also venturing out of the closet. He is put in touch with Charles, who gets by as a sugar baby, and decides this is a perfect way to get some experience dating another man. Pierre finds himself developing feelings for Charles. I'm at a point now with @wolfiemcwolferson fic where I just gesture wildly at whatever they've written and make vague noises but in the interests of trying to sound like the sane person I pretend to be, this fic is a perfect distillation of the Pierre/Charles relationship. What if they didn't meet until later in life? What if Charles never went beyond karting? What if the age gap was larger? All of these, and yet, it's still them. There is a "soulmates in ever universe" theme in the Piarles fandom and this story absolutely embodies it.

'He’s beautiful and he smells like cologne and something fresh and he’s still not let go of Pierre’s hand - the cool leather underneath Pierre’s hand seems so…foreign. So flipped. Pierre considers all the time he touched other people’s hands while wearing leather gloves. “I hope I am not late,” Charles smiles at him still. “I missed my train and I -” “Charles,” Pierre says, realizing that Charles seems a bit nervous - a bit ruffled. “I only just arrived. “Come and let’s go inside. We can get warm.” His smile makes his perfect face less so - a mere mortal instead of the god he is and Pierre gets it immediately.'

Charles/Sebastian

nsfw: Be Snoozing That Lust In The Morning by @sebchalex & @meova101 | E | 14.5k When Formula 1 decides to clean up their sponsors, teams are left scrambling to find money. Ferrari finds an unconventional way to get more budget – Charles starts an OnlyFans. The initial premise of Charles having to get an OnlyFans to help Ferrari is just unhinged enough that it could be real – but this fic has a lot more to offer than just comedy. The way it follows Charles personal growth from not believing he could actually make money of OF, being embarrassed when Seb subscribes, to them working together to produce record breaking content and falling for eachother in between – its like a modern day fairytale, if Cinderella had to sell nudes to help the evil stepmom with money.

"This was the only way," Charles says. "I know this could tarnish the Ferrari legacy and everything, but I want to help my team. I will do anything to make them stay on top." Once he finishes his sentence, he looks straight at Sebastian. It's already disgraceful enough that he had to do this in the first place, but this type of rejection coming from Sebastian is making him feel worse. Finally, Sebastian raises his hands in a yielding gesture. "Fine," he says, sending a breath of relief through Charles. "I still have a problem with it." "Seb, I know. I wish there was another way as well, but—" "It's not about that," Sebastian says, looking even more pissed. "Have you realised that your pictures are terrible?" Well. Charles certainly hadn’t expected that. "What?" "Charles, if you are charging that much in the first place, then you should at least put in a little bit more effort," Sebastian explains, extending his hands out. "Your lighting was horrible, and it was blurry. Why did no one offer help?"

nsfw: With you I'm in real danger by @jean----ralphio | E | 55.5k Charles, a well-known porn actor, shelters from a mob of fans by hiding in a rare books shop. The bookseller recognises him but is too considerate to say anything about it. Charles notices and they strike up a friendship, and more. Charles and Seb are from such very different worlds. Charles is accustomed to sometimes being judged for his line of work but Seb treats him with utmost respect at all times, which should be a low bar but isn't. Things get a bit rocky for them in true romance story fashion, but all is well by the end.

Sebastian feels himself go bright red, as Charles’ mischievous smile turns gleeful. “I can tell the instant I meet someone whether they know who I am or not,” he explains. “So I knew right away that you know of me.” “Ah. Sorry.” Sebastian feels foolish, guilt settling over him for not having been honest about it from the beginning.

Pierre/Yuki

nsfw: your mouth makes me reconsider where my heart lies by @yukierres | E | 10.4k Pierre, still an F1 driver, discovers a streamer who plays video games while using sex toys and is immediately fascinated (and hugely turned on). He lavishes gifts and money on the man on his screen, and finds himself falling in love with someone he hasn't even met. The guys are so well characterised. Yuki is unashamed, he loves what he does, is brilliant at it and gets well paid for it too. You can see why Pierre couldn't resist. Pierre is confused and ashamed as hell to begin with (that darned Catholic guilt again) but can't stay away. The author grows the relationship to a point where it seems inevitable that Yuki will one day feel comfortable enough meeting Pierre in real life.

"That was -" Pierre says around breaths, a laugh in his voice, disbelief in what has just happened. Yuki himself has flopped back on the bed, laptop now beside him as he lies against the pillows. His eyes are wet and pink looking, a content sheen in them. "That was something else." A pleased cat-like expression forms on his mouth. "You enjoyed that Pierre?" He says with a blissed-out face, attempting to bat his eyes temptingly at the camera before yawning tiredly, the whole face scrunching up. It is more cute than seductive in the end, but it doesn’t matter because Pierre is head over heels either way.

Daniel/Max

nsfw: chemical highs and clear blue skies by @yekoc | E | 43.5k Daniel is a porn actor, which is where he meets newbie Max. Max, along with his cats, crash on Daniel’s couch whilst they continue to shoot various scenes together. They get to know each other and get to miscommunicate on the way to comfort. The pacing of the plot was really pleasant to read, as was the dialogue. Max is flippant but also careful and cautious at the same time. Daniel is self assured and kind and perhaps a little too trusting. Both of them keep their cards close and all of it makes for a very gratifying read.

