#oh cool this was just meant to be a quick explanation sort of post but it's 1

[cosmicmoved]

KARAM LORE !!  🍃

I’ve said before that he was a spirit and not in the sense of being a ghost so I’m going to use this post to explain what I’m going for in a little more detail. I can’t really think of a better word to describe what I’m going for but it’s more in the sense that he’s a spirit in the sense that he’s this magical entity that’s very much OF the planet. Spirit is used in this context in lots of different folklore across the world so I think it makes sense for me to describe him this way! However, a lot of the lore (I guess you’d call it) I’ve written for Karam is sort of made up and inspired by different things so I can’t really just name something he’s supposed to be like and get on with it. This post should, if nothing else, clear up what Karam is and what’s he capable of! ALSO! SIDE NOTE! Karam actually has a fraternal twin from whom he has been separated for like 250 years or whatever and I’d be very willing to let somebody else write that character if the concepts here seem interesting ;; (i think i said ‘brother’ in his bio but that’s really not a must!! tbh karam is officially nonbinary bc i personally do noooot see why a spirit would conform to human social norms like that --  on that note, karam uses masc pronouns and stuff but pls never call him a man, he doesn’t like that)

This point seems pretty important since I know I have mutuals with muses who fit the description but Karam can see ghosts. And he can tell that they’re ghosts. He’s very familiar with this concept and it doesn’t bother him or upset him. Honestly, death is kind of foreign to him as an immortal being and, since he has no reason to fear it, he doesn’t. I’ll go into more detail as to why this is important later on in this post but he does have that ability! As I’ve said before, Karam can generally tell what people are, at least to some degree. If he meets someone who’s something he doesn’t understand for whatever reason, he will at least know that they ARE something he’s never seen before. He’d know they were different from every other being they’d met. This is NOOOOOOT godmoddy, I promise! Karam doesn’t know everything!! But he needs to understand the basic of nature of things because that’s what he was put on the Earth to do, pretty much. If he didn’t know that a human was different from, say, a witch or another humanoid spirit like himself, that would make his ‘job’ very difficult. This does mean he will always know when a seemingly human muse is not human but, since he’s not human himself, he likely won’t use this information for anything, besides making the decision to be nicer to that muse than he might to a random human ASDFGHGFD........

A guardian spirit is nothing like a guardian angel, that much I feel I should get out of the way immediately. He does noooooot give a shit about people! He doesn’t do anything on command either. This title, as that’s really all it is, refers exclusively to the role he took on while living in his forest home (which, as stated in his backstory, was cut down to make way for modern housing). He was the guardian of that patch of land. When he was a child, after his mother left him behind, he wandered until he found a forest that was unclaimed and, like him, fending for itself. Karam assumes his twin’s fate was the same as his own, although they were abandoned in different places (his twin was left first and then Karam, as he was the smaller of the two twins and his mother wanted to be more careful with where she put him). Karam’s job was essentially to keep the forest healthy and protected from destruction and malevolent spirits/entities. Obviously, he didn’t manage to keep it protected because destructive human technology has pretty much outgrown him and mass deforestation is far too much for one spirit to ward off. This is a source of deep guilt for Karam and, in some ways, he feels like a failure for letting the forest come to harm but he blames mankind as much as he does himself. His anger is kind of directed at both but the anger he feels towards himself is much quieter. I don’t know which one’s actually worse but his hatred for humans (in power) is a lot more easier for him to voice.

Besides just keep the forest as a whole safe from harm, his role included watching over individual beings who lived within the forests; other smaller spirits like tree spirits and animals! If an animal died and their ghost needed guidance, Karam would be the one to aid them and help them find rest. He’s not very good at doing this with humans as their feelings are a lot more complex and while animals usually just need someone to calm them down and dissuade their fear, humans often have more complicated issues like lingering wishes and resentment. Human ghosts weren’t common in his forest but they weren’t unheard of and, despite his general distrust, Karam did try to help them as best they could --- especially in cases where it was the ghost of a child or something. As much as Karam dislikes humans, he would never blame a child for anything or mistreat them in any way. He’s not the best at talking to children because of...the way he is lmao...but he’d never be cruel to them and strongly believes they should be looked after in the same way as any other creature that needs protection. Animals tend to naturally trust him! Humans don’t because they’re more complex and often more detached from that sort of thing but animals don’t see him as predatory/a threat. 

His abilities are largely those that help him as a guardian figure. He is a fighter, first and foremost and this means his natural abilities include the following; great stealth, physical grace and enhanced sensory abilities. These senses, in particular, are sharp enough to sense disturbances even in loud rooms, to hear a twig snap in vast quiet. He is the kind of fighter who uses this speed and agility to his advantage to the point of relying upon it, adopting a rather gymnastic fighting style. He’s also a very talented swordsman but he’s found this is kind of a weird skill to hang onto in modern times. He is also capable of using some elemental magic, namely manipulation of light and water -- this is partly because he feels some kind of natural affinity to the moon but these are also useful life-giving abilities. He can’t heal people but many lifeforms can be nursed back to health with these sorts of powers. These magics aren’t especially strong and he tends not to favour these abilities for he isn’t a particularly gifted mage and these abilities are more defensive than offensive. But he can fuck up your lightbulbs if you piss him off, I guess???? His offensive abilities are all much more physical. Karam is also pretty hard to injure unless you’re very powerful, on account of his accelerated healing. Most injuries don’t hold him back for too long and he’s also harder to harm in the first place than most humans. Obviously, if you cut off a limb, he can’t grow it back or anything like that. He can’t heal injuries that aren’t...healable.

He has pretty normal weaknesses in that you can harm him any way you harm someone else. It just takes more work. He’s immortal, in that he won’t die of natural causes, but he’s absolutely not invincible or invulnerable. He CAN be killed. It’s just not easy to do. Karam is also NOT the strongest spirit out there. He’s stronger than a lot of spirits because he has to be, he EXISTS to protect weaker spirits, but there are stronger spirits out there and even within his type of spirit. Karam is powerful and probably more powerful than he needed to be for his small forest -- a lot of larger forests might have a stronger spirit protecting them -- but he stayed in his forest until it was destroyed out of loyalty. The spirit who had protected it before him had left to find something better and, being a child, Karam had found it just challenging enough to suit him. Although he outgrew it in terms of his own power, his love for it kept him there. Another notable weakness of Karam is also one of his strengths --- his enhanced senses, while they help him in many, many ways, also make navigating the noisy human world quite stressful, especially now that he’s taken to living in the city. A lot of places are too loud and bright and crowded for Karam and he doesn’t always cope with it too well, leading to a preference for walking about at night.

#« 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐘 (ᴋᴀʀᴀᴍ) » / 「 headcanon. 」 #oh cool this was just meant to be a quick explanation sort of post but it's 1 #*1.5k words so uhh.....pls read it ): #apologies if this makes like NO SENSE LMAO !! i'm really bad at talking abt lore and things like that #i'm sure there are things i've forgotten to talk about ! #i'll talk abt his forest in more detail later.... #but maybe this will explain what he IS better than before ! #this was kind of a weird concept to try and convert into smth that works for indie rp #since he's based on two older ocs kind of mashed together but (((: i love my stupid nature spirit friend #i might revise some things in the future idk...the stuff abt the moon was pulled from one of those older characters so maybe i'll think abt #that one some more but most of this is basically !! what u need to know !!

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Light Shall Smite Her

Pairing: Mildred Ratched x Reader

A/N: hello @serawalkerwrites​, this is my humble gift to you as your SP secret gifter 😌😘 I’m so nervous to post this, I hope you’ll like it. If you don’t, in the words of Puck, “This weak and idle theme, / no more yielding but a dream, / gentles do not reprehend. / If you pardon, we will mend.” x

(please bear in mind English isn’t my first language, so my apologies for weird sentences)

Word count:  ≃ 5 600

“I heard the new head nurse is very beautiful.”

Rosie waited expectantly for an answer. You hummed.

“I said,” Rosie repeated, in a louder, slightly annoyed voice, for she was excited and couldn’t bear your ignoring her right now, “I heard she’s very beautiful.”

You gave her a sideways glance by way of an acknowledgment, not bothering to stop your quick scribbling.

Rosie rested her elbows on the table and leaned towards you. “Don’t you care?”

“I’m writing,” you mumbled.

“Aren’t you interested, though?”

“Listen, Rose,” you started, setting your pen down and finally meeting your co-worker’s eyes, ”my break is over in five minutes, and I want – no, I need – to finish this, so would you be so kind as to postpone this conversation until later?”

Rosie straightened up with an irritated click of her tongue. “Fine,” she hissed. “I was just trying to be nice. Knowing you’re single, and all.” She turned, made to leave, but suddenly stopped to mock over her shoulder, “And by ‘and all’, I’m referring to the pathetic rant I had to suffer through last night about how ‘lonely’ you feel and how ‘unfair’ the universe is. I’m just trying to help.”

“Thank you, Emma Woodhouse,” you called after her as she angrily stomped out of the room.

With a sigh you resumed your writing. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh with Rosie, but you really needed to get rid of your thoughts and ideas by writing them down before your break was over. If you didn’t, the words would howl reproachfully in your head for the rest of the day, make a racket and fog your brain till you were finally able to spit them out on paper.

Just a few minutes more, you begged the clock on the wall. Your wrist was aching. Two more lines, and then you finally sat back in your chair with a huff like a warrior who has won their hardest battle.

You glanced up at the clock. Break over.

The clinic was unusually quiet today. A few patients looked up at you as you passed them on your way down the corridor. You offered them smiles, blinked at the sun when you glanced outside.

The lobby was deserted. You worked at the front desk, and were in charge of most administrative tasks – a rather boring job, but it paid well and left you enough time to write.

You were sorting out schedules when Rosie crossed the lobby, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. She shot you a moody look and mouthed something you didn’t understand. Five minutes later she was back; and, planting her elbows on the front desk, mouth tight and eyes studying your face, she started, “So, as I was saying, the new –” but before she had time to finish there was the sound of a door opening, heels, a voice speaking quickly, and then two people walked briskly into the lobby.

And one of them was a male nurse you knew called James, a boring, conceited person you couldn’t care about; and the other – but someone had drugged your coffee. There was no other explanation.

James came to a halt before your desk. With a contemptuous look to Rosie, he pushed her to the side, and ignoring her angry hiss announced proudly, “Y/N, this is Mildred Ratched, our new head nurse.”

You stared at her. The world around you vanished. It was as if someone had shone a spotlight on her, the rest of the room going dark as the audience held their breath. You were suddenly too hot, the air in your lungs was burning gas and it hurt – but Mildred’s face stayed perfectly composed.  

She gave you a polite smile and extended one hand to you as if nothing terrible was happening, as if you and her were meeting for the very first time and the only thought crossing your mind, as it had two years ago, simply was, What a beautiful woman.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mildred said, red lips curling up into a smile.

You knew that smile. It was the smile that reached her eyes but was fake and cold and meant to signify, I know what I’m doing. I’ve got this. There’s nothing you can do but submit.

You shook her hand. Mildred saw the way your arm trembled when you drew it back and pressed it against your chest.

“I’m giving Miss Ratched a tour of the clinic,” James was saying, with a note of pride in his voice. “She’s been very impressed by our equipments.”

“Yes,” Mildred answered, gaze boring into you. “The place where I used to work certainly didn’t enjoy such modern facilities.”

Your brain took over. It really was the only way you could survive this moment. You swallowed and locked up your heart and let coolness and calm seep through you.

“The place where you used to work?” you asked. You congratulated yourself on how neutral your voice sounded.

Mildred’s brow pushed up slightly, for she knew exactly what you were doing. She knew you. And despite your best efforts, you felt heat creep up your cheeks, heat creep up your ears, heat everywhere it was too damn hot.

But you would be damned, you told yourself, you would be damned before you averted your gaze from hers.

“Oh, it was a small place,” Mildred answered – and was her smile turning a little cruel? “You wouldn’t know it,” she added, and just like that, with her smile lingering on her lips, she turned from you and gestured for James to lead the way.

You stared at her back as she walked off, gait as decisive as you remembered it to be, but with that nervousness to it, as if she were constantly running from something. Do you only know where you’re headed?, you had asked her once – and she had gazed at you thoughtfully as she’d blown out cigarette smoke, and hadn’t answered.

“What was that all about?”

A door slammed shut, making you jump. Only know did you realize that your fists were tightly clenched, and your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. You forced yourself to take a deep breath.

“What was that all about?” Rosie asked.

You glanced at her. “Don’t you have something to do?” you snapped.

**

Mildred and you. The story was a simple one.

She had been a nurse at the local state hospital, you had been a professional writer; you had met at a coffee shop, where you would both spend your Saturday afternoons. You had talked. You had laughed.

The sparkles in her eyes when she would talk about things she loved, things that made her happy, had caught your attention. So had her smiles, and her laughs, and every little thing she had said and pointed out.

You had ached. And then one day you had been bold enough, and leaned in to kiss her. And she, with a half-disgusted, half-shocked laugh, had pressed one hand to your chest to push you away – and in a voice that was only slightly shaking, had demanded what the hell you thought you were doing.

Turned out she had been hunting. For a young, happy woman, who would “fill the needs” of her brother, just recently got out of prison. You had gawped at her as she had explained the whole scheme to you, talking for all the world as if she were having a perfectly casual, perfectly normal conversation –

And then –

The anger and the disgust and the pain and the betrayal. You had stormed out of the coffee shop with the need to scream and to destroy something. To make someone bleed. To make someone pay for what you were feeling.

And the hatred – how you hated her. And yet, there had been signs, you had seen them – how she would bite her lower lip sometimes when she listened to you talk, how she would glance up at you, eyes a little darker and a little stormier and a little shy, how when she would reach out to cup your face in her hands, to comfort, to reassure, her touch would linger and her fingers would hold as if you were made of the most precious star matter in the universe – you couldn’t have been wrong. She had wanted you. You knew it. But she had been on a mission, and nothing could distract that kind of a woman from her goal.

To know you had been used, to know you had been seen as nothing more than a piece of meat to be fed to a hungry animal, made you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling. So, with a desperate need to get rid of yourself, of the way you had been seen, you moved and got a new, different job – tried not to think of the reasons why you applied to a clinic of all places. You made yourself new, in a way.

And now – now your old self slammed back into you with a vengeance. It wouldn’t have been a problem, not really, had it come alone; but it was accompanied. It stood hand in hand with hope. And hope – hope was the worst.

The rest of the day passed quickly. You focused on your work, let your brain hold the wheel and did your best to ignore the thing, the thing that was warm and insistent and that you could feel growing in your chest, from making too much noise. It was adamant it would make itself known, though, and you were well aware it would only take a spark to set the fire roaring – and sure enough, at 5:30pm, as you were gathering your things and about to leave, the warmth started to burn – for Mildred, in her nurse uniform, walked up decidedly to your desk and, lips curled up, said, “Doesn’t your shift end at six?”

You clenched your teeth as you slowly looked up at her. “You’re not the boss of me,” you retorted, low and mean.

Mildred’s mouth twitched. “I would not be so sure of that.”

“I arrive earlier in the morning so I can leave earlier in the afternoon,” you snapped, louder this time.

She hadn’t changed a bit. She still looked exactly the same. You stared at her impeccable hairdo, at her collar, trying not to pay too much attention to the pale column of her neck; up, past her lips – a shudder, at the reminder of how they had felt against yours – to meet her eyes again, and catch a glint of amusement in them.

You cleared your throat, pretended the heat that flooded your face was fueled by anger, not embarrassment.

“So how’s your brother?” you taunted.

Mildred blinked. Her smile faded. She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned towards you and said, “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Why?”

“I have things to say to you.”

“Things to say to me?” You snorted. Crossed your arms against your chest. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m going home. Move.”

She didn’t move. She stood resolutely planted in front of your desk, eyes boring into yours, so you picked up your bag and walked around her, bumping her shoulder to make a point.

She flinched, as she always did when you would touch her without warning. You felt her gaze burning the nape of your neck as you hurried off. It was all you could do not to run when you reached the door.  

**

“This woman isn’t trustworthy,” you told your boss the next morning.

He barely looked up from his paperwork. “Which woman?”

“Miss Ratched.” You pretended you felt nothing, pretended it was not like music, when you uttered her name. “You made a mistake hiring her.”

“Did I?”

“She doesn’t have the credentials for the post of head nurse.”

A glance at you, annoyed and distracted.

“Her credentials are excellent.”

“They’re fake,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Everything about this woman is fake. Believe me, you cannot trust –“

“Miss Y/L/N,” he interrupted with a sigh, “if you do not have proof for these allegations then you’re only making me lose my time.”

You sat at the front desk in a bad mood. Patients glared at you when you answered their questions too shortly, and you glared right back at them until they lowered their gaze. Every time you heard footsteps, every time you heard a voice, your heart would speed up and your head buzz and you would look up, half in fear, half in (but that was hard to admit and, at first, you denied it) hope, expecting to see Mildred. You didn’t, though. The hours passed by and the nervousness in you increased, but Mildred never once crossed the lobby. She wasn’t in the break room at lunch; a nurse told you she had gone out to a restaurant with a friend.

At 5:30pm you left in an even worse mood. You told yourself it was because you hadn’t had the opportunity to be mean to Mildred, to take out on her some of your resentment and anger. There was no other possible reason, and if there was, it certainly was not that you were disappointed you hadn’t had the opportunity to at least steal a glance at her.  

At home that evening you tried to write, but the words had disappeared from your brain. You sat at your desk, eyes glazed, fingers unmoving. There was something in your chest that was made of emptiness and yet weighted heavy near your heart.

As you lay in bed you tried to summon bright images in the dark, the brightest you could create, red sunsets and turquoise oceans, anything to outshine the image of Mildred. You tossed and groaned and got too hot. In the corner of your room it seemed to you something was crouching, and looking up at you, and hoping.

In the morning you opened your window and stuck your head outside. The air still carried the chill of winter and made you shiver. But your blood was boiling. It was boiling still when you got into your car, boiling when you settled at the front desk and turned on your computer.

You decided it was boiling out of anger.

And yet – did anger make one’s heart beat so very fast at the mere sound of heels on tiles?

You told yourself it did.

It wasn’t until your lunch break that you saw Mildred. As usual, you gulped down your lunch to have time to write; and you were just starting when the door opened, and without so much as an introduction Mildred walked in and stopped right in front of you.

You looked up from your work.

“What do you want?” you growled.

Mildred gave you a pacifying smile.

“Good afternoon,” she started, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “As I said the other day, I merely want to talk.”

You snorted, and pretended to focus on your writing. But just as last night, words fled from your brain. Mildred’s presence was taking all the room inside your head, filling it with her scent and her colours, her voice, the shapes of her body. Your heart was beating too fast, your pen was frozen on the piece of paper, and out of the corner of your eye the blue from Mildred’s uniform was too bright, it was too flashy, it drew all of your attention.

After a few, long seconds of tense silence, you dropped your pen on the table and almost barked, “Fine, go ahead, talk.” You met Mildred’s eyes and tried to scowl, tried to convey to her the vehemence of your anger. “Say what you have to say and then get out and don’t talk to me ever again.”

“You’re quite overreacting, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve got some nerves, wouldn’t you say?”

More silence, as you both stared at each other. Mildred’s gaze wasn’t cruel or angry, you noticed; if anything, she looked nervous.

“Since you want us so badly to speak,” you said before she had time to, “answer this question: what would have happened, if I hadn’t tried to kiss you?” You waited, but since she didn’t answer, merely kept on looking at you with one hand sliding up her other arm to hug herself, you went on, “What would have happened, uh? You would’ve dropped a sleeping pill in my drink, kidnapped me, locked me up somewhere for your brother to do to me whatever he wanted?”

Mildred let out a short, offended laugh. “Don’t be so crude.”

There was yet another pause, during which she looked at you, nervously, and you looked at her, angrily; and then, entirely of its own, your gaze flicked to her mouth, and she noticed it, and her eyes widened a little.

You looked away and cleared your throat, praying – praying! – that the heat you could feel everywhere didn’t show in your face.

“I would merely have introduced you to Edmund,” Mildred answered eventually.

You met her eyes again. “I don’t believe you,” you growled. A pause. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I needed to make sure you were the right one for him.”

“And how many women,” you went on, slowly standing up and slamming your fist on the table,” did you try out before me?”

Mildred’s eyes darted to your hand as it hit the table. She jumped slightly, fear widening her eyes, and for a moment regret washed part of your anger away. You took a step towards her with the intention to reassure, no longer to fight.

You caught yourself, though. You stopped, and folded your arms on your chest.

“Answer me,” you growled.

“You were the first,” Mildred said, voice a bit tight. She hesitated, stroked her arm with her thumb. “I had no idea you were the kind of woman who doesn’t like the company of men.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “And you think that excuses everything?”

“It must have made it more unpleasant.”

“Any woman would know how fucked up it was,” you growled. “Except you, clearly.”

Silence settled between you two. Mildred’s thumb was still stroking her arm nervously, and you found yourself staring at it, as if drawn by the repetitive movement.

“I apologize for what I did,” Mildred said after a few moments.

Your eyes flicked back to her face. “Do you really? Do you really mean it? Or is it another lie, meant to coax me?”

“I do mean it,” Mildred replied.

“Then prove it.”

Something like annoyance flicked across Mildred’s features; but then, as quickly as it had come, it faded, and the nervousness settled back.

“How?” she asked.

You took another step towards her, meaning to invade her space, just a little, just to show her you had the upper hand. An idea flashed in your brain, but you couldn’t quite see its contours through the mist of boiling anger, so when you voiced it, it was without fully knowing what the words would be.

“Let me make sure you’re the right one for me.”

You paused. You decided you rather liked these words.

Mildred’s mouth opened, closed again. She titled her head, eyes narrowing.

You took another step forward.

“Let me,” you breathed, extending one hand to brush invisible dust from her sleeve, “try you out and decide whether I want you for myself.”

Mildred held your gaze with a stubborn, challenging – amused? – kind of fierceness, and you noticed how she had started breathing through her mouth, how her cheeks were coloring, not with embarrassment, but with excitement it seemed; like a champion in the starting blocks, adrenaline racing through her veins.

Something was drumming in your ears. Certainly it was your heart, but maybe it was something else - and this time you couldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was anger. Anger never drummed, anger thundered. Desire – longing – had its own particular kind of music.

You wondered, vaguely, if Mildred could hear it too.

She blinked. The fierceness in her gaze faded. She looked away, the black in her eyes turning sad and shy, then looked up again, hopeful this time, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the mirror that was her gaze, always reflecting, always revealing.

“Alright,” she said.

Your lips twitched into a smirk.

And then, just when you thought you had won, she smiled that victorious smile of hers that reached her eyes but was always cold, except this time it was warm, and there was mischief shining under it like a child up to no good.

“You have 24 hours, not a minute more,” she said, playful, almost singing. “Make the best of them.”

And then, and then - she lifted one hand, brushed the back of her fingers down your cheek, to mock your previous touch and remind you who was in control. Her cold skin made you shiver and instantly ache for more; and you would have leaned in and crashed your mouth against hers had you not regained control of yourself at the last second.

She left you with a glance over her shoulder as if to dare you to follow her. She left you standing burning and aching, trying to process what had happened.

You collapsed on your chair, because this all meant, dear you this all meant – that you had been right? That she was interested in you?

You raised a hand to your chest as if that could help slow down your heart. You did not know what you should be feeling. There were too many emotions, and which one was supposed to be right? You needed someone, a guide, to point out and say, This. This is the proper emotion to feel.

You spent the rest of the day in a state of overwhelming nervousness. Every minute you expected Mildred to appear with a cup of coffee or a bouquet of flowers for you. Nothing happened. The afternoon went by as usual. Rosie stopped at your desk for a chat. An old man threw up in the lobby and the cleaning lady cursed.

When the clock reached 4pm, you almost got up and stormed into Mildred’s office to demand what she was doing. Why the hell wasn’t she trying to win your heart? Why wasn’t she being excessively nice, voice dripping with honey, wide eyes begging?

You couldn’t believe the nerves of this woman, and you were fuming, until you saw her crossing the lobby with a young nurse in tow, and she glanced your way, and smiled. And her eyes weren’t wide, they weren’t begging, but they were nice, and they reflected the genuine good intention of her smile.

This is when you realized. There would be no excessive attentions or sweet little lies to flatter. She was aiming for the exact opposite of what you had run away from. Honesty. Being herself.

A little while later she walked up to your desk with a bunch of reproaches because you had messed up with a few patients’ schedules. Her tone was firm, her gaze hard. Brief apologies dropped from your mouth before you had time to think them. You eyed her curiously as she walked away, and kept on gazing at her long after she had disappeared. Then you cleared your throat, and willed yourself to focus on your work again.

When you saw her again, you were making ready to leave. She had changed into a long, forest green pleated skirt and a creamy white blouse with cuffed sleeves. You eyed her up and down as she came close to you, which made a small smug smile tug at the corner of her lips. You prayed all the gods the heat in your cheeks didn’t paint itself pink, and pretended you were busy with your handbag.

“Dinner?” Mildred asked simply. “I know a place.”

The place in question was a small, cozy and fashionable restaurant with a menu of fancy dishes that made your eyes widen. Mildred asked for a table on the terrace, in the setting sun; the waiter pulled out a chair for her with a respectful bow of his head, and for you with merely a nod.

You said something about the sunset, about how glad you were the weather was getting warmer, how dearly you loved the spring; you pointed out flowers. Mildred lit up a cigarette and listened to you speak, her gaze kind and attentive, and it struck you how easily you two were falling back into your old routine. How peaceful it was, how natural it felt to just sit there with her as the sun yawned and stretched, as cigarette smoke and laughter curled lazily up towards the sky.

Mildred folded her napkin and set it neatly on her lap. You glanced at her as you pretended to muse over the menu; and when Mildred’s gaze met yours, an awkward laugh burst out of your mouth and danced in Mildred’s eyes.

“I honestly do not know…” you started.

“Try this,” she smiled, tapping a finger on the menu.

“I do not trust anything with asparaguses in it.”

“Trust me, then,” Mildred retorted with a laugh.

The laugh died prematurely as your face hardened. Mildred swallowed, glanced down at the menu, looked up again to meet your eyes.

“I’ll have it myself,” she said in a slightly subdued voice. “So you’ll know what you’re missing out.”

You hummed, and took a sip of your drink to swallow the lump in your throat.

Dinner passed in easy, casual conversation. Sometimes, after you had said some random thing, Mildred would smile a shy, fond smile at an object on the table or at something around her, like sharing a secret with herself. You didn’t notice the waiter when he came back. Mildred let you steal a forkful of her meal, and laughed victoriously when your eyes widened at the rich taste that filled your mouth.

For dessert you both ordered rose and lemon Turkish delights, and fell in a comfortable silence. You watched Mildred and she watched you. At one point she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip to lick off powdered sugar. You felt yourself blush. Mildred noticed, smiled a little smugly; when your eyes met again, hers flicked down to her glass, and her smile turned shy.

“You never answered my question,” you said.

“Which question?” Mildred smiled at her glass.  

“How is your brother doing?”

There was cruelty in your words, but you thought you were entitled to some of it. The sun had set by now, the moon and the stars were not out yet: there was no witness.

Mildred’s smile faded. She looked up at you, a little reproachfully.

“He’s doing fine,” she said after a short while, in the voice she used at work with the other nurses. “Better than I thought he would. He found a job taking care of animals at the local shelter. It makes him happy.” A pause. A soft, dreamy smile to the tree on your left. “The animals help ease his mind. They give him purpose. He says he likes caring for innocent souls, that they would never hurt anybody, not because they can help themselves, but because the very idea would never even cross their minds.”

“That’s nice, but I was referring to his love life.”

She searched your eyes. “Nothing much to say about that.”

“So you didn’t find him the perfect spouse?” you asked with a mirthless laugh. “What happened? Set the bar too high?”

A gust of wind tangled in your hair, like a reproach from the universe, but you chose to ignore it. You brushed the strands of hair from your face and scowled at Mildred, awaiting – demanding – an answer.

Someone turned on the overhead lights, which threw a sudden bright, yellow glare on Mildred’s face and chased all the shadows.

“I stopped searching after you,” Mildred replied.

You snorted. There was a need to be cruel that was growing inside you and that was too loud, too outraged to be ignored. It was a military leader, and it had at its command an army led by Resentment, Pain, Anger and Revenge.

“What happened?” you mocked. “Got tired so quickly? Got so disappointed in me you thought it wouldn’t be worth your time?”

Mildred refused to take the bait. She stayed completely calm, face impassible and gaze bold, but soft. Her behavior made Anger give a low war cry and charge.

