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sinnamonrolle · 3 years

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[ the little moments] ♡ Beelzebub

6 - That moment when you accompanied Beelzebub to the military.

✿ part of a series! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

Warnings: Mentions of blood

“I’m sorry,” Beel said. One of his hands patted your head in the form of a silent apology. “Our date got postponed because of the military summon… I really wanted to share Madam Devian’s new dessert with you.”

You smiled at him, catching his hand in yours and giving them a squeeze. You couldn’t deny that you also were excited to try out the new cake that Madam Devian released recently, but any time with Beel was time well spent. It didn’t matter whether you went to a bakery or the military, as long as you were with him.

“It’s alright. We can always go later,” you said. “But are you sure I can go in with you?”

Beel scowled at the fence gate in front of you two, its barbed wires separating you from the military encampment. He gently squeezed your hands back. “Don’t worry. They will let you in.”

From beyond the gate, way in the back, you saw a demon in a white military uniform rush out from a large building. His cap almost flew off from how quickly he arrived at the gate.

“General Beelzebub!” the demon greeted, saluting. He opened the gate, and you two stepped inside. “I have been awaiting your presence. I thank you for coming here on such short notice.”

“Don’t worry about it, Colonel Alastor,” Beel said, but you knew he was secretly a little upset about it. You could tell from the way his eyebrows were furrowed, the slightest bit of indentation appearing at the base of his forehead. “What do you need me for?”

“Of course, general, please follow me to the training grounds. I will explain on our way there,” Alastor said, but then his eyes fell on you, and he added on, “General, may I ask who your guest is? So that I may provide the correct identification tag.”

“My lover,” Beel said, his face straight. He didn’t even blink.

You almost choked at how naturally Beel spoke, as if he was simply ordering a meal at a restaurant, but it seemed you weren’t the only one surprised. You saw the shock settle on Alastor’s face before he quickly collected himself.

“I apologize, Your Grace. Please excuse my rudeness,” Alastor said to you, bowing deeply at the waist. “Please allow me to welcome Your Grace to the Royal Army.”

“Ah, thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly. You were trying your best to not appear flustered, but perhaps your nervousness was leaking into your actions. Beel announcing that you were lovers made butterflies flutter at the bottom of your stomach—you even thought your heart might have skipped a beat. “Please, don’t worry about me. Just go ahead and do what you need to do. I’m just here to, uh, sightsee.”

Alastor smiled and closed the gate before leading you two to a field further down the path. It was a stone path, you noticed. After visiting almost every nook and cranny of the Devildom, you could conclude that Devildom didn’t have any concrete. The flooring was always wood, stone, brick, or marble.

You nudged Beel in the side. “You’re a general?” you whispered as you both followed Alastor. You knew demons had enhanced hearing, but you whispered anyway. It wasn’t anything that needed to be kept secret, but you felt that it was a bit embarrassing to ask a question that seemed to be common knowledge.

Beel didn’t seem to mind. “Lieutenant general to be exact,” he said. “I’m referred to as ‘general’ though. Diavolo is the actual five-star general. Although, I don’t know if I still count as one since I’ve been taking a break from the army ever since you’ve arrived in the Devildom.”

“If I may interrupt,” Alastor spoke up from the front. “I would say that General Beelzebub has all rights to keep his rank. Even if he has been away from the army for some time, he has been very helpful in leading us, especially with new recruits. They are always a willful bunch.”

“Is your new batch acting up?” Beel grumbled. “You just have to give them a good beating.”

Alastor sighed. “I would do exactly what the general advises if they weren’t children of nobility. As a demon of common blood, I’m afraid they will complain to their families and have them take my head.”

“Even though you are a colonel?” you asked, baffled. Even if Alastor wasn't a noble, this was the army. How could new soldiers affect the colonel? To this day, you still weren’t a hundred percent clear on demon hierarchy. Perhaps, after spending so much time with the brothers, you’ve become desensitized to it all.

“I may be a colonel to them, but to their families, I am a mere commoner,” Alastor replied with a chuckle, and then he stopped in front of a field. Since the Devildom was always dark, several round balls of light hovered in the air, lighting the field enough that you could barely see the faces of the recruits. They were spread all over the field, but it didn’t really look like they were training. “Alright. General, Your Grace, we have arrived at the training grounds. Your Grace, please take this visitor tag.”

Alastor handed you a clip-on tag with the word “VISITOR” printed neatly in bold letters. But before you could accept the tag, Beel took it from Alastor and carefully pinched it onto your clothing.

“They don’t have benches on the field,” Beel said, smoothing out your clothes. His purple eyes met yours. “Will you be okay standing nearby?”

You brushed his bangs away from his eyes and smiled at him. “I’ll be okay. Will you be okay though? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry.” Beel brought you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you. When you returned his hug, he brushed his lips against your cheek and murmured into your ear, his voice a low, soothing hum, “I have you here with me, after all.”

And then Beel was pulling away from you. You had half the mind to chase after his touch, but you held back, knowing that perhaps now wasn’t the best time.

“Hold my jacket, please?” Beel asked. When you held your hands out, he shedded his jacket and gave it to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, Pudding. I’ll be back soon. If anyone annoys you, just let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

“Okay.” As you followed Beel’s figure with your eyes, you pressed his jacket to your face, the traces of his remaining heat warming your face and the soft smell of laundry detergent filling your senses. With his back straight and his posture full of confidence, every inch of him was unyielding, commanding, demanding to be obeyed.

In that moment, you could see Beelzebub on a battlefield, blood darkening the streaks of his orange hair. A spear in hand, the silver of the blade dripping red and dampening the carmine tassel tied beneath the blade. Beelzebub tattered, tired, torn apart mentally—you could see it, you could see it all in your head because you knew he lived through a war before. You could see the blank look on his face, the agony tightening his throat, the truth of loss settling into his body—

“Your Grace,” Alastor said, his voice breaking you out of your reverie, “it may be safer if you stand over here against the wall.”

You broke away from Beel, who was now speaking with the recruits. Alastor stood slightly further away, off to the side next to a gray brick wall. Smiling, he waved you over.

Clutching Beel’s jacket closer to you, you hurriedly walked over to him. There was a slight embarrassment creeping up on you when you realized that Alastor probably saw you staring at Beel for who knows how long.

“I’m sorry,” you said, settling yourself against the wall when there was a respectable distance between you and Alastor. “I didn’t realize I was blocking the way.”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Alastor laughed. For some reason, some of his mannerism reminded you of Barbatos. “Everyone knows that the new recruits are training today, so not many others will be around here. Since the recruits are allowed to use magic in their training, I am afraid that a stray spell might hit you if you stayed out in the open. If the noble families will have my head if their children complain about me, then General Beelzebub will ensure that I suffer for the rest of eternity if I allow you to get hurt.”

You hummed, hands fidgeting with the zipper of the jacket as you turned back to Beel, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting to find his silhouette. The balls of light were sparsely distributed across the entire field, emitting enough light that you could just barely make out the details. You supposed that the lights were just so that the demons weren’t training in complete darkness. Most demons have excellent night vision, after all. But for a human like you, you were glad the field wasn’t that big and that they weren’t that far out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to see Beel tilting his head as he crossed his arm, the warm light whitening the orange strands of his hair.

“Maybe not for the rest of eternity,” you quipped with a smile, although there wasn’t much room to disagree.

There was something warm in hearing that Beel would raise hell to protect you. To know that there was someone out there that cared about you, someone that loved you, someone that considered you as family—a fluttery feeling coursed through your body, spreading out from your chest, and your heart was clenching in something that wasn’t pain but something similar enough that it hurt yet still felt so sweet.

“Your Grace is right. The general would destroy me instantly,” Alastor said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

It was then that you were able to clearly make out the voices on the field. You weren’t that far away in the first place, but when Beel first approached the recruits, you didn’t hear anything distinct at all.

“For honor?” Beel asked, his voice raising in disbelief. “What kind of honor could you be fighting for if you’re fighting in such a lackluster way? How honorable is it to fool around?”

“Fool around?” a demon scowled. He stood at the forefront of all the other soldiers who had gathered around Beel. On his chest was a rose crest, imprinted into his brown military uniform. “Do you think we are fooling around? Who are you to say that?”

Beel scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Your footing is off. Too clumsy. You don’t put enough weight into your strikes, and your moves are too extravagant. Fighting with your body is not supposed to be flashy. This is the battlefield, where your lives are on the line, not some game where you show off. You don’t even have the basics down. Colonel Alastor is an excellent teacher and fighter. Haven’t you been listening to him?”

The demon with the rose crest growled, his hands bunching into fists at his sides. Another demon next to him crossed their arms and sneered.

“Are you mocking us? Why should we listen to a mere commoner?”

Next to you, Alastor sighed and rubbed at this forehead, seemingly more troubled than offended. You could see why. They were essentially spoiled brats who thought the worlds revolved around them.

The rest of the group also spoke up, their voices mixing into each other as they tried to announce their displeasure, but after listening for some time, Beel just simply raised a hand.

“Enough,” he said. Pure power, heavy and pulsing, rushed out from the word as it rumbled from his chest, the oppressive force pushing the recruits down. Some of them buckled under the pressure, while others tried their best to fight back against it, only to end up collapsing entirely. “This is the army. It doesn’t matter what family you’re from if you’re not strong enough.”

Even though you were farther away behind Beel, you still felt the residue power wash over you in waves. You shivered at the sensation, and the urge to make yourself appear smaller briefly crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, Alastor shuddered but remained standing upright.

“Who are you to say that?!” a demon at the front gasped, a hand on their knee as they straightened themselves. “You’re not even wearing a military uniform or a tag! Do you even have the authority to be here?”

“That’s General Beezlebub to you.” Beel took a step forward and started stretching his arms, rotating them slowly. You knew him well enough to know that he was most definitely frowning from the tone of his voice, the ends of his lips curving downwards and his eyes narrowed, the dark purple glowing dangerously. “Although, from the sound of it, I doubt you would address me properly.”

“Beelzebub? I’ll have you know that I am the eldest son of the Duke of Rosales,” the demon huffed, smoothing out the rose crest on his chest, “and I have not heard of a Beelzebub from any noble family.”

Beelzebub snorted, switching to his other arm, and took another step forward. The recruits, despite their tough act, all took a collective step back.

“Son of Rosales,” Beel said, “since you’re so adamant about status, I’m sure you are well aware of those above you. Address me correctly then—it’s Prince Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony.”

The son of Rosales gulped, his body stiffening against the warm lighting. In the silence following Beel's command, the whispered words—the non-sovereign prince, Beelzebub—hung loudly in the air.

This was a first for you. You’ve never really seen Beelzebub flaunt his status, nor have you really felt the weight of the ranking of prince until this moment, where the once prideful recruits were now cowering in part fear and part awe.

Pride blossomed in your chest. This was Beelzebub—your prince, your Beel, your lover.

“Why don’t you come and show me what it means to fight for honor?” Beel asked the demon with the rose crest. “I’ve never slacked off, not even after I took a break from the army. Every single day, I kept training because I knew why I was fighting. I fight to protect my family. Every moment of suffering will pay off in the form of my loved ones’ lives in the future.”

Beel readied himself, bringing both of his hands up close to his face, and said, “So, recruits. Show me your determination. In return, I will show you mine.”

The world faded around you as you watched Beel throw himself into fight after fight, often defeating the recruits within one or two moves. Despite appearing so burly, he possessed surprising agility. He seemed so limber as he evaded all of the punches and kicks thrown his way, almost like he was dancing.

The recruits that Beel struck down always made their way back up, like a switch had been turned on inside them. It must had been what he said earlier, the pure determination of his words inspiring the soldiers, as well as the natural instincts of a demon to respect the strong.

Beel turned around with a sweeping kick. You briefly saw his well defined abdomen as the shirt fluttered back into place. A dark tail aimed for his head, but he leaned backwards slightly to avoid it as it swept past, extremely close to brushing against the tip of his nose. As he did so, the white light warmed the outline of his body like a halo—illuminating.

Beelzebub was utterly enchanting—you couldn’t deny it at all. You didn’t want to, and you didn’t need to, because that was the truth, and the truth was all yours to appreciate. Watching him like this took your breath away.

A group of recruits jumped out of nowhere. They lunged at Beel’s back in a semicircular formation, their demon forms out, and you almost shouted out to warn Beel when, with barely a glance behind him, he slammed his foot into the ground. The force of it shattered the terrain into fragments. A wave of magic rushed out, colliding head-on with the soldiers, and it swept them away in a heap of tangled limbs. The recruits groaned in pain.

The residue of the magic electrified the air, crackling along the broken edges of the ground. You felt it sparking against your arms, the sensation of his magic a familiar feeling to you, yet it never failed to give you goosebumps.

“The battlefield doesn’t tolerate failure,” Beel said, swinging an arm behind him just in time to elbow a recruit right in the middle of their chest, knocking the breath out of them. “Failure means death.”

Perhaps you were too captivated by the sight of Beel displaying his prowess, but it was only when Alastor called out did you realize that a particularly huge but unstable spell was coming straight at you.

“Your Grace!”

You knew better. You really did. You didn’t survive this long in the Devildom for nothing. You had your fair share of experience in surviving dangerous spells, at closer distances than this, but as you watched the roaring flames come at you, you could only stay frozen in place, hands clutching Beel's jacket in your hands.

Vaguely, you heard Beel shout your name—the sound echoing in the air, echoing around you, echoing in your mind, matching the increasing tempo of your heart—then everything went dark.

The faint smell of leather and something that you instinctively recognized as belonging to Beel filled your nose. Strong arms wrapped around you, the embrace familiar yet also somewhat strange, and with a low buzzing sound in your ears, you also heard—no, you felt the desperate heartbeat.

Beelzebub.

Beel held you to him, so tightly to the point that you were crushed, your body completely melding with his. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, pressing you into him, and the other clasped your waist.

Beel was shaking.

Even though he was the one holding onto you, like you would disappear if he didn’t hold onto you hard enough, his body was trembling—in fear. Fear of you getting hurt, fear of losing you, fear of not being quick enough, of not being strong enough, of not being decisive enough to protect his family yet again. The debilitating terror that often accompanied his nightmares—you were all too familiar with it.

So you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the unsteady, nervous flapping of his wings, now understanding why you felt leather instead of skin, and you squeezed him back.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

You gathered all the feelings bunched up in your chest and sent them through your pact bond, hoping he could feel that you were absolutely safe and unharmed. He shielded you, after all. From the ebbing magic on his body, you could tell that he teleported over to you. That was how he made it on time.

Beelzebub. I love you. I love you so much.

Beel slowly pulled back, his eyes a chaotic mixture of purple and magenta, and you noticed that he had indeed transformed into his demon form. But before you could say anything, he started running his hands all over you. Gentle but hurried fingers traced your face, down your throat, around your torso, all the way down to your feet. He inspected every part of you in a desperate frenzy.

“Beel,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “I’m safe. I didn’t even feel the heat. But are you hurt anywhere?”

Beel shook his head and went back to checking your body, but you patted his face, huffing. He stopped almost reluctantly, eyes meeting yours once again.

“I’m not hurt,” Beel said. “Alastor casted a barrier just in time.”

