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cherrykindness · 3 years

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wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

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Call Me When You’re Sober - George Weasley

Title: Call Me When You’re Sober Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, George x Angelina Johnson (kinda, sorta, not really) Warning: mentions of drug use!! Also some mentions of sexual things like sexting/sending nudes and one mention of a boner. I also use the word tits a few times. Summary: George only seems to have the time for Y/N when he’s high, and that’s just not enough for her anymore. (This is also a modern au where they have cell phones and social media bc why not) A/N: this is for an anon that wanted a fic based off of a tiktok POV they saw and funnily enough that POV ended up on my fyp last week so you can find that here if you want. The only part I was inspired by was Angelina being present, but that part was specifically mentioned in the request everything else is purely from my own brain!! This also includes a bit of Angelina Johnson slander but it does not represent my actual views. Angelina slander is not welcome in this house. Feedback is always welcome and requests are open! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27

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The first time it happens Y/N answers the phone right away.

“George? What’s wrong?” she asks frantically, already getting out of bed. It’s three am and George never calls even at a decent hour, so she assumes that something has gone wrong and he needs help.

“Hey, Y/N,” George drawls slowly, like his mouth is moving in slow motion.

Y/N pauses in the middle of her bedroom, her hand hovering above her car keys. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” George certainly sounds off, but he doesn’t necessarily sound like he’s in need of her rescuing. When all George does is giggle in response, Y/N groans. “Are you high?”

“High on life!” George responds, prompting Y/N to roll her eyes. She shuffles back over to her bed and climbs back in, snuggling under the covers. “And maybe a little bit of weed,” he adds with a laugh.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile on her face. George is one of her favorite people in the world, and it’s hard for her to stay mad at him. “A little bit?” she teases. “You sound baked out of your mind.”

George lets out a throaty laugh, and Y/N closes her eyes, making it seem like he’s there in the room with her. They don’t get to see each other often now that they’re both out of school and busy with their lives, and George’s aversion to phone calls means all she has to get her through their periods of time apart are short text messages and stupid memes. Hearing his voice sends shivers down her spine, and if it wasn’t so late she’d be driving to wherever he is to climb into his arms.

“What can I say? Freddie got the good stuff now that we can afford it.” Y/N can hear some rustling, and she figures that he’s laying back onto his bed. “Not like back when we were at Hoggywarts. Remember those days?”

Y/N hums as she lets her mind wander back to their school days. It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while Fred or George would sneak out of the castle down to Hogsmeade to buy off of a guy that works at the Hogshead Inn. They would settle into their dorm along with Lee and after placing some spells on the room and throwing the windows open they’d light up and pass the joint around until nothing was left. The weed was cheap and burned their lungs, but none of them cared. It left them all feeling like they were floating, and they would talk for hours about nothing in particular.

George always got handsy when he was high, and Y/N supposes this is where her feelings for him started. Once the joint burned out George would pull her body close and let his hands roam all over it as he talked with the boys idly. Y/N would run her hands through his hair and scratch at his scalp, her face pressed tightly to his neck. They often ended up falling asleep together wherever they had landed, sometimes it was George’s bed, but it was usually the floor, swaddled in some random blankets and pillows from the common room. Y/N was always the first to wake up, and she’d hug George tightly for one more fleeting moment before sneaking out and back into her own dorm.

“You roll the best joints, Y/N,” George continues when Y/N doesn’t say anything. “Fred is so shit at it. No matter how many times you showed him how to do it.”

“Very sweet of you to say, Georgie,” Y/N laughs. She yawns a moment later, desperately trying to fight off sleep. “Though you were always more fond of smoking from a bowl if I remember correctly.

George yawns too and Y/N can hear him climbing under the covers of his bed. “I am. But smoking joints reminds me of you.”

“George,” Y/N says softly, sitting up in bed. She waits for him to say something, but all she’s met with are his light snores. She rolls her eyes, settling back down into her pillows. “Goodnight, George.” Y/N hangs up her phone and places it on her nightstand before letting memories of George lull her back to sleep.

The next time it happens Y/N doesn’t hear her phone the first time. She’s out of town for work, and after a long day she’d collapsed right onto the bed in her hotel room, formal clothes still on and everything. Y/N had ignored her phone the first time, hoping to fall back asleep. But when it started to ring again only seconds after it stopped she picks up her phone and answers the call without bothering to see who it is.