“The truth is,” Mildred said, and she leaned over the table towards you, and smiled and with her smile was swept away the impassiveness on her face to let a loving intensity shine, “just before you left I had made up my mind to keep you for myself.”

You clenched your fist. “Then why the fuck,” you hissed, “did you push me away?”

“I didn’t! All I did was inform you what my plans had been, for the sake of honesty –”

“For the sake of honesty?” you repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

“But then you ran away,” Mildred finished. Had there been the slightest note of reproach in her voice, you would’ve jumped to your feet and broken something.

“As if you cared,” you growled.

“I tried looking for you,” Mildred said.

She paused. There was a nervous twitch to her mouth that, in the absence of shadows, you saw.

“I don’t believe you,” you growled.

“But you disappeared. You moved, didn’t you? You changed your job, you disappeared so completely and I –”

“Bullshit.”

“– and I tried to find you, but there was my job, and there was Edmund, and I couldn’t give up on him when he –“

“So you gave up on me instead.”

Mildred cut herself short. Silence hung heavy as she struggled, weighed up ugly truth against beautiful lies, until she said in a breath, “Yes.”

A sense of victory washed over you, but it felt sick, unsatisfying, and you wondered whether defeat wouldn’t have been better.

For a long moment none of you spoke. Then you realized in your anger you had leaned towards her, too, and your faces were only a few inches apart.

Mildred’s eyes flicked to your lips. You stopped breathing. You were so mad, you swore if she tried to kiss you right now you would flip the table, rip off the lights, break your chair. She had no right to ask to come back in your life, not after what she had done, and you were so mad, and definitely not leaning in and your lips were not parting as if to taste the air she exhaled –

Mildred raised her hands to cup your face. Her touch was like thunder, except you were not a tree but the sky; you had not been hit and burnt, but sublimated and illuminated.

You flinched, and sat back in your chair.

“So?” you asked, folding your arms on your chest. You couldn’t quite meet Mildred’s eyes. Your face was burning.

Mildred raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“So what happens now? What’s your plan now that you’ve found me?”

Mildred smiled. “That,” she answered, “is entirely up to you.”

Was this a blatant lie? You stared at her, forcing yourself to silence the fresh burst of anger her words triggered in you. For if there was one thing you were quite sure of, it was that Mildred Ratched never relented. When she sank her fangs into a prey, she never let go. She would forever be just a few inches behind you, the shadow gliding on your walls day and night, the fingers brushing your shoulders and making you jump.

“So tell me,” Mildred asked after a short while, “do you like what you see?”

You almost said no. Just to tempt her, just because you could and being cruel was so easy and felt so good. You almost said you would disappear again and change your name so she could never find you. Because deep down you knew that if you really, really tried, you would forget her. Only be reminded of her face once in a while in the middle of a crowd or in a poem.

But did you want that?

You pursed your lips to hold back the word “no”. Mildred would have looked confident enough had it not been for the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. They were so dark, her eyes, they sometimes reminded you of a big cat, crouching in tall grass, silent, body taut, ready to jump on its prey.

She had jumped. And you had run away. But now she was jumping again, and this time, you had seen her coming. And you let her claws sink into your flesh.

You shifted on your seat with a low noise of anger at yourself, glanced up at her and blurted out moodily, “Yes.”

Victory shone in Mildred’s eyes. A smile danced across her lips. She leaned towards you, hands coming up to rest on the table with her nails digging into the wood, her gaze so intense, so wild, and when her lips parted to say something you slipped one hand around her right wrist, pushed back your chair so you could lean across the table, and kissed her.

It was a quick, angry kiss, pulling away before it really had time to start. Mildred blinked in surprise. You scowled at her, your mouth a tight, angry line. Your hand clutched her wrist to prevent her from moving.

“Yes,” you repeated.

A smile. Soft, nervous, hopeful.

“Am I forgiven?” she asked.

“No,” you growled, eyes riveted to her lips. “You’ll have to make it up to me, times and times again.”

Mildred’s lips curled up.

“Oh,” she breathed, “I can live with that.”

#spgiftexchange #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #mildred ratched x reader #mildred ratched #fics

[narrators-journal]

Step two

Sorry for the vanishing! I was out with friends for a two days. Because of this, this particular part is a little less edited because I’m exhausted, but! I will post!

Previous part: here

First part: here

Good progress was made in a rather short time after that first night, Illumi felt, but he still had a pretty big issue when it came to more personal matters. Mainly, it was the fact that he struggled to adjust to the life of an impoverished man. He couldn't cook at all, he had no idea how to do laundry, and sleeping in his relatively cheap bed was awful for a conductive rest. That wasn't even touching the fact that being alone without a butler or maid truly revealed  how messy he was, his clothes scattered around or piled up to await washing he couldn't provide, snack wrappers here and there, the trash verging into overflowing territory before he bothered to take it out, which wouldn't have been so bad if his goal was not to consequentially get you into his bed, and according to his mother, women weren't keen on sleeping in a dirty bed no matter the charm of the man. However, that matter was for later, on a more cheerful note, he felt he was making relatively good progress with you. Such good progress, in fact, that he had landed a date to a restaurant with you already.

The restaurant was a bit cheap, small, with a very unrefined sort of aesthetic through out, but you had said you enjoyed it, and it was an opportunity to see you dressed up a bit for him. Maybe this is why Father takes Mother out on her demanded dates. he mused while he sat outside in the cool evening air of (f/r) waiting for you in the best 'poor' clothes he had in his closet. He continued to think about his situation until he heard you snort, making him whip his head towards you, eyes beginning to narrow,        "Illumi?" you said with a bit of amusement "um, you look very nice, but this isn't the type of place that deserves that type of outfit." you pointed out, gesturing to the dress pants and button up shirt with a tie. In contrast, you had on a rather nice dress, maybe with some leggings, appreciated by the assassin if so, that wasn't super flashy, making Illumi stand out among the other casually dressed customer.        "oh. This is the only sort of nice clothes I have." he explained, and he didn't know how to feel about your giggle in response just yet.        "Maybe after our...d-date," you turned an adorable shade of pink when you admitted what this outing was, "you can look into buying some less proper clothes." you suggested, and even he had to admit it came off a bit more suggestive or rude than you most likely meant. "S-sorry, that sounded weird." you muttered, your face staying a slightly darker pink this time as you turned your eyes to the sidewalk. Illumi simply smiled,        "It's fine, (y/n), let's just go eat." he suggested, and you were quick to agree, letting him lead you into the restaurant.   The date was going well in Illumi's mind, though he could about feel the tension rolling off of you in the silence. I guess on a date it's a bit weird to simply sit  there in silence. he mused, than remembered his intention with this date, so he began asking you questions about yourself. Admittedly, he was a bit stiff about it, but you seemed to relax little by little as the two of you spoke. It seemed that his slightly off and awkwardly blunt nature worked in his favor as well, since you were soon giggling and smiling at Illumi's 'obliviousness' when his words could come off as different and sometimes more inappropriate than he meant, and the ebony haired assassin decided he enjoyed your laugh, slipping in a few double entendre here and there on purpose to fluster you and make you giggle more. Your laugh was quite pleasing to hear, which was good because he needed a wife who wouldn't be super annoying, wouldn't be demanding of him, and wouldn't require going out of the Zoldyck estate a lot. From how you were so reclusive, he trusted that you'd not want to head into town a lot or down the mountain. She'll most likely hide herself away a lot too, making the biggest obstacle intercourse, but if push comes to shove I can tie her down. He thought while the two of you ate, but then he realized something, Wait, if she's so reclusive because of sexual trauma, tying her down and taking her by force could push her over the edge. I'll need to figure out if her habits are innocent , or trauma related. From there I can plan accordingly. He decided, looking at you with his dark eyes as you ate, attempting to read your body language for hints, but than you spoke out of the blue,          "Um, Illumi? Are...you alright?" Your voice was tinged with caution and...discomfort, maybe it was some sort of physical trauma that made you so shut off from the world? He'd have to think on that idea,          "Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. I was simply admiring your pretty face," he said, grinning at the wave of red that overtook your body in response. You were deliciously easy to fluster. Wooing her must be a simple task, he thought to himself while you cleared your throat,          "Um...could I ask you a question?" Your voice was meek, uncertain, making the assassin's heart squeeze with excitement while he nodded, "uh, sorry if this is rude, but why are your eyes like that?" The question was a bit out of the blue, and his silence seemed to convey that seeing how you instantly tried to backpedal,          "How are my eyes odd?" he asked, not letting you change the subject,                "I dunno, they just seem...kinda dead." you pointed out, and he nodded,            "Ah, I can see why that may seem weird, but I don't have a reason for why my eyes seem...dead, they've been like this my whole life," he explained, making sure to add a casual, not-offended lilt to his voice to hopefully quell your remorseful, anxious aura. You nodded,        "I-I still think they are very pretty eyes, uh, very hypnotic almost...kinda..." you fumbled before a short, tense silence seemed to fall between the two of you while Illumi slowly blinked and hummed, watching you with his dark, owlish eyes. Finally, you changed the subject awkwardly. Your social ineptitude was so alluring to him, and so fun to aggravate like some sort of wound. Once the food was gone, he picked back up on the conversation, continuing to learn about you and flirt until it was time to pay and take you home. As the two of you walked down the street though, he decided to ask,           "(y/n), would it be rude to ask why you don't seem to go outside a lot?" He did his best to phrase it gently, just in case it was a trauma response, listening to your explanation. If it was something to do with a dark part of your past, no matter for the assassin, he simply decided to end whoever hurt you or their loved ones, but if it was little more than you being an introverted, naturally skittish woman, he was ecstatic. If you were just not very social on your own, he had fewer things to avoid in terms of successfully wooing you, which was such a relief to him, plus, he could easily work on your social awkwardness, so that in itself wasn't even an issue. When the two of you reached your home, he kissed your cheek,           "I hope you enjoyed your night," he hummed, doing his best to ensure he had his charm lacing each word, which came off as slightly suggestive but he was fine with that.           "I did, so, um, maybe some other time...we could do this again?" you offered, attempting to match the flirtatious tone he had, making the assassin smile slightly despite the awkwardness of your attempt.           "I'd enjoy that. It gives me a reason not to try cooking for myself," he pointed out, making you laugh slightly,           "Glad I could be of help tonight than." With that, he took the chance and leaned down and kissed you pretty quickly, watching your (e/c) eyes widen for a moment before you became a flustered mess for the umpteenth time that night. You swiftly said good night and scurried into your home, leaving the tall man outside in the cool spring night. He stood there for a moment, debating whether or not he should sneak into your home again, but deciding not to. He instead headed back to his house and contemplated what to do for the next date.

#yandere illumi #x reader #yandere #Illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #fanfiction #quotev #part 7 #hxh #hunter x hunter

[aotimagines]

Aperture [1]

Hey. Remember when this blog hit 5,000 followers and I mentioned I was going to be writing something self-indulgent? The moment has finally arrived, lol. The idea spiraled way out of control before I could stop myself so here we are. This is probably not what the anon meant when they sent this in, but I couldn’t stop myself from plotting this story out. It’ll probably have around 8-10 chapters and I want to be realistic and say I’ll be able to update frequently, but there are no promises. My goal is for a new chapter every two weeks, but it’ll probably be closer to once a month. It will contain NSFW at some point, so minors do not interact. To the anon who sent this request in almost a year ago, I am so sorry this has taken me this long to write. I apologize and hope that this suffices. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

“Could you lift your head and look towards the camera, please?”

Your breath was nearly whisked away from your lungs at the sight of your model’s eyes flickering towards you, the intensity swirling behind his irises rooting you to your spot. They reflected the ocean itself—deep, vibrant, and tumultuous just like rolling waves and you felt yourself drowning at sea. You could barely tear your eyes away from his ethereal beauty; from the sharp angle of his jaw, to his sinewy, sun-kissed skin. Each and every ripple of muscle resembled someone akin to a Greek statue over real life and the longer you looked at your model, the more difficult it became to stop your eyes from gazed lower…

Immediately, you brought your camera back up to your eye to conceal your reverie and took another photo, peeling the camera back to examine the frame you had just taken with more intense than you should have. “Great!” Your voice came out rushed and quick—high and pitchy. You wanted to die right then and there on the spot, but you needed to act more professional even if you couldn’t resist the temptation to ogle your client’s perfectly sculpted, perfectly nude body.

It was wrong. It was beyond heinous but, the instant Eren Jaeger walked out to your photoshoot and shed his robe, his stunning looks had been on your mind. As a professional photographer, you had seen your fair share of models, both nude and not, so why were you acting so ridiculous? There was something undeniably electric about Eren and the way he was able to express so much emotion through his eyes alone. After having worked with him for only an hour, you could definitely see why he was scouted to be a model. There was an air of shyness that radiated off him despite the wave of confidence that brimmed so brightly from within. It was cute, which felt foreign and almost like an insult when thinking about the man standing before you.

Still, you needed to maintain your composure and do your job. You could allow yourself to be dazzled by your model for a moment, but now you needed to get back to work. Standing, you exchanged a friendly smile with Eren and motioned to his hands, pointing out, “Do you mind if we get some close-up shots of the watch? I know the campaign said that they wanted a full body shot, but I’d like to give some other options…”

“Sure,” he agreed, his electric gaze never leaving your face even as he held out his wrist and loosened the tension. Immediately, you snapped into your role as the photographer and began taking photos, unaware that you inching several steps closer.

Captivated with the elegance of his long, deft fingers, you became enraptured in your own little world and mindless gave instruction and praise, your prior embarrassment all but gotten. You were unaware of the way Eren’s eyes were glued to your every expression; the way your tongue would push through your lips as you found an angle or shape you liked. As exhilarated as you were to photograph him, Eren was, in kind, just as thrilled to way the way you worked. It was difficult tot keep cool and focus on his job with the way you moved around him, the sheer delight across your face almost tangible. He had been subjected to many photographers, some good and bad, but never…

“Okay!” Your voice dragged him from his thoughts, your lips curved into a soft, gentle smile. “I think we got it? Good work, Eren. You were great.”

“Ah—thanks,” he replied, the fabric of his robe hitting his shoulders before he realized it. One of the assistants must have gotten it for him and it took him all but five seconds to realize that he was still standing before you, naked. His cheeks heated up, a tennis ball lodged in the back of his throat, but he managed to force out, “You were a good photographer. It was, uh…easy to follow your instruction.”

You were positively beaming by the time he glanced at your face, eyes wide and sparkling. “Thank-you! That means a lot, especially since I’m kind of new to working on a professional set and everything.”

“Seriously!” Eren couldn’t believe that he was still continuing the conversation—continuing to praise you, a complete and utter stranger—but here he was. Eren was not the type of person to be physically attracted to anyone right off the bat, but there was something so…mesmerizing about you that he couldn’t bring himself to stop talking. “It was a nice shoot. I didn’t even realize we were here for a couple hours.”

“Me either,” came your confession, camera clutched between your hands. “You take direction really well. Oh!” As if an idea just came to your head, you moved to the monitors behind the lights and popped out your SD card, gently sliding the chip inside the reader. Angling your chin, you glanced up at his features, your eyes shining with complete and utter excitement. “Want to see some of the shots? I usually offer to let the models see so they can view the before and after.”

“Uh…” Eren contemplated it for a moment, his mind very cognizant of the fact that he was still only wearing a robe. You seemed completely oblivious to it, which dashed some of his prior thoughts. A moment passed by until he cracked a smile and moved closer to gaze down at the computer monitor. “Sure. I don’t really get a chance to see what I can improve on, or anything.”

Your fingers clicked open the file folder, pulling up the images you had taken not even ten minutes ago. Scrolling through, your eyes darted from one side of the screen to the other as if making mental notes about which ones you wanted to save for editing, later. “Here—this one is really nice,” you said, double-clicking the image until it was pulled up for Eren to see. Despite his nudity being on full display, Eren couldn’t help but notice how…tasteful it was done. Truly, like mentioned in the job description, his focus was on the multitude of watches adorning his wrist, but there was something else about it that…

It was like you had managed to dig deep inside of him and photograph his soul; his emotions. Everything was displayed in his eyes and it took Eren a second to recognize himself. His silence made you worry, hastily bringing up, “Of course, they will look better with editing in post, but—”

Eren shook his head, cutting off your explanation before you could really begin. “No, it’s—it’s not that! Really, the photos are…” He floundered for the right word to describe what you had created; what you had managed to pull out of him and then captured on film. No other photographer had managed that before, so to see himself like that was a little…

“It’s different,” he concluded, gaze still lingering on the images on the screen. “I’m not used to seeing myself look like that. You’re an amazing photographer and I’m sort of struggling to come up with a better compliment than that.”

Visibly, you relaxed upon hearing his praise, pride swelling inside your chest when you realized that he liked the photos. “It makes it easier when my model is able to pull from within, too,” you countered, finally looking up at him after what felt like an eternity. Eren’s eyes met yours and it was like a magnetic field was drawing you closer to him, but you refrained from your urges and settled for exiting out of the photos. It took everything inside of you to swallow back the attraction and fascination that was bubbling inside of you, which only made you antsy and anxious to begin the editing process.

“Anyways, I should let you get dressed. I’m sure you’re itching to get out of here.”

“Ah, right.” Reluctantly, Eren broke eye contact first and stretched, the fabric of his thin robe inching higher against his toned thighs. You jerked your head away from him to conceal the heat crawling across your cheeks and praised whatever deity above that Eren hadn’t paid any attention to your sudden shy demeanor. He seemed to think to himself for a moment before exhaling deeply and walking off, leaving you to skim through the multitude of images you had taken.

A period of time passed because, the next thing you knew, Eren was back by your side, his silky, chocolate-colored tresses pulled back into a bun that rested at the nape of his neck. Small hairs framed his face, only fanning the fuel to his already handsome, boyish looks. You swallowed thickly and offered a smile, rising from your chair to ask, “You heading out?”

“Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you something, first…” Eyebrow quirked, you watched Eren rock back and forth on his feet, a nervous energy teeming off of him. While the two of you knew nothing about each other outside of first and last names, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was typical behavior. He seemed to self-assured whenever he spoke. Was there something wrong with the photos after all? Before you could ask, Eren’s hand shot out and encircled around your wrist, preventing you from turning away or moving back to your computer screen. “Listen,” he pressed closer, temporarily catching you off guard with how bold he was being, “there’s a party happening later tonight. I really don’t want to go, but my manager said it’d be good for connections and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Why?” The question escaped your mouth before you could process what was happening, confusion written across your features. You didn’t pull away from his touch, however, and repeated after a moment of clarity, “You barely know me, Eren. We’re strangers. Shouldn’t you invite one of your friends?”

Eren fell silent for a moment before an uncharacteristic smirk danced across his lips. There was something fierce about the glimmer in his eyes and his body language exuded an amount of confidence he had only displayed the instant his eyes locked with your camera lens earlier that afternoon. He leaned in closer, studying the way your face heated up, before murmuring in a low tone, “I saw the way you were looking at me, earlier.”

Embarrassed, you averted your eyes to the ground. “I’m—I’m sorry! Really, I sometimes get lost in my work and you are beautiful, so I…got swept away. It was unprofessional and I swear it won’t happen again, if we happen to work together.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Eren chuckled, the sound so dizzying that you felt yourself drawn to it—to him—like a moth circling a flame. This was a dangerous game you two were playing and you weren’t sure what kind of out come Eren was looking for. Rather, he released your hand and stepped back, the intensity gone and replaced with a softer, kinder smile. “I liked your photos,” he simply stated, his hand resting against his hip as he continued to stare at you. “And you liked what you were able to get out of me. I just thought it’d be a good opportunity to each to know one another.”

“Professionally?”

“Both,” he easily quipped with a shrug of his shoulders.

You ran a hand through your hair, teeth catching your inner cheek. “I don’t know.”

“How about this.” Eren reached for the sharp on your desk and ripped the cap off with his teeth, balancing the piece of plastic between his two lips. Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand again and began to write numbers into your palm, a string of digits staring back up at you. “When you decide what you want to do, you can text me. Even if you don’t want to go with me, specifically, it’d be a good idea to make connections. You said yourself that you’re new to the industry.”

You had said that, didn’t you? Eren’s number stared up at you, silently replaying your words from earlier like a broken record until a heavy, shaky sigh pulled from your lips. You didn’t know what his intentions were, but you figured that you could worry about that, later. Even if you couldn’t decipher Eren’s true nature, the prospect of getting your name out to more people in the industry was too tempting to ignore. “But what do I wear?” you asked weakly, watching as Eren’s features lit up like a light.

“It’s cocktail, but whatever you have should be fine. I really don’t care about what other people are wearing, either way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh genuinely at this, pointing out with amusement dripping from your tone, “Aren’t you a fashion model? Shouldn’t you care about stuff like that?”

Eren scoffed, lips twisted into a smile. “Nah. That kind of stuff is stupid.”

“But then why…?” You stopped, shook your head, and moved to the desk where your cellphone rested. Holding it up, you tilted your head to the side. “So, I’ll text you? I’ll need an address, you know.”

Eren’s name was being called from across the building—probably whoever he brought with him, you noted—but his eyes still lingered on you even as he began to step away. “It’s for seven-thirty. See you!”

You watched as he jogged away until he was completely out of sight, your heart hammering against your ribs repeatedly. You weren’t sure what the hell had just transpired, but the area where his fingers brushed your skin tingled pleasantly as an aftershock effect.

You were way, way in over your head.

#eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren scenarios #eren jaeger imagines #eren imagines #snk imagines #aot imagines #mod elle #idk what else to tag this as #i hope you guys enjoy #srry for all the eren content later #but i warned y'all that i was going to be a lil self indulgent and here it is lol

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 4: Cheating the System (Dream SMP fic)

God dammit I forgot to post this before I passed out, so it’s a rare super late/early post from me XD

Word count: 5826

Summary: In which Tommy learns about many things. The purpose of the mob farm, what gunpowder is, and that Techno has a horse named Carl. 

Over the course of the next couple days, Tommy learned several things. He learned that Techno’s favourite vegetable was a potato, something about it tasting like victory and being easy to grow. He learned that the upper floor of the house, the only space he had been unable to reach since digging upward tunnels was a bitch, housed not only Techno’s bed but a bell as well. Honestly, he was more surprised about the hybrid having a bed than anything else since he rarely seemed to sleep.

He also learned what the true purpose of the mob farm was.

The borrower had been looking out one of the many windows, still a bit anxious about being out in the open but ultimately adapting quite well to his new environment, when he spotted Techno outside. Nothing about this really interested him, he occasionally watched the hybrid gather resources nearby or take trips to the village to trade, but what caught his attention was the fact that Techno was going to the mob farm this time.

Now curious, he leaned against the window and watched as Techno brushed some freshly fallen snow off the ground, revealing a previously hidden trapdoor.

Seeing an opportunity to both mildly annoy Techno and figure out what was up with that random trap door, he quickly ducked into the nearby passage and made his way down to the ground. From there, he shimmied out of the entrance he had made in the wooden framework of the house, winding up on the stone stairs.

Entrances and exits to the house were always the first thing borrowers made. Escape routes were important and all, and he doubted the hybrid had noticed the practically invisible entrance, consisting of nothing other than a sheet of wood that could be moved back and forth.

It was a sliding door, Tubbo called it. He had picked up the design during a conversation with some other borrowers and shared it with Tommy once he got home. They had, naturally, tried it out and built their own special, hidden sliding door and used the space behind it as a sort of secret storage.

Hopefully it was still hidden, protecting the treasures they had gathered over the years. The sparkling red dust that Tubbo liked to mess with, the worn bee plushie, the old jukebox Tubbo had managed to fix up, and the discs they would listen to late at night.

Cat and Mellohi.

He skidded to a halt once he reached the railing, nearly falling off in the process, and quickly cupped his hands around his mouth.

“HEY TECHNOOOOOOO!” Tommy shouted at the top of his lungs. “BIG MAN! WHAT’RE YOU UP TO?!”

While the hybrid didn’t show any signs of being surprised, something that the borrower was just the slightest bit disappointed about, he did see those large, pointed ears twitch before Techno turned to face him. He waved both of his arms, bouncing up and down, and he watched as Techno reluctantly made his way over.

“So, what’s up with those trapdoors?” He immediately asked, leaning forward and peering around the hybrid as he tried to catch another glimpse of the aforementioned trapdoors. “Got some secret room full of women you’ve been hidin’?”

“... I don’t think there are any words in the English language to convey the emotion I just felt, and no.” Techno calmly replied. “It’s for the mob farm. The hoppers and chests.”

“... You keeping frogs down there?” Tommy grinned as he heard the disappointed sigh the hybrid let out in response to his question. He had no clue what a hopper was, but it sounded weird.

“It’d be easier to just show you.” Techno said, choosing to completely ignore the borrower’s question as the last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge it. “C’mere-”

“Wait! Wait! Don’t pick me up! Blade, let me ride on your shoulder!” Tommy exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. “It’ll be cool!”

“Wh-no.” Techno balked at the request. “That is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard on so many levels.”

“But I’ll be tall-”

“And that’s even more of an incentive to say no.”

Tommy inhaled and used his backup plan. “Please, please, please, please please, please, please, please-”

His pleading was cut off when Techno reached out and picked him up, yet again without bothering to warn the borrower. He was moments away from shouting, wanting to curse the hybrid for making a habit out of randomly picking him up, but the sudden drop onto Techno’s shoulder cut him off.

Immediately, he found himself surrounded by the fluffy trim of the cape and he impulsively ran a hand through the surprisingly soft material. It was warm, very warm, due to both the body heat the hybrid was giving off as well as the natural insulation provided by the cape. He glanced upwards, noticing the large, pointed ear above him, and a mischievous grin crossed his face.

The borrower quickly inhaled and, without warning, blew a quick puff of air up towards Techno’s ear. He was immediately rewarded with a full body shudder from the hybrid as his ear twitched wildly. That evil look appeared once more, and he quickly inhaled-

Just in time to be met with a sharp flick on his forehead. It was Techno’s retaliation, and he let out a loud yelp before massaging the aching spot.  

“What the fuck was that for?!”

“You acting like a gremlin.” The hybrid replied while staring at the borrower out of the corner of his eye. Tommy nervously swallowed. “And don’t do that again.”

“R-Right! Got it, big man!”

With that boundary drawn, Techno made his way back over to the trapdoors. He ignored the surprised shout that came from Tommy as he started moving as well as the uncomfortable memories that roiled in his mind. Moments of people whispering as he passed, pointing at him.

At his ears.

Looks of disgust and distrust, as though he were some kind of freak walking through the streets. The insults and jeers that filled his childhood, eventually turning to words of praise and awe-

He suppressed the shudder and pushed down the images that plagued his mind of a time that had long since passed. There was no point dwelling on such things, remembering them, and in an attempt to distract himself, he opened the trapdoors and jumped down.

Whatever Tommy was expecting when the duo descended into the room connected to the mob farm, it certainly wasn’t this.

He could see the faint glow coming from those weird blocks, something he still needed to ask Techno about, lighting up the small space. The room itself was made out of stone, smelling faintly of dirt, and featured some chests that had been placed directly below the glowing blocks. Some strange, metal devices linked the two, and the borrower briefly wondered whether those were the “hoppers” Techno had talked about.

Before he could ask what anything was, or why the hybrid had decided to make the farm in the first place, Techno made his way over to one of the chests, crouched down, and opened it, revealing all the loot that the mob farm had generated while the borrower had been acting as bait.

There were some drops that Tommy was familiar with, the bones and rotten flesh being the main ones. Back in Borrowton, there had been groups who would go out and scavenge what loot they could find after the mobs had burnt up in the bright sunlight. It had been a dangerous job, but the rewards were worth it.

Especially when the occasional chunk of iron was found. He would never be able to forget Tubbo’s excited rambling about what new tools would be made. Fixing old, broken things was his favourite pastime, even more so when he and Tommy got something out of it, and it was one of the main sources of motivation for Tommy to go out and steal things.

Well, that and spite.

Bones had been surprisingly rare with how common skeletons were supposed to be, but he had always supposed that was because of the local wolf population getting to them first. No one wanted to challenge the local wildlife, even if it meant getting vital supplies.

However, the rest of the items left Tommy scratching his head in confusion as he tried to figure out what they were. One looked like some weird, reddish eye. String, or something that resembled string, was also pretty common and he quietly wondered if that was from the occasional spider he had seen. The only other thing he struggled to identify were the random piles of some strange, grey coloured powder.

Interestingly enough, it was these piles of powder that Techno seemed the most interested in, based on the appreciative hum he let out upon seeing how much had been collected.

“It’s gunpowder.” The hybrid replied. After hearing the confused noise the borrower made, he continued speaking. “Creepers drop it.”