Something silver shimmered in the air behind Beel, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Gratefulness flooded you. Beel might have thought it was fine to protect you with his body, but you didn’t want him to get hurt at all. If you had just reacted fast enough earlier… then Beel didn’t have to throw himself in front of you, and Alastor didn’t have to cover for you.

After the gratefulness came the guilt.

“You’re really not hurt anywhere?” Beel asked, but his eyes were already searching your body for any potential injuries. “Really, really?”

“Really, really,” you answered. “I’m really okay. I’m sorry though… I don’t know what came over me. I saw the spell coming at me, but I didn’t move at all. And I had to disrupt your training session because of it. I’m sorry.”

Beel visibly relaxed at your reassurance, his body no longer tensed up like before. “No, Pudding. Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I will stop everything to protect you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

Your mouth opened, cheeks warming as you tried to respond appropriately, but then, Beel blinked like he remembered something. He stepped away from you, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and turned to the recruits who had all stayed silent earlier.

“Who casted that spell?” Beel asked, a frigid aura surrounding him. You bet the recruits were in for a world of pain.

No one responded. The recruits remained in their positions, not daring to move.

Beel clicked his tongue. “Don’t make me repeat myself again. Who. Casted. That. Spell?”

When no one spoke, Beel didn’t bother again. He came back to your side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side as he reverted back to his human form.

“Colonel Alastor, increase the daily training by three. Send me a list of all recruits here today. I will be back at a later time to properly train them,” Beel said.

Colonel Alastor saluted. “Yes, general!”

Beel nodded and headed for the gate. You glanced at the recruits still frozen in place and Alastor who waved at you with a smile. You nudged Beel in the side.

“Are we leaving already?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, taking his jacket from you. “Thanks for holding my jacket, Pudding. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Are we resuming our date? After what had just happened?”

“They’re not important,” Beel said, and then he smiled at you, peppering kisses all over your face. “Let’s go back to our date.”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, covering his mouth. “Let’s go.”

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Masterlist!

Ahh, I don't know if this is good enough :( but I hope you enjoy it!

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anonquack · 3 years

Text

| Chef Q |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot, Requested by: @anotherdreamsimp !!

Word Count: 3328

Warnings: Some curse words, mainly just some fluff !

Summary: Quackity hasn't been streaming recently, and decides to come back with a cooking stream. Featuring you as a special guest.

Lately, Quackity had been studying like crazy for his final exams. That meant no streaming. He'd take a break from it to focus entirely on his studies. Absolutely nothing else.

He claimed to have his priorities straight, and had the goal to pass all exams with high scores in order to keep his grades looking wonderful.

This also meant there was rarely any time spent between you two, beside the occasional snack breaks you forced him to take so he wouldn't die at his desk.

It was tough not being able to show him a random video you'd found on the timeline, or walking up to chat with him whenever you wanted, but you knew this was very important to him. So you gladly supported him and offered as much support as possible.

Thankfully, all of his studying paid off and he passed with flying colors. A teacher had even informed him that he'd received the top score for one of his final exams.

You were the first person to hear the news, and you couldn't help but feel the adoration coursing through your body at how excited he was to tell you. Jumping up and down and shaking you lightly as he told you about his scores.

You'd offered to take him out for a celebratory meal, to treat him for all his hard work and also since you missed the fun outings with him. There was no way he was saying no to that.

—

After a day out and about, you two had made your way back home. Both of you were pleasantly full, having enjoyed the meal and also dessert. His request, for "doing so well on his finals." How could you possibly deny him that?

You both were also very content, a warmth and comfort surrounding the air around you two the entirety of the outing.

One thing that was impossible not to notice was how he'd become exceptionally clingy as soon as you two were out of the car. Gripping onto your hand tightly as you singlehandedly unlocked the front door.

"I've missed you so much these past few days." He murmered as you finally got the door to open and pulled him inside.

"I've missed you too." You hummed softly. It was always nice hearing him say these things. You locked the front door, and gently pulled at his hand to lead him back to your room.

It didn't take much of a pull for him to willingly follow you. "Can we cuddle or something?" He asked softly, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask. You turned to him and gave him a grin, along with a small nod.

You'd missed him, even if you two had been in the same apartment this whole time. You'd especially been missing cuddles with him, considering he studied pretty much all day. There wasn't enough time being shared together so you gladly agreed to some cuddling.

Sooner than later, you two found yourselves in your pajamas, laying in bed peacefully as you scrolled through tiktok, screen tilted in order for him to see as well. It really was so nice finally being able to be this close to him again.

After some time, you found yourself looking through tweets on the timeline. A certain one caught his attention and he asked you to stop scrolling.

It was a tweet from a fan, saying they missed Quackity since he hadn't streamed in two weeks, but that overall they hoped his tests were going fine.

"Has it really been 2 weeks?" He asked aloud as he clicked on it and looked through the replies, all agreeing with the original tweet.

"Mm.. two and a half, I think." You answered, looking at him curiously as a guilty expression appeared on his face.

"Hey." You called out once you saw the expression wasn't leaving. He turned to you with a small frown.

"It's fine. You had a good reason for being gone so long. I'm sure they understand. Plus, you'll be back soon, right?" You asked, to which he nodded before sitting up from the cuddling position you two were in.

You sat up as well, noticing how his eyes widened slightly, and a small smile made its way onto his face.

"I just got a great idea." He exclaimed. "Y'know, I was going to just spend the next few days with you since I missed you but– how about we stream something together? That way I can enjoy both, and the fans get a stream too."

You stared at him in surprise. The fans did know he was dating someone, but you rarely ever came out on streams, not because he didn't want you to but because you didn't deem it to be necessary.

The few times you had been on, you'd received tons of love and support from the chat, so you didn't think anything too bad would happen if you were to appear on his stream again.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked curiously. The other times you'd been on were him playing horror games and an extremely scuffed IRL stream.

"Well.. I haven't done a cooking stream in a while." He began, but you quickly shook your head.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you're going to make us eat some monstrosity‐ like your past cooking streams." You visibly shuddered at the thought. You remember having to help clean up the mess after. And no matter how funny it had been, the actual cleanup was awful.

"No no– I was thinking maybe we do a serious one, y'know? Chat hasn't really been able to see my cooking abilities, and well.. I'd say I am pretty good at it." He grinned. He was unfortunately right.

You relaxed at the mention of it being a 'serious' cooking stream. It could never really be too serious when it came to Quackity, but it meant not eating dog food or poorly made pizza. You were in.

"So we'll make an actual.. edible.. meal?" You questioned again, just to be sure. To which he nodded.

"Yeah, and we can enjoy that meal after. Like a date. What do you say?" He was beaming. It was his creativity rolling in. And he was probably so proud of himself for finding a way to spend time with you yet also give chat the stream content they'd been missing out on.

"Alright. I'm in."

You hadn't seen him this eager to get out of bed and head to the grocery store ever before. Chat was really in for a fun stream tomorrow.

—

He'd tweeted it out several hours before you two planned on starting the stream that he'd be streaming today with a special guest, and that he had his chef hat ready to go.

As you scrolled through Twitter you could see the timeline freaking out over 'COOKING STREAM' and 'SPECIAL GUEST'. Lots of discussion over who it was.

You couldn't help but feel a bit bad since the fans were probably speculating that he'd met up with his online friends, but in reality it was just you. In that case, you'd try your best to make this a fun stream, and your presence an enjoyable one.

As the time for the stream to start got closer, you helped him set the ingredients you'd be using onto the table, in a way where it was in perfect view for the stream to see and follow along if they wished.

"We're supposed to start in 5." You called out as he slipped his beanie on, fixing the few hair strands that were sticking out a bit too much.

He smiled and made his way over to you, cupping your face and giving you a small kiss. "I'm so excited to do some cooking with you. They're all going to love you."

You couldn't help the warm feeling that spread over your chest at his words. It was like introducing you all over again. He'd recently gained a lot of new followers, and that meant they probably had no idea who you were. Always fun going through that again.

He dealt with some last minute editing and placing, checking all ingredients were there and that everything was set, before hitting the 'Go Live' button.

It didn't take long for the viewers to increase after the tweet notification went out, and the starting soon screen was the only thing really protecting you two from the roaring chat.

Everyone was dying to know what was going on, who the special guest was, and whether this would be yet another scuffed cooking stream.

You stood behind the camera as the starting soon screen finally disappeared and he began greeting the viewers, thanking all the subs coming in, and eventually also giving them a little update on how he'd done on his exams.

You felt so proud as you watched him boast about how his studying had paid off, and how he talked about being the happiest he'd been in a while. He deserved all of it. And chat thought so too.

After some rambling about his test scores and what they'd be cooking today, chat finally became too impatient and asked for a reveal of the special guest.

"Fine. Fine. Since you guys are so fucking impatient." He huffed, watching as chat flew by, telling him to 'get on with it' and to 'TELL US WHO IT IS'. You couldn't help but laugh at the relationship he had with his chat. Always bullying each other but usually knowing when to stop and send love.

"I've actually had them on multiple other streams, not so much recently.. but they've been on my horror streams.. some IRL streams.. and they are really really special to me, chat!" He said with a big smile. Some of chat was confused as to who he was referring to, while older fans began to question if it was YOU. They were very smart.

"Some of the viewers might not know of them, so this is like I'm introducing them to chat all over again! Come over here." He finally directed the last part at you. You couldn't help but feel the sudden spike in anxiety, but chose to ignore it as you smiled back at him and headed into the frame beside him.

With a small wave and a greeting, you watched as chat completely broke. A mess of question marks and your name being spread in chat. You couldn't help but laugh. It was an overwhelmingly positive reaction as Quackity explained to new viewers that you were his partner, and that older fans were already aware of this for a while now.

The amount of 'y/n our beloved' and people asking if quackity's partner was single were abundant in chat, and you couldn't help but feel stupid for thinking the newer viewers would hate you or something.

Having the approval of Quackity's chat also made you feel lighter, it made it easier to let go and just enjoy the cooking stream.

You two began to explain what you'd be cooking to chat, and you made it very clear that he actually had to try and cook this time, to which chat agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd taken a recipe from his mom for one of his favorite meals, one he hadn't had in a while. He explained to chat that he wanted to see how well you and him could recreate it until you two took a trip to visit his family.

"Hopefully we don't disappoint her too much." You mumbled as he placed the chef hat onto your head, fixing it so you looked presentable.

"She can't be because we're actually gonna try." He stated before beginning to explain to chat what the meal was since many of them might not have even heard of it before. As he did that, you began to set aside the ingredients you wouldn't be needing until later.

After everything had been explained, it was time to get cooking. His concentration to try and recreate his mom's recipe was adorable, and chat agreed on that too.

This stream wasn't loud and messy like the others, but it was still enjoyable in its own way. Quackity was radiating such wonderful light and energy, cracking jokes and genuinely enjoying himself. It was all thanks to the stress and worries being lifted off his back. You really enjoyed seeing him like this.

Chat was able to follow along later if they wanted with how organized you guys were being, but the banter he had with you and chat made it entertaining to any casual viewer. He always found a way to make it fun.

Not only that, but chat was able to see a new side of him. The Chef Q side. More often than not, a message would roll in saying they were amazed by how good Quackity actually was at cooking. You could already imagine some of the edits that'd come out of the stream.

His mom had told you two beforehand how long it would normally take to cook this meal, and it was perfect for a usual stream and some extras where you two would actually get to try the food.

There was moments where chat was warning you two that the food would burn or that he'd accidentally set the kitchen on fire, but overall you were enjoying yourself so much.

And chat was enjoying your presence too!

By the time you two managed to finish the meal, you both plopped down onto the chairs he'd set for the supposed 'breaks'.

He had some of the sauce on his cheek and his apron, but still managed to look good. He'd also smeared sauce onto your cheek, and at this point some strands were sticking out of your hat in such a messy way since the last few minutes had been rather hectic, food almost burning and all.

"Chat. We did it." He called out before cheering loudly and clapping his hands, to which you swiftly followed along, chat beginning to cheer as well.

"I think its only right that we try what we made, don't you think?" You ask, to which chat quickly types YES in all caps, wanting to see the finished product and also find out if it even tastes good.

Quackity let out a chuckle as he smiled over at you. "Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. We haven't even seen it so it might just be black. Burnt to a crisp. Or what if it tastes like shit? Y/N i don't know what I'm going to do if the food tastes like shit. Thats what we're supposed to eat on our date." He whined a bit.

You shook your head, "It'll be great. And if not, we can just order takeout. It'll be fine big q." You smiled reassuringly. Chat became a frenzy of calling him cute for the state he was in, declaring their love for how supportive and kind you were, and melting over your relationship.

Before you knew it, you were both revealing the meal to chat, and pleasantly surprised by the results. The presentation of the meal itself looked really good. It looked like what you'd expect from such a plate. Quackity had even gone as far as saying it looked similar to how his mom made it.

You gasped, smiling in surprise at him. "Really? Did we really do that good of a job." His face turned into one of regret, and a long segment of silence engulfed you two before he nodded hesitantly. You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Okay okay, seriously. Chat's waiting for you to try it." You placed a fork in front of him, earning a loud scoff from him.

"They want to see you try it as well." He mirrored your actions and you gladly took the fork.

"Alright. First bite. Let's see if all our hard work paid off! Chat, are you ready?" You grinned and watched as the 'YES's started rolling in, some viewers telling you both to get the fuck on with it, and others gushing about how the food actually looked good. You could only hope.

You watched as he began to dig in, mouth full and chewing slowly, truly trying to savor the first bite. You did the same, and the stream was silent for the first time in a while. Chat was in suspense as well, question marks and incoherent rambling rolling through the chat.

"Chat..." he finally spoke after swallowing his bite. "Chat. It's." He paused before showing a small smile. "It's not bad at all. I like it. It's good."

You nodded your head in agreement, "It's nowhere near as good as the ones your mom makes.. but I think you and I make a pretty good team."

"I think so too. And not just for cooking." He grinned, earning himself a playful eye roll and shy smile from you.

The stream proceeded to you two feeding each other bites of the meal, asking each other if it was good, and just enjoying yourselves for a bit longer before Quackity deemed it was time to end.

"Chat !! Thank you so much for tuning in and watching this.. actually coordinated cooking stream. I had so much fun and well, I ate yummy food. I'm happy." He laughed, thanking a few more gifters before doing his signature Bye, and ending stream.

He hurried over to your side, pulling you into a hug. "Thank you so much. I truly had fun. And they definitely loved you, but not nearly as much as I do."

You chuckled at his words, giving him a small kiss before cupping his face. "I had a lot of fun too. Thank you for always being so nice to me." You paused, observing how cute he looked with his chef hat still on. "I think I like Chef Alex." You reached over and fixed his hat a bit.

"Yeah? Should I keep it on?" He teased, coming a bit closer. You couldn't help the warmth that spread over your cheeks at how blunt he was.

"Yes, but you need to help me clean this up. Maybe after we finish the food, hm? C'mon. Don't think I forgot our deal."

He whined, already feeling too lazy, but he quickly followed after you as you two sat down to actually eat. Still wearing the silly attire he'd bought for the stream, far too unbothered to change just yet.

Through a mouthful he asked, "Cuddles and a nap after we're done?"