“Hullo?” she answers sleepily, her eyes barely open. She glances at the clock, noting that it’s only 10 pm and figures that it’s one of her coworkers inviting her to go out with them.

“You sound sleepy,” George responds softly, his voice deep and languid. “Did I wake you up?”

Y/N sits up in bed, rubbing some of the sleep from her eyes. “George?”

George laughs. “Who else would it be?”

“Considering the fact that this is literally the second time you’ve ever called me I figured it would be anyone else besides you,” Y/N teases, shrugging out of her suit jacket.

“Hey,” George whines, and Y/N can practically hear the pout on his face. “I called you on your birthday.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Oh, you’re right, my mistake.” She pauses as she walks over to the dresser in the room, starting to take off her jewelry. “How baked are you this time?” she asks playfully.

“What makes you think I’m high?” George laughs.

“For one the sound of your voice,” Y/N explains as she kicks off her heels. “And you only call me when you’re high. Oh, and on my birthday,” she adds when George makes a noise of disapproval.

Y/N hears George shuffle around, and she takes the opportunity to put him on speaker so she can put her phone down and start getting rid of the rest of her clothes. “You can tell by my voice?”

“Mhm,” Y/N hums, fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. “It gets deeper and slower.”

“Really?” George asks, sounding surprised. “Does it sound sexy?”

Y/N laughs as she heads over towards her suitcase, taking off her bra as she goes. She starts to dig through the mess, trying to find her pajamas. “Super sexy,” she responds, hoping George is too high to notice how serious she is.

“What are you doing? You sound too far away.”

Y/N chuckles at George’s dramatics as her hands finally land on her sleep shirt. It’s an old t-shirt of George’s that she stole sometime during their last year and never gave back. Whenever Y/N travels for work she brings it with her as a reminder of home. “I’m putting my pajamas on.”

“So, you’re naked right now?” George’s voice is rough, and it sends a shiver right down her spine.

“Practically,” Y/N responds, pulling the shirt over her head. It’s far too large for her so the hem barely brushes the tops of her thighs, but it reminds her of George, and that’s what matters.

George groans, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up as she crawls back into bed. “Wish I was there to see.” Y/N can feel butterflies erupt in her stomach and she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to conceal the noise that bubbles out of her throat. “Send me a pic of your tits,” he continues bluntly when Y/N doesn’t say anything.

“George!” Y/N says, the surprise in her tone evident. The butterflies in her stomach are going wild, and Y/N has to remind herself that it’s the weed talking, not George. “I’m not going to do that George.” Although Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to. “Besides I’m already dressed and in bed.”

“What a party pooper,” George grumbles. “Got me all hard for nothing.” Y/N’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. George has never been this lewd with her in all the times they’ve been high together, and she wonders if it’s because of whatever he smoked or because this is one of the only times they’ve been alone while one of them was baked. “What are you wearing then? A sexy little nighty?”

Y/N has to take a few deep breaths, hardly able to believe what she’s hearing. Part of her wants to tell George to knock it off and hang up on him. But the other part has wanted to hear George talk to her like this since their Hogwarts days and she doesn’t know which part should win.

“One of your old t-shirts, actually,” Y/N responds quietly, giving in to her desires.

George groans, and it takes everything in Y/N’s power not to shove a hand down her panties. “That red one? That I let you borrow and never saw again?”

“You remember that?” Y/N asks softly.

“Of course,” George answers. His voice is slower now and Y/N can tell he’s going to fall asleep any second. Smoking always makes him tired and he was often the target of a few pranks since he would be the first to nod off. “That’s like a guys wet dream. Seeing a girl that’s as pretty and sexy as you are in his clothes.”

Y/N bites her tongue as to not say anything, just listening to George through the phone. His breathing starts to slow down, and within a few seconds Y/N can tell he’s fallen into a deep sleep. She listens to him breathe for a moment, before hanging up and tossing her phone down. She cuddles up in the unfamiliar bed, desperately trying to fall asleep.

Every few weeks George’s name pops up on Y/N’s phone usually late at night and he’s always baked out of his mind. Y/N finds it nice the first half dozen times, George’s voice is always calming to her and she basks in the opportunity to get to speak with him. They haven’t seen each other in months, despite the fact that Y/N has tried to catch up with him several times. But he’s always got an excuse ready. At first Y/N understood, the joke shop is his number one priority, but after a while it gets insulting. When George is sober he can barely be bothered to send her a text message but the second he lights up he’s dialing her phone number.