“Oh.” Tommy had seen the large, somewhat fuzzy, green mob before. It was always from a distance since they apparently exploded. “So it blows up?”

Techno just grinned in response as he slowly sorted through the loot, gathering as much of the gunpowder as he could and adding it to a bag, making the borrower instinctively shudder. There was just something about that look, the amount of malice he radiated that made him want nothing more than to run, to hide and find somewhere he would be safe.

He hated it, of course, and determinedly shoved the emotions down. He was a big man, and he wouldn’t show any fear! He was stronger than that!

“Bit of a shit explanation, that is.” Tommy huffed. “Just smilin’ like someone who’s scheming. Are you scheming, Blade?”

“Not at all.” The sarcastic drawl clearly indicated otherwise, but the borrower decided not to press any further. He had his own things to worry about and the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in whatever Techno was hinting at.

Prioritize, Tommy had to prioritize. For as much as he unintentionally enjoyed his time with the hybrid, it would be best if he kept his distance as much as possible and only interacted when he really needed to. Less attachment would make it easier to leave.

It was a sound plan.

Too bad Tommy always sucked at following plans.

The next day, he ended up learning that Techno used to have a horse named Carl.

The loud bang that shook the house, walls trembling before going still, was the first indication Tommy had that something bad had happened. The next was the furious, yet short-lived, shouting he heard coming from the front yard. He faintly heard something about a retirement fund?

He didn’t really care about whatever a retirement fund was as most of his attention was focused on whatever could make Techno sound so angry. It was the first time he had ever heard such anger from the hybrid, which was concerning in and of itself, and he hesitantly made his way out towards the shouting. After creeping through his hidden door, he found Techno pacing in the snow, a somewhat crumpled piece of paper held in his hands.

Maybe that was the source of his anger…?

“Uh, Blade?” Tommy hesitantly called out. He cringed as the hybrid whirled around, red eyes shining with rage, and quietly wondered why he always got himself into these stupidly dangerous situations. “You… lookin’ a bit mad there, bruv-”

“They took Carl.”

“Uh, Carl?”

“My horse.” Techno replied, voice strangely monotone after his enraged outburst moments ago. “He’s stuck in some underground maze.”

“... So, when are we breaking him out?”

“We?” The hybrid repeated, anger fading as it was replaced by confusion.

“Well, yeah! You think I can’t help?!”

“... You’re a tiny person-”

“I am a big man with a big brain!” Tommy retorted as he pointed a finger at Techno. “And I’m great at puzzles-”

That was an absolute lie, Tubbo had always been the better out of the two when solving puzzles or riddles. He was far more patient than Tommy.

“Plus they’re probably counting on you being alone and stuff, not having a master puzzle solver with you!”

The hybrid hated to admit it, but in a way Tommy did have a point. Though he doubted the kid was as much of a master at solving puzzles as he claimed, his diminutive size could come in handy, and the sooner he got Carl out of that maze, the better.

“Alright-”

“Yes!” The borrower cheered, eagerly hopping into the offered hand before jumping onto Techno’s shoulder. He quickly made himself comfy, ignoring the exasperated look on Techno’s face, and tapped the side of his neck. “Let’s go!”

“I have to get supplies.”

“... Let’s go after we get supplies!”

Fortunately, preparing for their journey did not take long, and in no time at all, Techno set out and strode into the tundra. As they were leaving, Tommy noticed how some of the stones that made up the front porch were cracked. He could see the point of impact and how the damage spread outwards.

Had… had Techno punched it?

It took all of his strength to suppress his laughter, and even then he caught a glimpse of the hybrid staring at him in confusion before shaking his head. Nope, Techno was not going to ask about what that laughter was about. He had more important things to focus on at the moment, like getting to wherever the hell this maze was, and ignoring the inane chatter coming from the borrower.  

By the time the sun had begun to set, the pair reached their destination.

“So I guess this is where your horse is.” Tommy commented as he stared at the stone entryway leading deep underground. His eyes momentarily lingered on the strange, orange, glowing things in the ground before he looked up at Techno. He couldn’t see much of the hybrid’s face due to his vantage point, but he could easily see how tense his jaw was.

Gritting his teeth as he thought about the best way to solve this maze without losing one of his lives, Carl, or his items.

“Yeah.” He grumbled as he approached the entrance, eyes briefly scanning over the sign that stated only he could enter. A quick hit with his axe split the wooden sign in half, pieces tumbling to the ground as he made his way forward.

“Apparently, if any blocks get broken Carl’s gonna burn to death.” The hybrid explained, descending into the start of the maze. “If it was anything else I’d get someone, probably Skeppy, to do it for me, but I don’t want someone to troll me by breaking a block and killing Carl.”

He then glanced down at Tommy. “And that’s where you come in.”

“... We’re gonna cheat the system?”

“Absolutely.”  

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy cheered, throwing his arms up into the air in excitement. “Pog! We’ve gotta rub it in their stupid faces after we get Carl back!”

That got a small smile out of Techno, and he felt his mood lift for the first time since reading that stupid note. The kid could be so damn obnoxious and annoying, but sometimes he was alright.

So, after quickly checking out the nearby chest to see if there was any loot in it and finding nothing, he moved on and investigated the lectern nearby. He picked up the book resting on it, and opened it.

Huh, at least whoever designed this place was nice enough to leave hints.

Techno scanned over the words written in the book as he glanced at the arrows on the wall. “So, they need to be in a specific pattern-”

“I’ve got this.” Tommy scoffed as he cut Techno off. “Just lift me up to one of those frames and I’ll handle the rest.”

Mildly intrigued to see what the borrower had in mind, the hybrid held out a hand for Tommy to jump into. From there, he lifted the kid up to the item frame and watched as he skillfully jammed a tiny knife into the space between the frame and the wall, wiggled it loose, and slipped into the crack.

Suddenly, the arrow on the item frame started turning, rotating in place until Techno heard a click come from it. The borrower stuck his head out of the crack and grinned. “Got it! Take me to the next one!”

This process was repeated with each of the item frames, Tommy prying them open and messing with the redstone behind the wall until the arrow was in the correct position. Hardly any time had passed before the final click sounded and a section of the wall slid open.

Techno grinned. “... So you were a good investment-”

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy smirked while flexing his arms. “Big brain move to invest in these muscles!”

“... I take it back.”

“Hey!”

Progressing deeper into the maze, Techno easily kicking aside the empty lectern that was in his way, he took note of the bed placed in a cramped corner and the sign above it. A warning of death and respawns, and the implications made him snort in amusement.

Him? Die in this stupid maze? Not going to happen when he had Tommy to throw into the dangerous sections. Speaking of which…

“Time for you to do your thing.” He said as he scooped the borrower off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. “Apparently there’s a lot of death up ahead, probably lava. Try not to die.”

“Awwwww, the Blade cares-”

“It’d be a pain in the ass to replace you.”

“... Fucking dick.” Tommy grumbled as he stomped off. “It’d be impossible to replace me, you can’t replace perfection!”

He didn’t bother listening to whatever the hybrid’s response was as, in a mildly unnerving display of attention and focus, he approached the latest challenge he needed to overcome.

Tommy hummed as he investigated the next section of the maze. It certainly looked complicated, with all the pressure plates and strange devices, but there were two things that he quickly noticed that left him grinning. The first was that the pressure plates didn’t really detect him thanks to how small he was, and the other was that not all of the stone blocks were perfectly flush with one another, leaving the occasional gap that was just big enough for him to fit through.

Perfect.

He cracked his knuckles and got to work.

Crawling through the gaps yielded several pieces of information, the main one being that Techno had been correct in his guess that there would be lava. There were tons of spots where it had been used, each dead end filled with the glowing, molten fluid. It was chilling to realize how many times whoever kidnapped Carl wanted Techno to die, and Tommy could not help but wonder why.

Why steal Techno’s horse? Why go through all the trouble?

Something else he noticed was the strange, dark coloured sand with swirls and shapes in it. He had been hesitant to walk in it at first, and when he did he noticed that the sand seemed to stick to his boots, making it hard for him to move at anything other than a snail’s pace. Fortunately, he was able to easily skip these sections and in no time at all, he found himself staring at another lectern.

Fuck yeah!

With a victorious grin on his face, the borrower scampered back through the cracks and gaps in the blocks before finding his way back to Techno.

“You solved it?”

“Of course I did! Big man, I better get a reward for this-”

“Your reward is me not punting you every time you decide to act like a gremlin child.” The hybrid teased as he stepped forward and scooped the sputtering Tommy up. He stepped onto the pressure plate, momentarily disoriented as he was moved around, and then gestured for the borrower to begin guiding him.

Every so often, Tommy would get Techno to pause as he quickly checked to make sure the path they were following was correct before continuing to lead him. He could feel both his pride and ego swelling at his success, even after the teasing from earlier. This maze was easy!

And that thought stayed in his mind for only a couple of seconds before the pair reached the next section. While the borrower did not see the hint, he did catch sight of the smile that crossed Techno’s face once he was done reading it, which made him smile too.

Oh yeah, this next part was gonna be easy as hell-

Or so the borrower thought, until he was blasted in the face by the roaring heat of a room full of lava. The viscous fluid dripped from the ceiling and filled the pit which took up the bottom of the room. Several tiny platforms were suspended above the deadly obstacle, and multiple ladders lined the walls.  

“It’s all fucking lava!” Tommy shrieked, voice cracking painfully. “Techno, move!”

“Gimme a sec.” Techno tersely replied as he jumped from the starting platform to the nearest ladder. His concentration was momentarily thrown off as he felt a pair of arms wrap around the side of his neck and a tiny body press itself against him.

It was Tommy, and he was trembling in fear.

Discomfort ran through him, but the hybrid ignored it as he continued to jump from ladder to platform. He carefully dodged the bits of lava that fell from the ceiling and unconsciously raised the shoulder the borrower was on, blocking any potential lava that might land on him.

It was a gesture that only Tommy noticed, his eyes widening in surprise as the protective positioning registered. It was just like back with the librarian. Techno was trying to keep him safe…

Soon enough, Techno’s boots hit stone. This sound snapped Tommy out of his dazed state, and he awkwardly let go of the neck he had been clinging to and looked off to the side.

Don’t say anything, just don’t mention it-

“Welp, hope you don’t mind more lava-”

“THERE’S MORE?!” The borrower wailed as he looked in front of them, taking in the multiple different pathways that were full of lava. “WHY THE FUCK IS THERE MORE?!”

“Bruh, if you’re gonna keep being so loud I’m sticking you in a bottle.”

“Technoblade, you’re subjecting me to this torture again! Wh-what about my emotions?! The trauma?! I’ll never be able to look at anything orange ever again!” Just as Tommy was about to continue his rant, Techno lifted a bottle of some strange, glowing liquid up for him to see.

“It’s a good thing I decided to brew a fire resistance potion, then.”

“... A what?” The borrower blinked in confusion, and the hybrid rolled his eyes before explaining further.

“It’ll make us immune to fire damage for a bit-”

“Immune-why didn’t you use that in the other room then?!”

“I didn’t wanna waste it, duh.”

He ignored the enraged sputtering coming from Tommy and quickly splashed some of the potion on the kid, getting a loud curse in response, before dousing himself with the rest of it. After quickly checking to make sure the fire resistance was actually working on the borrower, a quiet sigh of relief escaping him when he saw those signature orange swirls, he then glanced at the hint book.

He who fails, may lose, but maybe not again…

Again…?

“Two, maybe?” Techno mumbled to himself as he approached the second opening. He both felt and heard Tommy start to panic, listened to the anxious mumbles and felt the nervous shifting on his shoulder, and decided it was best to get this part over and done with.

Without warning the borrower, he quickly lunged into the lava, pushed through it, and found himself in a stream of water. He was immediately met with more shouting courtesy of Tommy.

“What the fuck, man?! Why the fuck would you do that without warning me?!”

“So I didn’t have to listen to your yelling…” Techno started to say, but his voice trailed off as he looked down the next passage and noticed something moving in the distance.

Something horse shaped and wearing diamond armor.

“CARL!”  

He immediately raced off, passing the two rooms that had clearly been left open on accident in his haste to get to his horse. Tommy was nearly knocked off his shoulder, but just barely managed to hold on thanks to the fur trim behind him.

“How about a bit of warning, next time?!” The borrower shouted, ultimately being ignored as Techno chose to focus on showering Carl with love and affection instead. He whispered gently to the horse, brushing a hand through Carl’s mane and promising that they would be home soon, that everything would be alright.

Tommy pretended to gag. “Can’t believe you’re going soft, Blade, and over a horse too.”

“I’ll have you know that Carl is the best horse in the world, and deserves nothing less than perfection.” Techno proudly stated. He looked so happy, definitely the happiest Tommy had ever seen him, and it was so…

Weird.

Rather than continue to tease the hybrid further, the borrower just let out a loud, exasperated sigh, arms dropping to his sides. “Well you better finish up your reunion so we can get outta here!”

Unfortunately for Tommy, it was this outburst that caught the horse’s attention. Carl let out a snort and shifted so his muzzle was pointed at Techno’s shoulder where the borrower was. Tommy winced as he felt a puff of warm air run over him before frantically looking at Techno. “What the fuck do I do?!”

“Relax, Carl’s just saying hello.”

“... So I should say hay back-” The pun was cut off by a quick flick to Tommy’s forehead. As the borrower grumbled as rubbed at the sore spot, Techno offered his own suggestion.

“The last thing you should do is offend Carl, especially with any of your shitty jokes-”

“They’re not shit!”

Carl let out snort of his own at Tommy’s objection, as if disagreeing with the borrower despite only having just met him a couple moments prior, making Techno let out his own laugh.

“I can’t believe I’m being bullied by a bastard and his horse.” Tommy grumbled. He was snapped out of his sour mood when another puff of warm air rolled over him, Carl still clearly intrigued by the tiny being. Feeling both curious and nervous, Tommy hesitantly held a hand out towards the horse.

“Hello there… Carl…”

This was insanity, absolute insanity, and the borrower was certain he was going to die. However, his assumption was immediately disproven when the muzzle of the horse was pressed against his hand.

Unfortunately, the affectionate gesture was a bit too strong for Tommy, nearly knocking him over before Techno reached out to steady him.

“Looks like Carl approves.” The hybrid chuckled, getting a half-hearted glare from the borrower.

“At least he’s got good taste.” Tommy mumbled as he gently patted the horse, starting a bit more comfortable. “Everyone approves of me, I’m fantastic.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

A couple more moments passed with Carl investigating the strange, tiny new creature before the horse let out a snort and shook his head. One of his hooves pawed at the ground, a clear sign that he was more than ready to leave the cramped space he had been stuck in.

Having saddled up Carl and made sure he was alright for the journey back home, the group emerged out of the dark tunnel into moonlight. Techno let out a quiet, relieved sigh, happy to be out of the cramped maze, while Tommy just slumped against the side of his neck. The duo were exhausted and both wanted nothing more than to pass out.

… But sleep was not the only thing on Tommy’s mind. He kept thinking back to the maze, to the puzzles he had helped the hybrid overcome. He had been helpful, very helpful, and it was likely Carl wouldn’t have been saved if it weren’t for him.

He was important, his help had been important, and he wanted to know if…

If Techno realized that.

He wanted the validation, craved it, and despite how anxious he was everything in him begged him to speak up and voice those words.

Ask him, ask him-

“Techno,” Tommy began, looking up so he could catch a glimpse of the hybrid’s face. “Did… did I do good?”

“No,” He felt his heart shatter hearing that word. Again, again someone had not thanked him for his work.

“You did great.” The rough sensation of a finger being pressed against the top of his head and ruffling his hair snapped Tommy out of his spiral, and by the time the ruffling stopped he was able to look up and see the smile on Techno’s face.

A true, genuine smile.

You did great.

Great.

...

Why?

Why had a man who was practically a stranger to him, someone he had known for less than a week, been able to say the words he had been dying to hear from the people who had known him since he was a child?

Why had one of the most emotionally reserved people Tommy had ever met been able to express the appreciation towards his actions that he had only ever experienced with Tubbo?

Why was Technoblade one of the two people he now felt safe around? How the hell had the hybrid managed to earn his trust so fast with how much of a prick he could be?! And why the fuck was he crying over something so stupid-

But it wasn’t stupid.

It was a sign of him being valued, being wanted. A sign that, despite how annoying and obnoxious he could be at times, someone cared about him. It was what had drawn him to Tubbo in the first place, the foundations of their friendship.

The fact that they genuinely cared about one another when no one else did.

I miss Tubbo.

A choked sob burst out of Tommy and he quickly pressed his forearm over his face as he struggled to suppress the sounds of his crying, damn he had been crying a lot.  

He was unaware of how the ear above him twitched, Techno obviously hearing the sounds of his distress despite how hard he tried to hide it. He was equally unaware of the look of discomfort that briefly crossed the hybrid’s face before fading to neutrality.

Emotions, the last thing he wanted to deal with.

… Or really knew how to deal with. Years worth of being a social outcast, repressing his own emotions, and just having a general sense of anxiety towards interacting with people had left him woefully unprepared when it came to displaying empathy. The people who mattered most to him, Phil and-

The soothing sounds of someone playing a guitar. That teasing laughter and lighthearted sparkle in his eyes.

Wilbur.

Both of them knew, or had known, when he was trying to help out and show that empathy he struggled with. The words he was unable to say, always out of reach, conveyed through physical acts. The occasional, awkward hug, leaning against them…

Stealing Wilbur’s beanie and ruffling his hair, warm curls bouncing and wrapping around his fingers. The sounds of his laughter.

Fuck.

This was why he didn’t do emotions. Too many bad memories and negative feelings he didn’t want to deal with.

After what felt like an eternity passed, with Techno being seconds away from breaking down and begging the borrower to just stop being sad please I don’t know how to deal with this, he heard the kid sitting on his shoulder let out a shaky sigh.

“Fuckin’ bullshit is what it is.” Tommy bitterly mumbled, arms crossed and posture defensive. Techno let out a soft hum of agreement, and the borrower could feel the corresponding rumble through the neck he was leaning against. He instinctively started relaxing, sighing softly as his eyes closed.

Neither of the duo made any mention of what had just happened, both uncomfortable with the display of emotions for various reasons, but the awkward air lingered.

It was suffocating and only brought attention back to what had just happened, making it impossible to escape from the embarrassing display of feelings. As such, Tommy cleared his throat and decided to strike up a conversation.

“So, what about me?”

“Heh?” Techno blinked and tried to stare at the borrower, only really succeeding in catching a glimpse of his sprawled out legs.

“You’ve got this cool horse and all,” He started to ramble, gesturing with his arms despite knowing that the hybrid had no way to see. “With-with diamond armor, or some crap-”

“I should start trying to upgrade Carl’s armor.” Techno suddenly said, tuning out Tommy’s rambling as he contemplated whether it would be worth it to try and make netherite horse armor. “He deserves it.”

“I am talking, bruv! I thought you had manners?!” Tommy huffed as he angrily jabbed the side of the hybrid’s neck. He openly scowled when Techno started laughing.

“You were talking? I thought that was a fly buzzing around-”

“Prick!”

The insult was followed by more slapping as Techno laughed loud enough to nearly knock the borrower off his shoulder. He just barely managed to grab onto the furry trim of the cape as he glared up at Techno.

“You keep fucking picking on me for bein’ short and shit.”

“I don’t pick on you because you’re short. I pick on you because it’s easy.”

“Well… well your mum’s easy.” Tommy grumbled, crossing his arms and looking off to the side. He ignored how Techno continued to laugh, or he did until he came up with a suitable rebuttal.

“... I think I’d like a moth as a cool animal friend.”

Yup, that got the laughter to stop immediately. “Tommy, you’re not keeping a moth in my house.”

“It’s our house, bruv! And she’d be nice!” Tommy continued, pretending he didn’t hear Techno speak. “I’d have to give her a great name though. How about Clementine?”

“Tommy if you let one moth into my house, I swear-”

The borrower burst into loud cackles, arms braced against his stomach as he threw his head back and laughed. He tilted backwards, nearly falling off of his perch, and just barely managed to righten himself. Due to this, he didn’t catch the faint smile that crossed the hybrid’s face, nor did he see how those red eyes seemed to brighten for a moment, despite the inner turmoil that the owner felt.

Maybe, just maybe, Techno could admit to himself that it was nice having some company.

                                  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The fastest way to a piglin hybrid's heart is through his prized, retirement securing horse!

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #borrower!tommy

[blurry-fics]

Tell Me We’re Okay

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: Angst, profanity

Word Count: 1958

Request: please please please do a Level Of Concern type chapter!

Author’s Note: I tried to balance scenes from the lyrics and scenes from the music video so that I could capture all of Level of Concern! Also, requests will be opening on Friday, so start thinking of ideas :) I hope you enjoy this one! (picture credit)

Your foot tapped nervously against the tile floors. You already had one hand tightly gripped around the straps of your backpack, ready to pull it up over your shoulder as soon as you got the ok to leave. Class was supposed to end nearly five minutes ago, but your professor was still droning on. At this rate, you were going to miss your normal bus home and end up waiting fifteen minutes in the rain for the next one.

“Sir? Class is over,” someone hesitantly said, their hand barely raised over their head.

Thank you, random classmate.

“Is it? Oh, look at the time! We’ll finish this next week. Thank you.”

You shot out of your seat, pulling your backpack over your shoulder as you weaved through the other students who were still packing up their things. If you were fast, you could probably still make it the two blocks down to the bus stop in time.

To your surprise, Tyler was standing just outside the classroom, his back pressed to the plain white wall. He looked up when he heard the door open, a smile instantly lighting up his face. In one fluid motion, he picked up his backpack from where it was sitting on the ground and fell into step with you.

“I was wondering where you were,” he said, a smile still plastered on his face. “I got here like twenty minutes ago.”

“Sorry, class ran late,” you said, as if it were your fault. “Did you need something?”

“Um, I did actually. That’s why I waited out here to talk to you.”

You didn’t have time for his lengthy explanations. “Can you make it quick, Ty? I really need to make sure I don’t miss the bus.”

“Yeah, ok. So, basically, my music professor wants us to film a video for a piece that we wrote earlier in the semester. I’ve been brainstorming all week and I haven’t come up with any video ideas that I like and I’m starting to get really stressed out because we only have a few days left. Plus, there’s this girl in my class - Julie - who already did hers and it’s really good. I don’t know if I can live up to that. I even called Mark to help but he’s out of town this week so he can’t.”

You pulled your hood up before pushing open the metal door that separated the stairwell from the outside world. The sound of rain splashing against the pavement instantly filled your ears, making it more difficult to hear Tyler. He was still rambling on about his project.

“What I’m trying to get at is that I was wondering if you had any ideas?”

“Ty, listen,” you stopped walking for just a moment, “I would love to help, but I don’t have time to sit here and help you brainstorm. I need to catch my bus so I don’t end up stuck in the pouring rain for twenty minutes. I’ll call you later, alright?”

Tyler’s face fell, but he nodded slowly. “Cool. See you later.”

You gave him a quick kiss and turned just in time to see the bus come over the hill up ahead. With rain splashing over your feet, you jogged the final blocks to the bus stop and boarded just before the doors closed.

*     *    *

“Again?” you muttered as the familiar beginning of Tyler’s voicemail played. You had called him numerous times over the past couple of hours, but each attempt was sent straight to voicemail. If you were being honest, it was starting to get a bit worrying.

You set your phone down, deciding to wait another fifteen minutes before you attempted to call him again. It wasn’t like him to not pick up your calls, but maybe he was wrapped up in his music project and didn’t hear his phone ringing. This wouldn’t be the first time it happened, you had lost count of how many times Tyler had missed your calls when he was doing homework or writing music.

Your phone buzzed a few minutes later. Eager to see if it was finally a response from Tyler, you ignored the paragraph you were reading to check your messages. As expected, there was a new message from Tyler, but it wasn’t as friendly as you had hoped.

Tyler: Please stop calling, I’m trying to get this project done.

Y/N: Did you need help?

You tapped your fingers against the edge of your phone, waiting for the little bubbles to pop up and let you know that Tyler was typing. It wasn’t until just after you had given up on waiting and gone back to reading that a text message from him finally came through.

Tyler: I thought you “didn’t have time to sit and help me brainstorm”

“Shit,” you muttered, reading over the text message a few more times as you tried to think of a good response.

Y/N: I was just worried about missing my bus, but I’m more than happy to help you now

An uncomfortable pit settled in your stomach as you waited for Tyler’s answer. It wasn’t like you two to get into fights, and you hated to think that Tyler might be mad at you for a little while. Could you really not have sacrificed fifteen minutes to help him out?

Tyler: You don’t have to

But you wanted to. Without a moment’s hesitation, you stuck a post-it note in your textbook and closed it with a thud. Your shoes were still sitting by your bed from when you had gotten home, so you quickly slipped them on and grabbed the rest of the things that you were going to need.

You weren’t going to let Tyler deal with this alone.

*     *     *

“You’re not my pizza,” was the first thing out of Tyler’s mouth when he opened the door.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to help,” you smiled. “And I brought snacks.”

On the way to Tyler’s house, you had made a quick stop to the grocery store to pick up some of his favorite things: Red Bull, you weren’t sure how long this video shoot was going to take, his favorite candy, and a couple bags of chips. Along with keeping you two fueled, you also hoped it would let your apology go over a little bit smoother.

“I’m really sorry for how I acted earlier today. It was wrong and I should have stayed and helped you out, even if it meant taking a later bus.”

Tyler crossed his arms, “I was explaining how much of a toll this project is taking on me and it’s like you weren’t even listening to me.”

“No, I know. I should have been a better listener and I’m sorry for that. That’s why I’m here now, to make up for it.”

Tyler pursed his lips and held a hand out, motioning for the plastic grocery store bag that you were carrying. You passed it to him, half expecting him to take it and shut the door in your face. He opened it up and looked through it, examining the contents.

“Apology accepted, you can stay,” he said, looking up at you with a smile.

“So we’re alright?”

“Yeah, we’re ok. Come here.”

Tyler held out an arm and you happily buried your face in his shoulder. The button down that he was wearing was a bit scratchy against your cheek, but you were just happy that he wasn’t mad at you.

“I love you,” you mumbled.

“I love you too.”

“So, how should we start brainstorming?”

“Well, I actually have an idea. Here, let me show you.”

Tyler grabbed your hand and led you towards the basement. Your jaw dropped as soon as you reached the bottom of the stairs. There was stuff all over the place: outfits thrown over the back of the couch, multicolored lights, flashlights of various sizes. The only clear space was right in front of Tyler’s desk, which just so happened to be where the camera was set up.

“What is your idea?” you asked, beginning to slowly tiptoe through the piles of stuff towards his room.

“Since it’s about quarantine and bunkers and all that, I thought it would be cool to make a music video that’s also sort of a home video. It’s actually really nice that you showed up because I needed a second person for the other camera.”

“What about your family?” you asked, suddenly realizing how silent the house was.

“They went out to dinner so I could have a quiet workspace, but that was before I realized I needed a cameraman.”

“That was nice of them.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot easier to film without someone constantly yelling.”

“Zack?” you laughed.

“Exactly.”

Tyler set the bag of stuff you had brought down on his desk and collapsed on his bed. You sat down next to him and slowly laid back next to him.

“So, where do we start?”

*      *     *

You quickly lost track of time as you and Tyler worked on the video. It was surprisingly fun helping him out, doing things like costume changes, helping him with his instruments, or finding the perfect angle for a shot. There were a few hiccups with Tyler not being totally happy with something, but you always managed to calm him down and get it fixed. As it turns out, the two of you made a pretty good team.

“Alright, I just need to add the credits and then it’s ready,” Tyler smiled.

“It only took us…” you picked up your phone and checked the time. It was almost one in the morning. “...seven hours.”

“Hopefully the outcome will be worth it.”

“It will,” you smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I told a friend in my class the other day that I haven’t been this nervous about something since I asked you on a date,” he laughed.

“This project means a lot to you, it makes sense to be nervous.”

“I know.”

You smiled as Tyler typed your name into the credits under the title “Assistant Creative Director.”

“That’s a nice title,” you laughed.

“Maybe one day it will be on a music video for millions of people to see,” Tyler said, leaning his head against yours. “Alright, are we ready to watch?”

“Yes.”

Tyler passed you one half of his earbuds and stuck the end into his computer, which was whirring loudly from trying to run the editing software. You gave him a thumbs up and he hit play.

There was a smile on your face for the entire video. You loved everything about it, from the music that Tyler had worked so hard to produce to the dance moves that he had whipped out for the camera. You were glad that he had a tripod for those shots, you weren’t sure that you would have been able to keep the camera steady enough while you were laughing at how cute he was. There were even a few shots that you had made it into.

When the video finally ended, you turned to Tyler with an excited smile on your face.