You smiled and nodded, to which he gave a silent cheer. That was enough motivation to get you both up and cleaning after finishing the meal.

—

Wrapped in each other's arms again. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. You were once again scrolling through Twitter, this time scrolling through his indirects, wanting to see what people were saying about the stream.

He'd ask you to stop to read certain ones he found funny, and even 'aww'd at the ones he found cute, mainly those talking about how cute you two looked.

Surely enough, there was already edits using the clips of him cooking, and you'd openly admitted to him that he looked "so fucking good." To which he responded by cuddling closer, if even humanly possible.

Quackity found the numerous clips of you two feeding each other to be the best part of the tweets. You two rewatched, saved, liked as many as you could before he became tired.

And with that, he was pulling you close, and leaving small kisses anywhere he could on your face. Eventually, his chest slowly rose and fell as he entered a deep slumber. You smiled, glad to see he was finally getting the rest he deserved.

"Goodnight, Alex." You whispered, leaving a small kiss on his cheek before closing your eyes as well.

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #chef quackity #cooking stream #quackity fluff #quackity my beloved #revealing lovers #leave some requests !!! I am accepting requests #look at me posting a few days apart wooo #quackity <3

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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not-the-tie-youre-looking-for · 3 years

Note

Something that's been bugging me for years since the Legends finale. If Zhan had been the writer for Rebels, do you think he would have had Thrawn bomb Lothal to bring Ezra out? On the one hand, from Legends Thrawn's portrayal I imagine he would without a second of hesitation. On the other, Canon Thrawn has been much more... restrained? And on a third point, there's the fact that Legends and Canon Thrawn seem like they really could be the same person just at different points of time. cnt in next

...I'm just curious if anyone else was curious if Zhan agreed with that direction taken. Which, on that note, did Zhan ever say anything about his thoughts on how Rebels handled Thrawn? Both from a writing standpoint as well as an acting and musical one (Thrawn's various leitmotifs)?

Oh man. Ohhhhhhhh maaaaan. My friend, you have asked exactly the right person this question, because not only have I wanted to talk about this multiple times before, but I also have ~receipts~. 👀

⚠️Spoiler warnings for Star Wars: Rebels, The Mandalorian, the canon Star Wars novels Thrawn, Thrawn: Alliances, Thrawn: Treason, Thrawn Ascendency: Chaos Rising, and Thrawn Ascendency: Greater Good, and the legends Star Wars novels Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, and Outbound Flight.⚠️

Oh man. Where to begin.

Lets start with who Thrawn is, because depending on who you ask, you're gonna get different answers—whether you're strictly a Legends fan, Dave Filoni, a guy who's only seen Thrawn in Star Wars: Rebels, Timothy Zahn, or just a writer/artist fan like me.

To Timothy Zahn, the man behind our favorite chiss, Thrawn is a character that is constant in both attitude and personality throughout all of his content. In multiple interviews, ranging from Thrawn's debut in Rebels to the latest about the writing of the Ascendancy Trilogy, Zahn states that Thrawn in canon and Thrawn in Legends are indistinguishable.

And so I present the receipts:

In a 2017 interview with The Verge on writing the first canon Thrawn book Thrawn, Zahn is asked the following question and responds as such:

How do you navigate bringing back a character who already has an extensive backstory and audience expectations, with telling a new story that fits in the new continuity?

Actually, I didn’t find that to be a problem. I’d never written Thrawn in this part of the Star Wars timeline, so it was simply a matter of bringing him into the Empire and chronicling his rise through the ranks. It’s still the same character as in the 1990s books, just a decade or two younger and in a very different military and political environment.

In another interview with The Verge in 2018 (a few months after the finale of Rebels aired) about writing Thrawn: Alliances, he repeats this sentiment twice:

Thrawn feels like if it had been written before the canonization purge a couple of years ago, or if you squinted a bit, it would serve as a perfect setup for Heir to the Empire.

Oh, I don’t think you need to squint at all. I wrote him in these two books to fit in with everything else I’d done. So if someone at Lucasfilm snapped their fingers, and suddenly all of my other books were canon, and there would be no real retrofitting that would have to go in. It would all fit together.

Thrawn: Alliances feels more at home in the new canon, especially because Thrawn has been fleshed out a bit more in Rebels. Was there any adjustments for that?

Not really. I’m getting to play with more canon characters like Vader and Padmé and Anakin, but the character himself, I still see him as the same person. He’s got goals, and he won’t necessarily share them with you, but he as long as you’re going the same direction, he’s happy to cooperate and assist along the way.

...and this is referenced again in a 2020 interview with Polygon about writing Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising:

Along with Thrawn’s appearance in Rebels, Zahn would pen a new novel, Thrawn, that chronicled the character’s early days as an Imperial officer. Zahn didn’t have to change anything with the character, telling me in 2017 that “he’s like an old friend who I understand completely.” While Heir to the Empire was no longer canon, a reader could easily read Thrawn as a precursor to that classic novel. Thrawn went on to become a major presence in Rebels, and Zahn continued to explore his origins in Thrawn: Alliances and Thrawn: Treason.

The next day, an interview with IGN was published on the same subject:

Thrawn is an especially unique case because Zahn has been able to effectively continue the work he started way back in 1991 with Heir to the Empire. That novel may not be a part of official Star Wars lore any longer, but as Zahn explained, Thrawn himself is basically the same character regardless of continuity.

[....] The closest comparison between Chaos Rising and Zahn's earlier EU work is probably 2006's Outbound Flight, which is set during the Clone Wars and details the first encounter between Thrawn and the Galactic Republic (while also retroactively laying the groundwork for elements of Heir to the Empire). That novel is no longer canon, but Zahn told us he prefers to operate as if it were. He's making a concerted effort not to retread the same ground as Outbound Flight and to avoid contradicting the events of that novel as much as possible.

So yeah. In Zahn's opinion, Legends Thrawn is Canon Thrawn is Book Thrawn, and there is no difference whatsoever between Thrawns in, say, Outbound Flight, Heir to The Empire, Alliances, and Chaos Rising. I wholeheartedly disagree, but lets move on.

Now that the books are out of the way, its time for Rebels.

In July of 2016, after the trailer announcing Thrawn's canon debut aired, Dave Filoni had the following to say about Thrawn's character in regards to Timothy Zahn:

“I was pretty adamant with a couple of people saying, ‘Listen, we need to have Tim sign off on this. This is kind of a waste of time [otherwise],'” says Filoni. “We, of course, can do what we want with a character that Lucasfilm owns, but without Tim’s okay, what does it mean? That’s not going to be good. Once we had some stuff, we wanted to do what we thought was right and make the character. Then we brought him in. We had the production fully prepared. I said, ‘Look, if there’s something that Tim says that I think is really valuable, even if it changes something dynamically, we need to be ready for that and see what we can do.’ I wanted to make sure we did this right by everybody. We brought him in and we didn’t really tell him why. We just flew him up to Lucasfilm and sat him down in a theater and said, ‘Hey, we’re bringing Thrawn into the show.’ He was like, ‘Wow.’ and I said, ‘Yeah, wow. And I’m going to show him to you right now and you let me know what you think.'”

(Before we continue, keep that first highlighted sentence in mind for future reference. I'm going to come back to that later.)

Fortunately, Timothy Zahn was delighted at the show’s approach to the Empire’s imposing blue-skinned Chiss.

“We showed him some of the scenes with him,” Dave Filoni recalls. “He looked like a kid in a candy store. I think it meant a lot to him not just because it was his character, but because you have to imagine what he went through when it was announced that everything is Legends now, not Expanded Universe. I get that and I’ve always appreciated the work that goes into the Expanded Universe… For Tim, I think it was us saying, ‘No, no, no. We really like your character. We want him to be part of the real thing. The canon universe.'”

So in 2016, before we even saw Thrawn in action beyond a trailer, we were told that Zahn gave the OK, and he was chill with the way Thrawn was created in the show. In 2017, he gave a little more of the background of this process in an interview with FANgirl Blog:

The events of Thrawn dovetail closely with Rebels and shed light on some of Thrawn’s more seemingly surprising actions on the show, like when he appears to lose his temper and yell at Lieutenant Lyste. What was it like to see Thrawn come alive onscreen? Is he how you’ve pictured him in your head?

I don’t see my characters in terms of voice or appearance, but rather as personality or attitude. That said, I very much enjoyed the way the Rebels team brought him to life, in his appearance, voice, and actions.

I also appreciated the freedom I had to tweak certain incidents, such as the one you mentioned, and give additional or alternate explanations for the viewers who may have thought those were somewhat out of character for him.

He doesn't really elaborate on this, but we can assume he had SOME creative input on Thrawn's character, and he was overall pretty happy with the choices made in the show.

But then, we have this from that earlier 2017 the Verge article:

When did you learn that Dave Filoni was intending to bring Thrawn to Rebels, and did you have any input into how the character would be handled?

[...] I didn’t have any real input into how Thrawn was going to be handled, mainly because the lead time of an animated series is so long that much of season 3 had already been finished. But I trusted Dave and the team to do the character right. After all, why bring him into Rebels if you were going to drastically change him? Having seen the entire season now, I think we can agree that my trust was completely justified.

So... he didn't have "any real input," but was satisfied with it in the end? I guess? I don't know. We're getting into some contradictions now.

The last thing I've got in regards to Rebels is an interview Zahn did with the YouTube channel Star Wars Explained after the finale aired, where he responds to the following:

“So, maybe let's jump over to Rebels for a little bit. Now that it has wrapped up, how do you feel Thrawn was represented in Star Wars: Rebels?”

“They did a really good job—they not only understood the character and how to write for him, but they also understood the meta around how you defeat him. The only way to defeat Thrawn is to throw something at him he can't control, or can't anticipate. Given perfect knowledge and control, Thrawn will always find a way to win. But they understood, this is how you defeat him, these are the things we can use against him... so his portrayal in general, is very good; he's smart, he's anticipating, he's a step ahead of everybody, he's looking at clues and picking up on them, so I was very pleased with how the Rebels team handled the character."

I think these quotes answer many of your questions, so to answer your initial question: If Zhan had been the writer for Rebels, do I think he would have had Thrawn bomb Lothal to bring Ezra out?

Yes—but ONLY because at that point, the only established™️ Thrawn content was found in Legends, where Thrawn was a ruthless and calculating warlord.

However!

I do believe that if given the chance to re-write the Star Wars: Rebels finale using his now-canon novels as a solid background TODAY, Zahn would choose to not let Thrawn bombard Lothal's Capital City.

I believe this because he made one single very interesting creative choice when writing Thrawn that completely overwrote Thrawn's pre-established Rebels character: Thrawn was not responsible for the civilian deaths on Batonn—Pryce was.

And that's that on that.

A few months ago I would have ended it there, but today, Thrawn's story is no longer just contained in the novels and Rebels, but also in that of The Mandalorian.

This is where I will proudly say I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Before The Jedi aired, I was 100% sure that the next time we saw Thrawn, it would be nowhere NEAR the Empire, because Zahn was pretty adamant in the novels that Thrawn was only in the Empire to help. His. People.

So now he's apparently doing fuck-knows-what in fuck-knows-where and is STILL associated with the Seventh Fleet and Imperial Warlords???

Huh??? Despite the fact that he held no true loyalty to the Empire or to the Emperor??? It's been months and I'm still confused as fuck. Add to the fact that Zahn also doesn't know what the fuck is going on to the equation and we get a big fat question mark with one pretty clear answer that Filoni said himself that we have to keep in mind:

"We, of course, can do what we want with a character that Lucasfilm owns."

So I don't think Zahn has much control over Thrawn as we would all like to think. We can hope he gives us the crazy Thrawn and Ezra Space Adventure™️ novel all we want, but ultimately, Thrawn's fate does not rest in his hands.

If you guys have more to add please let me know!!! This is, obviously, a topic I am very passionate about, so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#tye answers asks #not the post youre looking for #thrawn #timothy zahn #thrawn trilogy #legends thrawn #star wars #rebels #lothal #star wars rebels #dave filoni #thrawn ascendancy #chaos rising #greater good #thrawn alliances #thrawn treason #thrawn books #wow this took a while #but I like the way this is looking

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shoichee · 3 years

Text

is it alright if i request hcs for midorima introducing his shy g/n s/o to the team (maybe they’re his lucky item for the day? i cant see his tsundere self introducing them volutarily) and midorima is being soft with them cause they’re a bit scared of the team??

I HEAR YA LOUD AND CLEAR, A VERY CUTE REQUEST, i gotchu fam <3

@knb-kreations

Midorima x shy!Reader

[Headcanons]

as a reserved individual himself, Midorima is not one to broadcast his relationship out to everyone, and this sentiment is only stronger when he knows that you’re even more introverted than himself

even so, after dating for a substantial amount of time, he wants to include you into his life and potential dream career in basketball… and that would entail bringing you to meet his inner circle of his friends teammates

the only problem (and the reason why he’s held off in introducing you to them for so long) is that his teammates can be quite rowdy (and have some… unique quirks? but Midorima isn’t really one to talk)… especially that Takao Kazunari

still, he never felt like he had to introduce you to them right away… when the right opportunity will present himself, he’ll do it

besides, you don’t seem in any rush to meet them anytime soon from the way you’d rather prefer spending your time with Midorima alone

well, until one day, the Oha Asa predictions presented that opportunity:

“Today, Cancers are in a unique situation from the rest! It seems like their luck can be quite stagnant or off the charts depending if they have their lucky item for today! Ready to hear it, everyone?! Today’s lucky item for Cancers isn’t a standard one! It may differ for every Cancer, and that’s the beauty of fate!~ Cancers should bring along with them something that they cherish the most! But be careful…! Cancers should also take care in making sure nothing happens to their lucky item today!”

Midorima, in hearing the prediction from his TV, flinches out of surprise, mostly because the first thing that came to his mind after hearing “most cherished” was you

but alas, he’s going to follow fate down to a T, with no exceptions

when he approaches you early morning, he tells you with the straightest face:

“(y/n)-san, according to the Oha Asa, you’re my lucky item today.”

“U-U-Uh… um, is… is that a pick-up line?”

“Hmph! As if I would stoop myself down to Takao’s level. The Oha Asa predicted it so, and I will not take any chances today.”

“Um… what do I have to do then?”

Midorima softens his gaze at you and mumbles, “Nothing really. Just stay by my side for the entirety of today.”

thankfully, today was a Saturday, so at least school wouldn’t be an obstacle between the two of you being separated

so here you are, tagging along with Midorima to do some mundane trips around the neighborhood

Midorima please… this is literally just a date but he refuses to acknowledge it as such

he still had basketball practice that evening though, so by then, it was time for him to go to the gym to start warmups

… but wait, that would mean he’d have to bring you there too…

“Ahem… you…” Midorima clears his throat. “Do you mind just sitting on the benches inside? There’s no need for you to make conversation if you do not wish to do so.”

“O-Of course!” you exclaim. “I… I wanna see you play too… even if it’s just practice, I-I hope your teammates won’t mind?”

“Well I’ll make sure they’ll mind their own business.”

“Would I really bring good luck to you by just sitting and watching you, Shintarou…? It’s hard to believe that the Oha Asa said that I’m… supposedly lucky?”