One night when he calls she asks him why he doesn’t just invite her over to smoke. Her flat is only 30 minutes outside of London and he knows that she’d drive to the ends of the earth to see him. But of course he has an excuse. He says that it’s something just for him and Fred, a way to wind down together after a hectic workday. Which makes sense to Y/N, and as much as she wants to push it she doesn’t. If it were any other person she would have given up on their friendship by now. But George isn’t just any average person. He’s the person she cares most about in this world, and Y/N doesn’t want to live without him. So as shitty as it makes her feel to just be someone he calls when he’s too baked to care who he talks to, she puts up with it.

That is until she reaches her breaking point.

The last time it happens Y/N doesn’t answer her phone the first time it rings. Or the second time. She’s just gotten home from having a few drinks with friends and the alcohol has made her brave. She puts her phone on vibrate mode and leaves it on her bed as she gets ready to go to sleep. It takes her 20 minutes to get ready and once she’s finally in bed under the covers she picks up her phone to assess the damage.

“What the fuck George?” she whispers to herself, scrolling through the notifications on her phone. She has 15 missed calls from him and a litany of text messages.

Answer ur phone Y/N Y/N I called again Pls Answer me Y R u ignoring me Need to hear your voice Baby Y/N Im gonna call until u pick up Ill keep txtin 2 Baby please Y/N I need to talk to you I miss u Pls

When George’s name and the stupid photo of him Y/N set as his contact picture pop again Y/N sighs and she reluctantly answers. “What?”

“Oh my god finally,” George groans in his usual slow voice. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Because, George. I was busy. I have a life outside of you and your stupid little phone calls.” Her tone is harsh, and George is so quiet for a moment that Y/N has to check to make sure that he hasn’t hung up on her.

“Why are you so angry?” he asks a second later, and Y/N can tell he’s upset. Normally she would just drop the subject, but there’s alcohol thrumming through her veins and she’s tired of keeping it all in.

“Because, George,” Y/N sneers. “You only call me when you’re high. You dodge every attempt I make at seeing you and you barely even text me anymore. I thought we were friends George. But in reality you treat me like dirt. You use me whenever you want and then you cast me aside without another thought until you’re high again.”

“Y/N,” George starts, but he gets distracted when someone in the background starts to giggle wildly.

Y/N’s blood runs cold, immediately recognizing that laugh. “I thought smoking was something for only you and Fred, George?” Y/N asks accusatorily, sadness and hurt starting to mix with her anger. “I can’t believe you. Not only did you lie to me, but you can find the time to hang out with Angelina Johnson and not your best friend?”

“I-I’m here all alone, Y/N. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George stutters. But before Y/N can say anything, the same voice says something.

“Georgie,” Angelina whines. “You’re too far away, get back over here.”

“Y/N, I can explain,” George starts, but she cuts him off.

“Fuck you, George Weasley.” Y/N spits, before hanging up on him. She turns her phone off and slams it down, before burying her head in her pillow and crying herself to sleep.

When Y/N wakes up the next morning her head is pounding and her throat is dry, and it’s not just from the alcohol she drank. George broke her heart last night, and she has the dry tear tracks on her cheeks to prove it. Y/N avoids her phone, deciding she’s not quite ready for whatever is going to pop up when she turns it back on.

She gets ready for the day slowly, thankful that it’s still the weekend. Y/N stands in the shower for nearly an hour, just letting the hot water sting her skin. When she gets out she brushes her hair slowly, just looking at herself in the mirror. She can’t help but be as mad at herself as she is at George. George may have treated her like shit, but Y/N let him. She let herself become so desperate for his attention that she played right into his stupid game. And as much as Y/N hates to admit it, she doesn’t regret it for a second. All she’s ever craved was George’s undivided attention, and finally getting it felt so good, even if George was higher than a kite each time. Seeing his name pop up on her phone gave Y/N a thrill each time, even though she wanted more – deserved more. Y/N has always been there for George and all she wanted was for him to be there for her too.

Y/N picks out her comfiest lounging outfit, forcing herself not to automatically reach for the old shirt of George’s hanging in her closet. She’s been wearing it more often these days, craving the comfort of his embrace but settling for the cloth of his shirt instead. But now the sight of it makes her want to throw up.