“Ty, this is amazing. You nailed the assignment.”

“You think so?” he asked, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly.

You nodded, “I really do. I loved every second of that.”

“Thank you so much. For your support and your help, it really helped keep me calm,” he smiled.

“Of course, I’m always going to be here for you.”

Tyler grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled and leaned closer to him, finally letting the exhaustion from helping him set in. On his computer, the music slowly faded out.

#tyler joseph #tyler joseph x reader #tyler joseph fluff #tyler joseph angst #twenty one pilots #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph drabble #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots fluff #twenty one pilots angst #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #fluff #angst #skeleton clique #blurry-fics

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Wicked Game (Part 2)

Word Count: 20K+ total Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. The first part is about 5K, part 2 is 7K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Ashton grabbed his bag and shut off the lights in the bar. Hima was waiting impatiently by the door, keys in hand. Following the disaster of an afternoon, they'd been packed until closing. He'd been too busy cooking to think about it, something he loved about his job. The rush and the heat combined with the complete focus on his work. You had to keep your eyes on your fingers or you got hurt. The satisfaction of plating an order and sending it out until the next order came in, starting the process over again. 

"Will you come on?" Hima tapped her foot, making her keys jangle. "My brother is waiting for us."  Her twin brother had passed the bar exam a month ago, but everything had been so crazy with the opening they hadn't properly celebrated yet. 

The bouncer recognized Hima and let them in immediately. Tirana was a sleek, neon-lit bar favoring overpriced cocktails, elaborately garnished and meant to be as much of a showpiece as a beverage. Ashton eyed the crowd full of men sporting off the rack Italian suits with egos as inflated as their dates' chests. Kabir was waiting in VIP with his friends and waved them up. Ashton congratulated him and ordered a spiked seltzer, passing on the bottle service Kabir offered. Hima was taking shots with the guys and he joined them in a toast. As he was taking a drink he spotted Calum Hood leaning against the wall, looking bored and maybe a little drunk. Hima must've seen his expression because she whipped around just as Calum looked up and noticed them. Ashton tried to look away and act as if he hadn't noticed the other man. Hima had other ideas and made a beeline for the reporter. 

"Hey Calum, fancy meeting you here," she said relieved when he seemed happy to see her. "Come have a drink with us, or am I interrupting something?"

"If you're buying," Calum replied. "A friend brought me here and then fucked off on a phone call." He laughed, but it died out when he saw Ashton.

"Listen," Hima cut him off before he could speak. "I know this afternoon didn't go well, but what you don't know is just before you came in, my boss had to sit through an interview with Kevin Mackie. It did not go well " 

"Oh God, that insufferable bastard," Calum snorted.

"Exactly, and you know Mackie brought up all that old shit from Lune Rouge," Hima told him "That's in addition to insulting every woman who works there, of course." 

Calum cringed, and his eyes flickered back towards Ashton talking to Kabir and his lawyer friends. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the intense scowling man he'd encountered this afternoon and the smiling bubbly ray of sunshine he was looking at now. Was that an actual giggle? Calum blamed the tequila for agreeing to join Hima for a quick drink since his date still hadn't come back. He'd allowed his editor, Shamara, to set him up twice now, but there wouldn't be a third time. 

Ashton wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans as he watched Calum following Hima over towards them. He'd found the reporter attractive this afternoon, but he'd been wearing a long sleeve button up for the interview. Tonight Calum was in all black, and the tank top he wore under the leather jacket showed the ink etched into his skin above his collarbones. Ashton gripped the drink in his hands a bit tighter, trying to keep his nerves steady. He slowly edged his way over to where they were talking just as Calum launched into a story about his magazine sending him on a tour of small mom and pop restaurants up the California coast. 

"The owner's husband was sick that day, so she was doing most of the work herself," Calum was saying as Ashton listened in on the conversation. "Beulah was amazing, but they were getting slammed. I asked if she needed any help, and I spent the next three hours manning a fryer. I cooked the chicken, and she'd toss it in the hot oil and spices before slapping it on a bun with the sauce. You'd get the sandwich, pickle, and fries in a little brown sack. We sold hundreds of them, but I knew why when it slowed down enough that I finally got to eat. It's the best chicken sandwich you'll ever have! Tossing it in that spicy oil gives it a flavor that punches you in the mouth. She taught me most of her secrets over the two days I ended up staying until her husband got over the flu.." 

I could listen to this man talk all day, Ashton thought watching Calum's expressions and hands as he told the story. The way his chest rumbled when he laughed, which was often throughout the tale. He seemed like a genuinely warm person, and Hima seemed to like him. Maybe I was wrong, five years is a long time

"That's so sweet," Hima smiled up at Calum as he finished..  She was smitten despite hearing rumors he played for the other team. 

"Ended up extending my trip for an extra five days which caused all sorts of headaches when I got back. My boss was pissed I'd gone over my expense account," Calum said, shaking his head at the memory, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol now loosening his tongue. He was relieved his date was still MIA. Ashton was standing close enough for Calum to smell his cologne, and it was proving distracting. 

"Is that the same magazine you work for now?" Hima asked.

"Yeah, but I was damn near fired. I paid back the money by throwing cash onto my boss's desk when I turned in my story, and he was not amused. The editor-in-chief, who also owns the publisher,  loved my story, and after that, I was sent on more in-depth character profiles. I wanna get to know the people behind the food." Calum looked directly at Ashton, meeting his eyes as he spoke. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity in Ashton's hazel eyes as he listened. How is he this handsome? Calum thought. This man has no right to be this good looking. That chest hair peeking out from under that pink shirt is teasing me. Wonder what's underneath? Wait, no I don’t. Stop thinking about that or you're gonna get hard.

"So what exactly were you sent to find?" Ashton asked, his tone still guarded but more friendly than before. 

Calum took a deep breath and thought quickly. After the interview bombed this afternoon, he came up with a backup plan if Ashton didn't come through. He made a decision to float both his ideas.

"Look, I know a lot of people are bugging you for gossip about your personal life, but that's not what I'm here for. You opened your first restaurant at 25, and the food at Lune Rouge was fantastic. I know I didn't give you a good review then, but I was trying to be edgy and cool," Calum admitted.

Ashton exhaled and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. Mackie brought up Luke, and when you mentioned Finn I snapped. I'd like to try again, but I know Hima is more interesting. So what did you have in mind?" Ashton smiled and Calum had butterflies in his stomach. 

"I'd like to watch you cook, and see how you are in the kitchen. Tell me how your philosophy on cooking has evolved and what stayed the same," Calum replied. I hope that didn't sound as cringe to him as it did to me. Turning to Hima, he continued talking, "I'd like to do an extra little feature on you if that's ok. It'll give the article a nice balance I think, what do you say?" 

Ashton saw Hima's face light up and knew he'd have to say yes. He had to admit, the pitch sounded great, even if the idea of Calum watching him work made him nervous. They turned towards him to see what he thought, and Ashton's gaze landed on Calum's mouth just as he licked his lips. Please don't do that, he thought to himself. Don't make me think about how you taste, and how those lips would feel against mine.

"I definitely think Hima deserves her own feature. I'll go along with whatever you want," Ashton told them. 

"You know Calum," Hima turned on the charm. "I'm off tomorrow. I could take you to the best Indian restaurant you've never heard of for lunch." Her eyes got huge and she grabbed Calum's arm. "I'm a genius you guys, listen, the restaurant is hella busy, and the boss man," she nodded towards Ashton, "won't be much fun to interview if there are customers waiting. He just redid the kitchen in his condo, so why don't you do the interview there? That way he's not around us idiots at the restaurant." 

Both men stared at her, and Hima panicked thinking she'd overstepped somehow until Ashton nodded. "Sounds like it could work, what do you think?" He asked looking at Calum who nodded, his smile getting broader. 

“Sure, um, that sounds great. Really just um, great," he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. "Go ahead and put your number in, and I'll text you tomorrow." 

"Is that your little sister?" Hima asked, spotting the picture on his lock screen. 

"That's my daughter, Vanessa Joy. Absolute light of my life," Calum beamed, pulling up another pic.

"Daughter?" Hima and Ashton exchanged shocked looks before quickly regaining their composure.

"We were kids. I hadn't figured things out yet," Calum gave his standard explanation. 

He started to say more, but he spotted his now-forgotten date headed back towards them.  Hima saw his grimace and followed his gaze to the approaching man. She guessed he must be a lawyer who wanted everyone to know it, wearing a double-breasted British tailored suit and gold Submariner watch.

"Sorry about that Cal, that was a client who's a real pain in the ass," the newcomer joined their little group, peering at Ashton with suspicion. "I'm Nick Callahan, a junior partner at Fish, Filbeck, and Greene " Hima almost laughed out loud at this skinny little dude in a fancy suit trying to puff out his chest and put some bass in his voice as he went to shake her boss's hand. Ashton looked amused but Calum not so much. 

"Calum, if you don't mind, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Nick waved at a group who'd just come in. He tried to pull Calum away, but he shook Nick's hand off his arm.

"Give me a second, and I'll be over," Calum said, nodding at someone he recognized in the group. "Tell Teddy to order a round of drinks, I'm buying." When Nick still didn't budge, Calum turned his body towards his date and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I'm interviewing this young lady tomorrow, and I want to get it set up before I get drunk, ok?" 

Nick swallowed at the warning in Calum's voice and scurried off to meet his friends. 

"Sorry about that," Calum turned back, smiling again. He had them each put their number in and saved the info with a smile.  "I'm so glad I ran into y'all. Hima, I will text you in the morning, and Ashton just let me know when and where." He gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek which made her blush furiously. He shook Ashton's hand and everything seemed to pause as they locked eyes, exchanging smiles. The handshake lingered a beat too long before they both pulled back completely flustered. 

"See you guys then," Calum made a hasty retreat towards Nick and his friends. 

"What did you do?" Ashton hissed, feeling dizzy, excited, terrified, and nauseous all at once. 

"We'll just have to see, won't we? You two are obviously into each other," Hima tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving Ashton a pointed look. 

"I'm not trying to start anything, you know that. Since the divorce it's been too hard and-" Ashton stopped when she put her finger to his lips.

"It's an interview. With a very attractive reporter. You'll be in your element, you can hide behind your food and your knives, but you can get through this. I want my feature." She glared at him and stood on her tiptoes trying to go eye to eye with him.

He had to laugh. Hima was impossible to stay cross with. As he glanced back over towards Calum, he couldn't deny he was intrigued. Don't get your hopes up, Irwin. 

Kabir came over to drag them back to his friends. Ashton spent the next hour dancing with Kabir's girlfriend and watching his friends try to hit on Hima without getting caught. Hima's family was overprotective, and her mother was constantly pressuring Kabir to find his sister a good match. As a result, she kept her private life closely guarded, even Ashton didn't know much, although he suspected she had a thing going with one of the servers at Anne-Marie's. 

As the song ended, he realized he had to pee. Ashton excused himself and followed the neon arrows to a dimly lit hallway decorated with glow in the dark graffiti. He made his way past the line for the women's room and around two people noisily making out next to the emergency exit. He reached the men's room door just as it swung open towards him. He stumbled back to avoid being hit and collided with the couple behind him. An arm shot out from the tangled bodies, shoving him forward chest first into the man who'd just come out of the bathroom. Ashton put his hands up to steady himself, inhaling the scent of leather and whiskey with a faint whiff of stale tobacco as he looked at Calum's face inches from his own.

"Sorry, uh, I was pushed," Ashton apologized, unable to stop staring at the other man's lips.

"It's ok," Calum's heart was pounding, and he was sure Ashton could feel it through his jacket. He was tempted to make a move and go in for a kiss. He paused long enough to remember the interview, and not wanting to have another misstep, he let the moment pass. "It's all yours," he said squeezing over so Ashton could pass.

Ashton paused, confused, but remembered he was headed to the bathroom. "Thanks, uh, see ya," he replied trying not to stammer. Yeah, that was smooth, he thought. Before he closed the door, he looked back and caught Calum looking back at him.hey both smiled before the crowd closed in and he lost eye contact. He had to stand and splash cold water on his face to get his pulse back to normal. When he looked in the mirror, he saw that his face was still very pink and he was grinning like a fool. I didn't just imagine that did I? What am I doing? What am I going to cook for him? 

*********

Ashton jumped at the sound of the buzzer even though he was expecting her. He quickly let her up, and within seconds Hima was at his door. 

"How did it go?" He hadn't even fully opened the door before the question was past his lips.

"Eager much? Why don't you get me a drink, and I'll decide what I want to tell you," she said, taking off her jacket and hanging it up. 

"You impertinent bitch," Ashton cracked up and headed to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

"You sound like my mother," Hima settled at the bar facing him.

Ashton had expanded his kitchen so he could install a six top gas range and a convection oven while giving himself extra counter space with a small sink directly across and a small island in between. Instead of a dining room, he had an L-shaped bar where he could serve guests directly from the kitchen. He pulled a pitcher of cold brew out of the fridge and poured himself a glass with a splash of cashew milk adding a splash to her cup of hot chai. 

"It's such a shame you're gay. We'd have such a great marriage," she joked blowing on her tea.

"I love you too much to marry you, darling," Ashton replied as always. 

"Good thing I like my new stepdaddy," she told him, and he choked on his coffee. 

"So what did you guys talk about?" He asked when he'd recovered. 

"Mostly me, but also you. What do you want first, the details about him or what he asked about you?" Hima smirked at him, almost laughing when he glared at her. 

"I'll let you decide, how about that?" Ashton rummaged through the refrigerator before pulling out a loaf of bread. 

"Ooh snack time. When did you go to the market? I thought you opened for Rafi today. What are you gonna make for him?" She fired off, trying to crane her neck to see what he bought.

"Nope, you're gonna talk or you're not getting fed. I went before I went in at ten and I stayed till eight. I've barely got home, and I don't need your attitude, young lady. Now spill it," he told her as he pulled out a couple of onions and some gruyere cheese. 

"I love it when you're pissy. It looks so good on you. So I took him to Parvati's and ordered chana masala on roasted sweet potatoes. It was so good, I wish you liked Indian food more. We talked about my family, and how they're mostly engineers and lawyers but food was my passion. Confessed that when we first met, I had the biggest crush on you because you were so handsome." She giggled and made a show of fluttering her eyelashes at him. Ashton blushed and threw a caper at her. Hima swatted it back at him and kept talking. "Calum agreed you were handsome by the way. So I told him how you'd mentored me, and when you left the Hilton to open Anne-Marie's, you brought me with you. It was very heartwarming, and I promise I made you look good. He asked a few questions about you, but it was mostly professional stuff. What was it like working for you? What kind of collaborative effort went into the menu? Stuff like that," she shrugged watching Ashton heat up some soup as the sandwiches cooked. 

"Well, that's a lot of nothing. I thought you were better than that," Ashton said, pouting his lips at her. 

"I know he asked if you were single, but he was hella smooth about it. He asked what kind of gift he should bring tomorrow, whether it should be a bottle of wine or something you could share if you had a roommate. Don't worry, I let him know you were single, but I was cool about it," Hima grinned at her boss's discomfort. He cut the sandwich in half and poured a cup of soup to go with it. He cut some fresh chives to top off the soup along with some crème Fraiche and fresh cracked pepper. 

She stopped talking to enjoy the food. Ashton introduced her to cream of celery soup and it quickly became a favorite. The sandwich was beyond good yet incredibly simple: sauteed onions on a grilled cheese sandwich made with Ashton's homemade compound shallot-butter. 

"I'm disappointed, I thought you were better than that," Ashton raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not done, I'm just enjoying the food. My compliments to the chef." Hima ripped a piece of crust off her sandwich and dipped it in her soup. "I found out some things about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome," she told him before running her tongue along the edge of the bread and then taking a bite. 

Ashton laughed and flipped her off. He had pastry cream cooking in a double boiler, so he was continuously stirring between bites. 

Watching him work, she never knew if she was completely in awe of him or a little in love with him, but probably both if she was honest with herself. She'd told Calum as much, off the record of course. It always amazed her how his large hands could be so nimble and quick with a knife, yet so delicate and careful when he was garnishing and plating. She'd told Calum how grateful she was that Ashton had given her such a huge opportunity without being patronizing or expecting her to touch his cock. 

People might think cooking would be a natural fit for a woman but professional kitchens were very much a man's world. You had to be physically and mentally tough. She was lucky that she'd gotten out the hotels before she'd been subjected to sexual harassment, but she'd seen enough. Ashton didn't tolerate any kind of physical or verbal harassment, but every cook could curse a blue streak and work through an injury. Most cooks wore their scars like battle wounds. Hima had a jagged thin white line trailing down her left forearm from a staple on a lettuce box that ripped her flesh open while putting away a truck. Ashton had a couple of red welts from the panini grill decorating his arms and a gnarly pink, puckered scar on his left wrist from an accident with molten sugar years ago.

"Ok so, he's a year and a half younger than you, turns 28 in January actually. Aquarius, so that should be fun. Never married, but he's got the kid," Hima informed him.

"That really came out of nowhere the other night. I never would've guessed that," Ashton said over his shoulder, turning his back on her to keep stirring. 

"It happened when he was in high school. His first girlfriend, their senior year of high school. They'd already been broken up for two months when they got the news, just when he'd started to figure out his sexuality. They tried to get back together for the sake of their daughter but quickly realized it wouldn't work in a traditional way. Now they're best friends and co-parents to Vanessa Joy. In fact, when Nicole married her boyfriend, Michael, two years ago Calum walked her down the aisle," Hima told him.

Ashton's jaw dropped. "What the hell, Hima? You guys had lunch one time and you know his life story." 

"My mother's interrogation skills rubbed off I guess. His daughter also happened to call while he was with me. It was so cute; she made the honor roll and he was so proud. He apologized for taking the call during lunch but said he always has to answer if it's his daughter or his mom." 

Ashton turned towards Hima, smiling and blushing, "I can respect that." 

"I'm sure you can, Mama's boy," she replied. "Honestly the two of you are adorable. A pair of smitten kittens. He kept asking questions about what it's like to work with you. What are you like as a boss? And every question he got this funny little smile and couldn't look at me. I really hate that you get the best looking guys. It's bad enough you look like that," Hima gestured at him as she looked him up and down. "First Luke, and now Calum, I'm so jealous. That being said I really hope you hook up with him. You could stand to get laid." 

"Watch it," he cautioned, not wanting to kill the mood.

"Sorry, but the other night y'all had some serious chemistry. You should go for it. Speaking of, I gotta go. Kabir is having a date night so I actually don't have to go home," she checked her phone, and Ashton didn't recognize the gaudy pink glitter case. 

She caught his puzzled expression and laughed, "My mom checks my location, so my iPhone and my car stay at Maisie's. Everything gets forwarded here, and I don't have to answer a million questions." 

"You're 24, how are you still dealing with this? When is your mother going to treat you like an adult?" Ashton shook his head, he never understood how she dealt with her family.

She sighed, "It's impossible to explain unless you have Asian parents. My mom grew up here, but my grandparents were still very much rooted in India. If you think my mom is difficult, you should've met grandma." A text came in, and she wrinkled her nose in annoyance reading it. "Why am I the only person who's punctual?" She muttered to herself before looking back at Ashton. "So what are you making tomorrow for the big date, I mean, interview? Mind if I smoke?" 

He shook his head and followed her onto the balcony. "Stop saying that, I'm nervous enough as it is. I'm starting with a wilted chard salad with figs and goat cheese, and maybe a soup. I haven't decided, but for the main, I'm making mushroom Wellington with my specialty Mac and cheese and whatever vegetables I pick up at the market tomorrow morning. I'm making a sorbet for dessert. I was going to make a pavlova, but I don't have the patience for merengue right now." 

"Calum doesn't stand a chance, he'll be thoroughly seduced. Then I'll get my magazine story and be a star. People will start asking me for photos on the street, they'll learn how to pronounce my name, and I'm only going by Hima. I think I can get away with just one name, like Madonna, Beyonce, and Cher. Don't you? I promise the fame won't go to my head. I'll still be Hima from the block." 

Ashton cracked up. "Ok there, Roxy Hart," he teased. "You are so extra, it's too much for an old gay like myself." 

"You're not even thirty," she protested. Another text came in and her eyes lit up. She stubbed her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe before wiping it clean with a napkin and stuffed both in her purse to throw away outside. "You've just gotta get back on the horse, and Calum seems like the type who'd be into chaps and spurs." 

"Don't you have places to go, people to do?" He asked, walking her to the door.

"Sure do, good luck tomorrow," she kissed his cheek and was gone.

*********

Calum finished the dishes and popped another antacid in his mouth. Spicy food didn't used to give him heartburn. Getting old I guess. His dog, Brutus, danced around his feet begging for a treat. 

"Not gonna happen, old man," he bent down to scratch the pooch behind his ears, but Brutus immediately flipped over for a belly rub. "Greedy bastard," Calum chuckled but obliged with a ton down and chin scratches. He found a chew stick on the couch and tossed it over by the dog's bed, and soon Brutus was curled up contentedly gnawing himself to sleep. 

Calum watched his little guy for a bit before heading to his desk to type out a rough draft. Hima was a firecracker, full of energy and ideas, and hard to keep up with. She talked a mile a minute, often switching topics mid-thought as she spoke. He'd had his voice recorder on, but he liked to write his first draft from memory. He admired her passion for her work, and her determination to follow her own path. She was fiercely loyal to Ashton and grateful for the opportunity he'd given her. Calum would've suspected she was a bit smitten with her boss, but she openly admitted her crush. She was quick to insist Ashton had never encouraged or entertained the idea, but she didn't need to tell him that. 

Calum knew all about Ashton's history, the cheating, the fights, the messy breakup that brought the restaurant down. He exhaled, nervous about having that conversation. He shut his laptop, now too distracted to write. It's just an interview, calm down. He tried to be rational, but his thoughts kept drifting back to bumping into Ashton at the bar. The pink shirt, the star tattoo begging to be traced with his tongue, those hazel eyes that made his heart jump into his stomach. He tried to focus on his laptop. This article wasn't going to write itself. 

****

Ashton laid on his back, concentrating on his breathing as he pressed his knees to the floor in reclining bound angle pose. He'd had too much coffee, and although his body was tired, his mind was racing. His phone was vibrating on the dresser, but Ashton ignored it, moving into a butterfly pose and touching his forehead to the floor. He exhaled, trying to clear his mind. But all he could think about was Calum Hood. He had a brand new restaurant to run. Now was not a good time to become infatuated with a handsome reporter. So why haven't you stopped smiling all day?  

He breathed deeply, in, out, in, out. But he couldn't concentrate, couldn't calm down. He pushed himself off the floor and grabbed his water off the table. He opened his phone and was surprised to see a notification from the restaurant security system. 

Alarm deactivated at 12:02 AM 

Alarm Panel 2

Code: 4452

Ashton realized Hima was at the restaurant. He knew she usually went there after her accounting class but that definitely wasn't the case tonight. Probably popped in for a bottle of wine, which doesn't sound like a bad idea. 

The kitchen tiles were chilly beneath his bare feet as he headed towards the small wine fridge on his counter. Craving something sweet, he found a Shiraz he'd been saving and poured a small glass. He scrolled through Spotify, picking a playlist at random, and Robyn's  "Dancing on my Own" came over the speakers following him through the apartment back into his bedroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused. 

He pulled his shirt off and turned around examining the freshly-healed Phoenix tattoo decorating his left side from his hip to the top of his ribs,  covering up the tattoo of Luke's name, birth date, and their wedding date. He trusted his tattoo artist and let him have creative freedom on the brightly-colored feathers and flames. It turned out beautifully. He turned sideways, rubbing his stomach and flexing in the mirror. He was in the best shape he'd been in since he was a teenager. Yoga kept him toned and lean so he was muscled without being bulky.

I'm giving it my all

But I'm not the girl you're taking home

He let the Swedish synth-pop beat take over, his hips swaying as he listened to lyrics about loneliness and feeling left out.

I keep dancing on my own

The irony wasn't lost on him as he kept dancing, moving away from the mirror. The next song was too slow so he quickly scrolled looking for something better. He clicked on Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know," and began to sing along. He saw that Hima hadn't left the restaurant and opened up the security camera feed on his phone to make sure she was ok. 

****

The more Calum stared at the screen the more his concentration drifted. He wondered if Ashton had a type. Cal knew he was decent looking, but he wasn't Luke Hemmings. He snorted at the thought of that simpering pretty boy. Luke was a spoiled child, soft and weak, thinking only of himself. I bet he's selfish in bed, probably a bossy bottom  He was surprised at the surge of jealousy he felt. Don't bring Finn into this. He rubbed his temples at the memory of finding out his then-boyfriend was cheating with Luke.

Finn was always looking for an opportunity, whatever would take him to the next level. His relationship of almost a year with Calum failed to get him noticed in the food press. Finn felt Ashton didn't give him enough credit at Lune Rouge and whined constantly about it. Cal was having his own career struggles at the time and personally thought Finn was acting like a spoiled brat instead of being grateful for the opportunity. They began to spend less time together after Calum's snarky review caused a huge blow up. So when Ashton and Luke's relationship began to fray, Finn had time to lend a sympathetic ear. Calum suspected Finn was cheating, but he bought into the “golden couple” bullshit so Luke never crossed his mind. Calum was shocked and gutted when he walked in on the two of them one afternoon. Finn was supposed to be out of town, and Calum popped by to check on his dogs. The sound of sex greeted him when he opened the door and he should have left right then. His curiosity got the better of him, and he walked towards the bedroom. Their moans masked the sound of his boots as someone had a very loud orgasm. Calum opened the door as they were falling away from each other. He walked in to find them panting for breath, sweaty and beautiful with the afterglow. Luke panicked and tried to hide himself, but Finn didn't flinch. 

"Well, I guess you know now," he said, smirking as his green eyes met Calum's. "If you're down for it, we've been talking about trying a third. You can top us both if you want." He shrugged and Calum physically felt the spell break. Looking back, he knew Finn broke his ego more than his heart. He'd been humiliated when it all came out, but he knew the affair had been worse for Ashton. He could tell Ashton was still damaged but definitely not broken. Wouldn't mind letting him break me, Calum thought, his mind wandering back to that unbuttoned pink shirt, Ashton's chest and neck begging to be marked up. I bet he likes it rough. 

Calum caught himself daydreaming again and blinked the half-filled word document back into focus. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a crush on someone, and he felt ridiculous. How am I gonna get through this interview?  It didn't help that Hima kept teasing him about it being a date. Calum's last date, with Nick the lawyer, had been a disaster. He'd ended up leaving after Nick disappeared on another phone call.

The truth was, he was excited about this interview and wished it really was a date. He'd scheduled a quick haircut and shave in the morning and carefully picked out an outfit. He figured his short-sleeve, red button-up paired with a black tank underneath would show off his arms while helping to hide his tummy pudge. He rubbed his stomach, still poking out from the leftover Indian food he'd finished off an hour ago, before letting his hand wander down and brushing his fingers across his cock and feeling it twitch in his basketball shorts. He wondered what Ashton would be wearing tomorrow. He pictured Ashton at the club, the ripped black jeans and the pink shirt unbuttoned enough to tease him. His dick twitched in his hand, waking up and demanding attention. 

****

Ashton gasped and almost dropped his phone at the sight of Hima standing in the break room in nothing but her bra and panties. He hadn't recovered from that shock when a male figure crawled into the frame. It took Ashton several seconds to realize the man was nude and covered in tattoos. The tattoos rang a bell, and he realized he was looking at Dakota, model/actor, Maisie's nephew, and a server at Anne Marie's. Dakota was a dark, brooding pretty boy with a perfect pink pout and tousled dark curls that he was always brushing out of his eyes. He was great at his job, but other than that he'd made no impression on Ashton, until now. Ashton watched the younger man on his knees in front of Hima as he sucked on her bright pink cock. What the fuck is happening?

Ashton blinked at his screen, still processing everything when Dakota stood up and bent over the table. Hima lined up behind him and thrust her hips against his ass. Ashton gulped for air and felt beads of sweat break out on his upper lip. He watched for a minute, hypnotized by Dakota writhing in pleasure, his black curls bouncing with every stroke, shoulders hunching over as he gripped the table. Ashton's mind flashed to Calum and what it would look like to have him bent over like that. He realized his dick was getting hard and quickly closed the app, feeling embarrassed for invading her privacy. He fumbled getting his phone into his pocket and accidentally skipped to the next song. "Anytime, Any Place," by Janet Jackson filled the room.  He laughed to himself at the sexy song and took another sip of wine. 