“The Oha Asa is never wrong,” he says confidently. “Besides, I don’t see it anything but an advantage when I know you’ll be here to provide support in your own way. After all, you do make the most out of your capabilities and do your best, nanodayo…”

Midorima makes sure to enter the gym first, with you tailing behind and taking shelter behind his broad back

even despite that, nothing could prepare you for the chaos inside

a basketball FLEW to you and nearly killed you if it wasn’t for the fact that Midorima easily stopped the ball in its projection

“Fools! Are you ever careful in shooting?!”

“Ah shut it! Not everyone’s like you, Midorima!”

“If you have that much energy complaining, then you have the energy to start warming up, rookie.”

Midorima sighs in response to their comments, but you’re behind him peeking out a bit and then ducking behind his back again when you saw how intimidating they were

“Wh-Whoa!! Shin-chan brought someone over?!”

“What?”

“Where?!”

“The brat brought someone over?!”

Takao immediately skips over to him and you, curiously peeking to see who Midorima, the ever-so serious and hardworking dude, brought to practice; it’s very rare that he’d bring his own Teiko ex-teammates along, let alone anyone unrelated to basketball

“Oh! Aren’t you (y/n)-chan?” Takao asks, tilting his head with a childish wonder

“O-Oh, um…” you reply, darting your eyes to Midorima before continuing. “It’s nice to meet you… I’ve heard a lot about you from Shintarou, Takao-kun.”

Midorima turns red and denies it to his breath as he hounds on Takao as an outlet for his embarrassment

Miyaji and Ōtsubo are peeved but lowkey curious about why Midorima brought you here, so they ask… to which Midorima replies:

“(y/n)-san is my lucky item for today, nanodayo.”

“Captain, can I throw my family’s pineapples at him??”

“Shin-chan, I’d normally laugh, but did you just label a person as an object?” (to which Midorima immediately interjects, “A-Absolutely not!!”)

“Alright, you little shit, you 1st-years are really getting on my nerves right now…”

“W-W-Wait…!” you exclaim, slightly stepping out from behind Midorima’s back. “Please don’t be mad at him… I wanted to watch too…” but when everyone’s attention immediately shoots to you, you squeak and hide behind his back again

from the way you clutch onto Midorima’s shirt from behind, Midorima immediately turns around to you with a soft tone of voice

“Hey, come on now… they’re not bad people, nanodayo. You know I’ll be there by your side if anything happens, (y/n)...”

everyone’s REALLY quiet hearing how Midorima talks to you, and they’re like WTF???? WHERE DID THIS SIDE EVEN COME FROM….?

only when Takao blows a slow whistle to break the silence does everyone break into quiet snickers, ready to make fun of Midorima to death about it

as Midorima gives you a short pat on the head and turns to walk to put down his duffel, all of his teammates follow him to give him those “playful” hits and slaps on the back and arms LMAOO some may have actually knocked his spine out of his body though ngl

you’re just standing there timidly, not knowing what to exactly do next, and Miyaji notices you and approaches you

“Oy,” he says with his usual rough tone of voice. “If you really wanna watch, you can sit over there. Don’t be in the way though.” He points to the specific bench, but softens his usual Spartan-like, harsh frown just a tad bit when he sees you cowering a bit

“Sorry… uh, (l/n)-san, right? Take care of the idiot for us.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Midorima immediately stalks over to the two of you, knowing full well how… scary Miyaji can be, and Miyaji’s frown comes back

“Huh? Nothing for you to be concerned about, rookie.” Miyaji KICKS Midorima to the court to start doing shooting drills and then turns to you like nothing happened

“W-Wait, Shintarou…?”

“He’ll be fine,” he sighs, ruffling his hair. “If he does anything stupid, let one of us know, alright?”

“He’s been, um, good to me.”

and Miyaji gives a little smile for the first time as a stamp of approval, and then he goes back to practice while you lightly skip to the bench… that smile MAY have convinced you that Midorima’s team wasn’t so scary after all

“Sooooo....” Takao says, jabbing Midorima’s ribs. “Your lucky item, eh?”

irk marks appear on Midorima’s head as he prepares to strangle Takao, only to remember you were watching him

“Ahem… (y/n) is my lucky item, regardless of what day or prediction.”

“Eurghh, that’s so sappy, what the fuck—”

“Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Takao.”

the entire team = your personal bodyguards for REAL, and it’s almost scary how every single teammate uses their own “softer” side when talking to you directly like… Midorima is now kinda regretting that he introduced you to them so late? he didn’t know that his teammates would be THAT considerate to you

especially Takao… he’d say a bunch of jokes to get you to laugh but he’d know EXACTLY when to back off and let you chill out??

the upperclassmen would be very polite and soft spoken with you?? like they all have their own respective younger siblings, so they’d definitely treat you like one

Kimura always offers you to taste-test his family’s produce for free, free of charge, zilch, nada

Midorima wonders if they like you better than him (spoiler alert: of course they do)

to get under Midorima’s nerves while you aren’t around, they’d always go, “Bro, where’s your lucky item???” in referring to you LMAOOO (Takao is ESPECIALLY guilty of this)

#submission #kagummypack #knb x reader #knb #knb headcanons #knb headcanon #knb fic #knb fics #knb fluff #midorima x reader #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou x reader #kuroko no basket #shuutoku #shutoku basketball team

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bangtansbun · 4 years

Text

Peaches || Jeongguk

pairing: Jeongguk x f.reader

genre: fluff, smut

summary: you’re in your third year of college, a criminology major and music minor, and you’re still harboring (maybe even nurturing) a crush that you’ve had on a classmate since your first year. You’d seen him around campus, even had gen. eds. with him, but this semester he’s in your chorus class. He’s sat next to you in the tenor section and he just won’t stop calling you “peaches”

word count: 5,239

warnings: slow burn, massive pining crush, perverse thoughts, thigh riding, slight mentions of marking, dirty talk, praise, nipple stimulation, fingering, protected sex, cursing, vague description of squirting, details of JK’s pretty cock, this is kinda soft because he’s a sweet boy

a/n: kadjlaksdjlkj parts of this are literally based off of my high school crush

You’ve finished your first class of the day, Criminal Psychology, and you’re headed to your chorus class now. It’s across campus so you’re moving fast, but also trying to enjoy the walk since it’s flurrying outside and you’re excited for the snowy weather.

You’re hoping you have some good classmates this year, the boys in your Chorus 1 class last year were a nightmare and always pissed off your instructor. You’re okay with a little bit of fun in the class, but not to the point where you’re whipping around in your chair to tell the ignorant boy to “shut the hell up” in front of everyone.

You walk into the room and find your usual seat in the soprano 2 section (even though you knew you many not have that exact seat once your instructor decides where you would blend best). A few of your chorus friends from last year make their way into class too, and you make sure to say hi to all of them.

Then, he walks in.

You’d seen this cutie around campus since last year and had one- no, maybe two gen. ed. classes with him. He had down the goofy, boy-ish charm that had you absolutely swooning and now your heart is starting to thrum in your chest.

He moves to sit in the tenor section which is conveniently placed next to yours. You’re hoping to GOD that you don’t end up sitting directly next to him because there’s no way he won’t notice that your body is already vibrating at a high frequency.

After everyone is accounted for in the class, your instructor begins to ask everyone to go around and introduce them self – your name, major, and preferred section. It moves through the circle and you learn that the cute boy’s name is Jeongguk and he has a smile that’s both sexy and adorable. How does that even work?

It comes around to you and you dutifully answer: y/n, criminology major, and soprano 2. Before the next person can go, Jeongguk looks right at you and says “hey, peaches” with a smirk. His eyes crinkling at the corners, and you realize he’s referring to the peach colored Northface jacket you’re wearing.

Unfortunately, this causes a blush to cover your cheeks, about the same color as your jacket. All eyes on you. You duck your head and give a curt smile, signaling for the next person to go.

Everything else goes smoothly from that point on, that is, until seat placements are made. Of course, as fate would have it, your instructor places you on the edge of your section, right next to Jeongguk. Your voice apparently blends well with his.

You all take your seats and you make sure to hold your breath when he takes his next to you. Immediately, you notice his cologne. Probably Axe Body Spray, but he still smells good nonetheless, and you’re forcefully having to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes into the back of your head. WHAT is wrong with me??

He flashes his charming grin at you as he places his hands on his thighs, rubbing them up and down.

Oh god those thighs-

Stop, stop being such a perv

“’Sup peaches?” You want to be annoyed that he already has a nickname for you, but you can’t help but feel tingly all over when the word graces across his lips. You shake your head slightly, realizing your staring a bit. “Hi, Jeongguk,” you say while avoiding eye-contact now because you don’t know if you’ll be able to break your eyes away from him again. “Ahh, just call me Gguk,” he says this as he ruffles your hair a bit.

Your eyes go wide at the touch, “Oh- I- okay,” is all you can muster, and he chuckles at you. Running his hand through his dark brown hair, “this is gonna be a fun semester, y/n.”

That’s it. You’re dead meat. You won’t make it the whole semester.

Your thoughts the entire rest of the day were filled with his melodic laugh, his enticing voice, his muscular thighs, and the cute dimples that occasionally made an appearance when he blessed you with his bunny-like smile.

You felt like you were back in high school. Who has a crush this intense anymore? It had your hormones racing, images of his large hands on your hips and his pink lips on your neck as you ride his thig- JESUS CHRIST, I think I need church.

You roll over in your twin bed, groaning, and bring your covers up over your head in an attempt to snuff out the fire that was trying to burn its way through you. You needed to go to sleep and focus on the important major classes you would have for the rest of the week (and certainly not about the one other chorus class you would have with a certain flirtatious boy).

The week flew by without a hitch, but then again, it was only syllabus week so you couldn’t really expect it to be too bad anyway. Except, you had one more class with the boy who had you flustered and fumbling over your words after one conversation.

This time you would have a plan. You’d busy yourself by talking to your friends from last semester, some other soprano 2′s that sat in your section, until it comes time to pull out your sheet music. That should work, right?

Well, that’s what you thought anyway. And it had been going to plan, until he tapped you on your shoulder to get your attention. I mean you couldn’t outright ignore him, could you? So, to your dismay, you turn around to take in his light wash jeans and blue turtleneck sweater.

He looked so boyfriend it physically hurt.

He was sitting down in his chair and pointing with his thumb to the big windows behind you, where you could see the snow covered ground and more flakes falling. “Wanna go play with me in the snow?” He had to be kidding right? You couldn’t skip class, but also, why would he want you to go play with him? Out in the snow, that is.

His question had you blinking and stuttering, all while he had a cheeky smile on his face, like he knew what he was doing to you. He just chuckled to himself and turned back in his seat, grabbing his sheet music, and clearly not expecting an answer. What were you supposed to say to that anyway? Holy fuck this boy was wild.

“Gguk is so flirting with you,” you heard from your right side. “Wh-what?” your eyes looking back at your friend. “Oh come on, y/n, you aren’t that dense, are you? Why else would a boy give you a nickname and purposely make you turn into an idiot in his presence?” Oh my god. “Is it that obvious?” You smacked your palm into your forehead. She simply nodded at you, patted your shoulder and wished you luck.

You tried your best to focus on your setlist for the remainder of class, but it was so hard to ignore the handsome boy next to you. His voice was better than anyone else’s you had ever heard before, and he kept running his fingers through his hair. You wanted so badly to be able to run your own hands through his soft brown hair.

Despite his distracting charm, you were able to keep your eyes to yourself (or in the direction of your friends, at least) until class was over. It wasn’t until you were slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making your way toward the hall that he grabbed your elbow. “Peaches, wait,” he sounded out of breath for some reason. You turn around with bambi eyes, not sure what he could possibly want from you.

“Where are you going?” he asks as he falls into an easy stride next to you. “Uh, I have a short break for lunch before my next class.” He nods and continues to walk next to you. “What’re you doing?” you ask him pointedly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m walking you to lunch.” You blinked at him, confusion painting your face. “Wh- why?” you’ve stopped walking now. “You’re cute,” he chuckles, putting his hands into his pockets and starting to walk in the direction of the dining hall.

You start to walk with him again, “we’re friends, aren’t we? I didn’t think it’d be a problem for me to walk you to the dining hall on my way to class.” Your cheeks start to burn, you feel bad that that you had given him that impression. You were just so confused as to why he was taking such an interest in you. “N-no it’s okay,” but by the time you give this answer, you’re already there and he’s turning slightly to head toward his class. “I’ll see you next week, peaches,” he shouts to you, giving you a wink, and his milliwatt smile.

The first half of your semester went by faster than you thought it would, and you had actually managed to stop feeling like a moron around Gguk (most of the time). You and him had gotten into a rhythm, you guys talked to each other in class - sometimes he’d flirt and make you laugh, he’d walk you to the dining hall, and occasionally you would meet up to hang out with him outside of class.

However, that didn’t mean you didn’t still have a raging crush on him that made your mind feel hazy and send heat through your whole body. This much was evident when he decided to skip his class one day and join your for lunch.

You both had opted for grilled chicken and french fries because your dining hall sucks and that was the safest option. The two of you fell into easy conversation with the occasional comfortable silence. He talked about his classes and how in his free time he’s been working on a mixtape. “I mean I figured you liked music considering you’re in chorus with me, but I didn’t know you were that into it!” He gives you a dimpled bunny smile and nods his head a bit, “yeah, maybe you could come over and listen to my stuff sometime.”

There’s a slight blush to his cheeks that you’ve not seen before. If you had to guess, you’re probably the first girl he’s ever offered to share his own music with. So, you take the opportunity to be bold while his coquettish demeanor is wavering.

“Oh, so would that be, like, our second date then?” You take a sip of your water, sneaking a glance over the cup to see the doe-eyed expression he’s giving you now. His mouth bobbed a bit like a fish’s before he managed to get words out, “did I miss our first date?” You giggle at how taken aback he seems to be. “Well, you went through all this effort to skip class and eat lunch with me,” you say with a lilt in your voice. “Oh please, peaches. You call this effort? I’d do way more than just this.”

Now it’s your turn to blush. Your boldness gone the second he calls you by the affectionate name. “Is this your way of trying to get me to take you out?” He asks this question with his tongue poking into his cheek, eyebrows cocked. “N-no!! I was just messing with you!” He grabs your plate, along with his, as you both get up to exit the dining hall. “To late now, I’ll text you when I’ve got it all planned out.” He winks at you as he puts the dishes on the conveyor belt and exits the building with a wave. Fuck.

New Message From Gguk:

[3:04pm] be ready tonight around 7:30

To Gguk:

[3:07pm] tonight?? where are you taking me?

From Gguk:

[3:09pm] don’t worry about it. just wear something casual

To Gguk:

[3:10pm] ugh you’re infuriating, but okay.

[3:12pm] you’re not gonna murder me in some back alley are you?

[3:13pm] omg you are aren’t you??

From Gguk:

[3:14pm] y/n.. our campus is huge with many secluded areas. if I wanted to murder you I would have done it by now

To Gguk:

[3:15pm] and yet somehow that answer isn’t reassuring at all. I’ll be ready by 7:30

Okay, so this was a bit short notice considering he only told you roughly 4 hours ahead of time, but he said to wear something casual so that should be plenty of time, right?