She’s been up for nearly two hours when she settles back into bed, a hot cup of tea in her hands. Y/N’s not sure if she’s actually ready to face whatever mess George put them in last night, but sooner is better than later. She places her mug on her bedside table, reaching over to flip the framed photo she has of her and George over so she can’t see their smiling faces. When her phone finally boots up the screen shows just her background for a moment, before a barrage of texts, missed calls and voicemails show up. George has called nearly 100 times, with almost as many voicemails accompanying them and he’s texted over 200 times to boot.

Y/N scrolls through them, surprised to find that the most recent call and voicemail are from Fred. She can’t remember the last time Fred initiated a phone call with her, since he’s just as hard to get on the phone as George. Fred prefers to communicate through snapchats and tweets, so Y/N knows something big has gone on if Fred bothered to pick up his phone and make a call.

“Uh hey, Y/N. It’s me. Fred. But you probably already know that. Or maybe you don’t. Whatever, not important. I know this is probably the last thing you wanna hear since he’s left you like a thousand messages, but will you please call George? Or text him. Hell send him an email. He’s sorry for whatever it is he did. I’m not really sure what, he was crying a lot when he barged into my room and I was zooted as hell. But what matters is he’s sorry and he really wants to talk to you. So call him, please. Do it for me, at least even if you don’t do it for him. Okay anyway. Bye.”

Y/N sighs, running a hand through her hair. As pissed as she is, she hates to hear that George is upset. She chooses to ignore George’s voicemails for now, since they’re probably a mishmash of words and sobs considering how messy Fred said he was. She clicks on her text message app, scrolling through the messages George had sent, stopping every once and a while to read a few.

Y/N please Im srry Its sending me to voicemail Did u turn ur phone off Talk 2 me Pls y/n pls baby baby baby im sorry I need you to talk to me I need to hear ur voice Pls Let me explain I dnt care abt angie Not like how I care abt u Y/N please. Don’t do this I fucked up I knw I fucked up Let me make it right Please I love you, please

The last text message shocks Y/N, and she rereads it over and over again until its image is imprinted in her brain. George has only ever told her he loves her one other time. It was the last time they got high together, the night before he and Fred left to start the joke shop. Fred, George, Lee and her were all fairly baked, and after Fred and Lee left to sneak down to the kitchens for snacks, George had turned to Y/N and pulled her right into his lap. He had grabbed her face with both of his hands and looked deep into her eyes. I love you, you know that right? His tone was firm and when Y/N nodded he used his grip on her face to pull her into a kiss. It was uncoordinated and messy, but she didn’t care. He had mumbled the word ‘good’ when he pulled away and in a blink of an eye he’d drifted off to sleep. Y/N had snuck back into her own bed, figuring it was best to ignore it, since George surely wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.

A knock at her door brings Y/N out of her thoughts and she tosses her phone on the bed to go and answer it. She’s been expecting a package, so when Y/N reaches the door she doesn’t bother to check to see who it is, and just throws it open.

“You look like hell,” Y/N says when her eyes land on George. She certainly wasn’t expecting it to be him, but she’s truly not surprised. His text messages had sounded desperate and it’s very like George to just show up at her doorstep when she doesn’t want him to after he refused to come over for months. Y/N looks him over as he fidgets, taking in his disheveled appearance. His eyes are sullen and dull, his hair is sticking out in a million directions and his skin is ever paler than normal.

“Suppose I deserve that,” George responds, his voice raspy. He lets his eyes rake over Y/N, dumbfounded by how beautiful she looks even in her lounge wear. It’s the first time he’s seen her in person in over half a year and even though he’s spent much of his free time staring at her Instagram photos, she still takes his breath away. “You look good though.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and goes to slam the door, but George puts his hand up to stop it. “What do you want, George?”

“Just let me explain,” he pleads. “Just let me explain everything and then if you want I’ll go. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to talk to me or see me again. You can delete me from your life. But I can’t let you go without explaining myself.”

“Fine,” Y/N resolves, stepping aside and opening the door so George can come in. She leads him over to her couch and motions for him to sit down. Y/N resists her urge to sit next to him, instead choosing to stand in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. “Talk.”

George clears his throat and starts to fiddle with his thumbs. “I like calling you when I’m high because I say whatever comes to my mind. When I’m sober I think too much about what I’m going to say, and I never end up saying what I want. But when I’m high the words just fly out of my mouth without me thinking about the consequences and I like that. Because there’s so many things I want to say to you that I don’t have the balls to say when I’m sober.”