****

Calum squeezed himself through his clothes. He vaguely remembered Finn telling him Ashton was rumored to have a massive cock. He groaned at the thought of Ashton's hazel eyes looking down at him while he was on his knees. He imagined Ashton's cock brushing against his lips, teasing both of them. Calum groaned and gave up any pretense of trying to work. He stood up too quickly and knocked his chair over causing Brutus to wake from a dead sleep and start barking his head off. 

"It's ok, boy," Calum assured him, making sure he laid back down before going into his bedroom and shutting the door. Moments later he was stripped down to his boxers and shirt digging through his top dresser drawer until he found the small bag hiding under his socks. He pulled a bottle of lube and a small silicone sleeve out of the bag and walked back to the bed. He peeled off his shirt, kicked off his underwear and laid on his back on the bed. His cock was flat against his stomach, and as Calum reached for it he wondered what Ashton was doing right now.

****

Ashton felt the plug slip into his ass and shivered at the chill of the stainless steel. He wiped his hands off on a towel and walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. The music was still playing. Janet's silky smooth voice gave way to Beyonce’s sultry vocals

Baby put your arms around me

Tell me I'm a problem

He walked back into his bedroom, feeling delicious shivers from the pressure on his prostate as he moved. The city lights illuminated the room from the open blinds on the balcony. 

Stop acting so scared, just do what I tell

First go through my legs, go back on your head

And whatever you want, yeah baby I'll bet it comes true

He reached down and squeezed his dick, rubbing his thumb over the tip down to the sensitive underside of the ridge. Pulling the shaft down and away from his body, pushing almost to the point of pain before easing up and giving it a nice slow stroke. He repeated the motion, each time pulling a little harder, edging a little closer to making it hurt, each time when he pulled back the relief was more intense. His fantasies were new visions: dark eyes and black curls still coming into focus in his mind's eye. He squeezed his muscles around the plug as he tapped the remote on the table next to him. The plug began to vibrate on the lowest speed and Ashton hissed at the sensation. He wondered if he'd let Calum fuck him.  Ashton didn't bottom very often. Luke didn't like to do the work, rarely agreed to switch up and whined whenever he did.  Calum looked like he could give as well as he got. 

***

Calum grunted as he pushed his cock, slick and shiny with lube, into the sleeve. His hips jerked upwards into the air as the countless smooth nubby fingers lining the inside of the toy closed around his swollen shaft, gripping and massaging the taut skin with every stroke. He screwed his eyes shut picturing Ashton on his back with his knees pulled up to his chest as he begged for him. Calum bit his lip to stifle a moan, slowing down his speed, not wanting to cum too fast. Hima told him Ashton called himself a “bendy boy” and had a strict yoga routine which just sent Calum's mind spinning, picturing trying different positions until Ashton was screaming for him. Calum moved his hand away, leaving the toy. The scenario in his mind began to switch up. The only thing Calum could think of hotter than fucking Ashton was getting railed by his massive cock. 

****

The combed cotton, high-thread-count pillowcase felt velvety soft and air-conditioned chilled when he bunched the pillow in his fists as he thrust his hips, burying his shaft in the soft folds. It felt amazing but was cold comfort when he was craving Calum's body heat. He turned the remote up a notch and adjusted the settings; a pulse pattern began throbbing against his core. He squeezed down on his dick even harder. He could feel the delicate feathers snapping under his fingers, but he didn't care. Ashton ached for release, longing to have Calum in his bed tonight. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive as his orgasm began to build. His hips pumped faster trying to match the pulsing rhythm inside him. He wanted Calum, with a craving he’d never felt before. Something in those dark eyes challenged Ashton. There was something about this mysterious reporter that he needed to discover. He was getting closer with every stroke, the fantasy switching to pounding Calum into the mattress, seeing how well he could throw it back. The image was too much and he shuddered, cursing out loud as his climax hit. His hips stuttered and his legs wobbled, forcing him to his knees. The vibrator extended his orgasm, milking him drop by drop as he whimpered and fumbled for the remote. When he finally turned it off, he rolled onto his back and tried to catch his breath, thankful he'd bought a nice fluffy rug to put next to his bed. .  

****

Calum flipped over onto his stomach, grinding down with his hips, the sleeve moving with the friction. He wondered if Ashton was vanilla or if he could get into Calum's slight pain kink. He'd looked for Ashton on FetLife to no avail, but he was fairly sure he'd found Hima so that was a surprise. Calum reached up and tugged his nipple hard as his hips rocked slowly. There was a power to Ashton. He had a dominant side which Calum had clearly seen in his dynamic with Luke, despite Ashton being smaller in size. Calum wanted to see how he'd take charge because he wasn't soft like Luke, but he had no doubt Ashton could handle him. Calum raised himself up on his forearms, pumping his hips furiously. He thought about those arms wrapped around his neck, his teeth grazing Ashton's blood moon tattoos as he bent Cal over and took him hard and fast. He whimpered, biting the pillow, his rhythm starting to stutter as he thought about Ashton looking up at him, eyes wide with Calum's hand at his throat as they reached their high together. Calum was just at the edge when he quickly rolled over, removing the toy and ruining his orgasm. He gasped, his whole body shaking as his release spilled onto his belly. After a moment he reached down, using the sleeve to tease the tip through the aftershocks until it became too sensitive to touch. He was hungry again, so he grabbed a Kleenex and wiped himself off as best he could before walking, still naked, back through his house to turn on the oven. Pizza was always a good snack after sex, and he had an article to work on.

@sublimehood​​ @tea4sykes​​ @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ @scribblesos​​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​​ @wildmichaelflower​​ @castaway-cashton​​ @damselindistressanu​​ @notinthesameguey​​ @cashtonasfuck​ @irwinkitten​ @mermaidcashton​​ @malumsmermaid​​

#calum hood #ashton irwin #cashton #cashton smut #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #cashton slash #5sos #5sos smut

[gevejsbvdj]

Fine. Pt 1

Okay. I did NOT want to do this. I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to start something. When I made the announcement post, I thought that would be it. But a lot of you got really angry and reeeeally bitter about it, suspiciously enough. I am actually hoping that after I post this, I get an explanation and an apology. I tried to explain to these people time and time again about how I was hurt by this situation but they refused to listen. So here I am, spelling it the fuck out. Also, this account is dead anyways and i am so tired of keeping this to myself. I can’t do it anymore. 

That’s enough preamble for now, I’ll make more notes at the end. Let’s get onto the “situation” that was the final straw for me and inspired my complete leave. 

For comprehension purposes, this took place in the Crackerbox Palace discord server. 

For a warning, I’m pretty theatrical when stressed. If I joke here I’m sorry. I’m going to hold back on the humor. 

CW: mentions of sexual abuse, pedophilia, racism, and seizures. You have been warned.

It sounds disgustingly simple, but when I joke about this (to myself, because it’s better than crying about it), I say that me having a seizure was the cause of this all. It isn’t really, but- let me explain. 

I was alone, and I was chatting with the people in the server when suddenly- I just felt fucking weird. Initially, I was like “oh what the hell” until I realized that the weird sensation was actually familiar. It’s what people who have seizures call an “aura” or a “ting”, and it’s a numbing, buzzing sensation that’s kind of like an alarm bell that lets your body know what’s about to go down. And I have a habit (you can decide whether it’s good or bad) where I feel like I have to tell anyone around me that I’m going to have a seizure as SOON as I recognize the aura. Well like I said, I was alone. There was no one physically around me that I could tell, but I already had the chat open, fingers on my keyboard, I typed: I think I’m gonna have a seizure. Something like that. And I did. Don’t worry, I’m fine now. The older I get, the less extreme my seizures are for the most part. I got a splitting headache for the next two days, but we’re getting it checked out! This is only context for what happened next. 

After that happened I eventually came to and as soon as my senses were recollected and my memory came back, I felt so embarrassed that I told my friends who I thought were super cool that I had a SEIZURE. But I noticed that Ley and Emma (in their genuine concern) were discussing seizures and how dangerous they could be, and was wondering if I was okay. I was honestly so relieved they weren’t laughing or anything like that. Vulture then responded saying “hey can you censor the word seizure, it’s a trigger.”, and so Ley and Emma did so. I was confused by this because I thought Vulture was saying it’s MY (me, a person who has them regularly) trigger, or that they were saying it was a trigger in general? I soon found out that it was a term on our “blacklist”, which makes sense.

So In our server, we had a channel (the prior mentioned blacklist channel) where people can suggest words and phrases to avoid. Phrases/topics that make you very uncomfortable, triggering, etc. Someone suggested that the name “Zack” be blacklisted because it’s the name of someone that manipulated them. And no, not Zach like me Zach, but Z-A-C-K, you know? Anyways, sometimes the sheltered southerner in me jumps out, and someone asking for that name to be blacklisted rocked my world! Even more so that the admins I worked with were willing to blacklist it. I thought, wait all this time I could have asked you all to blacklist a NAME that upsets me? I didn’t know I could do that. Never have I ever been in an environment where something like a name could be avoided to ensure my comfort. While THAT was what I was thinking, when I went to type it in the chat, it did not come off that way to vulture. Here’s what I said:

Vulture took what I said wrong, which is totally fair. Words fail me as they do everyone else, and looking back, I could have done better in explaining what I felt. I’m not blaming them for the misunderstanding, and I'm not even blaming me that much. It happens, man. But what got to me, was them accusing me of belittling or more so INVALIDATING the trigger. Me, someone actually has seizures, invalidating someone being triggered by them. Okay. Here was my response:

My response was unnecessarily snarky and I am still sorry for that. I thought I got better at thinking before speaking but it’s evident that it’s still something I need to work on. However, like I said I’ve never been one to accept it when someone’s trying to have an attitude with me. And no I’ll be the first to say that Vulture wasn’t explicitly rude to me, but I was gobsmacked that someone was trying to tell me how traumatic seizures are and accused me of invalidating them after I just said that I have them frequently. And that even after I explained what I meant, I was still met with an accusing response. Can you imagine if I went up to a homeless man and said “you have no right to invalidate my trauma with homelessness. I read matchbox girl.” Like okay? Also, yes that mod chat had a history with taking everything I said as aggressive or belligerent, hence my telling them to stop that. I was always met with a dismissive and antagonistic response. Remember that. I will get back to that. 

Because of Vulture’s immature response, I removed them as chat admin. Do I regret it? Halfway, yes. I should have pulled them to the side and spoke with them about what they did. But looking back on that, after seeing the things they’ve posted today? It’s probably for the best that they weren’t a part of the admin team. 

Andy (also known as shadowylemon here) and Cody are partners who also helped me run the server. They were admins,obviously. Andy asked me why I removed Vulture as Admin. I explained to him why, very civilly with the help of one of my friends because my response almost WASN'T. And to be frank, I ignored most of what he said because again I was being made to be the evil villain and I wasn’t being heard. So I ignored him. Also I was on a call so I wasn’t going to break my brain listening to ten people at once. I was so tired, my seizure happened like only a couple days prior and my head was still affected. 

I mulled over that whole ordeal for a bit until me and my friend (the same friend I mentioned earlier, who helped me with my response to Andy. Lenny. He also helped me mod there and was the original co-founder of the server) came to the conclusion that the mods were too young. We need an age limit. So I told them, like “hey you guys are fine for now but I think that in the future, we should start having the mods be older”.

 At this point I’m super careful with the way I word things. I’m always like that to be honest, as a black (visual-wise, a female) female you learn real quick that you’re the angry one in every situation unless you learn to talk super duper civil. But I didnt think I had to be that way in THAT server, you know? I thought I was safe there. Apparently not. Anyway-

I was met with, again, an aggravated “how dare you” type response from Cody. Which was okay with me, still is. When you work with someone in a group, you’re not going to agree with them all the time. So we were having a pretty civil, short lived back and forth until I mentioned that we tone it down on blacklisting every word. I suggested earlier to blacklist the word “blue” to see how far they would take it and they literally blacklisted it. I didn’t get to say this then, but I’m actually against over censoring, even if it’s supposedly for someone’s mental health. I have ADHD, RSD, on the damn spectrum, all that good stuff, so don’t come for me. But if you’re wanting to avoid words like blue, or a very common name, that is not my responsibility. That is your therapist. The server had people in there who- well English wasn’t their first language, and adding more barriers to their language is, I feel, very inconsiderate.

 Cody started to threaten to delete the blacklisting channel all together and was acting really panicky. AGAIN (if I can find the screenshots, I will share) I was met with a very victimizing, whiny response. Like come on now. I told them to please do not make me the aggressor or I will leave.

No response. 

So the rest of us were just getting ready to start a call and play some games until we noticed something. 

Channels, titles and colors, and nearly everything was being deleted. 

By who? Andy and Cody. This is just one screenshot. I wouldn’t include what’s over ten i have saved on my phone.

I was afraid that they got hacked and was being made to delete them. Until I thought “wait...it’s funny how they’re the only mods that are being ‘hacked’ while the rest of us were left alone. RIGHT after I just had a disagreement with them. Oh my god is this a tantrum.” The server then echoed my concerns. Please don’t be a tantrum. We noticed they left and so I dmed Andy. I said “Why” and he blocked me. That confirmed that it was indeed a tantrum. A tantrum because I IMPLIED that they were being micro aggressive towards me. Alright. 

Me and the server joined a sort of conference call where we discussed what happened and they asked me questions as well as talked about what our next move was. At the time, I thought I was being dramatic because my breathing was super labored, and my face was super hot, and my heart was pounding. I was furious. There was a tiny voice telling me that ‘hey, you’re mad because after you told them that you were uncomfortable and upset with them treating you like an unhinged angry person, they did all this shit’ but I ignored it. 

That is a common theme with me. I know a lot of you think I’m using my race as a weapon and that I call everything racist, but I HATE calling things racial discrimination for that exact reason. I don’t wanna look sensitive, or get called a snowflake. I honestly used to be a self-loathing black person, and you could hurl slurs at my face and I’ll excuse it. My friend group in the 9th grade was mainly racist white people. I’m so glad I grew out of that nonsense but damn some of that toxic mentality stuck with me to the point I never wanted to acknowledge when someone was biased against me. 

I mean, how could it be any more clear? Do I think that Andy and Cody are racist? Of. Course. Not. I think that’s why a lot of you got so mad at me when you realized that what you did was microaggressions rooted in racial bias. Because you thought I was calling you a RACIST.  I’ve had white people who will march with me during protests say and some really off-putting shit the next day. You can be an ally and make mistakes. You’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. None of us is. You have to allow yourself to make errors, and be confronted. Running away cursing and kicking rocks just tells me that you don’t want to listen to black people. 

But anyway, we attempted to move on from the childish ordeal and I enlisted the help of new people to help me mod since we were short two, and could have used the help anyway. 

We were doing alright, really. One day, though, Joane messaged me saying that Vulture wanted to apologize and wanted to talk. And I was like great now's the perfect time to talk to them like I should have the first time, but wrongly didn’t. So I told Joane to dm me. 

Well, Joane sent me a screenshot of some of hers and Vultures conversation.

As you can see I initially did feel willing to apologize and speak to vulture. Because like I said earlier, my snarky response was UNNECESSARY. However, Joane joining in the discussion with her “I can’t understand him which frustrates me lmao” peeved me. As did Vulture acting like I’m unhinged. While I didn’t need to make the “imma blacklist lmao and lol since it bothers you so much” comment at ALL, it wasn’t that deep….at all. Vulture has a habit of virtue signalling too. Their comment “I’m patient and forgiving” is an example. 

While I was annoyed initially, I soon felt pretty hurt that Joane would say that about me behind my back? It made me wonder if there was more she didn’t show me. Joane was a really good friend and I loved her a lot so I was extra sensitive about it. I’ve never spoken ill about her behind her back. 

Now, this is a recurring theme in this post but let me say now: I am aware that no one is OBLIGATED to treat me a certain way because I was nice to them. Of course not. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt? Talking negatively about someone isn’t a problem, but having them think you’re their friend while doing so is. You know? It’s very deceiving, but in Joane’s case, only slightly deceiving. 

So I just didn’t speak to her for a bit. I was already annoyed at having to re-build my server because of a couple of teenagers having a tantrum, as well as things that were happening in my personal life. Also, the news was no damn help at all, you all know. But I didn’t speak to her for the rest of the day and I...I hated it haha. I don’t like avoiding people when I’m frustrated, and after I saw what happened with Vulture when I did the same thing, I should know better. Plus I felt bad. Joane was still a friend, and I wanted to get to the bottom of things. 

I’m not going to include every little screenshot and whatnot, but I messaged her like hey what’s up let’s finish our discussion. Because I thought that at that point, I had my head screwed on a bit better. 

During our discussion, I eventually showed Joane me and vultures conversation, and she acted astonished that Vulture didn’t show her all the context, and even said that they were being irrational. This was after I told her that after everything Andy and Cody did, they made a server with Vulture to which she informed me that she was aware, and she was invited. Honestly, at the time I didn’t think vulture was being irrational. While I said it’s no excuse, PTSD can make us say and do pretty wild things, and calling someone like that irrational feel like ableist language. 

So me and Joane had a little moment. I apologized to her, and she apologized to me.

I was sure that after we both had our respective breaks, that we would be good to continue our friendship like normal. Just a bump in the road. It happens

That was until I got a certain anon from Vulture. 

She asked me why we were done, but when I went to ask her “what in the world did you say to them” she blocked me.

Sorry I keep showing me messaging them, I just don’t wanna get lied to or something again. 

I was really sad about that. I went to bed, and when I woke up, I was still sad. Joane was telling me one thing, and Vulture another thing. She was changing her opinion on a person depending on who she was talking to. It was dizzying and disingenuous and I didn’t even get to talk it out with her because she blocked me. Which was really suspicious. She told me that she would be taking a break from the server and that she still respected me as a friend, but went to vulture and told them that I treated her like SHIT, or at least acted enough like a victim to make them accuse me of that. I’m sorry, but where in the world did I do that? If me confessing to someone that they hurt me is the same thing as treating them like shit, then fuck man a lot of us are assholes. 

Wow, look at me treat her like shit. Absolute garbage right?

I wasn’t even being completely honest to Joane about my feelings for that reason. Because of accusations like this. Another instance of someone taking literally me being normal and civil as being AGGRESSIVE. Vulture, I’m sorry for accusing you of utilizing white girl tears. I accused the wrong person. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. 

I went to our #vent channel on the server and told whoever was online and whoever was listening about the whole ordeal, and how HURT I felt because I was literally played by this girl. And I was accused of basically being abusive. Treated her like shit? Cmon man…

But another user in the server, as it turns out, had a similar experience with Joane, and provide in-depth screenshots. Which made me even madder, so we kept venting about the situation. 

Also, because of a couple of dms, and because the more I ranted, the more pained I got, I felt compelled to say the following, NOW LISTEN CLOSELY:

I first prefaced my concerns by saying “I AM BY NO MEANS CALLING JOANE A GROOMER”. That was fucking useless of me to say because- okay I’m getting ahead of myself. 

So I was saying (and in hindsight, I shouldn’t have. I know. But like I said, it was in the heat of the moment and I got a dm that made me feel bad) that it was strange how as soon as someone young and innocent was present, Joane would cling to them in an obsessive way. I’m not the only one who noticed that, and even one of the younger users in question agreed to my statement. 

Listen fucking closely. I don’t think Joane is a sexual predator at ALL. That’s why I had that warning before I said anything in the chat. I do, though, think that if you’re a grown adult and you’re obsessed with being friends with people who are as young as 14, that it’s concerning, not in a sexual way, but in a power dynamic way. I’m only 19 and I honestly don’t get older people who become besties with much younger people. I was “friends” with the users as well, but I was a mentor/brother/dad more than anything. Do you understand? When I was 15, I’ve had people who were 20 and older become my friend and dump their adult problems onto me, as well as expect adult reactions and responses out of me. It was stressful and damaging and I did not want that happening to anyone else, especially the younger people in the chat. Okay? Okay. 

That being said, my protectiveness is a major flaw of mine. Oh my god, do I take it too far sometimes, man. I didn’t want really young teenagers (13-16) to have a serious relationship with an adult because of what happened to me, and I didn’t want Joane to play and hurt anyone else the way she did me and my other friend. So I went into the announcements channel and told the users to read what we’ve been saying in regard to Joane and come up with your own decision. I did not have to do that, I can sit here and say that the things that transpired the past few days really took a toll on me whatever blah blah blah. But I could have kept it in vent, really. And the dumb thing is, that before I sent that message in announcements, I was literally telling myself that THIS is a bad idea. GOD, Zach. But I was at work, it was the last day before holidays started, and I was feeling super protective and I wasn’t thinking and- well yeah. 

During all of this, I was having a conversation with vulture in Tumblr dms. I gathered the courage to finally dm them after receiving the anon. That conversation was on my old Tumblr, so I don’t have a screenshot of the key points, but I typed my starting message in notes, and this is what I said:

“Hi vulture. I don’t want to be here for long but I just wanna ask: why? You accused me of invalidating a trigger and even after I told you that’s not what I meant you still went off on me? You’re mad at me about an inaccurate perception and it really upset me. I’ve been terrified of talking to you specifically because I’ve been dealing with micro aggressions from you, Andy, and Cody and it’s really been wearing me down. And when I told Andy and Cody about their treatment of me, they deleted shit from my server and leave? How do you think that makes me feel as a black person? Makes me never want to talk about my feelings ever again out of the fear of being antagonized. I’m sorry I was snarky towards you, if you didn’t like my remark about “lmao” and “lol”. I agree it was immature. But don’t forget you came at me first. If you’re willing to further discuss this with me then great, which I am sure you are seeing that you asked me to on anon. I finally gathered the courage to contact you so let’s do this.”

We had a brief conversation. Vulture dismissing my microaggressions concerns but really- it happens so much that at that point I was so numb to it. Also a little bit “it’s not about your race. Remember when I…” more virtue signalling. Bleh. But after all, I did thank them for actually wanting to talk to me. Andy didn’t wanna do it. Cody didn’t wanna do it. Joane didn’t want to. Vulture did. And I appreciate that to this day, after everything. I can always admire that about someone. 

It ended prematurely because of me. I was at work and got distracted by that as well as by what happened in the server next. 

Emma sent a pretty long message basically calling all of us out for “bullying Joane” and talking ill of her behind her back, as well as announcing that she would be leaving the server and that we should all be ashamed of ourselves. This was right after someone confessed that Joane made him feel uncomfortable with constant flirting. I admitted that I should not have put the message In announcements, but guys.

I went off. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I was sick of trying to be docile and sweet. I didn’t care if I would be portrayed as the angry black again I DID NOT CARE. Bullying Joane? Me talking about how she hurt me is bullying? Let’s look up what that means. 

Yeah okay. That’s incorrect usage, right? I didn’t even call Joane names. I didn’t persistently harass her. I spoke about what she did to me in distaste, but I was done with her as a friend at that point, and she knew that, so was not going behind her back. I wasn’t being predatory towards her. And I definitely wasn’t being AGGRESSIVE or BLUSTERING. Emma was using broad pronouns and terms (you guys, you all, etc) but I knew she was talking about me, as I was the most prominent in my venting about Joane due to my situation with her happening just yesterday. I sent the most messages, I- while wrong in doing so- posted the announcements. That message primarily was directed towards me. When I say that microaggressions tear you down, it tears you THE FUCK down. 

That being said, I did cuss Emma out (she wasn’t present when I went off, but still) and cussed out everyone who agreed with her. I was so blinded by rage and hurt I don’t even remember at all what I said. One line that sticks out to me though is “y’all saw a white girl crying and thought oh man we can’t have that” and that’s a mantra I’ve repeated a couple of times when I find myself in scenarios such as this one. 

But- I do regret going off like that. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t justified slightly, though. I don’t expect any of you to understand completely what I went through, but please try. I regret going off like that, though. And I’m sorry. 

I guess I was also upset because I was JUST in a good mood? I was literally singing to myself all happy and shit, but Emma’s inconsiderate message threw me off. It’s making me even more upset now that I know why she said that. She wasn’t the only person to tell me I should be ashamed of myself for manipulating (yes, MANIPULATING) Joane. 

I dmed Emma in an attempt to fix things, but i gave up quickly. I was too raw with emotions anyways. So I mournfully told her that we probably should’t be friends anymore, to which she responded

Carelessly?...ouch.

From the moment Joane dmed me about Vulture, and the moment Emma sent that message, all of that transpired within three days. Three fucking days and THAT much happened. It was taking a toll on me, that’s not even counting Andy and Cody’s tantrum. 

I was in a dark place, still am. I made a post saying that I was going to take a break from Tumblr and then made one saying that I was going to kill myself in the tags. Not exclusively because of all this, of course. So. Much. Bullshit. Happens to me on a daily basis. Abusive parents. Sexual assault. Racism that’s actually violent. Dying relatives. So much. I’m crying as I type this it’s just so much. In real life, I have no friends. Not even fake acquaintances. Yes, I cut off all those people because they were extremely toxic, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have literally no one. That server was my escape. Parents fighting? Open discord. Mental spiral? Discord is there. Just had a seizure? Don’t worry, you have friends. And now I don’t. And all because of some dumb shit that wouldn’t probably have happened if two kids didn’t get mad at ME because THEY were ignorant. I know it’s not good to rely on a server to improve your mental health, but I couldn’t help it. I was desperate. And I really did think so highly of everyone in that chat. I loved them.

I received a couple asks that night saying that I don’t have to hurt myself, I’m loved, all that. Very kind messages. And right when I was going to delete the post (I was so embarrassed for posting it), I got a message from ley that read something like “I don’t agree with what you said at ALL but that doesn’t mean I want you to kill yourself or leave” something along those lines. I thought, really? You couldn’t just say you didn’t want me to leave and have it at that? 

I really don’t want to make it seem like I posted something so graphic for attention, man. I can’t stand that manipulation tactic and I don’t want that harmful stigma about suicidal people to be encouraged. 

But Ley’s message threw me off. Agree with what I...huh? Then it pissed me off

So I deleted my account. And fell off the face of the earth for 15 days. 

[cutietobio]

hi!! I really love your blog =3= could I ask for imagine or text post (whichever one you're cool with!) with Iwaizumi and Sugawara dating someone with a bad reputation (like people are intimidated by them for their delinquent rep?) and when she's being introduced to the team, they're expecting someone angry looking and tough. And she's angry looking until she sees Iwa/Suga and becomes really sweet and affectionate? I'm sorry if this is too specific lol

l-love? stop it, anon. you’re making me blush. I’m sorry this took so long, in all honestly, I did struggle in trying to make both scenarios varied and not repetitive. nevertheless, hope you enjoy it!❤︎ (oh, and also, don’t be sorry about being too specific!)  

IWAIZUMI

Iwaizumi was tired of his teammate’s constant gossip regarding his relationship with you. He would easily catch onto their words, despite them having cupped a hand beside their mouth in hopes of concealing them from him, most of the time they were about rumours revolving around you and your delinquent nature.

“Did you hear what she did to that one first year?” Someone whispered into the ear of another, eyes falling on Iwaizumi in the distance,

“What does Iwaizumi see in her? Do you think he’s being forced to date her?”

That drew the line for him. How dare they suggest your relationship was built on manipulation? He had to agree that you did have a questionable reputation, but nothing as bad as the rumours stated. Iwaizumi couldn’t care less, even if your reputation happened to be as the rumours implied, the scary girl people depicted you as always changed around him. It felt special, knowing he was the only one that you couldn’t dare grow angry towards, and he wanted the rest of his team to realize this so their foolish accusations would come to a stop.

“I’m inviting (Name) over after practice to introduce you all to her.” Iwaizumi said, appearing indifferent to the situation as he announced the news to his teammates, many began whispering to the person next to them upon hearing his words. Most likely discussing their suspicions when it came to how you were in real life, nobody had actually met you before.

“Okay, Iwa-chan, that’s fine.” The whispering stilled at the words of their captain, Oikawa. Well, seeing as he agreed, it didn’t look like they would be able to get out of it now.

“Tch, dumbass. I wasn’t asking for your permission.” Iwaizumi scowled before turning on his heel and walking in the other direction.

Oikawa appeared unbothered by his angered nature and turned to look at everybody else, “Make sure you’re all here to meet (Name), okay? I know how much Iwaizumi loves her and I’m sure she’s not too bad.”

Oh, but how Oikawa was proven wrong.

“Where’s Iwaizumi?” Everybody in the gym froze at the icy cold tone of your voice, which still managed to harbour dangerous flames of growing anger, an anger that they’d rather keep anywhere from lashing out at them.

Slowly, eyes fell upon your form, taking you in. You were (Name)? Upon first glance, they would never have thought someone with your looks would…

“Hey! Cat got your tongue? Stop staring at me like idiots.” The sound of your harsh tone broke them out of their shock.

“C-Club room…” Matsukawa managed to stutter out, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in motion towards the direction of the club room, his eyes remained unmoving on your form.