You decide to focus back onto your homework for the next hour or so. You’re able to do that for about 30 minutes but then you start thinking. I haven’t shaved my legs in over a week. He said casual but I should still look casually cute. What am I supposed to do with my hair now that the humidity is back?? Panic. Panic is setting in.

You slam shut your textbook and notes, and start to make your way to your dorm room. Once you’re there you begin to rummage through your closet and dresser drawers. The flinging of clothes and 45 minutes later, you finally settle on a pair of black ripped jeans, a flowy, strappy white top, and some white converse.

2 hours and 30 minutes left.

You didn’t think it would, but it did in fact take you that entire two and a half hours to finish getting ready, but you were pleased with the way you looked. This was more effort than you usually put in considering no one ever looks nice when they have 8:00am classes.

You also didn’t think you’d be phased by seeing Jeongguk dressed ready for a date because he always looked good, but the second you laid eyes on him, in his light wash ripped denim, black tee, leather jacket, and matching bucket hat, you knew you were a goner.

“You know it’s not polite to stare with a gaping mouth right?” he asks as he uses his index finger to gently push your chin up, closing your mouth for you. “I- I’m sorry. You look great, Gguk,” you say as you look down at your feet. You’re avoiding eye contact now since he caught you ogling him. “You look great too, y/n. I like your converse, a nice touch!” he says in that smooth and charming way he has about him. With that, he grabs your hand and leads you to his car to drive you off to god-knows-where.

Much to your surprise, he takes you to the local town fair. You’d never really participated in these types of things before because you had this ideal (probably from watching The Notebook one too many times) that fairs were romantic and meant for couples only.

However, you both had an incredible night, despite your reservations. He bought you cotton candy to share, you rode the ferris wheel together (sans hanging off the edge of it), scared each other in the fun house, and he even won you a stuffed teddy. It occurred to you that you hadn’t had this much fun in a while, and certainly not with a boy since you started college. He made you laugh, held your hand, and paid attention to you. It all felt a bit like a dream, what with all the pretty colors and twinkling lights around you.

You felt kind of sad that the date was ending as he drove you both back to campus. This date had allowed your crush to bloom into actual feelings and you were starting to worry about the days following. Would everything just go back to the way it was? Would he pretend like the date hadn’t happened? Did he even like you like that?

Luckily for you, you weren’t able to ruminate for too long on those negative thoughts because the car had come to a halt and you were suddenly back on campus. “You’ve been kind of quiet since we left the fair. What’re you thinking in there?” he pokes at your head for emphasis. “Oh, nothing! I had a really great time tonight,” you’re hoping you sound convincing enough so he doesn’t pry his way into your private thoughts. “Well, the night doesn’t have to end yet. We can hang out in my room for a bit if you want? My roommate is never here on the weekends, so the awkwardness of him being there is eliminated.”

Stunned. Yup, that would be an accurate word for what you felt in that moment.

“You’re gaping again, peaches. Am I going to have to be the one to teach you some manners?” He tsks at you and shakes his head, but there’s a smirk on his face. There’s also a darkness to his eyes. One that sends heat right to your core, and has you nodding your head to him in an instant. Your head feels cloudy as you walk to his dorm room, hand-in-hand, as if you’re caught under his spell again.

Once you’re there, the spell seems to drop and your nervousness is back. The room is dark, except for the soft glow of a lamp on his desk that he’s turned on. “I know you said we’d do this on our second date, but I figured we could merge the two,” he says handing you a set of headphones. Broken from your worried state, you realize he’s about to show you his music. The folder is labeled “JJK1″ and his angelic voice starts to flow into your ears, overwhelming your senses.

He’s singing in a lower register, the words feel emotional and meaningful. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. You look up at him and he’s not making eye contact with you, “this is amazing, Gguk.” You both listen for another minute or two before he hits pause and finally looks back at you. “Seriously, your music is so good.” You set the headphones back on their display and he does the same. “You really think so?” You nod, and there’s a shift in the air.

You’re both staring into each other’s eyes, then his own flicker down to your lips briefly. You’re starting to feel squirmy under his gaze, and you move to look away. To say something dumb about how his room is tidier than you thought it would be, but he’s quicker than you, grabbing your jaw to turn your head back and plant his soft, pink lips onto yours.

There’s tingles all over your body the second his lips are moving with yours. He’s careful with you as he brings a hand up to cup your neck. It feels like he’s scared to break you, but at the same time you can feel a sense of urgency lingering behind his tongue. You suppose this whole semester has built up the anticipation of this very moment. You don’t want him to be careful though, you’ve been waiting for this moment the second he walked into your chorus class.

Lips never leaving yours, he slowly walks you over to his bed. He sits on the edge of it and pulls you into his lap. With the tilt of his head he’s deepening the kiss. His tongue skating across your lips, asking for entrance, to which you gladly give him. His expert tongue maps the inside of your mouth as you’re moaning into his own.

Taking that as a good sign, he runs his large hands over your hips, landing with a firm grip on your ass. He squeezes your flesh, effectively causing some friction between you and his thighs. That has you moaning again. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you’d thought of being in this position. The chance to ride his thick, muscular thighs to heaven and back. You were growing wet just at the thought of it.

“Is this okay?” he asks even though he can probably tell that what he’s doing is very okay. You nod eagerly and make a sound close to mhm to indicate that you don’t want this to stop. The second you give him the okay to continue, his lips are back on yours and he uses his hands to rock you back and forth on his thigh. Even through your jeans, the friction feels electrifying. It appears he feels the same way considering his growing length in his own jeans, creating an obvious tent.

You break from kissing to let out a series of whimpers and groans from the heat that is building up inside of you. You head lolling back to allow Gguk the opportunity to lick a stripe up your neck to your jaw. Nipping and sucking at you every now and then. Everything feels too good. It’s all so surreal considering you’ve been pining for him for so long.

“You look so pretty riding my thigh like that,” he says in between planting kisses along your collarbone. “I’ve caught you checking me out before, I bet you’ve wanted this since the first time I sat next to you.” Now he’s lifting your shirt over your head, exposing your light gray mesh bralette to him.

Your hips never ceasing their movement, he brings his mouth down to your mesh covered nipple and laves his tongue over it. He notices your sharp intake of breath and a barely there fuck coming from you. “I love how sensitive you are to everything,” he sucks the nipple into his mouth for a moment before he makes his way over to the other one. This time he moves the bralette to the side so you can feel the full effect of his tongue. He rotates between swirling and gently flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

It’s now very clear to you that the heat inside of you will be coming to a head soon if he continues. He’s very much able to pick up on your impending climax, so he takes the nipple into his mouth and begins to suck, all the while holding you down harder on his thigh as he rocks you back and forth. “Shit, I- I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” you say breathlessly. “Now why would I want to do that, peaches?” his mouth now moving back to suck on the other nipple. He breaks away with a wet *pop* and brings a hand down to smack your ass. “Come on, I know you can come like this. Come all over my thigh like the good little girl I know you are.”

Your hair is starting to stick to you a little, sweaty from the exertion used to keep up the hard pace. The string inside of you is ready to snap any second. “Please, please, Gguk,” you whine to him, hoping he understands what you need. With both hands firmly in place on your ass, he sets a deadly pace and a flex of his muscle to cause the friction to burn straight to your slick core. You’re moaning his full name now as you feel yourself come undone around his thigh. Pulsing against him, your head slack on his shoulder, and your hips slowing down to ride out your orgasm. “Such pretty sounds when you come for me. I want to hear it again,” he says as he leaves sweet kisses on your lips.

He moves you from his lap to his bed, helping you out of your skinny jeans because your legs are aching now and you can’t find the energy to do it yourself. He takes in your form and the matching light gray mesh thong you’re wearing. “Were you hoping for this, baby? It’s okay if you were, I was hoping for it too.” You don’t know how you got to this place, but you were thanking whatever god it was that blessed you with this much luck.

Within moments, he’s undressed himself and you hear a wrapper crinkling over by his desk where he’s standing. He climbs back onto the bed and hovers over top of you. “You still doing okay?” he’s more considerate than you would have imagined a guy with his good looks would be, but you’re grateful for it. You smile at him and tilt your head up to kiss his lips and then his cheek. “God, look at you,” he says as he sits back on his heels, admiring the girl in front of him.

He bends down to press kisses into your inner thigh, bringing two fingers to hook into the waist band of your thong and tug it down. He can see a string of your wetness stretch between you and your thong before it breaks when he brings his fingers to your slit. A drawn out moan leaves your mouth, his fingers feel so good now that they’re finally where you need them. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”

He presses two fingers into you and they slide in with ease considering you’ve already finished once before. He uses his other hand to rub soft circles into your clit. Your breathing is becoming heavier now and you desperately want to feel his thick length inside of you. You can see his cock twitch at the sounds you make. It’s veiny and so so pink at the tip, no doubt leaking with precum. You’d be willing to bet anything that you’ll feel so full with him inside of you.

As if to read your mind, he pushes a third finger inside. “You ready, baby? I don’t know how much longer I can wait to feel you around my cock.” His words have you keening and moving your hips in time with his fingers. His other hand now moves from your clit to his length, rubbing up and down before he teasingly slaps it against your core a few times, causing you to bite harshly into your lip.

But then he’s pushing it in and you swear you see stars. He moves your legs so your thighs are against your chest now. “Ohhhhh my god,” you whine out to him as he bottoms out inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so tight, y/n.” He stills for a moment to allow you to adjust, but then he begins to move languidly. Thrusting ever so gently against that sensitive spot inside of you due to the position.

He leans down all the way to plant kisses along your chest, up your collarbone, and onto your neck. Lazy licks causing your heart to beat rapidly and moans escape your lips. His thrusts become rougher with each passing second, still never missing that signature spot inside of you, and it’s mind numbing.

He brings a hand down to your clit to rub figure eights into the bundle of nerves. “Please, d- don’t stop,” he grunts at the neediness he can hear in your voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’ll make sure you feel good,” He punctuates this with a particularly hard thrust into you and you let out a loud moan, curses following behind.

You’re so wet now and all you can think about is how good it feels to have him inside of you. You never want to let go of the feeling of his strong hands on you, sweat occasionally dripping from his hair, and his cock pounding into you. His first time fucking you and he already seems to know exactly what you like. Knowing not to rub your clit too much because it’s extra sensitive, that grabbing your ass will have your walls clenching around him, and kissing your neck leads to you mewling his name. All of this, in turn, causing him to feel rock hard, ready to burst his load any second.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Taking me so well and ready to come for me again,” he says this as he slows his pace down a bit. He wants you to feel every inch of him, savor the feeling, because soon enough he’s going to have both of you falling apart. He lets one of your thighs down and grabs onto the other, using it as an anchor. “God, you feel so good around me. Come again for me, baby. I wanna see your face this time while you cream my cock for everything it’s worth.

With his thumb on your clit and his words stuck in your head, you’re all of about two seconds away from losing yourself on him. He picks up his pace again, slamming into you over and over and over again until you can’t take it anymore. Juices gush out of you as you practically scream, complete and total ecstasy taking over your body. “That’s it, such a good girl coming for me again,” he says as he helps you ride through your second orgasm of the night.

“Jesus, y/n, you got.. so.. wet,” his thrusts growing sloppy now. His bottom lip is sucked between his teeth and his brown eyes are filled with need. He quickly pulls out, rips the condom off, and pumps himself just briefly before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. A slur of curses and your name leaving his mouth. Rope after rope of the white liquid coating you, his own personal masterpiece laid out in front of him.

When he’s finally finished, he falls back onto his heels, head lolling as he tries to steady his breathing. You think he looks so good fucked out. You could look at him like this for the rest of your life. Then again, you could look at him in any state for the rest of your life. This was a three year long crush (turned into feelings) in the making, after all.

“You look so perfect like this,” he says as he takes in your state. Sweat glistening on your skin, lips swollen and red, and his cum painted on your stomach. “Hold on, I’ll get something for you,” he says before he gets up to go discard the condom and grab a towel. He helps clean you both up and hands you a sweatshirt of his. “It’s pretty late now, you can spend the night if you want and wear that so you’re more comfortable. I’ll turn on a show or something for us.” He changes the sheets on his bed while you change and throw your hair up into a messy bun, ready for bed now.

You both settle into the now clean bed and he turns on New Girl. You curl up next to him, head resting on his taut chest and a leg slung over his. “So I know we just had our first and second date, but does this count as our third?” he says in a joking tone, and even though you can’t see him, you can tell he’s smiling. “I dunno, does that mean we’ll have a fourth?” He chuckles at you and kisses the top of your head, “anything you want, peaches.”

You had worried at the beginning of the semester that Gguk would flirt and taunt you endlessly and with no real reward, but you were wonderfully wrong. You were also pretty sure that this was just the beginning and that thought has butterflies swimming inside of you. This charming boy had you wrapped around his finger, and unbeknownst to you, you had him wrapped around yours.

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sodadrabbles · 3 years

Note

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth.

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine.

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back.

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team.

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #request #anon #cc!ranboo x reader #cc!ranboo x you #cc!ranboo x y/n

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sugako · 3 years

Text

cold, cold, cold

pairing: timeskip!tsukki x gn!reader summary: there’s a little too much tension between you and your annoying co-worker at the museum after hours warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, semi-public (no one sees), light degradation (very soft imo), quickie a/n: psa do not fuck in a museum.. as someone who has worked in multiple museums i feel need to say this,, also yes, ‘sherd’ is a word

Tsukishima was always around. Not that it was difficult working at a relatively small place. Something about him bothered you, but you couldn’t really figure it out. Maybe it was how he always seemed to sneer at you, or how he commented on your taste in music any time he stuck his head in your office, or how he never seemed to be in a truly pleasant mood.

At first, you had even thought he was kind of cute albeit a bit awkward. Then you realized he was just selective and a bit haughty. You couldn’t help but think it had to be a front. He was never outright mean to you, although he certainly didn’t stop himself from criticizing you. Much to your dismay, his criticism were generally valid.

You tried to ignore your own mixed emotions and confusion as you sat in the back of the frigid storage room gently dry brushing a sherd of Hagi ware from some long forgotten collection that had been neglected.

“Oh, you’re still here.” His deadpan voice struck some fiery chord in your heart, but you simply glanced up. “Everyone else left.”

“Yeah, I got caught up cleaning these.” You groan as you stretch back in your seat, bones creaking from having been hunched over for so long. “Why are you still here?”

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted the stack of papers and bag in his hands and sauntered toward you.

“An interesting song choice. You shouldn’t listen to music while you work, you know.”

You groaned quietly at his condescending attitude as you began shuffling the small piece back into its bag with its museum tag and a little info-note you had written for reference. He set his bag and papers on the table with a small thud.

“I’m allowed to listen to music. Besides, you do it all the time.”

“You’re allowed, but you shouldn’t listen to such bad music.” He chuckled, snatching your phone of the edge of the work table before you could react. As fast as you could, you jogged over to the sink to give your dust stained hands a quick rinse. With an overly contented sigh, he pressed the pause button. “Isn’t that better?”

You expectantly held out your hand. “Tsukishima.” You said sharply.