“Like asking me for tit pics?” Y/N asks with a curt laugh.

“Honestly, yes,” he answers, a blush forming on his cheeks. “But it’s more than that. Like telling you I smoke joints even though I despise them, and Fred can’t roll to save his life because it reminds me of you. Or that just the thought of you not wearing any clothes drives me wild. Or that I find you so ungodly beautiful and so damn sexy, Y/N. And that I love you.” George pauses for a moment so he can just watch Y/N. “Because I do love you, Y/N. So much more and in so many different ways than a best friend should.”

Y/N bites her lip to keep herself from sharing the same sentiment as George. Because holy hell does she love him with every fiber of her being, but he’s fucked up and hurt her in more ways than just his inability to admit his feelings. “Then why keep me at arm’s length, George? You avoid all my attempts to see you, you only ever bother talking to me when you’re baked out of your mind and you lie to me. Out of all the people in the world you had to smoke with it had to be her. You know how I feel about Angelina.”

Despite being roommates and pretty similar personality wise, Y/N and Angelina never really got along. They were always competing with each other, for the best grades in their year, for prefect and head girl, and Y/N is ashamed to admit that they’d fought over a boy or two in their early years at Hogwarts. But by far their biggest competition was for George’s attention. George couldn’t care less about girls during his time at Hogwarts, Fred didn’t either but at least he would sleep with some of the girls that threw themselves at him. George on the other hand didn’t seem to care. The only girl he ever bothered to spend meaningful time with was Y/N, and it drove Angelina up the wall. Angelina did everything she could to vie for George’s attention, including spreading a nasty rumor about Y/N during their 5th year. Much to Angelina’s disappointment it failed miserably, and they pretty much ignored each other from that day on.

“The Angelina thing is not my fault,” George insists. “She came into the shop just before we closed, and Fred invited her up and she accepted. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not let her in your room!” Y/N answers as if it’s obvious. “But this isn’t just about Angelina, I don’t want to talk about her. It’s about the fact that you’ve been treating me like shit, George. I’ve been trying so hard to get through to you and you stop me every time.”

“Because being around you and having to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you is too painful,” George admits honestly. “The only time I’m brave enough to be with you the way I want to is when I’m high. Why do you think I was always grabbing your ass after we smoked? Why I always made you cuddle me? Why I kissed you that night?”

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, clearly shocked. George had never mentioned it again and Y/N figured he was too high to remember what he said and did. It had upset her to no end that George returning her feelings was only a side effect of the weed, but she never brought it up to him in fear of ruining their relationship.

George scoffs. “Of course I do. When I woke up the next morning and you weren’t there I figured you didn’t feel the same way. So, I just never mentioned it, and when you didn’t either I figured you thought I was just being a high idiot like always and brushed it off. I never invited you to smoke after that because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you. And kissing you once is easy to explain away but kissing you every time we get high pretty obviously means something more. So, I would call you instead. And I’d lay in my bed high as hell pretending that you were there next to me until I fell asleep with you on the phone.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Y/N mutters. Before she has a chance to regret her actions, Y/N is throwing herself at George. She straddles his waist and kisses him hard, moaning when his hands land on her bum and give it a squeeze. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” she pants, starting to trail kisses across George’s jaw and down his neck. “But you’re my idiot.”

George chuckles before he grabs Y/N’s face so that he can kiss her again. Their lips move together slowly, and George starts to rub Y/N’s back lightly. “I love you,” he murmurs as their kiss breaks.

“I love you too,” Y/N responds, her head dizzy.

“Does this mean I get tit pics whenever I want?” George asks cheekily, laughing when Y/N slaps his chest.

“Only if you promise to only call me when you’re sober from now on,” Y/N bargains.

George grins at Y/N before leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Deal.”

#George Weasley #George Weasley imagine #gw #golden

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remakethestars · 3 years

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RAVENCLAW 💙🦅🤎

Headcanons.

❝Even in the blackness, light can be found. My enemy can be outsmarted.❞

— Alex Hirsch, Journal 3

This is my house, y'all; buckle up!

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, & Slytherin. Headcanon masterlist.

The door'll let you in for witty responses.

We prop it open during exam season, when everyone's coming back from dinner, on party nights, & when no one can solve the riddle.

Questions become more difficult to answer after curfew.

Everyone waits outside & pretends not to know first night until the first-years figure it out.