Everyone was stiff in anxiety, unsure of what you would say or even do next. Except for Kyotani, who stared at you with a challenging glare which you quickly returned. The members nervously glanced between the two of you, hoping nothing would escalate before Iwaizumi returned. The last thing they needed was him walking in on a fight involving his girlfriend. They would all most likely get the blame for it.

A laugh sounded throughout the gym as the doors behind the group opened up, emitting a loud bang against the walls. Oikawa came strolling in casually, a smug smile on his face as Iwaizumi trailed behind after him. Your eyes lit up at the sight of your boyfriend, visibly confusing everyone else and annoying Kyotani who hated having not finished your staring contest.

Oikawa, noticing your change in facial expressions, forgot all about Iwaizumi behind him and thought your smile was directed towards him. He undeniably enjoyed the attention of girls but knowing that he made a delinquent like you soft for him was a total ego boost.

“Oh, what’s this? Looks like I have a fa-“

“Iwa!” You ran past Oikawa, who froze upon realizing your loving gaze wasn’t meant for him. Iwaizumi greeted you with open arms, hugging you tightly against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I missed you, how was practice?” You ask, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as you pulled away from the hug, completely ignoring the open-mouthed audience as they stared at you in shock. Were you the same girl from before?

Multiple looks were shared across the room, all reading the same thing: What the hell just happened? At one point, you were spitting out harsh words and ready to start a fight with Kyotani and the next, you were cuddling up to Iwaizumi and kissing his cheek. Many wondered if you were bi-polar.

“Everyone…” Iwaizumi’s voice broke them from their thoughts as they looked at him expectantly.

“This is my girlfriend, (Name). If I hear anyone of you speaking shit about our relationship again I’ll castrate you all.” His threat was taken seriously among everyone who paled at the thought of having Iwaizumi do such a thing to them. Really, why were they so surprised that Iwaizumi was with someone like you? The two of you made the perfect couple.

SUGA

His friends didn’t necessarily doubt his relationship with you, they were surprised to find out that he had a girlfriend in the first place and they couldn’t deny their shock when he announced it had been you, out of all people. None of them ever expected him to get involved in a relationship with someone who had a bad reputation.

Karasuno was fully convinced that you weren’t as bad as the said rumours spread around the school. Their own teammate, Asahi, came from the exact same situation as you. Just last week there had been another rumour surrounding him, claiming something absurd like how he was selling drugs on street corners. Asahi was an absolute saint! So they knew better than to believe any gossip before meeting you. Besides, would Suga really fall for someone considered angry and mean? They didn’t think so, expecting you to come waltzing in through the gym doors with a chorus of angelic music filtering in. That’s how they depicted you, pure. But what they got instead…

“Is that really (Name)?” Hinata whispered to Kageyama, yelping in fear as your eyes fell on him.

“I just said I am, didn’t I?” You narrowed your eyes upon him and Hinata paled, hiding behind Kageyama who stiffened at the gesture.

“Hinata, dumbass, don’t hide behind me.” Kageyama turned to push the male away from him, exposing him out in the open. You merely rolled your eyes at the scene, growing impatient, this was seen as you crossed your arms over your chest. Many members of the team took your gesture as a hostile one. Tsukishima laughed at you, failing to grow scared under the pressure you brought with you upon stepping foot into the gym.

Your eyes snapped towards the tall blond who smirked upon having caught your attention so easily,

“Something funny?” You barked, eyes narrowing upon his form. Even Tanaka muttered towards Tsukishima, telling him to back down if he treasured his volleyballs. Tanaka, having a bad reputation himself, knew a lot about you. The rumours may not have depicted you correctly but the things he knew you had done was enough to make him keep his distance.

Tsukishima ignored Tanaka, taking a step forward as to get away from his senpai who stared at his bold movements incredulously. Noya watched in amusement, frantically turning his head between the two of you as to not miss out on the action.

“Yes, actually,” Tsukishima said, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

“Please, do tell.” Your voice came out as an angered growl, but before Tsukishima could antagonize your further, the sound of your boyfriend calling out for you caught everyone’s attention. Some sighed in relief, glad he was here to step in before violence could ensue. Others were upset that things didn’t escalate further, annoyed that the unfolding drama came to a rude halt.

“(Name), hello!” Suga greeted, smiling sweetly with a closed-eye smile, his arms wrapping around you in a hug. Daichi followed in after him, as he was the one who took the liberty to find the missing Suga to calm you down. He shared a few looks with the rest of the team, his eyes searching for any sort of answer as to what had happened when he was gone.

“I’m sorry I made you wait, I was getting something from the club room.” Suga apologized, ignoring the eyes glued to the both of you as you hugged.

“It’s okay, you’re here now.” You reassured him, confusing everyone with your sweet tone of words. Your demeanour had changed completely, from an angry Grinch to a sweet dove with gentle hands. It was… scary. The team quickly caught on that Suga had some sort of magical powers, he had to, it was the only logical explanation as to why his presence automatically softened you up. Did he even know how you acted when he wasn’t around? If not, they were seriously debating on telling him.

“I see you met the rest of the team,” Suga said, his eyes averting their gaze to the members of Karasuno that stood like statues, scrutinizing the both of you. Your mood soured for a split second upon the mention of them, turning to give them each a wary glare,

“Yeah…” you mumbled reluctantly, knowing fully well that no actual introductions had taken place. Suga continued making small talk with you and the boys continued on with practice. Although, at times their focus would be stolen by the sight or sound of you kissing Suga gently on the lips or giggling at something he had said. Even Daichi found himself sparing a few glances, he wasn’t as bad as Hinata or Noya, who ended up receiving serves with their faces due to their lack of attention.

As soon as you left, Suga approached the team, his eyes holding a loving daze.

“She can be a bit harsh towards people she doesn’t know but I assure you, she’s the sweetest girl I know.” He sighed out, shaking his head lightly, the signs of a lovesick fool.

“…..right.”

#iwaizumi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #suga #haikyuu suga #sugawara x reader #haikyuu sugawara #koharu sugawara #koharu sugawara x reader #suga x reader

[bxoken-heartss]

NIGHT CHANGES: H.S PART 2.

A/N: Hey everyone! So this is part 2 of the Harry Oneshot I posted. Sorry for the long wait Mamita and hope you enjoy it!

WOrds: 2000+

Warnings: Cringe?

Genre: Cute, Fluff.

Pairings: Harry x Samantha (@papichriscnco)

Samantha’s P.O.V:

I woke up to the loud tapping (more like thundering) at my bedroom door. lazily open my eyes and before I can utter a quiet ‘Come in’ the door flew open as I jerked up and sat on the bed in shock.

“Wake up you lil shit…” yells a voice as I shielded my poor ears

“Well hello to you too loser….Now leave me alone Stella…. You’re just too annoying..” (I’m a bit of a conceited jerk..Forgive me) I reply as I rub my eyes stretching my arms up a bit

I absolutely hated being disturbed in my sleep..

“Okay DArLin’…You can sleep and I’ll tell of your BOYFRIEND to leave you alone…” Stella says as she smirks emphasizing on boyfriend

Shit…So all that confession wasn’t a dream! I mentally thanked the guts I had gotten a week ago.

Things turned out pretty good for us.. Our parents were more than Happy (at least mum was…Dad looked a bit protective…but eventually agreed)

Yesterday at Dinner he had asked me if we could go on a date..And I obviously agreed…cause why nOt??

But it wasn’t any date…It was my FIRST date…That’s why it bothered me so much…

“No! Oh my goodness! I can’t believe I slept through! I just thought I’d rest my eyes for a while…”

“If I were you I’d keep myself busy with something else…Cos’ I wouldn’t trust myself..”

“Ha.Ha.Ha…So funny Stel..Sometimes I wonder if you’re my best friend or my rival.” I reply as I get off my bed

“Your best friend definitely..or wait…I’m your savior…You would have slept through and kept Harry waiting.Thank Me!” Stella remarks as she shoves a towel and a lot more things into my arms as she pushed me into my washroom.

“Freshen up quickly!! We can’t waste anymore time..QUICK!” Stella yells as I lock the bathroom door.

I asked for a best friend…not a god damn mother or a loud speaker. I wish there was a volume controller in her or something. Don’t mind me.. I’m just grumpy I didn’t get enough sleep.

                                                      ~ ~ ~

“Aha! Looking Fresh and Gorgeous Sammie!” Stella remarks as I walk out of the bathroom in a bathrobe

“Okay…Now what do I wear? What hairstyle do I do? What shoes do I wear? What nail polish do I wea- -” I begin rambling,my anxiety kicking in as soon as realization sinks into me

“Done, done and done…” Stella remarks as she points at all my requirements for the night

“Oh my! Stel…You’re just…” I begun

“Amazing, Awesome, fantastic…I know!” Stella finishes off as she does a sashayed her hair

“You’re a lifesaver!” I reply gratefully

“Yeah yeah…I know…Now go change into these and I’ll help you with your hair…”

“Okay sure…” I reply as I go back to the bathroom to change into the dress she had given me.

                                                      ~ ~ ~

“Umm…Stel…Why am I wearing this again?” I ask her staring at my own reflection in boredom

“Let’s just say I know Harry..And he wouldn’t like anything fancy..so maybe a picnic or maybe a I don’t know..some cozy place…Nothing fancy.” Stella replies as she does my hair

“So…did he tell you something about the date?” I ask her hopefully

“I may or may not have helped him.” Stella replies as she smiles smugly

“Come on Traitor…Spill the details..” I threatened

“Oh come on… It’s a surprise darlin’.. and Harry would probably sue me if I did to…so ehh…Can’t do..” She replies merely shrugging

“At least give me a hint…” I insist

“It’s a Date…Ta daa!!!” Stella replies stupidly yet with pride.

“That’s downRighT obvious!!” I reply rolling my eyes

“Come on Sammie!! Just waittt a bit longer… It’ll be worth it..”

“I remember you texted me the day I confessed…At midnight or something.. how did you know I did…?”

“You told me you were going to confess and besides I was there spying on you…”

“You were what??” I asked surprised

“Ah…What? I said nothing! Did I??” She asks nervously looking away

“You were there??”

“Duh! I had to check if you messed up or not…If you did, then I had to obviously butt in and make sure you don’t mess..Somehow you had gotten the guts and nope! No you couldn’t mess up so as a supportive caring respectful bestie- -” Stella begins

“You DeCiDe to SpY on ME and HARRY?!?” I ask as I wear my sneakers

“Tsk..Tsk…you make it sound so stalker- ish…I was just observing to make sure nothing went wrong.. That’s all..” Stella replies as she folds her arms

“Okay okay..Thank you I guess?” I reply

                                             ~ ~ ~

We began talking about abSoLuTe nonsense trying to pass time and it was considerably working. Suddenly I hear the doorbell ring.

“Go get it!!” Stella ushered me as she practically shoved me off the couch

I quickly hurry up and open the door only to reveal Harry standing in front of me, looking as perfect as usual

“Hey…Manna…” He breathes out surprised as he continues “You look.. Beautiful..I mean you always do..But I don’t know..you look even better today..” Harry says as he hands me a box of chocolates…not just any chocolates..my favourite chocolates.

“Haz…You didn’t have to..” I reply as he leans down and pecks my lips

“PDA!!! MY EYES ARE BLEEDING!” Stella says as she shields her eyes

“Sorry that you don’t have a boyfriend Stella…”

“At least I had the guts to go and confess and not waiting for my crush to confess because I was too scared, eh Styles?” Stella remarks proudly as Harry stayed silent

“Oh will you stop harassing my boyfriend for heaven sake Stel.” I reply rolling my eyes playfully as I handed Stella the chocolates “Keep them somewhere…”

“No promises Sammie!! Well you kids have fun..but not too much FuN…” Stella replies as she shuts the door.

We both walk over towards Harry’s car…He being the obvious gentleman he was opens my door for me as I smile gratefully at him..

The ride was comfortable and quick too.

“Where are we going Haz?”

“It’s a surprise! Did Stella tell you about it already? As you already looked rightly dressed for the venue..”

“She just gave the clothes to me..No explanation..”

“Thank goodness…I thought she’d ruin it.”

“She didn’t…” I reply

                                               ~ ~ ~

Harry parks the car and gets out, opening the door for me again as I took a hold of his extended hand..He locks the car and guides me towards the venue linking each of our arms’ together.

“Hey…Could I blindfold you? I want this to stay a surprise!” Harry admits a bit nervously

“Oh okay! Sure.” I reply as Harry ties a blindfold around my eyes restricting my vision as he holds my hand, guiding me through.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

“Where are we going Haz?” I ask within like two minutes of blindfolded walking

“Well…we’re…We’re here…” Harry replies excitedly as he removes my blindfold

I let my eyes adjust to the lighting. It was an ice skating rink arena sort of things, a few couples skating around.

“Surprise? I thought…this would be nice…” Harry says as he looks at me

My face just looked absolutely surprised as I gaped at the ice skating rink. Probably one of the biggest ones I’ve ever seen

“D- -do- -err..do you l- -ike it?” Harry asks nervously

“Haz!! I love it!!! This is absolutely amazing!” I reply hugging him

“Now let’s go get our skates and we’ll be all set to go…” Harry says as he takes my arm

                                                 ~ ~ ~

“How are these?” Harry asks showing me a pair of ice skates as I tried them on

“Too loose…” I reply as I remove them

“These?” He asks

“Too highlighter ish Haz…My eyes!” I reply as he softly giggles

“This one?” He asks handing me a pair of ice skates

“Perfect!” I reply as I put them on

                                                  ~ ~ ~

You make it look effortless Haz..“ I say as I skate beside him

“Oh come on babe…You are a natural.. I’m just awestruck by how terrific you are at this..” Harry says as he hold my hand spinning me around…

“I really like this a lot…I hope you realize that.” I say as I spin around  and stop.

The laces of my ice skates come off. Before I could even bend down to tie them, Harry takes up the initiative and kneels down

“Allow me babygirl…” Harry says as he ties them tightly safe and secured.

“Thanks Haz” I reply as I plant a quick peck on his cheek, a tint of pink evident on his cheeks.

“Anytime princess…” He says as he holds my hand

                                                    ~ ~ ~

We try skating around as if we were dancing. Both of us were naturally talented dancers so we skate elegantly whilst dancing around carefully with grace, well most of them time Harry was just goofing around like a clown showing me super cool tricks.

Harry stops after a little bit as his gaze turns to a couple who tried out super wacky poses that would be hard even on bare ground.

“Manna…Look at that! We should totally try that out!” Harry urges as his eyes gleam with happiness

I really don’t think that’s the cleverest idea Harry had come up with..but I didn’t want him upset.

“Are you sure it’s going to work out? I mean, it looks super risky..we could end up hurt or something..”

“We’ll be careful..come on let’s try it out…It’ll be fun!!” He remarks

                                                      ~ ~ ~

We observed the entire steps for a solid ten minutes as we mildly practiced it. The last part was the hardest….It involved a lot of lifting and spinning around.

It was fun…well it would have been perfect…if the both of us hadn’t fallen and broken a bone or two?

“You don’t know how sorry I actually am right now…” Harry almost whispers, tears glinting his eyes “ I just wanted this to be perfect..” He breathes out as a nurse patched up the sprain in his left arm with a huge white plaster

“It’s okay Harry…I had a lot of fun.. Dates were never meant to be movie perfect, eh Haz? It was fun! I absolutely enjoyed how you goofed around… honestLy,it was perfect… I couldn’t have thought of anything better.” I reassure him whilst squeezing his hand softly

“But I hurt you…” He said as he looked at my ankle, which was sprained

“So? Your arm’s sprained too… It’s fine! We are both used to ending with up injuries one way or another!” I replied laughing as I remembered the endless amount of times we had gotten injured..

“I’m sorry…” Harry mutters and before he continues to ramble on, I interrupt him with a kiss…

Well a simple kiss slowly turning heated..until a cough snapped us back to reality.

“Look y'all..I appreciate young love and stuffs..But can you continue this after I patch her up?” The nurse asks Harry with a smirk on her face

“Oh right..sorry..We got a bit carried away..” Harry admits sheepishly

“Well too obvious..” The nurse muttered as she plastered my sprained ankle

“The night is ruined all thank to me..” Harry grumbles to himself

“Nope Haz…The night’s still young. How about we we take out some food and go over to your place and have a movie marathon?” I suggest

“That sounds great…But are you sure you enjoyed the…now ruined date?” Harry asks as he looks down, evidentially disappointed

“Haz…Come on…I li- - loved it.. nothing was ruined. So what if it was a bit messy? We can learn from these silly messes so that our future dates turn out good…It’s completely fine Harry!” I reassure him

He smiles shyly at me as he quickly pecks my cheek.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

Our drive back (I drove, because my left ankle was only sprained, as Harry couldn’t steer the wheel and control the gear) was comfortable…I mean, everything involving him was obviously supposed to comfortable.

We took in a lot of takeout, drove our to Harry’s house as I parked the car and helped him out. He helped me walk in and shut the door behind them.

“Let’s get changed into something more comfortable…you can use the room downstairs.”

“Okay..Thanks…I can help you if you need help..” I offer

“I’ll manage…” Harry replies as I walk into the guest bedroom changing into one of his oversized t-shirts as I walked out only to see him changed I to a loose shirt

“Wow…You look cute in my shirt..I mean extra cute..” Harry smiles as I settle down next to him, our food laid out in front of the mini table laid in front of us.

“Thanks Haz…” I reply blushing a bit as he wrapped his arms around me

“Which movie are we watching?” He asks as he hands me the remote

“I was going to ask you the same..” I reply as I look at him

“Well… We’ll just watch anything then..” He says as he switches on the TV and flips through the channels as he found the opening credits of Titanic playing…

“Titanic? Aww!! Yes please!” I usher him as he keeps the remote down

I grabbed a few snacks and handed a few to Harry as we shared everything, cuddling each other just simply enjoying each others’ presence and watching a movie…

Nothing Fancy…nothing out of the ordinary apart from the amount of excessive love surrounding us…this was all I’ve ever wanted.

I looked at him, as he looked at me… Our gazes fixated on each others’ eyes. He wrapped his arms around my waist as he pulled me for a passionate kissing, our lips moving in sync as my hands trailed into his brown curls..

“I love you Manna…” He breathes out as he looks at her

“I love you too Haz…” I reply as I pull him into another kiss.

#one direction #harrystyles #requests #fluff #cute #h.s #fiz's works

[thinkofduty]

iunctus

  this post contains sexual themes. please don’t read if you’re under 18.

Six days.

It only takes six days for Ingvald to find and become accustomed to a new routine with Orella gone.

He bores quickly of it. Less than a full day goes by before he's bored of the raunchy novellas lying discarded around the manse. Nor does the housework afford him much opportunity to better himself. The dishes are dried and put away, the countertops swept clean of crumbs, the plants watered: his good conscience is soothed, but his body still wants for things to do.

By the second afternoon he takes up his rapier and sets a training dummy up in the front yard. Someone - mayhap a Riskbreaker - has decorated it with a goofy face reminiscent of a paissa. He decides immediately that he hates it.

For all its comical appearance, it is a hardy thing and weathers his spells well enough. That, or he hasn't perfected the art as well as he'd originally thought. The focusing crystal hums pleasantly when he inspects it for flaws, but he finds nothing that would cause his spells not to do so much damage. Idly, he thinks of the last time he was face-to-face with a training dummy; for sure, that first was a puny thing, and this one no doubt was built to weather adventurers aplenty...

It still confuses him, and he takes up a new goal. Delicately melt the paint off the dummy, or turn it into splinters.

By third day's end his arms shake with the effort of holding both rapier and crystal aloft, breathing hard with the exertion of casting over and over. The unblinking paissa eyes watch him mockingly; he has done not much more than turn a few splinters to the smallest sticks of charcoal despite his best efforts.

"Having trouble, old man?"

He turns to see Helisent, wrapped up in a travelling cape, a great grin plastered upon her face. She must be leaving for Gyr Abania once more. Her drive to help is admirable, if exhausting to think about - the Saltery has been mostly repaired and its workers brought back to live there, and she has finally set her sights upon other little hamlets in need of a helping hand.

"No," says Ingvald, not bothering to fight the smile that works its way to the fore. As they had worked together the teasing insults had been plentiful and somewhat of a comfort after a while. It is nice to hear them again. "Need someone to hold your hand back home?"

His only answer is a tongue stuck out in a decidedly miqo'te manner. "Orella'd kill you," she says happily, dumping her pack on the ground and bending to adjust the laces of her boots. "If you took off with a younger woman, I mean."

That earns a chuckle, though she doesn't say anything more, too busy making sure the leathers won't rub against her feet as she walks. Not one to interrupt such a process, Ingvald rolls his shoulders and tests the weight of the rapier; it doesn't feel as a block of stone yet, which means he can keep going. With a sigh he lifts the focusing crystal high as well, and it spins lazily in midair, barely glowing brighter as he casts a lackluster veraero at the abused training dummy.

"Wow," says Hel to his right. "Was that meant to be white magic? Come on, great-granddad, you can do better than that."

Ingvald grits his teeth. "Hush," he scowls, and tries again. This time his spell peters out before it even reaches his target; his jaw clenches in irritation, and Helisent bursts into laughter too loud for this time of night.

"Before I go," she says, and plucks the crystal from his hand. With his aether so extended down the weapon like an extension of his arm, he feels unbalanced, and the blade wavers. He lowers it, wary. "I think we better work on this so you don't embarrass me in the future."

"Red magic must be balanced," he protests, but doesn't reach to take it from her. "Don't overaspect it or you'll be paying for the replacement."

Without looking away from the crystal, Hel rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the tiniest motion, more fond than disdainful. "Please," she scoffs. "Overaspected. That'd be doing you a favour, as far as I'm concerned."

Something of his worry must bleed through, for he can feel the pulsing of her aether weaken as she tunes the crystal to her liking, and hands it back soon enough with a wink. Try as he might, Ingvald can feel nothing different about it, though he knows she must have done something - but when he opens his mouth to ask questions, she simply winks at him, slings her pack over her shoulder, and sets off.

*

Very quickly does Ingvald become irritable. He takes to practising harder, pushing himself further - not just at dawn and dusk but during the day, too, when it's more likely others will see him. Indeed, one elezen does stop to watch with fascination until he growls too loudly at the still-standing dummy one afternoon. She flees, long legs carrying her past the marketboard quick enough that when he looks over he does not see even the colour of her hair.

Between his mood and the locals it's clear enough he needs to rest. He retires indoors, sweat cooling on his lower back, and wonders if he looks hard enough whether or not he would find any books on magickal energy hidden around the Sandsea. He needs some sort of guidance, more than the paltry exercises Tia had taught him during their time in the Sagolii, and it is with no small amount of relief that he sinks into the chair closest to the fire. Maybe Helisent is right - maybe he is getting old. He certainly feels it, and the thought of getting up to hunt down a book that might not even exist is more draining than he wants to admit.

He falls into the story easier than he'd have thought possible, the chair comfortable enough that he is reluctant to even change position, the fire warm enough that his eyes feel heavier than they otherwise might. The tale he's picked up is engrossing enough - a young midlander convincing her Ishgardian beau to forsake his knightly vows for her arms (and if he rereads the passages detailing just how soft and pert the heroine's breasts are, that's between him and the fireplace) - that he pays no mind to the door when it swings open.

"Oh, how domestic," drawls an unfortunately familiar voice.

Gisfrid stands flanked by two women, nose freshly broken, looking just as smug as he ever has done. To his left, a woman he thinks he recognises but remembers not at all. To his right, Orella, looking as displeased as he's sure he feels.

Silence grows thick and heavy around all four of them until he snaps his book shut decisively. Gisfrid's brows rise almost high enough to meet his hairline when he sees the title.

"Bit racy for you," he says, and his words are swallowed up by the blanket of noiselessness. They all trade glances, all expecting an explanation, no one saying a single word to break it.

... Which means it falls to Ingvald to open the discussion. He sighs, keeps his eyes on Orella. She looks like she might develop a headache before the day is over.

"Explain."

She can't fully hide a little grin, at least. "I was waiting for you to kick off," she admits. "Tell me Ashelia isn't in."

She's not, and he says as much. Orella's shoulders relax, the tension visibly draining from her. Not for the first time, Ingvald wishes she could take some time for herself for once.

"Here," says Gisfrid. "That book-"

"Is it any of your business?" Ingvald snaps before he can carry on. He's as surprised as everyone else to find his tone as sharp as any blade, and forces himself to breath deeply, hold it for four, five seconds.

"... Let's go to our room," Orella suggests. It might be the most sensible thing she's ever said.

*

Their shared room is plain enough that no eyebrows are raised at the impropriety of the two of them sharing a single bed. It's a relief for, Ingvald suspects, both of them - he doesn't want to know how loud Gisfrid would become upon learning about their still-tentative relationship. It seems almost a stroke of luck that she'd forgone the simple copper band she's been wearing since the liberation before setting out.

At length, an explanation makes itself known to him. He sighs at every appropriate point, glares at their guests when he thinks it necessary, and suggests that they meet by the Brimming Heart when the moon's at its highest. Gisfrid shoots him an inquisitive look.

"You don't want us around?"

"Not really," Ingvald says, surprisingly mild for the way he feels. "I want to gather my things in peace before I have to spend weeks by your side again. Get out and we'll meet you later."

Milleuda is the one who shrugs and tells him to suit himself. Gisfrid does not look happy about the arrangement, but follows her anyway, clearly beholden to her rules, and Ingvald sighs deeply as the door clicks shut behind them.

"They're going to steal anything not nailed down, aren't they," he groans, and Orella snorts, amused.

"You don't have to come," she says, and looks weary when she looks at her. The circles under her eyes seem more pronounced than ever; he feels guilty, then, for not suggesting that they rest here tonight and meet them in the morning.

Whatever's going through her head clearly has her wanting to apologise for something or other, too, and he's having none of it. Before she can protest or chew him out or do aught else he crosses the three steps to her, takes her shoulders, and kisses her as firm as he thinks he can get away with: surprised, sh elets him.

"What-" she manages when he parts from her. Ingvald shrugs.

"I won't be able to when we're with them," he says easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I presume you want them knowing just as much as I do."

Irritation writes itself plainly across Orella's face as she contemplates that very real possibility. He allows it for one moment, two, before bending to kiss her again. This time she meets him, slides one hand into his shaggy hair. It's nice, until she's had enough, and she tugs him back easily.

"You don't have to," she says, and Ingvald doesn't know if she means this, or the search for Folles. "Ingvald-"

"Orella," he interrupts, "For once, be quiet."

If he knows her she has absolutely no intention of doing so. Rather than suffer through her complaints, he plants his hands beneath the slight curve of her ass and lifts; it's worth the strain in his arms for the little stoke to his pride that he can, and that flares into something more heady when Orella grabs tightly at his jacket. She's not heavy, but he could drop her easily, something they're both aware of.

"You thought I wouldn't leave with you?" he asks against her throat, and kisses the skin there. "You thought I'd let you go off with that shite and have nothing at all to do with it?"

She squirms in his arms, trying to steady herself. "No," she says simply. "Don't want to be dragging you into my dirty work all the time."

As if of their own accord, her legs wrap around his waist for extra balance. Ingvald takes one step, then another, and another, kissing her skin with every step he takes, before his knees bump against the edge of their mattress, and he dumps her unceremoniously. He follows her down, catches sight of the amusement in her eyes before he kisses her again.

"Alright," she murmurs when he pulls back, "What's all this about?"

Instead of answering her, he tugs at the laces holding her shirt closed, baring the skin beneath. As usual she's forgone any sort of brassiere, having always considered them a waste of time. He bends his head to take one dusky nipple between his teeth and worries it; when he pulls back it's ringed with toothmarks and perky.

"You aren't the only one who regrets things," he reminds her, and doesn't miss the way a frown begins to form between her brows. "He and I were the same. I'm making up for it."

"... You and Gisfrid?" Orella asks, lost, and hisses when he bites her other nipple harder.

"I," Ingvald mumbles, hands already working as his own laces. He's hard in his trous. "Would appreciate you not talking about him in bed."

He puncuates the remark with another sharp nip and sits up straight to glower down at her. Her eyes have gone dark, and they narrow when she sees him work himself roughly. "Folles," he clarifies, and feels a muscle in his jaw tense. His cock jumps in his hand, too. "Take these off," he says, hooking two fingers into her waistband when she opens her mouth to say something.

She swallows, wriggles beneath him to wrestle with the fabric.

"I have to make up for being like him for as long as I was," he continues, watching her. Her hands still at her smalls.

"That's-"

"pyr Bloodhound," he reminds her. "That's what they called me - or did you forget? I didn't get that by being nice."