He cocked an eyebrow, but your angry expression only seemed to egg him on. With a wicked grin he held the phone up beside his head.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“Tsukishima,” you urged, “we’re not playing this game.” This was embarrassing, but you couldn’t figure out for you or him. “We’re not ten, just give me it back.”

“If you agree to listen to better music.”

You wanted so badly to wipe the stupid smirk off his face, but deep inside you felt there was something a little alluring about it. Even if this situation was laughable at best. Sighing dramatically, you reached up for your phone. “Depends on what you think is ‘better’ music.” Standing up and straining your arm, you didn’t even notice how close you had gotten or how close your foot was too a loose power cord on the ground.

He hadn’t been entirely steady in his stance, so when you came crashing into him, he went down hard into the cool concrete floor taking you with him. His hand that wasn’t clutching your sleeve was still miraculously clutching your phone. You wrapped your legs under his to trap him and clawed for your phone.

“Stop, this is ridiculous!” You whined, tugging against his iron grip.

“You pushed me over. You never look where you’re going.” He quipped back.

“I only ran into you that one time because you’re so freakishly tall!”

“You ran into me twice! Apparently you can’t count either.”

“Who cares?!”

“The curator should. If you can’t count to two, how can you count artifacts?”

“What are you even... just shut up, you’re always so-!”

The grip his fingers had slipped up a little and your ass flew back into his hips. Hard. When you shifted a little in an attempt to free your limbs from him, you felt it. His long cocking pressing sharply into your thigh.

You gasp and flinch just enough that he notices. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open as he goes to apologize, desperately trying to get out from under you.

“This is what does it for you?” Your whisper is half full of wonder and half full of disgust. And he loves it.

“N-no, you were just moving around so much. That doesn’t mean...” A deep blush lit up his cheeks as he attempted to sputter out some coherent set of words.

You held back a chuckle as you sat back and stood. When you stuck out a hand for him to lift himself, he graciously took it, not meeting your eyes.

“I’m just messing with you.” He doesn’t trust the smile on your face though. “But if you wanted to fuck me you should’ve just asked instead of acting like an insolent child.”

Your hand tightened around his, keeping him locked close to you.

“I was not acting like an insolent child.” He mumbled, though he made no attempt to move back from you. The look splayed across your face was far from joking.

You didn’t know what you were doing. The phone thing had been annoying and embarrassing, but when you felt him harden up under you just from a little struggling and mean words it was like a switch flipped. You finally realized why you were so frustrated with him.

“That sounds like something an insolent child would say.” You breathe, maneuvering your fingers around so they were intertwined with his. His soft, shocked expression morphed as he made up his own mind about the situation.

“You want to fuck me so bad.” He chuckled, an overpowering look gracing his features.

You set your phone on the counter behind you and rolled your eyes.

“You can’t stand to not be in charge, can you?” You took his other, very pliant, hand into your own.

“I don’t care about being in charge when I know I’m right.” He said lowly, leaning into you.

“Mhmm,” you humored him, leaning in as well.

Before you could blink, a sloppy clacking of teeth and tongues knocked you back. Tsukishima grabbed your cheeks roughly. You clutched around his slender waist and pulled him into you. His hard cock strained against your front.

Normally so put together, his actions were so hurriedly messy now that he had you in his arms. Despite the fact that you didn't seem to get his humor or appreciate his critiques, he had found himself drawn to you from the day he saw you.

You brushed your fingers up his figure and into his light curls. The rugged tugs on his scalp make him moan into your mouth. His vibrations filled you with a sweet warmth, making you press even closer to him.

Finally, you tore him away by the back of his head. Panting unevenly, you struggled to get the words out. "Want you to fuck me." You breathed hotly into his ear.

"Here?" His condescending tone was marred by his shaking breath. "What a slutty thing to beg for."

"I-I'm not begging for anything." You growled, palming him roughly through his pants.

"So you don't want my cock, then?" His hands grabbed your ass and pushed you back just a few centimeters. "Is that why you look so desperate?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone who got hard over a little tug-of-war." You didn't move your eyes away from his as you unhooked his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

"I wish you would talk less." He groaned and tore himself away from you.

"Excuse me?" You were slumped against the empty counter behind you, incredulous as he rooted through his bag.

"Shut up," his eye roll was almost audible when he stood back and up and turned to you again. He held a little foil package in one hand, smirking. "Turn around and bend over."

The small urge you had to argue was strong, but the sight of his long cock weeping through his powder blue briefs was enough to make you easily comply. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat you clutched onto the edge of the freezing counter.

"Good." He hummed as he came up behind you. His fingers worked around your front to unbutton and rip your pants down. You craned your neck over your shoulder as he carefully opened the condom package and eased it over his long cock.

Shuddering, you relaxed toward the counter. His foot kicked between yours, spreading your legs wider. He watched with pure bliss as your hungry little hole clenched around nothing.

"Just fuck me already." You whined. Not being able to see him or what he was doing was creating a delightful mix of nervousness and excitement in the pit of your stomach.

"Well, I can't say no when you beg like that." He cooed into your ear. As you jumped back in surprise, he quickly slipped his thick cock head just past your entrance. You yelped at the sudden intrusion and tried your best to relax. "Sure you can take me?" He said lowly as he massaged your sides.

You scoffed. "Don't be so full of yourself."

"Alright then..."

In one smooth movement he bottomed out inside of you. As you screamed in both pleasure and dull pain, he clamped a hand over your mouth.

"You take me pretty well and I haven't even really touched you."

You muttered some agreement into his palm. Moving his hand away, he soothingly kneaded his fingers into your lower back, urging you to relax around him.

"Tell me when you can really take me."

"Please," you whined quietly, "move, please..."

He wanted to tell you to speak up, fluster you more than you already were, tease you until you couldn't form a sentence. But here and now wasn't the time or place. So instead, he started moving just as you had pleaded.

You cried out, desperately trying to quiet yourself although there was no one else there except the two of you, as he plunged in and out of your pulsing hole. Even though his strokes were fast and hard you could feel every inch, every vein and ridge. His little moans and gasps drew you closer and closer to the edge, but it wasn't enough.

With your hands trapped between your chest and the counter, you couldn't even move them to relieve yourself. Lost in your own pleasure, you barely noticed how your hips pushed back to meet his as he pounded into you.

"You're so good, please, fuck..." You babbled on.

Your little praises sent him over the edge. With your sweet encouraging, he sloppily thrusted into you, fingers digging deep bruises into your hips as he finally emptied himself into you. The syrupy pitched moan that left his throat made you shiver under him.

He slumped over you for a minute, holding you close. Finally, he pulled away, carefully pulling the condom off and neatly tying it up before tossing it into a nearby trash bin. With unsteady legs you pulled yourself and your pants up. By the time you turned around he already looked completely put back together as if he hadn't been mercilessly pounding into you a minute ago.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you didn't quite meet his eyes. "I didn't-"

"Come home with me."

"What?"

"I know you didn't cum, so if you want to you can come home with me and we can finish."

You couldn't help but smile at the blush that graced his cheeks. Trying your best to walk confidently on unsteady feet, you strode up to him and gave him a small kiss on the side of his lips.

"Let's go then."

#tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukki smut

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definitelynotsuzumi · 3 years

Text

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this.

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.” Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you.

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed.

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast.

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you.

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue.

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground.

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you.

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again.

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass.

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place.

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me.

Your heart was beating fast.

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself.

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #readerinsert #fanfiction #childe x reader #genshin x reader

309 notes · View notes

quokkacore · 3 years

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday.

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00.

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak.

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid.

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me.

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range.

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life.

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly.

[7:57 AM]

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took.

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School.

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.”

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation.

A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.”

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement.

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.”

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon.

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking.

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored.

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him.

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front.

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since.

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her.

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today.

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark, Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken.

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.”

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club.

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you.

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice.

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?”

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled.

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately.

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?”

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?”

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’.

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch.

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy.

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time.

Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord.

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends.

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?"

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!”

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months.

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung.

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung.

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history.

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since.

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything.

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration.

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to.

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel.

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face.

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also.

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college.

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing.

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!”

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss.

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either.

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only.

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters.

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked.

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—”

The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit.

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here."

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things.

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious.

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things.

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed.

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?”

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!”

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.”

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?”

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.”

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out.

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry."

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me."

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change."

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult. You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?"

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year."

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal."

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist.

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether.

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly.

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

“Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.”

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them.

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was.

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before.

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him.

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered.

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came.

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground.

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!”

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths.

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault.

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station.

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could.

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up.

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

#kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct x reader #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct au #jeno au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #my writing

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

Text

Here’s my first crack at some Donna x pre-transitioned ftm!reader content to get the ball rolling with her reaction to you coming out, and I do warn you, this is me answering asks before having a chance to buy and play the game myself (I like hard copies sue me) so some things might not be right or ooc, like the fact I have Angie refer to Donna as her “mom” *shrug*

TW: mentioning of slight dysphoria

Make Me Feel Alive

The fog that acted as a fine layer that obscured the vision of the ground perfectly reflected the gloomy ache that lodged itself painfully in your chest, nearly making it impossible to breathe past. Your forehead lightly rested against the cool windowpane as you stared unseeingly out into the misty valley below. You weren’t feeling very comfortable today and you couldn’t stand to look at your reflection. It had your smile feeling forced and it didn’t feel right on your face at all.

You couldn’t slip, not in front of Donna, not when you feared what she would think of you. When you first had been sent to Donna as punishment straight from the hand of Mother Miranda, she had been cold and distant, as if your presence wasn’t appreciated nor was it a nuisance; she just... didn’t really acknowledge you at all as you tended to House Beneviento. That left one other... source of company for you to get acquainted with in her noticeable absence.

You shuddered at the thought of Angie finding out that you didn’t feel “normal”, and the onslaught that you would endure for it. The doll seemed to always be attached to your leg, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren’t certain of yet. The little thing seemed obsessed with you, and Donna was quick to notice that fact. Now, you had her full attention.

“Angie does not grow attached to guests... and yet...”

It was the first words she had uttered to you since she had first introduced herself, and it caught you off guard as you were so absorbed in dusting the paintings decorating the walls. You whirled around on your heel, heart pounding rapidly against your rib cage, feeling too light for comfort. You were met with no expression as she wore her veil, and you never wanted to read her more.

“She whispers... things to me.” You admitted uncertainly, unsure if your definitions of “getting attached” were the same. “Frightening things sometimes,”

“You are still here, are you not?” countered Donna. “I have not warned her any of harm befalling you.”

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat that formed at her words. Now you were well aware that you were free game running around the House, and away from Angie. Should you feel lucky? Because you’re starting to feel nothing at all.

“I don’t know why she... likes me.” You forced out, unsure of what answer Donna was seeking from you.

“Interesting...” was all she said before she turned away from you and left you standing there with a duster in hand.

You blinked away the memory of the first time you and Donna had a semi-conversation, and you considered that to be the turning point of your relationship. Especially when Angie was muttering the next day, something about “Why am I forbidden now?” and it had your lips curved into an unexpected smile that you couldn’t permanently shake for the rest of the day.

As the days bled into nights and as the weeks flew to months, there was a bond between the two of you that threatened to expand and force itself to be the only thing your mind was capable of comprehending. There was something melancholic about the air that always surrounded Donna and over time, it began pulling at your heartstrings that this soft heart had been so hurt in some way that she couldn’t even face the world without her veil, and you were determined to figure out the mystery of everything about her.

And that made it so easy to put aside your own insecurities and discomforts with your body for the sake of putting Donna’s needs above your own. You cooked for her, you cleaned for her, you did the house and yard maintenance for her. You made sure she had nothing else to do but to focus on what she loved — puppeteering. At first she had offered you no indication that she noticed or appreciated your effort in taking care of her, but then it started with a gentle caress of her finger over yours when you had handed her a cup one day. You couldn’t stop staring at her hands that day, and thinking of what they were capable of.

Even Angie’s bizarrely threatening comments had cooled to mere teasing and dark humor. Though she was still attached to your leg quite literally. The doll took every opportunity she could to curl herself around your leg and thigh, enjoying the ride as you continued on while occasionally glancing down at her giggling form. Even so, being as civil and calm as you and Angie were now, you still weren’t comfortable with the doll and her loose mouth knowing your secret and spreading it to the woman you-

Served. And that was all you would allow yourself even in your head. It was too painful to dream of scenarios where Donna felt the same fluttering in her stomach as you did, just to return to reality with the constriction of your chest; It was too painful to subconsciously trick yourself with hope. So, you decided to numb yourself from feeling anything completely as you tended to your duties around Donna’s home. You didn’t even bother with mindless chitchat with the veiled woman anymore when you presented her with her sustenance, and not once did you catch the furrow of her brow when you started taking your leave without a word, not when she concealed everything from you and everyone else.

You blinked past your blurry vision and saw the fog thickening until it blanketed the entire valley, even up the stumps of the trees. The small part of your forehead that was still resting against the windowpane had gone numb from the prolonged exposure to the chill of the glass. A sigh couldn’t help but find its way out of your throat, and it fogged up your view of the outside. You were contemplating reaching a finger out to draw a frowning face in the condensation, but a solid form collided with your leg and plopped itself down onto your right foot. You didn’t even have to look down.

“Hello, Angie,” you greeted monotonously, not in the mood to act overly friendly with the doll.

“What’s your problem?” demanded Angie, but you knew she wouldn’t have even asked if she wasn’t interested in what had you sour.

“Nothing,” you whispered, offering her a smile that barely lifted one corner of your mouth.

“Even my mom has noticed,” spoke Angie matter-of-factly, and you knew she felt you stiffen. “You don’t like that, huh?”

“What’re you talking about?” You cursed the way your voice trembled, but the doll relished in it.

“You’ve been distant, she says, and she wants to know why.” drawled Angie, gazing up at you as her hold on your leg tightened.

You nearly found yourself arguing with this doll, but you bit back any remarks of denial that danced so tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue, ready to take the plummet. You sighed heavily yet again as unbidden tears pricked the corners of your eyes at the mentioning of your behavior, and what was causing it by extension. You couldn’t tell her even if you wanted to, not past the weight that suddenly found itself stuck inside of your chest. Angie vehemently shook at your leg.

“Well?”

“Angie,” came a sharp voice, effectively cutting off your lack of response. “That will be all.”

Your neck almost could’ve broke with how quick your head snapped over to face Donna. She still had her veil on, but there was tension in her shoulders as she scolded the doll. Angie did the best she could about looking chastised as she scurried away from you and down the hall, not even seeking the comfort of her mother at the moment. So that left the two of you to stand there in uncomfortable silence until someone decided to break it, and you decided that that was not going to be you.

You couldn’t tell if you felt relieved or if you felt disappointed when Donna paused for a moment before turning on her heel and walked gracefully away from you and down the hall. You released a shaky breath and wasn’t sure why your eyes felt as wet as they did when you watched her go without a word, without any care. You squeezed them tightly shut, hoping against odds that it would dispel the tears lining them, and when you opened them again, you saw Donna standing still and looking back over her shoulder at you.

“Would you please follow me?” asked Donna, and you were surprised by how much of a genuine, nervous question it was rather than a demand that she could rightfully give.