'Max laughs, just a little bit, something that in someone else you might call a giggle. Daniel hasn’t seen him laugh before. He’s seen him come—in person, and then over and over again on video that one night, which he should probably forget about really quickly. Max laughing is oddly similar; it breaks something hard about him all to pieces.'

nsfw: Fly Fast (With Broken Wings) by @mysticalbreadcollective | E | 44.2k (ongoing) Max is an escort who turned to sex work due to lack of options. Daniel is an F1 driver, and Max's first ever customer. Daniel quickly becomes obsessed with Max - but the Max that Daniel first knows is a construct - the real Max guards his feelings out of necessity and can't afford to go all in with Daniel. Daniel doesn't understand the precariousness of Max's situation, or why Max would choose to keep working and earning his own money - keeping his independence - rather than agree to become Daniel's kept man. This fic digs deeply into the power imbalance and dubious consent issues of sex work, the necessary artifice of it and the need for emotional armour and distance on the part of the worker. Daniel, sadly, proves Max right with some of his behaviour - he can be selfish and spoiled, and sometimes outright cruel. There is love on both sides, but this relationship is a minefield they each misstep in more than once.

'“You think you are saving me, but it will be someone else. And maybe they will not be so nice.” Emilian says, and oh fuck, his voice is cracking a little at the end and Daniel can’t stand it. Because Daniel knows. He knows the types of clients, can imagine them, the ones that would pay extortionate amounts of money for Emilian. He feels sick hearing Emilian’s voice shake a little, wonders how nervous Emilian has been for this. What he was expecting, who he was expecting. When the agency told him that he was meeting someone who’d pay extra for him. If Emilian had built it all up in his head what he’d be asked to do. And then to say he’d been hopeful that it had been Daniel. Shit.'

Daniel/Lando

nsfw: asunder, asunder by @ladyeggplant | E | 53.3k Lando is very socially awkward, highly intelligent and cashed up. He decides the best way to lose his virginity is to hire an escort. The progression of the relationship here from transactional to something more is not smooth. Lando really doesn’t have much of an understanding about how a relationship should work and makes a few big missteps, especially later in the story as the emotional stakes get higher. Daniel is professional and gentle as he gradually figures out exactly what Lando needs. Lando is physically inexperienced and emotionally awkward and nothing about it is easy.

Silence settles over steeping tea and half-eaten fruit, and he wishes he’d left the music on, because at least it would make this awkwardness bearable. He’s had super wealthy clients before, but none of them this young, and none of them this achingly insecure where it was practically bleeding out of them. Everyone who has ever booked him as wanted him there, obviously—it feels like Lando would rather eat glass than sit in the same room as him. Daniel clears his throat. “So, first time, huh?” Lando chokes mid sip.

Carlos/Charles

In for a penny, in for a pound by @f1-stuff | M | 7k (ongoing) Charles, smarting after being unceremoniously dumped by his girlfriend, hires an escort to take as his plus one to Arthur's wedding. A dashingly handsome man turns up to the rendezvous, and they figure out Charles checked the wrong box when he was making the appointment. He's spent the money, Carlos is easy company, so he decides to roll with it. This fic is amusing and sweet. Carlos is wonderful at his job - perceptive and empathetic and kind, and is probably way ahead in understanding of Charles's sexuality than Charles is himself.

“Charles...listen,” he says, shifting slightly in his chair. He looks self-assured and confident with one leg crossed over the other, hands loosely clasped over his knee. Charles is annoyed and jealous of him all at once. “I probably shouldn’t say this, considering why you hired me. But you are trying to prove to your ex that you aren’t sad and lonely by hiring someone to pretend to be in love with you...” The man raises his brows at him. “You do see the irony, no?” Charles scoffs, shaking his head down at his lap. But he can’t deny that this guy sort of, possibly, has a point. Great, even the escort he’s paying to not make him feel so pitiful is calling him out.

Mark/Seb

nsfw: pleaser by @alltimecharlo | E | 34.6k Seb is a student struggling to make rent, and Mark is a very successful lawyer. They enter a mutually beneficial agreement. This story is fantastic - the author characterises them both beautifully, and they are the perfect balance of sweet and hot and funny. I particularly loved Sebastian's first trip to Mark's house... A gorgeous story, with lots to love.

Mark’s sitting right there. Like, directly in front of the changing room in one of the extremely comfy-looking armchairs, his eyes latching directly onto his form once it’s revealed and lingering there so heavily that Sebastian almost feels the need to hide his entirely clothed body. The older’s green eyes flick up and down his lithe frame so intensely that Seb can feel his stomach doing flips and a burning heat instilling under his skin. It only worsens when he watches Mark’s tongue dart outwards to wet at his lips.

In order to keep this list organised we have chosen to categorise it as 'Sex Worker AUs'– note that we understand that some tropes here are not always sexual in nature nor are they always categorised as sex work. We respect any and all sex workers and non sex workers alike!

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