It's taking her too long to undress. He hooks his own fingers into her smalls and tugs them down so sharply something in the fabric snaps loudly. She gives him an annoyed look but lifts her legs for him to pull them down further, and he finds he doesn't want to waste time undressing. With one arm he pulls her legs over one shoulder, holding them together at the knee where her clothes are gathered. When he catches her eye he stops, just for a moment, until she nods, just barely. Good.

"You're better than them," she says softly - more softly than he's used to from her, and rather than argue the point he pushes his cock between her thighs, gritting his teeth at the feel of her.  He does it again, and then grips himself, angles himself down as he pushes his hips forward, when when his cockhead slides between her folds and catches upon the hole of her cunt he growls, deep in his throat.

"Am I?" he manages, thinking of the past as he sinks into her in one movement. Orella sucks in a deep breath and screws her face up; for a moment he thinks maybe she needed more than what little he gave her, but when he pulls out his shaft glistens. "Could've been quo. Could've been rem. Could've made sas - would I be better, then?"

Instead of answering she grits her teeth. With every point he makes he fucks into her a little harder, a little sharper. With both legs held tight in place and her shirt undone, she looks like any other woman might've had he but dared ask during his time as pyr.

The thought shocks him: not once during their shared service did he ever indulge, though his authority would have afforded him the opportunity had he but asked to. None would have questioned him or looked down on him; he would not have been the first to take advantage of his position, nor would have been the last. Looking down upon her he knows Orella did not abstain as he had done - nor should she have, for pleasure was few and far between for both of them, and for her more than he.

"I did it for you," he growls, low and quiet as he sinks deeper than before into her, and she cries out, the first true noise she's made so far. "Agreed to fight for them for you. What does that make me? A coward- can't even choose for myself-"

"Ingvald," she gasps, and goes tight around him.

"I'm no better than any of them," he growls again, feeling a bead of sweat work its way down between his shoulderblades. Pulling out feels like a sin, but he cannot stop himself; his every movement is jerky and sharp. "Worse than plenty. Shit-"

He grits his teeth, holds her legs so tightly it must pain her for the way her knees are held together, and seats himself fully within her as he comes, breathing as though he's just run a malm.

Orella's hand cups his cheek. He leans into it blind; he can feel the hot prickle of tears begin to gather in his eyes and he closes them, willing them to stay put.

"I did too," she says quietly. He grunts to let her know he's heard and keeps his eyes closed, feeling the first start the slow path down his cheek. Her thumb wipes it away, and the next. "I swore the same. To serve in their name would be to save you."

He swallows heavily, and another tear slips out. Orella wipes that away, too, and runs the pads of her fingers over the stubble he wants to shave before they set out. All he can think of is how calloused her hands are. In another life she would maybe have enjoyed softer hands, softer clothes, softer words. She'd have hated every second of it.

"If I'd said no-" he chokes out, and finds himself pulled gently down, guided to rest against her bare skin, breasts a pillow for him to hide within. Here he can lift a hand to wipe at his eyes as subtley as he can; she ignores the movement. He loves her for that alone.

"We'd have been made to serve no matter what we'd said," she murmurs, and brushes chapped lips against his temple. She shifts under him, and he swallows: she's still hot and wet around him, and he cannot imagine she has found release yet. That fills him with as much shame as his past failings. "You know that as well as I do, and if you'd said no, I'd have been alone." She kisses the top of his head, and he feels her shift again, this time to hold him tight. "And I don't know about you, but I wouldn't have made twenty years by myself."

No, you wouldn't have, he does not say, because they both know she's right. Instead he turns his face up to meet her for a kiss, softer than any they've shared this evening, and chooses instead to reach between them to where her flesh is wet and swollen, and makes apologies with his fingertips.

*

Neither Gisfrid nor Milleuda look any different to how they did hours before; they are devoid of anything other than the weapons at their side. Clearly they've spent the day wasting time instead of putting a pack together.

"I presume you have a plan?" Gisfrid drawls as they approach. "Or is this to be a wild bhoot-chase?"

Ingvald and Orella share a long-suffering glance. It is going to be a long, long journey. As one, they shrug.

"Actually," he says, "We do."

#p07 #ingvald

[kamino-ink]

Human Canvas | Bang Chan

✧ Genre: Soulmate!au, fluff, wee angst

✧ Summary: You were six years old when you got an inkling of what kind of person your soulmate is; they would draw little doodles on their arms all day, and you would draw back. But as an adult, its as if you two are at war with each other, with them covering your right arm with tattoos and you occasionally painting on your left arm for the fun of it.

✧ Word Count: 2.9k

✧ Want to read other parts of this series? Check out my masterlist!

                                         ✧

 Growing up as a child in the era of booming technological advances and rising platforms of social media, it was hard not to become a member of at least one standing media presence. In your case, you were a well-known star on Instagram, showing off your strange yet classical renditions of paintings on the canvases covered with colors - or, on other occasions, your left arm.

 As a child you loved to experiment with colors and silly doodles, even if you didn't have the creative capacity to paint your own designs. Your mother would frequently have to force you to take baths so she could scrub the childish splashes of color off of your arm - however on one occasion, you had noticed a little sketch of what looked to be a sad excuse of a shark on your right arm. Here’s the thing, your right hand was the only one that could paint or draw, so you had zero clue as to how or why the shark got on there.

 When you’d asked your mother about it, her lips had suddenly parted as wide as the sea. “Honey, quick - write something on your arm!” She had told you, her shaking fingers handing you a blue-ink pen she had been writing with just moments ago. You didn't question her, since you were still just a kid that listened dutifully to everything your parents told you to do, and wrote out the word ‘hello.’ on your left arm.

 Within seconds you felt a strange sensation on your opposite arm; when you glanced over at it in confusion, you saw red ink being scribbled onto your bare skin to spell out ‘who are you?’

 That same day, your mother had the “the talk” with you - in which she explained that every single person on Earth had someone they were essentially destined to be with; no one knew why or how it came to be, but the evidence was there.

 Your mother recounted on how she found her soulmate, your father, in high school. Apparently her bond was one where she could write something down, anything, on any sort of material and it would appear on the closest object (albeit reasonable) within minutes by your father. It was somewhat similar to your bond with this other kid, except if you drew something on your skin, it would appear on the same part of his body in seconds.

 The boy you were bonded with, Chan, was apparently ambidextrous but preferred writing with his left hand, which was why he never doodled on the same arm as you. Within months you two had made interesting splashes of colors, silly sketches, and much more on each other’s skin.

 However, as you got older, this came to be a rather pressing issue; in one of your college classes, you had been in the midst of a serious presentation when the professor cleared his throat awkwardly to signal you to stop. You’d looked over to him in confusion, as well as your giggling classmates, only to glance down at your right arm now covered in some rather... inappropriate designs. Why did you have to wear short sleeves that day?

 In retaliation, you casually asked Chan what classes he took at school and when he had them; clearly he mistook your questions as just plain old curiosity, because the next day during his history class you had decided to paint a mural of bright yellows and pinks onto his skin. He was stuck with the neon colors all day, as none of his friends would lend him a jacket or coat in favor of laughing their asses off at him.

 From then on it was like an all out war - he would doodle obscurities on your arm and you would stain his some ugly combination of colors. Then, one day, you’d woken up to a fucking tattoo on your right arm.

 You were tempted to rant about it in a caption on a post, but decided you were better than that. Instead you took out all of your frustrations on painting your left arm with a plethora of delightful blues and yellows, creating a sort of rendition to the piece Starry Night by Van Gogh.

 You snapped a picture of your artwork, feeling quite proud of yourself, and posted it on your Instagram page, it being only one of the many other art pieces you had on your page. In minutes the comments had been flooded with mostly positive remarks and a few mindful critiques, not that you minded; feedback was feedback, and all of it would hopefully further your progress as an aspiring artist.

 Still, you knew that you needed to find Chan before he put even more tattoos on your body; you were a person who kind of needed to be presented as classy, and that meant no tattoos on your skin - sure you found it ridiculous, but you also didn't mind the pay you got from your job at the hospital.

 “Y/N - is that, is that a tattoo?”

 “For the love of - zip it, Minho!” You hiss at your amused yet stunned coworker, a fellow nurse by the name of Lee Minho. Both of you had gone through the basic stages of medical school together, and now you both happened to be some of the best nurses the hospital had seen in ages; so naturally, the two of you were rather close. “I didn't choose to have it, okay? That stupid soulmate of mine got it a few weeks ago.” You explain softly under your breath so passing doctors and nurses couldn't hear you.

 Minho lets out a small noise of understanding, though his lips are still pulled into an amused smirk. “I see, I see. But why don't you just let it be seen, it's actually really cool.”

 You sigh at his question, knowing he was just curious as to why you didn't want to show it off or anything. It wasn't like tattoos weren't allowed, per say, but you knew that it came off as more professional if the ink wasn't visible, no matter how cool it looked on your arm. “It’s just more professional this way, Minho. Don't get me wrong, I think the design is really interesting and beautiful, but now I have to wear long sleeves even though its hot as hell in here.”

 “Fair point. So, you don't know where this Chan guys lives, or what his full name is?” The nurse asks, waving to a senior doctor that passes by you with a clipboard in hand.

 “Nope.” You reply simply.

 “Then why not ask him? All you need to do is write it somewhere on your arm, right?” He presses on, the curiosity eating him alive as to why you hadn't just asked your soulmate who exactly he was and where he lived so you two could actually meet each other.

 You blink at him, once, twice, and then once more. “You... have a point,” you admit to the man, who is now smirking all too victoriously at you, “but - whenever I asked for his name all those years ago, he said that his nickname was Chan. I’m guessing he doesn’t like his real name or isn’t ready to find me yet.”

 Minho whines at your explanation, his fingers going to the that had ridden up to expose the ink, tugging it down for you. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask now, right? I mean, you’re both adults now. There’s no way that he doesn’t want to meet you yet.”

 You shrug softly to yourself, subconsciously tracing over the part of the sleeve that was covering the tattoo. While you had been ready to finally meet your soulmate, you had an odd hunch that Chan just wasn't ready, and you were afraid to accidently pressure him into it so soon.

 “I’ll think about it.”

 About a week later you finally decided that you really needed to find Chan, because he had gotten yet another tattoo on his arm - now along with the stunning rose covered in dark thorns just under your shoulder, there was a shorter cluster of thorny stems; it seemed like he was working towards getting a full sleeve.

 It's not like you disliked the tattoos - in fact, you were amazed that you didn’t have to go through the pain or process of spending the money on the beautiful designs. You just wanted to lay out a few ground rules - like, nothing on the face... what, tons of people got face tattoos these days, you had a right to be worried about what else the guy wanted on his - and your - skin.

 You’d been in the middle of scrolling through your feed, a french fry lazily resting between your lips as you nibbled on the salty snack, your eyes trained on the bright screen of your phone. Suddenly you stopped mid chew, eyes widening at what had caught your attention.

 It was the same exact tattoo inked onto your right arm, except the stems had been extended towards the wrist where they wrapped around the skin to look like roots, and there were falling, wilting rose petals drifting down the sketch. Within seconds you had clicked on the suggested account’s username, waiting anxiously as it redirected you to an account run by what appeared to be a tattoo parlor. If you were right about the sleeve being an original design, then that meant there was a big possibility Chan had gotten his ink done at this particular parlor.

 Furthering your investigation and completely abandoning the fries next to you, you click on the linked website in the parlor’s description, praying it wasn’t too far away.

 Oh my god, you thought to yourself in a mixture of pure shock and growing excitement, staring at the directions from the map that had popped up when you allowed it to use your location, its only three miles away!

 Not caring that you were still wearing loose sweatpants covered in cat hair along with a baggy, very wrinkled shirt, you literally jumped out of bed to run and slip a pair of shoes on, swinging your door open and shutting it quickly. You stared down at your phone as you hopped into your car, activating the GPS as you began your drive to the tattoo parlor.

 The entire drive you felt like you were either going to puke or cry - maybe both. After all this time, after all those years of communicating through scribbles of messily written words on your skin, along with the silly drawings, you might actually be able to meet Chan... your soulmate.

 When you arrived it was just another hour before it closed for the night, so you could only hope that someone working there would recognize the tattoo on your arm and be able to tell you who else got it recently. You quickly locked your car, nearly dropping your keys you were so jittery, and walked into the parlor. At the front desk there was a man with dyed blonde hair and darker brown roots, and the second you walked in he had glanced up at you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“H-hi,” you breathe out after a second of silence, still trying to catch your breath from rushing out of your house so fast, “um, weird question, but has anyone else gotten a tattoo like this recently?” You ask the receptionist, turning and lifting your sleeve so the entire piece was visible.

 The man lets out a small hum, looking up at you from the desk curiously. “Our main tattoo artist designed that himself a while ago, he’s been working up to a full sleeve since about... four weeks ago, maybe?”

 “Is - is his name Chan, by chance?”

 “That’s his sort of nickname around here, yeah. His actual name is Chris. Are you... a friend of his?” He asks you, chuckling softly at your disheveled head of hair and red cheeks. Clearly you had been in a rush.

 You shake your head at first, but remember that you are the guy’s soulmate, and technically you have known each other since you were kids - in a sense. “Is he here, right now?”

 The receptionist nods again, jerking his head to a door behind the desk. “Yeah, he’s alone cleaning up right now. Go ahead.”

 You send him a thankful smile, nearly stumbling into the corner of his desk as you walk slowly towards the door that is acting as the only barrier between yourself and your soulmate. Your mind is screaming at you to walk away out of sheer fear, but your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that you ignore any other thoughts racking your brain - and you walk inside.

 Holy shit he’s gorgeous. Is the first thing that pops inside your head when your eyes land on the man, his right arm dotting the same tattoo on yours, his hair a pretty sort of silver color. The man raised an eyebrow at you, then glanced down at your arm as you quite literally held it out towards him.

 “Um... what am I looking at?” Chan hesitates on his words, glancing back up at you in confusion. Your eyebrows furrow in wonder; was he seriously choosing now of all times to play around?

 “We have the same tattoo, Chan - it’s me, Y/N!” You insist after an awkward pause, only to recoil in shock as his eyes narrow into a glare.

 “Alright sweetheart, you’ve gotta be high as shit right now because I don’t see one dot of ink on that damn arm.” The artist retorts lowly, as if he was offended by your rash outburst. “I don’t believe you - Y/N would have to have my design on her arm, and you don’t.”

 Your lips part in hurt, and a bit of... pride? Here Chan was, standing right before you with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at you because he thought you were some random chick claiming to be his soulmate.

 Then it hit you.

 “Um - you know what - never mind, I guess I got confused.” You apologize to the man. “Actually I came in to get a - a tattoo. I completely forgot to make an appointment, so I can come back tomorrow or-”

 “Just lay down and tell me what you want, I could care less about an appointment right now. No one else is scheduled to come in.” Chan instructs and you listen, going to lie down on the leather chair. You were nuts - here you were, getting your first real tattoo just to try and prove that you were his soulmate. Were there easier ways to do so? Obviously, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins mixed with the loss of any rational thought had skewed any other possible plans to convince Chan of your identity.

 “Can I get... three birds on the back of my shoulder?” You blurt out suddenly, knowing that it was a simple tattoo. Chan hums at your choice, telling you to lift your shirt off so he can prep your skin. He tells you that he has a design like that and shows it to you for approval, and you of course nod in agreement and wait for him to get everything ready.

 The next thirty minutes go by as a blur, with Chan inking your left shoulder with tiny black birds and tiny details of wind and feathers. Once he’s done patching it up, you tap his arm to catch his attention.

 “Can you um... look at your shoulder?” You ask him, your cheeks heating up when he snorts at you in disbelief. You’re not sure if he’s just trying to flatter you, since to him you were some weirdo who’d popped into his tattoo parlor out of nowhere for no real rhyme or reason; but he does as you suggest, walking over to a mirror hung onto the wall. He dips the hem of his shirt downward and tilts his head to see - nothing.

 There wasn’t a trio of black birds on his skin.

 “Holy shit - you really are Y/N, aren't you?”

 You glance up at the baffled man in bewilderment, wondering how he had figured it own even though your tattoo hadn’t showed up on his shoulder.

 “Didn't you... didn't you see the birds?” He questions you quickly, only to furrow his eyebrows when you shake your head slowly. “Wait - maybe, maybe we can’t see what we’ve done to the other person’s body - I’ve heard of it before, in cases like this-” The silver haired man starts to speak a mile a minute, taking short steps towards you with each rushed word that escaped his lips.

 “Sometimes, when soulmates are close to each other in terms of distance, the bond acts on its own and can make a sort of - barrier, I guess? Here, look at your wrist.” He says after he’s grabbed a stray pen from his cluttered counter, doing a quick doodle on his own wrist. You flatter him, looking down to see a cute little smiley face staring back up at you - then you glance to his wrist, seeing the same exact doodle in black ink.

 “You can see it, right?” You nod, too shocked to speak. You had finally found him, your actual soulmate.

 Chan lets the pen drop to the floor and wraps his arms around your body tightly, pulling you into his chest.

 “You found me, Y/N.”

                                           ✧

A/N - thanks, I hate it! :)

#skzwriters #stray kids au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids #stray kids soulmate au #bang chan #chan soulmate au #chan scenario #chan imagine #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

[saccharinedanganimagines]

You know the love hotel in v3 in the love across the universe game? Well, maybe an imagine for Kokichi where s/o is put in his fantasy like how Shuichi is, and throughout the fantasy they realize they're just being themselves and that s/o *is* Ouma's ideal? Maybe with s/o mentioning it the next day and fluff happens? Thank you!

Warning- This imagine is a bit suggestive. (because love hotel stuff-)

I’ve been working on this for about a month, and its gotten to be really long, (almost 3,000 words but mainly because of all the dialogue) so I thought this would be a good thing to finally post after our unofficial hiatus. Sorry to the people who don’t like Ouma- but I have a sort of bias towards my boi-

Hopefully school slows down soon, I really like writing for the blog.

-Mod Miu

Kokichi Ouma’s Love Suite Event

-Once more, you inserted a Monocoin into the slot. You weren’t hoping for anything in specific, but the MonoMono machine did dispense cool stuff occasionally.

-It was a nice distraction from thinking about how you would escape this academy, and since you had Monocoins to spare, here you were. You broke open the capsule that rolled down, expecting something akin to the trinkets you’ve gotten so many times before.

-Instead, a key stared back at you. The handle was curved into a heart, with a red gem in the middle. What did the key open? Did it even work on any of the doors in the academy? The questions that ran through your mind distracted you from the two-tone bear creeping up behind you.

-”Rise and shine, ursine!!”

-The loud voice behind you quite nearly scared you half to death. A small yelp of terror escaped from your mouth before you turned around to investigate the source of the voice. Monokuma. Of course it was him.

-”Sorry, just me, no Monokubs this time~ Did I getcha?”

-You scowled at the bear in response.

-”How rude… I went out of my way to come over here and explain the Love Key to you, and this is the thanks I get??”

-”Love Key..?”

-”Damn right! I’ll excuse you this once and tell you how to use it.”

-Monokuma explained how the Love Key worked, along with the “Hotel Kumasutra” that I had passed by once or twice, dismissing it as something unimportant.

-The concept of the Love Hotel made your face flush a bit, you weren’t even sure you wanted to try it. Then again, you couldn’t deny your slight curiosity.

-What happens in the Love Hotel stays in the Love Hotel, right? You tucked the key away in your pocket and waited for nightfall.

-You reached the front door of the hotel, almost blinded by the bright red lights by looking at them for a second. A keyhole above the doorknob prompted you to dig out the Love Key from your pocket.

-The Love Key was a perfect fit for the lock, no surprise there. Opening the door, long hallways going in different directions greeted you. Is there a specific way I need to go? I suppose I can pick any hallway and hope for the best... You picked out a corridor, walking down it curiously. There were no indications of where anything was, only blank hallways, like a maze.

-One door in particular caught your eye, it was left slightly ajar, with pink and red lights shining out from it. You approached the opening, slipping through it quietly.

-Once the door had closed behind you and you took a look around the room, and you froze. There was someone else in the room. Not just anyone, the one and only Kokichi Ouma.

-He was digging around the room, seeming to be looking for something. For now, his back was turned to you, which gave you time to think about if you wanted to just bail on this whole idea and go back to your dorm.

-You didn’t make your mind up in time, because Kokichi turned around and saw you standing near the doorway.

-”S/O! I’ve been looking for you!” Kokichi rushed over to you, eyes shining with an accompanying bright smile. Too late. Your mind recalled the explanation that Monokuma gave.

-I have to play the role of their ideal while I’m in here… Like some sort of shared fantasy. Dammit, why’d it have to be him of all people..? I really don’t want to mess up here… Alright S/O, calm down and play along.

“You’ve been looking for me?” You simply reflected his words back at him, hoping that he would provide more information on what exact role you were meant to play here.

-Y’know, you can’t go and make a promise like that and then disappear on me…” He burst into crocodile tears. “I’m hurt S/O!” He wasn’t giving any specific details, and that only made you more confused.

-”Huh- what promise?”

-”You promised to join my organization!”

-”I did?”

-”Mhm! We need to talk about your membership~ In order to properly join you need to provide a blood sacrifice!” He’s lying, right? Kokichi said that so casually…

-”Blood sacrifice?! I’m starting to think I don’t want to join your organization.” Kokichi’s face went blank as soon as those words came out of your mouth. Oh no, did I mess it up?? As quick as Kokichi’s face went blank, he broke out into a huge smile.

-”Hm? But you never wanted to join me in the first place~” What?

-”But you just said-” Oh. I get it. “That was a lie… Wasn’t it…?”

-”Wow, you finally figured it out, I’m so proud~ Pretty surprising that you believed me since you’ve said multiple times that you don’t want to join- And y’know, cuz I’m a liar.” That much was true. You’d been shying away from Kokichi’s attempts to get you to join his organization from the time you guys had met.

-”That’s too bad as well, y’know only my greatest companions get to join my secret organization? To think I was willing to make you my second-in-command…”

-”Hold on Kokichi, just ‘cause I don’t think I’m cut out for your organization doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

-”Silly S/O, who would like a liar like me? All our classmates have a reason for avoiding me, y’know.” Kokichi said that with an innocent demeanor, his hands behind his head and eyes shining. The words that were coming out of his mouth didn’t match. He declared himself a liar with so much conviction. Like he truly believed that I should be avoiding him as much as the other students did.

-Wait a second… Our classmates? Why would he mention the people trapped here with us if I’m supposed to be some kind of ideal for Kokichi? On top of that, the things he said about you not wanting to join his organization was all true things that he had pestered you about outside the hotel.

-The realization hit you like a train. You considered the crazy option that maybe the person he was imagining as his ideal… was you? Or at least, someone that shared your and Kokichi’s experiences. A dizzy sensation took over your body. This supposed “fantasy” hotel was getting a bit too real for your liking. The only thing left you could do was play along and try and take your mind on how Kokichi might be imagining you as his ideal...

-”Kokichi…” It was all you could say, what else could you possibly form into words that would convince Kokichi that he wasn’t just a liar destined to be rejected by his peers?

-”S/O, if you understand, I suggest you turn yourself around, walk out that door and never show your face around me again.” His tone lowered to a dark whisper, but at the same time a threat. A threat to not get any closer to him, lest you get hurt badly.

-Against his piercing gaze that begged me not to break down the walls he’d so carefully built, I stood there, planted to my spot on the floor and refusing to leave. After all, if I left now, what has these past weeks of me trying to befriend Kokichi meant? Nothing.

-He got closer, a fire in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine. His expression was contorted into pure anger and annoyance at my refusal to leave him be.

-”I said, leave.” The malice that dripped from his words went right through you. When you looked past the mask, all you could see was him playing himself up to be as scary as possible to hide one important thing. He was afraid. Afraid of letting himself open up, afraid to tell you that he wanted you to stay, to not abandon and shun him like all of the other students had.

-You search your brain for something, anything to say.

-Instead of words, you threw your arms around Kokichi, not saying a word.

-Kokichi was taken aback by the sudden affection, but he soon relaxed into the hug.

-”I told you... you shouldn’t hang around me…” All of the anger was gone from his voice, keeping it to a low whisper.

-”I know…” Your response seemed to shut him up for a bit. You two stayed in each other’s arms in a comfortable silence, Kokichi eventually closing his eyes and leaning his head on your shoulder.

-Kokichi seemed to piece back together what was left of his mask and pulled away.

-Surprisingly he didn’t try to cover up the moment of weakness with his lies. Kokichi giggled like a child, narrowing his eyes playfully at you.

-”Nishishi~ You caught me off guard~” Kokichi was finally back to his normal self again. Only now, his eyebrows were knit together in concentration. Kokichi paused for a second, seeming to be deep in thought until he snapped out of it abruptly. It seems he had.. an idea? You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Kokichi didn’t give you time to finish your thought, instead, leaping right at you and bringing you down to the floor with him.

-When you regained control over your own body, you were staring up at Kokichi’s purple eyes, his hands on either side of you. Out of realization of the position, your face flushed, and you turned your head away from his gaze, choosing to look at one of the walls decorated in hearts.

-Kokichi noticed your clear embarrassment, and you spotted him frown slightly from the corner of your eye.

-With his free hand, Kokichi forced you to look back at him, a sort of knowing smirk crossing his face.

-”Hmm? You don’t have to seem so scared… What exactly do you think I’d do to you?” Kokichi was acting as if he didn’t have a clue how tense the atmosphere was in that moment, but you could easily admit that the tension in here could be cut with a knife. You had hyper-focused on each and every of Kokichi’s smallest movements in anticipation of what he had planned.

-”I’m not scared... You just surprised me.”

-”Oh S/O, haven’t you learned anything~?” Kokichi sneered at your obvious lie. Your position on the ground pinned under him had completely thrown you out of the normal element that you usually maintained around him. It was easy to reflect any of his normal teasing and lie-telling during your usual banter in the dining hall, but this place, while he was so close to you, his hands so dangerously close to your waistline. Even thinking about it seemed dangerous.

-”If you’re not going to do anything, maybe I will~”

-Kokichi got off his position on top of you, allowing a breath you didn’t even know you were holding to release.

-Kokichi pulled you up off the ground, pausing to let you regain your balance. It felt like your legs would give way at any second, whether from your nerves or being frozen to the ground for so long.

-You expected to hear the familiar sound of Kokichi’s voice teasing you when you almost fell back down, instead he did not make a sound as you leaned on him for support.

-There was almost a hint of worry on Kokichi’s face as you straighten yourself out again, but it was gone before you could scan his expression further.

-”S/O, no more lies, okay?”

-You nodded in agreement.

-An enticing smirk was your last sight before you were shoved back onto the blindingly red mattress, the hearts on the walls dancing through your eyes.

***

-The morning announcement sounded, rousing you from your deep sleep. You rubbed your eyes, clearing your vision as you sat up in the bed in your dorm room. There was a moment of confusion, almost like you didn’t remember coming back to your dorm room last night.

-You shook the thought out of your head, throwing the covers to the side and getting out of bed.

-The dorms were mostly quiet, filled with people either still sleeping in, and the absences of ones that had already headed to the dining hall.

-For some odd reason, you felt particularly energized today, like you’d gotten the best night’s sleep of your life. You didn’t question the feeling, simply being content with your newfound motivation.

-Only a handful of people had gathered in the dining hall, scattered around the table and kitchen and idly chatting. Kirumi spotted you as soon as you walked in, and got to work making your breakfast.

-You headed towards the dining tables and locked eyes with a familiar purple-headed supreme leader.

-”S/O-chan! I’d thought you’d never wake up! How did you sleep~?”

-Memories came flooding back into your mind in that very instant. How could you forget?

-Your face lit up in tones of pink and red, as you stared at Kokichi wide-eyed.

-He raised one eyebrow in curiosity at your sudden uneasiness. Kokichi strolled over, waving a hand in front of your face questioningly.

-”Huh? What’s up with you?”

-”Nothing. I’m just a bit tired.” It was a colossal lie. Kokichi picked up on it right away, so quick that you wondered why even bother to lie to him anymore?

-Kokichi’s eyes stared back at you innocently, batting his eyes and cocking his head to the side in fake confusion

-”But S/O, I thought we agreed no more lies, don’t you remember last night?”

-You choked on any type of words you were going to offer in rebuttal, the memory of Kokichi’s genuine words spoken ever so softly like he was afraid someone would hear him.

-The Love Hotel… There was meant to be no memory of the events that transpired inside, yet Kokichi had just quoted himself from last night. Both you and him retained the memories, so, what did that mean for the two of you?

-”Come with me.” Kokichi was strangely serious, both his eyes and smile were blank, a hint of genuine expression so rare for him.