“I- sure, I mean yes!” You stammered over yourself, unsure and nearly afraid, but your shaky legs took you forward one step at a time, and this time, Donna waited for you to fall into step with her.

“You seem tense,” Donna mused without looking over at you, and for once, you wished you had your own veil to shield yourself with once you decided that prolonging the inevitable would do no good.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, eyes turning downcast, and even you weren’t sure as to why you were apologizing.

“Are you alright, honey?”

The name at the end coupled with the concern you could hear in her voice had you looking right back up at her, and this time you could tell she was observing every part of your face, almost as if she were checking for the lie coming. It was too much to explain to her, too much at one time and you found it would be a lot easier to shut down and give generic, albeit hollow responses until she left you alone with yourself.

But what if? What if Donna made it easy enough to let your tongue slip and unleash it all as if it were nothing at all? You couldn’t see her reaction, and that alone, the slightest of hesitations, had your lungs seizing as you gazed right at her veil-covered face. What if she laughed at you? What if she called you unnatural? What if she banished you altogether? And that was how the cons had outweighed the pros, but now you’ve hesitated too long and Donna turned her body to fully face you.

“Will you make it just a little bit further? My bedroom is close by.” she said softly, her hand reaching out to you, and you took it, and for a moment it didn’t feel right in yours, but you shook the thought away, nearly grateful just to hold her hand.

You nodded your head, and the walk passed you by in a blur, one foot guiding you at a time as your thoughts battled for dominance and left you in the whirlwind. Donna pushed her bedroom door open and one thought that did take purchase of your mind was “Oh my god, she has me in her bedroom” and it offered you an anchor to latch onto instead of focusing on the care and affection you’ve grown to feel for Donna or the way your body felt too curved, too exposed, too wrong. Donna perched herself in the chair that she had in her room, and held her hand out to signal for you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t talk much anymore.” Donna stated simply, and you made a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat. “Hm.”

“I’m-”

“Sorry,” interrupted Donna, and you could hear something coloring her tone. “Why? What do you keep apologizing for?”

“Nothing,” you shrug before looking down at your lap. “And a lot of things,”

“You are so very helpful, dear.” Donna quipped, and for some reason, it gave you the flash of irritation that you needed to get the ball rolling.

“Well maybe I don’t trust you!” You snapped, aware that you shouldn’t be saying it, but unable to prevent it from coming out, and you really regretted it when you heard a small intake of breath.

“Have I proven myself disloyal to you in some way?” spat Donna, her voice suddenly cold, and it had the fight leaving your body, and leaving you exhausted.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” You whimpered, hanging your head as it was too much energy to hold it up. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“I...”

The words died in Donna’s throat as she sat perfectly still in her seat. Her defensive attitude was instantly replaced with worry and confusion, and it had her momentarily thrown. She watched your body tremble with every labored breath you exhaled and after the third inhale, she was on her feet and sitting by your side on the edge of the bed. She took your hand and ran her thumb across your knuckles reassuringly.

“I could never hate you, and I would never make fun of you about what’s bothering you so terribly.” insisted Donna, taking your hand into both of hers now to softly caress it with her fingertips.

“I...” You whispered breathlessly, your wide eyes glued to your joined hands and it made it easier to not look at her. “I love you,”

The hands surrounding yours squeezed tightly before bringing it up, up, up, and slipping your hand behind her veil to bring it to her smiling lips.

“I know,” she whispered back, and you felt the heat of her breath against your hand. “I’ve known for some time, and I love you, too.”

Your mouth fell open in shock and you stared into the blackness that was her veil, your eyes darting back and forth where you thought her eyes to be. She was still smiling as she pressed kisses to your hand.

“W-Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You pressed, unsure of what emotion you were going to land on. “If you knew?”

“There is something else you’re still holding back... why is that?” countered Donna, and she didn’t give you time to even think of a response before she was answering herself. “Because you aren’t ready, and I wasn’t... until now.”

“What changed?” You couldn’t help but ask, and you sorta felt selfish that you didn’t hesitate to press for answers while Donna simply let you come to terms with your own struggle at your own time.

“Me,” said Donna, her sudden chuckle sounded more of a dry sob she couldn’t hold back. “I changed over time and it was because of you... You used to be so lively around here that it made me come back to life as well... and then you suddenly disappeared.”

“I...” You trailed off, and how could you defend yourself when you knew her words to be true... you were here, but it was also very noticeable that you weren’t.

“Are you ever going to come back to me?” questioned Donna, your joined hands falling into her lap.

You watched in awe as it seemed like everything was almost falling into place right before your eyes in the form of Donna playing with your fingers with her own. She managed to seem so small and unsure, and yet she held this power and grace to her that you both were aware of. She dipped her head, but you could somehow feel the heat of her gaze probing. The fluttering of everything inside of you had it all too easy to bring your free hand underneath her veil to cup her cheek and pull her full attention towards you.

“A lot of the times I don’t feel like a woman.” You said and by the time you realized you were saying it, your voice only had time to tremble on the last word. “I... sometimes I don’t feel comfortable in my own body... Sometimes I look at myself and wish things were different.”

“What can I do for you?” Donna questioned intensely, one of her hands releasing yours in favor of covering the one on her cheek. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable with yourself.”

You sat there staring dumbly at her, your mouth working but no words were coming forth. You weren’t exactly prepared for any sort of response much less a positive one, and here she was, asking what she could do to help you, and it had you laughing incredulously, your brow furrowing as you looked at nothing. But then you were sobbing and you couldn’t stop it no matter how hard you tried to reign it back in. Arms were surrounding you in less than a second.

“Is this what you were so scared of, honey?” whispered Donna, tucking you into the crook of her neck, and you nodded wildly.

“I-I thought you wouldn’t l-love me if I told you.” You hiccuped, feeling frayed and ragged in her embrace.

“Impossible,” said Donna, her tone leaving no room for argument. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel right in your own skin.”

“What now?” You croaked, most of the weight gone from your shoulders, but there was still some residual tension lingering, and she must have felt it because she was soon running her soft hand over your shoulder.

“Well...” started Donna, pulling away from you but grabbing both your hands to keep you close enough. “I love you, and you love me, and if you ever chose to commit to becoming a man, then I’m quite certain that Mother Miranda has connections that I will indeed look into about helping you change into who you are meant to be.”

Was it really that easy? Did you really just come out as smoothly as you did? And she just... accepted it? You were so scatterbrained that it left you spent and unable to do more than fall back into her ready embrace. You figured she must have read your string of thoughts because soon she cupped the back of your neck, and pulled back.

Just enough so she could use her unoccupied hand to lift her veil just enough to expose her lips. You didn’t have time to marvel before she surged forward, also using her hand to pull you in closer to connect your lips in a searing kiss that had you gasping into it. Your eyes slammed shut without your consent, but the softness of her mouth had you lacking the care of anything else. She gently scratched at the base of your neck and then she was pulling back, leaving you dazed.

“Thank you for sharing your secret with me.” said Donna, and the raw honesty had you blinking away more tears.

“Thank you for deserving it,” you whispered back, almost hunching from how bone-tired and light you felt from finally letting go of the weight that was holding you down for so long.

After a moment of comfortable silence passed of the two of you just basking in the afterglow of requited confession, Donna smirked, prompting a grin of your own. Before you could even ask, she already beat you to it.

“I think Angie will be ecstatic about having something of a father figure around here.”

You paled when you heard maniac giggling outside the door.

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #transgender

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mypimpademia · 4 years

Text

Worth It.

Shinso x reader

TW: Swearing, reader steals a man, pure bad bitchery

Note: this concept has been in my head for literal MONTHS and now I'm finally writing it bc i had no idea how to before (i still dont know how to write it as I'm writing this, I'm bouta wing it like a mf)

I made Intelli the mean girl for this fic bc she a bitch fr

A college AU but its hardly relevant + a lil smau

Towards the end of writing this, I started hating it. I'm so sorry😭

I recommend this song too bc this is where the idea for this fic came from:

This was getting annoying to watch.

How long was Hitoshi planning to stay miserable with that girl?

Intelli and Hitoshi have been dating for awhile now. You had honestly never liked her, but you just barely tolerated her for Hitoshi. But only a few weeks into their relationship, things went to shit.

Intelli became overly controlling over him, and even tried to force him to stop being friends with you, and some other people. You, being his best friend, told him to break up with her.

Of course, Hitoshi agreed that it'd be best to do that. But not even a few hours after talking to him about it, he came back to say it didn't go as planned.

Intelli was holding blackmail over Hitoshi's head, and posed a huge threat to his dreams of becoming a hero. Most of what she said she'd expose was no where near true, but with her intellect she could easily make people believe it.

But frankly, as their relationship went on, the sight of even a strand of her hair made you want to either puke or fight her.

"Toshi~" Intelli cooed, coming up behind Hitoshi and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Hitoshi visibly cringed, but tried to hide it as best as he could.

"Hey, babe." He boredly muttered, doing a terrible job at faking any enthusiasm.

Unlike your best friend, you made no effort to hide the disgust you held for her sheer presence.

"Y/n..." Intelli muttered, her tone dripping with distaste for you, making you scoff. "Mind if I steal Toshi for a bit? No? Thanks-" She attempted to drag Hitoshi away by the arm, but you placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I do mind actually, we were in the middle of a conversation before you interrupted." You told her. She chuckled, before tugging on Hitoshi's arm more.

"Yes, but he's my boyfriend-" She attempted to give reason for her to take him away, before even Hitoshi stopped her.

"I've got a project I need Y/n to help me on, I can stop by your dorm later though?" Hitoshi suggested, lying through his teeth.

Intelli's eyebrow twitched, but she gave in, letting go of his arm. "Bye, Toshi." She said, kissing Hitoshi's cheek and looking you up and down, before walking off.

"Sometimes, I can't tell if she's just plain a bitch or if she's secretly a dumbass." You sighed. "Maybe she's a little bit of both..." Hitoshi chuckled, making you laugh with him.

"You really need to find someone new." You told him, shaking your head. "I know, but I'd rather not chance losing my dream career." He groaned.

"True... Whats your type anyways? I know its not Intell anymore, she's probably traumatized you." You giggled.

"She did, but I think my type is someone who can really understands me, and someone I can have fun with." Hitoshi said.

"Like a best friend?" You questioned him. "Yeah, exactly like a best friend. That'd be my perfect version of a s/o." He replied, expression growing soft.

Since Intelli and Hitoshi's relationship had gone down hill, you've been there for him more than ever. It eventually lead to this unspoken romance that constantly roamed between the two of you.

But because of Intelli, neither of you pursued it, for the wellbeing of Hitoshi.

"Well, if I were you, I'd find someone and just make sure the bitch doesn't find out." You told him. But if you were being honest, it was more like a suggestion, because he really did need, and deserve someone other than Intelli.

"Like cheating?" He gawked. You were both thinking the same thing— Intelli would likely find out. But it was better than simply being stuck with her, so you nodded.

"Well, I'd at least make sure the other person knows. But it'd be worth it."

'I'm worth it.' You thought.

You sighed, looking down at your phone, the time on your phone displayed.

"Shit, I've gotta get to class, we've got a guest lecturing us and my professor will tear me a new one if I miss it." You told him, stuffing your phone into your pocket.

"See you later?" Hitoshi asked you.

You were about to say something about how he told Intelli they'd hang out later, but decided against it.

"Yeah."

◇◇◇◇◇◇

You sighed, feeling your tired feet throb as you walked down the hall to Hitoshi's dorm. Taking one of your backpack straps off your shoulder, you began rummaging around the pocket where you usually kept the spare key to Hitoshi's dorm.

You blinked, as you weren't able to find the key in the small pocket. You began searching your entire bag in the middle of the hallway, taking nearly everything out.

"Shit." You mumbled, thinking you had lost it.

Then you remembered, 'Thats right, I was in a rush this morning. Its on my desk.' You thought to yourself.

Like hell you were going all the way back there though.

You placed your items back into their bags, then pulled out your phone to text Hitoshi.

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited for the door to be opened.

A moment later, you heard the lock click, and the door swung open.

Hitoshi looked you up and down before smiling. Then looked both ways of the hall, before tugging you into the room and shutting the door.

"Why are you treating me like a side piece or something?" You questioned him.

He hummed in confusion as he locked the door.

"Does it feel like that? Sorry." He apologized. "What did she do this time?" You asked, referring to Intelli, as she wash the only person the put Hitoshi this on edge.

"She said if we were doing anything other than a project we'd break up, and you know what that means." He told you, shaking his head.

You hummed, and pulled out your phone.

"What are you doing?" He asked, peering over your shoulder.

"You'll see." You blunty told him.

You sent your message, and tossed your phone onto his bed.

You grabbed onto Hitoshi's collar, tugging him towards you so he was looking you in the eyes, making his breath hitch as his face tinted red.

"You're crazy if you think I'd get you snitched on." You playfully consoled.

"What did you do?" He questioned again, watching you flop down on his bed as you kicked off your shoes.

"I texted Monoma and Momo to post about a project on private snap that only has Intelli on it so that it'll be more believable." You told him.

Hitoshis eyes went wide, as he mentally questioned how you came up with that so fast.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit with you.

He sat down, shaking his head and laughing.

You and Hitoshi talked for hours and hours, but it each flew by. When you finally checked the time, you barely had enough time left before dorm visiting hours were over.

"What? Already?" Hitoshi gaped, as he watched you sling your backpack over your shoulder.

"Mhm." You hummed.

He groaned, clearly not wanting you to leave, but sat up anyways so he could come see you out.

Hitoshi unlocked the door for you, but upon opening the door, you were both met with an unwanted sight.

"Hey Toshi!" Intelli greeted, completely passing over you even though she saw you.

"H-hey, Intelli." Hitoshi spurred, trying to keep composure.

"I came to help on the project. Even Momo was complaining, so I thought you could use some help." She offered, clearly not convinced that there was actually a project.

But like you said, you weren't going to let him get caught.

"No, we finished it." You told her bluntly, folding your arms across your chest.

But clearly, Intelli didn't plan on letting up either.

"Well then, I could proof read the written portion." She insisted, taking a step towards you.

"We already did that already."

"Well I'm sure there are some mistakes."

"We triple checked."

Hitoshi looked back and forth between the two of you, silently preparing himself to break up a fight.

"You must not get what I mean—" Intelli straightened her posture more than it already was, and leaned towards you. "There's probably mistakes because it was you helping him." She mocked.

Hitoshi already had a hand reaching for your waist, ready to pull you back in a situation where you lunge at Intelli.

"You wanna talk about mistakes? How about we start with you, bit-" Before you could take a single step towards her, you were being pulled back by your waist.

"Watch your dog, Hitoshi." Intelli retorted.

Damn, was she lucky Hitoshi could hold you back.

"At least I bite, unlike some people." You shot back. She narrowed her eyes, leaning towards you again.

"Y'know Y/n, you're not as good as everyone thinks you are. Everyone thinks you're so great, and nice, but I know how you really are." She said.

"You only think that because everyone's not you. Its no goddamn wonder your blackmail folder is thicker than you." You hissed.

Intelli, clearly flustered that you even knew about her blackmail folder, stood straight again. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat slightly.