-As you walked beside Kokichi through the twisting hallways of the Ultimate Academy, he was strangely silent. It was bizarre that he’d not talked your ear off by now, by Kokichi’s standards.

-From the corner of your eyes, Kokichi opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but thought against it.

-”Kokichi, I-”

-Kokichi wasn’t very strong, but he was fast if anything. Kokichi reached for your neck, and for a second, your life flashed before your own eyes. Your brain was screaming at you to run, that he was dangerous and could very easily hurt you. But, despite yourself telling you otherwise, Kokichi feathered his finger around the back of your neck and firmly held you in eye line with his height.

-He pulled you in forcefully so that his head rested on your shoulder, and only you could hear what he whispered to you.

-”What do you think this is, hm?”

-By now, you knew that was a rhetorical question. Kokichi barely expected an answer, moving a bit away from your ear, feeling chaste and cold lips press to your neck diffidently.

-The contact sent even more memories flooding into your remembrance, and causing your breath to come out shaky.

-The ghostly kisses tracked across your neck and along your jawline, stopping short at the corner of your mouth, pulling away and reveling in the slight disappointment evident in your frown.

-”Maybe it’s all a lie, who’s to say?”

-Kokichi took a deliberate step forward and looked pleased as ever when you ended up tripping yourself up on the heel of his shoe, nearly falling into the pavement if it weren’t for him holding you by the shoulders.

-Kokichi decided to finish what he had started, with a kiss that ended all too soon. After a final “farewell” smirk, Kokichi let go of you, falling back into the pavement with a tiny “ow” escaping from you. When you sat back up, Kokichi was nowhere to be seen.

-You dusted yourself off, heading back to the dining hall, all the while having only yourself to blame for falling for a liar.

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa v3 #drv3 imagines #kokichi ouma x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma imagines #kokichi oma #kokichi oma x reader #mod miu

[mintyjin]

neighbor au: yugyeom

sorry for less posts lately- it’s finals season and I got into a super cool thing but that means I gotta plan for it and life is crazy

no one likes the graveyard shift, not really 

you definitely don’t like it, but what can you do? gotta pay for university somehow 

but it’s not all bad, you know. the graveyard shift is how you met yugyeom 

he’s the only other tenant who gets back to the building at 4:12am

that breeds an odd sort of friendship 

the sort of friendship where you run into each other with tired eyes and hoods pulled over your heads, meet each other’s eyes and laugh

like dude... why the fuck aren’t we asleep? 

you’ve grown accustomed to each other, so much so that you’ll pull out your earbuds to talk to each other for a few minutes before going into your respective apartments and collapsing 

yugyeom knows all about your job and it’s horrible, monotonous shifts spent staring at a glaring computer screen until your eyes ache, but you actually don’t know why he’s out this late 

guessing by the bag he carries at all times, he’s probably a student 

you feel like you remember seeing some math books outside his door

yeah, he’s a student. that’s gotta be it

in the elevator up to your floor, yugyeom will pull a protein bar out of his pocket and offer it to you 

like... he always has them

finally you ask him if he ever eats anything else. like does the boy have a balanced diet or does he live entirely off protein bars cause uh

“I ate some ramen for breakfast!” 

“....I’m sorry I asked.” 

“Ah, Y/N, so judgmental.”

and you’re like listen here you little shit if you stay up this late all the time then you need to take care of yourself 

besides, being a regular student makes it hard to stay healthy, so night classes? you really got to take care of yourself

yugyeom stiffens up a bit and looks at you cautiously out of the corner of his eye

“Night classes?” he repeats

“Aren’t you a student?” you ask

“Yes... but only by day.”

and you’re about to ask what he means when the elevator doors open and he gets off, waving goodbye with a smile and trudging off to bed

so... yugyeom has a secret

the next day, you go out of your way to walk by yugyeom’s door before you head to class

to your surprise, there’s a note taped to it

“Yugyeom, back to the usual place tonight. Call me. JB” 

...what? what? what? 

what! does! that! mean!

date? drugs? what? 

and like, you could just text yugyeom and ask him, but that would mean admitting to having snooped around a bit, so... no

you see him after your shift the next day and you almost ask him what he meant by only being a student by day but,,,, he looks rough

his eyes are bloodshot, he’s sweaty, he’s pale 

“Are- are you ok?” you ask, feeling concern rise in your chest

“Uh, I had a rough night. I’ll be ok, I just need sleep. And coffee. Tomorrow.” 

“No, seriously, Yugyeom. You look like you just survived a tsunami. What happened?”

and he’s obviously exhausted, no doubt from staying up so late nearly every night combined with whatever happened to make him look so dreadful 

but when you fret over him, he looks shocked for a second, his mouth forming a little o, and then he smiles 

and sure, it’s a pretty thin-lipped smile, but it meets his eyes 

and if you were paying attention, you would’ve noticed his ears get pink

“It’s just my hyungs,” he says by way of explanation. “It’s a long story- I’ll tell you next time, ok?” 

“Um, ok,” you say, watching yugyeom take a step out of the elevator 

the doors start to close behind him but you can’t hold back

you stop the doors closing and call, “Yugyeom!” 

surprised, he whips his head back to meet your eyes

“Take care of yourself, ok? I can’t lose my 4am elevator buddy.” 

finally, he grins

“You, too, Y/N,” he says, waving and stifling a yawn

you smile back, feeling a little better as the elevator doors finally close 

totally unaware that you’ve completely turned his attitude around

he’s gone all smiley and blushy and he’s like... y/n... is pretty cute...

the next night, your shift goes on longer than usual

something came up and your boss demanded you stay after to fix a minuscule problem that anyone could’ve fixed, really 

but she seemed especially insistent that you do it

the life of a corporate slave, amiright

and as you make the trek back to your building, the sky is already starting to get brighter

bruh...

needless to say, you’re in a terrible mood

with the looks to match, surely, with messy hair and hooded eyes, red from you rubbing them every few minutes 

you stumble into your building, heading blindly to the elevator

“Y/N!” 

is that.... 

it’s yugyeom

“I was waiting for you to get back.” 

you’re stunned. “What?” 

he nervously fidgets with his hands. “We’re 4am elevator buddies, right?”

you can’t help but laugh at that

“It’s not exactly 4am anymore...” 

“Still, it feels wrong to ride the elevator at a weird hour without you. Also, I told you I’d explain something.” 

oh yeah! you’d almost forgotten about yugyeom’s deathly appearance in the midst of dealing with your boss

“Yeah, what was up with-” 

“Do you want to go up to the roof?” 

and you’re exhausted. you’re so so so very tired. but yugyeom has hopeful eyes and a smile begging to pull at his lips and you can’t help but want to see him smile all the time so you sigh and say you might as well go up to the roof 

and when his face lights up, you feel yourself mirror his expression

cause listen- yugyeom is cute

always doing some dorky shit to make you smile

you want to spend time with him outside of an elevator. and if that means going to the roof of your apartment complex instead of falling into bed, so. be. it. 

yugyeom never disappoints, you know. on the elevator up, he offers you a protein bar

“Sure!” 

“Chocolate brownie or cookie dough?” 

“Honestly, Yugyeom, you’ve got to start eating some fruit.” 

“Stop nagging me! Yah, between you and Jinyoung-” 

and when the doors open, you’re laughing your ass off at yugyeom’s whining, totally forgetting about sleeping 

who needs sleep when you have a cute boy? exactly 

it’s a bit cold so far above the ground, though, especially this early in the morning

you cross your arms, content to just bear with it, but then yugyeom drops to the ground and unzips his bag and pulls out a blanket, holding it out to you

and you’re like,,,, yugyeom wtf 

but hey! blankets are warm! so you take it, wrapping it around your shoulders and sitting down on a raised concrete slab, motioning for yugyeom to sit next to you

and he does, albeit hesitantly 

“So...” you start, “you promised to explain?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s kind of a long story...” 

“Well, I’m already up this late, so I might as well hear it.” 

yugyeom just nods a really quick, tense nod and clears his throat 

“So, you were right. I am a student. But I don’t take night classes. I’m out so late all the time because I’m on a dance team.” 

“A dance team? But why does that-”

“There’s seven of us and our schedules never line up, so we rehearse late at night.” 

and like,,, that’s weird, but it makes sense

“The other night, when you said I looked terrible, we had a fight. We’re ok now, but... fighting with friends is never fun.” 

“Oh.” 

“...Yeah.” 

“So, can I see you dance?” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now.” 

“I don’t have music!” 

“You have a phone, don’t you?”

“....OK, just let me find the song.” 

you’re like yes!!! this is going to be so good

but when a familiar kendrick song starts playing from his phone and yugyeom starts to dance, your jaw falls open a bit

you didn’t expect him to be this good

it’s just that he looks like he was born to do exactly what he’s doing 

wow

when he finishes, you applaud somewhat unintentionally 

and yugyeom is blushing and running his fingers through his hair and he’s a little winded and boi he’s attractive 

you swallow to keep yourself from drooling and lose your shit because yugeyom... how come you never told me you’re so good at dancing omfg can you teach me actually no I'm hopeless but can I come to one of your shows maybe? wait do you have shows? you never got into that I still don't know a lot but you’re so good! so hyped to call you my friend!

and yugyeom laughs and pulls you to your feet

“I’ll teach you to dance.”

but it’s different from what he did

one hand tentatively rests just above your waist, the other lightly takes your hand

and you’re freaking out cause omfg is kim yugyeom going to dance with me??? but also this blanket is falling off my shoulders oh dear

but then yugyeom starts to move ever so slightly to the side, guiding you, and you just let the blanket slide off

who cares about the blanket

and neither of you want to admit it, but the dim light of the very early morning makes the scene ethereal 

and neither of you would ever admit to the deep blush coating your cheeks

but you’re smiling, too, and laughing 

cause yugyeom twirls you and keeps you literally on your toes trying to guess what he’ll do next

he’s just so sweet and fun and... well, you’re about 99.99% sure he’s flirting with you

so you take a chance and rest your hands on the sides of his face 

yugyeom’s feet stop moving, his hands still against your sides

you hear him take in a sharp breath

and your heart is pounding but you’ve come this far come on y/n you can’t back out now

you lean forward, standing on the tips of your toes, and lightly kiss his nose

and when you pull back, yugyeom’s face follows yours so that your lips are mere centimeters away 

“Is- is it ok if-” 

you cut him off, planting your lips on his 

and it’s feather light and barely three seconds, but when you pull away, yugyeom tilts your chin slightly up and kisses you again

this time a little harder, with more feeling 

and you are over the moon

coherent thought is a thing of the past

and this time, when you both come back up for air, you smile up at him and say, “Maybe we should hang out before 4am?” 

he’s just like, “I really don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.” 

#got7 #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom #got7 yugyeom scenarios #got7 yugyeom imagines #got7 yugyeom fluff #got7 au #neighbor au #kim yugyeom #yugyeom scenario #yugyeom scenarios #yugyeom imagine #yugyeom imagines #yugyeom fluff

[oleaspur]

ummmwine replied to your post “zenkaiankoku replied to your post “i find it really interesting how...”

oh totally to all of that though, like, yeah i think ppl either smooth him over WAY too much &/or make him like, more stable than evan which is like??? they have Different Problems actually but connor is definitely the least okay / least okay to be around of all of them...but it's also like...clearly just as Off to interpret him as somebody who just acts out completely at random and is just Intensely Angry ALL THE TIIIME instead of yeah, him having this actual internal

OK im replying under the cut because this will be long but tl;dr YOURE RIGHT

process behind the stuff he does which like, from an outside perspective would clearly be unjustified or over the top or irrational etc etc etc...and tbh like interpreting him as like, slow to warm up to ppl and quick to draw back thx to paranoia or potentially actually sort of latching on to ppl too fast but it can also go sour rl quick All Thanks To Splitting is valid af and like!! we don't know cuz canon doesn't say anything about that kind of thing re him. liiiike

i think the difference between having a relationship w someone with something like depression and anxiety and with someone who has a disorder like bpd is that w/ depression and anxiety you can almost always take a step back. its not going to be the case that everything you do impacts them and that their response to your actions is going to be a public thing.. bpd for me at least is very loud. it takes up all the space it can possibly find, so every interaction Means something and every response you have to those interactions needs to serve some kind of a function and it needs to be Known. its why at least for me i tend to suffer more when i have close relationships with people, because youre constantly having that sort of connection. like im not saying its always a bad thing because the good times are! so good! but everything is horrible and intense All the time so it never feels like youre doing something wrong when youre acting out. its more like why DOESNT this matter to everyone else the way it should. 

the splitting thing just makes so much sense to me because i used to be the kind of person who would say like , really awful things to my family as a result of it. i dont ever want people to think im justifying what connor supposedly did but i think there Should be an explanation beyond hes just ‘a bad person’ or Vaguely troubled. there is a genuine attempt to reach out to evan, however minor, and i think that its way more compelling to treat him as someone who Does crave genuine connection w people and is just unable to approach it in a healthy way than anything else

i don't think that reference to that particular incident with zoe is meant to be like "there's a specific canon answer to what issue made connor act like this" but like i can so see that being more of legit paranoia fueling that problem somehow and just...like hghh again out of all the senior kids he'd definitely have the most work to do before he'd be able to have a good relationship either in terms of on his own end or re the other person's end of it...like obviously

there's the violence which is like. number one Got To Get Rid Of That Asap mostly for other ppl's sakes but then like. figuring out how to deal w the underlying crap would be more for his sake. like god that all of them were in therapy but also connor's problems definitely seem intense enough that he could probably stand to look into being medicated instead of having to self medicate cuz i figure that's what he's trying to do even if its kind of backfiring sometimes...

definitely definitely.. i could say a lot about why i think having connor and evan (or jared i suppose but i havent thought about that so much) bonding initially and then it going downhill because of a lack of an actual understanding of each other’s issues (and then both learning and coping separately IN ORDER to build an actual relationship with each other) is more interesting and genuine feeling than them Immediately helping each other and it actually working. but it would be long.. 

they all need to See Someone. + obviously medication is never the be-all end-all of any kind of mh treatment but for me personally therapy was never useful UNTIL i was on medication that actually helped regulate my moods first. the sort of things they talked about were never feasible for me because my moods dropped SO fast and because just being told to do things was so infuriating.. and so on. i definitely agree w the self-medication part i usually see that as connor trying to deal as best he can w something that no one else seems to understand or struggle with. sometimes it seems like the best way of coping w things is to try and detach urself from it . obviously that isnt healthy at all but when u dont know how else to deal w ur problems u find your own solutions :(

ANYWAYS the point is that like. first of all projecting shit Is Valid And Who Cares Anyways but in this case its probably also more accurate than what ppl write when they have no experience with such intense and unmanageable things and stuff that you really can't quite imagine accurately unless you know it firsthand already. and godddddd a trope i cannot stand is like, the 'i just need one good relationship and that will fix things / inspire me to choose to be able to

handle this and voila! i am handling it" like!!! i LOVE good relationships being mutually helpful and with this cast it's easy to see how they'd clash cuz they all do in canon!! but it's also ughh so easy to see how they could all understand and help each other even tho their specific problems are different when u zoom in enough. and like it's cool as hell if a relationship helps you / motivates you but it's not gonna fix everything and it shouldn't!! and like yeah with

connor i really see his shit as being involved in / close to the clinical psychotic types of issues. which yknow, people REALLY don't tend to know how to write if they don't have lived experience or really do a lot of good research anyways. like badly written anxiety is still probably gonna be closer to the mark than badly written delusions or smthing, idk. but anyways i am going ON AND ON and the point is. bpd connor is valid as fuck and i love that perspective on him

YEAH i think when i was younger i fell into that kind of writing as a sad sort of wish-fulfilment thing because it makes sense to want things to be that way. but its not helpful to people who relate to those characters, or realistic/healthy to want that sort of solution because it just doesnt exist

i think with personality disorders especially its hard because to a certain extent its like... it inhabits you. i was SO worried that once i started being able to deal w my mental health issues i would stop being a real person because like. it informed Everything in terms of how i approached the world. its hard to write something like that but like.. it all makes sense in your head. you have your own internal justification for everything even if you never reason it out and even if you couldnt possibly explain it in words you KNOW youre feeling this way for a reason and youre justified and should be feeling this way. its weird stuff

ANYWAY ty for this i LOVE talking about this kind of thing and literally everything youve said is so good and real.. connor is important to me even if he has barely any characterisation in canon lol

#ummmwine #jury.txt #response #long post #SORRY this got so long also. no need to reply BTW i just love the excuse to talk about this stuff

[coconut-cluster]

Blood of the Animal: Chapter 1

   OKAY SO I said I was working on EU chapter 3, but I was in a slump the other day, and the only thing that made me feel better was planing this AU, so I hopped on that productivity train ASAP. :D im so sorry :D

My original BOTA explanation post

AU Description: Roman Kensington-Affini is a model student, a model friend, and a model son (of sorts). Artistic, charming, and intelligent in his own creative way, he cruises through his life with friends beside him and a bright future ahead of him - until the day Burkhaust guards appear on his doorstep, ready to haul him off to the Catholic "rehabilitation center for troubled teens" without so much as a glance, let alone a fair trial. Roman has to wait three weeks before he's released for a false instate; he soon realizes that getting out might be replaced as his top priority by something much more immediate: surviving. 

   The heat really shouldn’t have bothered him by now, but Roman was ready to kill a man under the oh-so-generous Florida sun if it meant he could get some AC immediately.

  Sure, he wasn’t usually one for violence - not that you should ask his first grade playdate with a black eye that - but walking a mile home from an already-sweltering high school with far too many windows was getting on his nerves more than he cared to articulate (not that there was anyone around him to articulate it to); all he really wanted was a popsicle in his hand, or maybe an inch of snow, so he could finally remember what it felt like to not want to crawl out of your own skin to cool down.

  Roman finally turned the corner to his neighborhood, which was filled to the brim with wide brick houses and landscaping that was far too expensive for the final product (you’d think, with the amount of rain and sunshine in Florida, people would think to invest in real flowers), and started down the blistering sidewalk to the gray house near the edge of the cul-de-sac. His eyes practically watered when he saw the fans through its window - or maybe that was just sweat dripping down his face - and his energy spiked as he hiked his backpack further over his shoulders to jog to the door.

  Just as he reached the porch, key in hand, he heard a voice call over his shoulder, “You should probably pick that up.”

  Roman glanced behind, where the voice had come from, and saw a boy about his age lounging on a set of porch steps across the street, a beanie pulled low over his brunet fringe. He stared back unblinkingly.

  “Excuse me?” Roman called, frowning.

  The boy jerked his head towards the sidewalk Roman had stepped off of. Roman followed his movement and found a stray water bottle abandoned on the cement; a quick glance over his shoulder told him his backpack was unzipped.

  “That’s littering,” the boy continued, his mouth pulled into a slitted smirk; something about his eyes seemed uneven to Roman, but he couldn’t see exactly what it was from his vantage point. “It’s a crime.”

  “...I’m aware.” Roman hopped down the steps, scooping the bottle from the ground and shoving it back in his bag. He threw a pinched look at the boy across the street, eyes flickering across his lanky figure disdainfully. “Thanks for the tip, Einhorn.”

  The boy cocked his ever so slightly to the side. “No problem. Maybe be careful about that in the future, though - never know who’s watching.”

  Roman blinked at him, his face curling into a sneer. “Okay, then. Have fun harassing more random people,” he said as he turned back to his door and pushed it open, muttering a quick, “Weirdo,” under his breath before he stepped inside.

  The cool air hit him in a tsunami breeze, brushing his bangs across his forehead, a chill racking his spine as he dropped his backpack beside the door with a heavy thud.

  “Rem?” he called, peeking into the living room by the curling staircase; his voice echoed back to him untouched. “Gia?” Nothing.

  He was used to having the house to himself - Remy was so often out with ‘friends,’ and Giavanna worked late most days of the week - but his stomach was heavy as he stepped into the den, and he had half a mind to pull the curtains tight, though he couldn’t imagine why.

  He flopped onto the couch instead, whipping his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his messages.

    Me: Remmmmmmmm where are you

    Roman raised an eyebrow as the message sat at ‘Delivered’ for a moment - he didn’t think he’d ever seen Remy without his phone in his hand - but sure enough, three dots popped up on his screen after a few seconds, bouncing idly as Roman watched and waited.

     Rem: out

    Me: I presumed, but where?

  Me: I’m borrrrrrred

    Rem: i’m with em??? do you need smth or

    Me: Ooooohhhh, Em? 😘😘

    Rem:  h o n e y

  Rem: jealousy is so not cute on you go kiss ur pillow or smth and keep it away from me mkay

    Me: ??? Everything is cute on me???

     Roman snorted as Remy sent a picture; his eyebrows were raised behind shining aviator sunglasses as he flipped off the camera, and Roman could just see Emile’s smiling, freckled face in the corner of the frame, his tortoiseshell glasses reflecting the sun and blocking his eyes as dimples whittled into his cheeks.

    Me: Rude

     Rem: 🙃🙃🙃

  Rem: can i drink my coffee in peace pls

    Me: Fine whatever

  Me: Didn’t you tell your mom you’d be home early today tho?? She seemed pretty adamant abt it last week

    Rem: ??? idk

  Rem: is she home?

    Me: No, I’m just curious.

    Rem: oh my bad nancy drew ill make sure to doublecheck with you next time i wanna get starbucks

    Me: w o w

    Rem: listen sweets i gotta go k

  Rem: tell me if you get to second base with that pillow 😘😘😘😘

  Me: Fvck off

    Remy didn’t respond (not that Roman really expected him to).

  Roman tossed his phone onto the cushion beside him, chewing on the inside of his cheek as unease washed over him once more - his mind flitted idly through things to do until Remy or his mother got home, but all that came up was his myriad of unfinished projects, and he didn’t have enough energy to even pretend he’d actually work on those.

  He draped himself across the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

  His thoughts drifted back to the kid on the steps outside; something about him seemed familiar to Roman, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him at school, and he didn’t really seem like the type for the neighborhood, with his ripped jeans and dirty converse - he had on an awful lot of yellow, though… maybe he was a Burkhaust Scout?

  Roman huffed a wave out of his face indignantly at that. A Scout in his neighborhood felt unlikely; he’d only heard of one kid ever getting taken in this part of town - Daniel something (his own mom reported him - Roman couldn’t even imagine what that must have felt like when he returned, although he’d never actually seen the boy come back; they must have moved neighborhoods. Social stigma was quite the travel motivator.) - long before Roman had come to the Affini’s, and the boy, as odd and out-of-place as he seemed, didn’t strike him as an actor of any sort.

  Probably just waiting for a friend, he finally settled on, ending his own anxieties with a decisive nod, and that was that.

  He went back to his phone almost instantly, scrolling through his Instagram aimlessly as the minutes ticked by. As he landed on his post of a painting he’d finished for art recently, the homework nestled in his backpack by the door crossed his mind, but he didn’t particularly want to face the bright red D on the math test beside it, so he quickly pushed the idea away; he focused instead on the picture - it was Roman’s entry for the Burkhaust awareness campaign (as if anyone didn’t already know what it was). He’d painted a golden chalice against a burgundy background, complete with the church’s signature crown of thorns draped over the chalice’s lip. (He’d won second place, right behind a scale model of the church itself - he was bitter to this day, but nevermind that.)

  His hands itched to hold a brush right then; Giavanna had banned paint in the house after he and Remy had an… accident a few months back (red paint doesn’t scrub off white walls easily), so he was forced to wait until the school studio was open before he could release his creative whimsy with full force. His sketchbook had long since run void of empty space for his midnight bouts of creativity; he’d nearly resorted to carving into his wooden bedpost for a canvas.

  A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

  Roman’s head snapped up, and he glanced out the window - there was a single black car in front of the house, one he recognized from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He stood and strode to the door, peeking through the peephole, but it was blocked by something. The door swung open the minute he began to turn the knob; his stomach dropped.

  Three men stood towering over him on the porch, all dressed in identical black clothing, a mustard-yellow armband and embroidered crown of thorns across their biceps. They stared down at Roman unblinkingly, their eyes empty with careful blankness.

  “R. Affini?” the one closest to him said. His droning voice bent the question into a flat statement more than anything; Roman blinked.

  “...Yes?” he replied slowly, his gaze flickering between each man as they nodded to each other. “Can I help you?” They didn’t respond as the first man took out a small, handheld tablet, and began swiping at its screen, tilted just enough so Roman couldn’t see. The boy cleared his throat instead. “Mrs. Affini’s not home right now- would you like me to leave a message?”

   “That won’t be necessary.”

   A frown pulled at Roman’s lips as the two men behind the first started to head back to their car - Roman realized suddenly where he recognized it from, just as the first man grabbed his arm and yanked him onto the porch without another word.

  “Hey!” Roman yelped, pulling back; the man seemed inconvenienced at best, his mouth a taut line and eyes hard. “What are you doing?!”

  “You’re under juvenile apprehension by order of the Cathedral of Burkhaust Rehabilitation Center,” the man answered drily, a forced line, practiced and recited beyond empathy or mistake and spat back at Roman like a stream of acid in his face.

  “What?” he breathed. “No, I- I didn’t do anything!” He pulled at his arm, trying to wrangle free of the guard’s iron grip as they fast approached the black car ahead. “Let go, I didn’t do anything!”

  The man stared straight ahead as he dragged a squirming Roman beside him, fingers curled tightly around his arms. Roman glanced around wildly for a neighbor, a friend, an ally to vouch for him, to make a scene, anything - his eyes landed suddenly on the boy from earlier, still lounging on the steps across the street.

  “Hey!” Roman called to him, craning his neck to see over the roof of the car in front of him, “Hey, you!” The boy watched the scene before him with a drooping frown, but he made no move to get up, and Roman’s voice began to crack as the guard pushed on his shoulders to force him into the car, “Help me, please! Someone, help- let me go!”

   The door slammed in his face.

  He crawled across the seat as one of the other men took the one beside him, and he pressed his palms to the window. The boy on the steps found his eyes; he seemed to mirror Roman’s confusion, his eyebrows drawn tightly over his odd, uneven eyes as the car began to roll down the street, his lips barely parted as if he was tempted to call out.

  Roman kept his gaze as his house grew smaller, as the synthetic flowers in his yard faded in his vision, as the boy’s beanie vanished as the rest of him did, until everything Roman knew had all but disappeared completely.

    The car ride was thick with silence, full of clenched fists and heavy, deliberate breaths on Roman’s end, strained efforts to repress the screaming in his mind. He’d tried to fit the puzzles pieces of his arrest together more times than he could count in the twenty minutes they’d been driving, but nothing came up sensible - he’d never even missed a homework assignment without a teacher’s excuse, let alone committed a report-worthy crime.

  He turned to the guard beside him.

  “Sir,” he started, his voice dripping with pseudo-enthusiasm; the guard didn’t even blink. “How much longer until we get to the church?”

  The man glanced to him briefly. “Five minutes.”

  Roman hummed in response, turning back to his window for a second before spinning around once more. “Is it really surrounded by trees?” he asked brightly.

  “Yes.”

  “What kind?”

  “Oak.”

  “...That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  Roman sighed, propping his chin in the palms of his hands. “Is it nice?”

  “It’s a cathedral.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” The man didn’t respond.

  Roman pursed his lips and turned back to his window, ruminating a storm in his head. The car fell back into its tense silence.

  “Do you like working there?” he asked quietly.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see the guard’s mouth contorted into a deep frown - something in Roman cheered at the man’s surprise, at his slightly tilted head and furrowed brow. The guard in front of him, the one who shoved Roman into the car in the first place, glanced back sharply at the man, his eyes shining with something dark. The car screeched to a stop suddenly.

  The door at Roman’s side flung open and a hand was around his arm once more, pulling him out of his seat and onto an uneven gravel road, oak trees blocking his vision from every angle. The two other guards stepped out of the car, striding mechanically down the path and around a corner. Roman’s jaw practically fell as the trees cleared around them.

  The turrets of the cathedral crawled towards the sky in sharp layers, edges spiked with blooming stone roses and jagged trim. The windows were draped in lithic panes that stretched across openings like prison bars; thin poles stood flattened against the church’s walls, cut off and forced together at odd intervals, and empty crosses hollowed the arches that loomed above all else. The whole building seemed to radiate a cold light, an intricate, dangerous beauty that sang a siren’s tune of wide eyes and deep cuts.

  A hand landed on Roman’s shoulder with a heavy thud that nearly knocked him off balance, and a low voice leered.

  “Welcome to Burkhaust.”

General/BOTA taglist:   @romanticsanders @existentialburden @a-little-bit-of-ace @anon-turtle @kameraishere @thelowlysatsuma @generalfandomfabulousness

#sanders sides #AU #thomas sanders #ts fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #janus sanders #emile picani #my writing #bota #blood of the animal