"You think youre so much better than me. A better person, a better best friend, you probably think you'd make a better girlfriend too, right?" She asked you.

"Of course I do, who the hell wouldn't?" You chuckled.

You felt Hitoshi's grip on your waist loosen. Either he was getting just as angry and was going to let you fight her, or he thought it the tension was thawing.

"Alright, since you're so much better than me, show me." Intelli insisted.

You smirked. "Alright, you asked for it."

Slipping out of Hitoshi's grip, you turned to face him.

His brows raised in surprise and confusion. And next thing he knew, you had him by the collar for the second time today.

But this time, your lips were pressed against his.

It took him a moment to process, but soon, he melted into it. Moving in sync with you, he placed his hands back on your waist.

As much as you wanted to continue, you still had to tell that bitch off.

Pulling away from Hitoshi, wiping away the string of saliva that connected your mouths, you turned back to Intelli.

You walked straight up to her, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Toshi doesn't react like that when you kiss him, does he?" You hummed, hearing Intelli audibly gulp.

"Like you said, I'm a better person, a better best friend, and a better girlfriend." You repeated her words from earlier.

"I wouldn't lie to him, expose him, whether what he did was true or false, and i wouldn't hold him back from doing what he wants." You taunted.

"And the thing is—" You leaned in, next to her ear.

"I dont think it, I know it."

"I'm perfect for him." You whispered to her.

Intelli nearly toppled over in defeat, leaning against the nearest wall to support her body.

"Anyways, see you tomorrow, Toshi." You mused, before walking away.

◇◇◇◇◇◇

The next day, you met up with Hitoshi in your free time like usual.

You were aimlessly walking around campus, talking about random topics, laughing as you watched random people do stupid things, and just having fun.

Except now, you were hand in hand, and the air around the two of you seemed lighter. And the look of adoration you and Hitoshi shared was more evident.

But in the middle of it, of course, something had to happen.

Intelli had stopped you both in your tracks, her brainless groupies behind her.

"Did you know everyone is talking about you, Hitoshi? And with all the things they're saying... you might not be able to recover from it." She said snarkily.

"Not too worried about it actually." Hitoshi admitted, a slightly bored tone to his voice.

"Tch, well you should be. So tell me, was she worth it, Hitoshi?" She inclined.

Hitoshi looked over at you, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hell yeah."

#hitoshi x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso x reader #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou headcanons #shinsō hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou imagine #shinsou x y/n #bnha #bnha hcs #bnha headcanons #mha #mha hcs #mha headcanons

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Twisted Soulmate shorts.

Listen, I do plan on making a sequel eventually, but in the meantime, can I tempt you with some half assed bits of Tim’s life as Ra’s Bonded/Bride/Unwilling Sugar baby? All in the spirit of putting off studying for my finals :D

~.~

“We need some ground rules”, Tim stated plainly, staring at the fiery hell in front of them. By his side, Ra’s sipped his wine glass, as cozy in front of all the destruction as one would standing by a fireplace. He looked ready to break out the s'mores. “Some Do’s and Do not’s, with penalties for each one we break. So, you know. We don’t completely destroy each other.”

“Be honest with me, Beloved, would that actually stop you from infringing damage to my properties?”

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Tim actually thought about it for a few minutes.

~.~

Or; Tim elopes with Ra’s and commits to his role as the world’s most unimpressed, reluctant bride ‘soulmate’. Featuring Pru (who is having entirely too much fun), four little minions (whoever catches the reference and knows which fandom I stole them from gets brownie points) and absolutely no sign of any bats to spoil Tim’s fun.

~.~

The robe was green, and that was a problem. It wasn’t itchy, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t restrictive.

But it was green.

Pru’s eyes found his in the mirror, a scowl and a smirk facing each other. Tim crossed his arms, the exquisite silk not even creasing, and his frown deepened. One of the robe’s sleeves covered him from shoulder to wrist, the other leaving the opposite limb completely bare. The intent was obvious enough, one mark on display, the others hidden away like dirty secrets.

So why the need for that branding color?

“Isn’t this excessive? Putting a collar on me may be easier, for his purpose.”

“Should I forward that idea to the Master?”

“Only if you want another punch to the nose.”

A snort, and Pru took the two steps keeping her at his back. Her hand dropped to his shoulder, and the expression on the assassin’s face changed to a far more serious one.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I could help you out of the base. Still owe you a few, we can call this one even for that time in Budapest.”

Tim’s scowl went away, a contemplative look on his eyes as they lowered to the ground.

“I’m not sure of anything nowadays, Pru. Except perhaps that I don’t want to wear this color.”

Her grip tightened for a second, two, three. Then, her eyes flew to the window and back to him before her next words came out, fake smirk back on place.

“Well then, the Master expects you to join him for breakfast. We’ll be moving bases soon, and I think he wanted to give you the tour before that.”

Tim’s eyes, that had followed hers to the window, stayed there, guarded and cold like they never were. He nodded.

“I’ll be there shortly. Just need to… fix my appearance a bit.”

She nodded, her smirk more sincere now, and left his bedchambers.

The shadows jumped into the room before the door was even halfway closed.

A little over half an hour later, Ra’s Al Ghul looked up from the reports he was revising, cup of tea still untouched on the table, pastries and fruits perfectly distributed in front of him, to watch the Detective approach.

His robe was a curious maroon.

As if sensing his question, the young man took his place across from the Demon’s head, placid smile softening his features despite ice cold eyes boring into his.

“Oh, this?”, demurely, he raised the covered arm, accepting the coffee one of his servants provided. The sleeve slipped down enough to show three names on white skin, but Ra’s eyes strayed to the clothe. He knew that shade of brownish.

“I could have sworn I sent you green robes, Detective. I do wonder, where did you find a dye?”

“As I’m sure Pru can tell you, noses bleed a lot. On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about sending a clean up crew to tidy up my bedchambers. Nice morning workout, too, thank you.”

Amused despite himself, Ra’s threw his head back and laughed.

----.---

“Be honest with me, Beloved, would that actually stop you from infringing damage to my properties?”

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Tim actually thought about it for a few minutes. “I mean, as long as you respect my boundaries, I won’t have a reason to show my displeasure.”

“And what about my boundaries? It’s only reasonable that for each rule you decide on, I get to demand one of my own making.”

“If they don’t conflict with mine, I guess I could learn to work around them. Considering what you do for a living, it’s not like you can ask for more.”

Ra’s tilted his head, as if saying ‘yeah, fair’. They watched the flames consuming one of Ra’s favored castles in silence for a while longer. The parisian authorities would be arriving soon, though no before they were ready to leave; Ra’s wouldn’t allow any interruptions.

They were probably making the ninja standing guard behind them uncomfortable, with the silence, veiled threats and mind games. Except for Pru. She’d be thriving in her fellows’ fear.

“Should we go somewhere more private to decide this rules, Timothy?”

A shake, long raven locks hitting the air like small whips, and the young hero turned on his heel to go back to the plane waiting for them.

“I need some time to think them over. I’ll let you know when I decide.”

---.---

Is the Demon’s Head, instead, who demands the first one.

“You will allow a squad of my people around you at all times, Detective, and you’ll let them tend to you as it’s becoming of my bride.”

“If you ever call me your bride again”, states the young man, calmly turning a page on the book he was reading, curled up in the armchair Ra’s had specifically made his men drag into his office for the sole purpose of tempting him into staying put and in Ra’s direct line of sight, “the next base I make go boom will be the one you’re in at that moment.”

“My soulmate.”

“Still creepy, but significantly less; I’ll accept it. What were you saying about bodyguards? The answer is no, by the way, but I thought it would be fair to let you explain your reasoning before shooting you down again.”

“I have no need for explaining myself; you were the one to suggest rules. This is merely the first one. As it is, and since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you that, as my bonded, you have a price in your head so high even the purest of heart man would be tempted to hunt you down. It’s merely for your safety, as I worry so.”

The dirty look the younger gives him over his book shows him exactly what he thinks of Ra’s obvious jab at his abilities and strength.

“There’s also the matter of your lack of sleep, or the blatant underweight you’re showing.”

“I don’t need a nanny nor a bodyguard, Ra’s.”

“Maybe so, but what would my enemies think of my power if I couldn’t spare a few men to protect my bonded? You can think of it as a political tactic, if it’ll lay your worries at rest. It won’t be to spy on you, as I already have a team dedicated to that.”

Not even a blink, of course he knew, he’d be an idiot to think Ra’s was giving him wiggle room without someone hounding his steps. A hum, the flicker of something behind the man’s eyes that put Ra’s instantly on guard, but not enough to help him predict his next movement.

“You know that any rule you make, I can counter with one of my own.”

“I do, and am ready to honor, as it’s the nature of our deal. I’m a man of my word.”

“Okay then”, the detective finally conceded, sitting up straight, book closed on his lap and hands resting easily over the cover. “I’ll accept your terms, and won’t give my future clique the slip.”

Despite this small victory, Ra’s didn’t allow himself to relax; now came the detective’s countermeasure.

Calmly as still water, the slim man stood up, walking towards Ra’s desk, opening the book on its first page and softly placing in on the wood between them. One slice of paper, carefully folded, gave the Demon’s Head pause.

“Since you insist this is for show, and thus not requiring specific skills on the ninja’s part, I’m going to choose who will be part of my clique. After all, I’ll be in perpetual close quarters with these people, it’s only fair I get to decide who it’ll be.”

Ra’s eyes never left the icy blue ones staring him down. It’d be a fatal mistake to let one’s sight wander when there was a viper in the room.

“Prudence is already tasked with managing your schedule, she can’t be considered among these you selected.”

“She isn’t”, was fired back. “These aren’t fully fledged ninja, they have just begun their training. As such, I can make sure their progress aligns with my needs, something that will make them more useful in the long run if they are to be my shadows. A sniper that can socially blend in as a perfect camaleon. A prodigy, both in mind games and the technological world. A mechanic well versed in a caregiver tasks. A naturally born fighter, showed proficiency particularly on swords and hand to hand. I think those four tick every box you might want to fill, don’t you?”

A few seconds pass, while Ra’s tries to think back on every newish recruit who had the described qualities. He couldn’t come with a single one. Too many variables.

Despite himself, he nods. His bonded lifts his hand from the desk, and picks up his book on his way to the door, not looking back while Ra's unfolds the list.

He feels himself freeze.

“Children?”

Timothy has already left the room. Ra's can't help but feel pride. As foolish as he thinks his bonded's mission to be, he has to admire his dedication to it, and Timothy had just spent the equivalent of a Genie's first wish with the purpose of freeing four young ones from the League's training and future.

-----.-----

Tim is looking down at his three 'bodyguards', knowing he made the right call but still feeling the panic creeping up on him. Like, fuck, this was clearly an evil organization, as no self respecting moral one would allow him to be responsible of four impressionable, probably traumatized children.

L, P, H and K. 9, 7, 10 and 9 respectively. All sitting down, hands on their laps, eyes down. Ready to obey any order.

Fuck, he wanted to puke.

Breathing in deeply, he crouched in front of them. Tried for a smile. Too forced. Settled for a grimace.

“My name is Tim”, he started, “and you're safe with me. I'll train you, protect you from the League as much as possible, and try my best to help you escape if I find a better place for you.”

He doesn't bother lying for appearances sake. Ra's must know Tim's reasons for choosing children (too good, would be noticed soon by their teachers, would be under Ra's thumb sooner rather than later), but it didn't matter. Even if Tim managed to get them away, it was his right. For all intents and purposes, as far as the League was concerned, he owned them. Not that he was going to tell them that: if it made him sick to think that, he can only imagine that information on the children's minds.

They don't seem to believe him, but answer honestly when asked questions about their past. L had (bravely, stupidly) sold himself into servitude to the League to help his family. P, apparently a smart cookie, was sold away by some scientific organization back home when she started asking too many question about the disappearance of her father and brother. One of H's mothers had left the League when she married, and her son was taken away as compensation in the middle of the night, when she couldn't fight back (luckily, as she'd have died and they would have still taken the kid). K was an orphan, sucked into the League too young, but saved by an older apprentice who took him under his wing: said boy was now missing, and K's obvious short fuse wouldn't stand for it long.

He wants to save these children so bad it hurts. Has to remind himself that whatever he will do about this (and he still has to think about it), he won't be able to do for a while.

----.----

He keeps some sort of schedule. Waking up in the morning, breakfast with Ra's unless previously canceled by the other man, training his new minions, break a fight between L and K, lunch, give them numerous tasks to get them off his back (keeping one close for appearances sake; they were his bodyguards after all, or would be after some training), wander along whichever base they were at the moment, tea with Ra's, picking up his brats, wander some more and some time for them to play like actual children, dinner, bed. Rinse repeat.

Some variations, however, were inevitable.

Groaning Tim rolled on his back, silken sheets under him and around his legs, to look at the four little heads waiting by his bedside, various degrees of alarm there.

“What is it?”

H's hand gripped tighter L's, who had the other arm wrapped around P. K was standing in front of them, dagger at the ready.

“The base is under attack. We await our instructions, Master.”

“Tim”, he reminded the child, before yawning. “Who is it again?”

This time, the youngest and only girl talked. “We are not sure. Said something about The Demon's Head being their archenemy and/”

“Then it's a Ra's problem, not a Us problem. Let the man handle it, he has enough manpower as it is, and even if he doesn’t, he's due for a swim anytime now”, dropping his head and closing his eyes once again, he vaguely waved a hand in their general direction. “You guys go back to bed, just be careful and lock the door in case some of Ra's worst people let someone wander.”

“We can't possibly leave you! What if you're attacked? We'd be too far away to protect you!” K’s tiny hand tightened around his knife. “We'd fail our mission!”

Reigning in a groan, he gave it a thought. They had a point, in that were anything to happen, he risked not being close enough to keep the children safe.

Sighing, he waved a hand again.

“Okay, you guys can stay, but we are not getting up. It's like five am, I went to sleep less than an hour ago.”

P jumped in place and frowned at him. “We escorted you here right after dinner.”

“That you did. Anyway, cuddle piles anyone?”

L jumped right in, as he expected, worming his way under the sheets until he could cuddle to Tim's left side, dragging H behind him. P seemed to think about it, but if the dark circles under her eyes (and his informants) were to be trusted, she'd probably slept as much as him, most assuredly looking into her family's disappearance. She finally fell on his other side, instantly groaning.

K looked at all of them in disappointment, and stubbornly sat down behind P, his back to them and facing the door. Tim wondered what it would take to get the kid to chill.

Shrugging (you can't win them all), he went back to sleep.

By the time he really woke up, it was to an amused Pru holding hauntingly a camera and smirking down at him. All four kids were now cuddled around him.

“Shut up, Pru. Like you can talk. I saw you giving L that practice gun the other day, don't think I didn't.”

#twisted soulmate #soulmate au #nemesis au #Tim drake #Ra's al Ghul #Pru #four small minions Tim's gonna steal from Ra's #those are a reference to another fandom I love #brownie points to whoever notices the reference #spy vs spy kinda thing #Tim drake is an unwilling sugar baby #Ra's is all too happy to play sugar daddy for this kid #Ra's is creepy #my writting #my writing #Red robin

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