Today's riddle & answer posted on the back of the door every morning; check before you leave just in case.

Sometimes you find the prefects debating over what the answer is; no one leaves the common room until someone's figured it out, so sometimes, the entirety of Ravenclaw is late to breakfast.

Again, if we absolutely can’t, we’ll prop it open.

If the door’s propped open and you remove the prop, we’ll use the guillotine on you.

Everyone has at least one hill to die on.

There's a podium by the fireplace with a record book on it of all the books in Ravenclaw's library that you can ask for help finding books from (pages flip in their own).

If you’re in a reading slump, describe what you're looking for; we've probably got it!

If you don't like writing & highlighting in the books, it'll disappear while you have it, but everyone's free to mark in them.

So good at reading their own messy notes and the notes their friends wrote they can read a doctor's handwriting.

And there are notes everywhere. As organized as some Raveclaws wish they could be, you can't make notebooks & journals as organized as Google Doc & Word documents. Unless, ya know … someone made a spell for that — hold on, I gotta write that down!

Professors find notes — ideas for spells & potions — on the back of homework & tests. More knowledgeable teachers will add their ideas or advice before handing it back.

Everyone leaves a copy of their favorite book with annotations before they leave seventh year.

There's a coffee/tea cart in the common room.

Hallways to the dorms are covered in graffiti from students long passed.

Dorms branch off based on your year.

Girls can walk into the boy's dorms & vice versa.

All rooms are extended for more space.

Beds are built into the wall like window seats & have bookshelves where the head and footboards should be.

Dark blue curtains can be drawn shut if you're feeling introverted.

Trunks go under the bed, so they're kinda high off the ground.

Cast an extension charm if you’re claustrophobic.

At the end of every year, everyone congregates in the common room, someone casts glisseo on the stairs to Ravenclaw tower, & everyone slides their trunks down (it's called "the trunk shoving").

No one gives a single sh¡t about house points.

Ravenclaw’s are always blowing something up & losing points.

Dramatic about stubbing their toe, but super casual about ending up in the hospital wing because they "wanted to test a hypothesis."

If you have a question or don't understand something, ask it loudly in the common room; someone will undoubtedly answer or direct you to another who can.

Just don't use bad grammar, or sixteen people will correct you in unison. 😅

Learn (a) new language(s) in the common room 20:00–21:00 Mon.–Fri.

Tutoring sessions are in the common room at 21:00–22:00 Mon.–Fri. Or ask for private lessons to work around your schedule.

If a particular teacher's sh¡t, we host a class in the common room after dinner.

Also, there're just classes for random stuff: art, budgeting, codes & code-breaking, cooking, dancing, darning, fencing, ice skating (in the winter months), knot tying, lock picking, makeup, Morse code, muggle martial arts, sewing…

First years are all offered a class on note taking.

A lot of us do our homework on Friday night so we don't have to worry about it all weekend, so there're no party activities tonight, but you can play a muggle board game if you want.

Karaoke on Saturday nights.

Dungeons & Dragons on Sunday nights.

D&D’s swapped out for a play once a month; screw the theater ban! (For an explanation of Hogwarts’s theater ban, see Albus Dumbledore’s notes on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.)

Morning yoga in the common room — feel free to join; we'll teach you some poses.

Ask around; whatever you're looking for — info, candy, contraband — someone probably hands it out, sells it, can get it for you, and/or can tell you where to find it.

Pass around a spell that allows them to clean themselves. Who has time for showering?

And a potion that gives them the same feeling & energy as if they slept. Who has time for sleeping?

Yes, we're building a guillotine in the common room.

Please don't utilize it in the decapitation of any living person or thing (unless it's the Snape or Umbridge)!

Our next project is a carousel. With working lights & everything.

Yes, we're building a house of cards in the common room; please don't blow on it.

Be quiet until noon on the weekends or get hexed.

Thank Merlin they teach sign language in the common room every year & everyone knows enough to get by.

Parties are highly regulated.

People volunteer to walk people back to their dorms & put up protection charms so you don't get assaulted. Those people are vetted with Veritaserum first to confirm the authenticity of their intentions.

People often get into academic debates, which can get a bit loud; just silencio them & move on.

The entrances to the dorms are hidden behind moving bookshelves.

The Ravenclaw copy of Hogwarts: A History will tell you more than you realized you needed to know; there're enough notes in the margins to make a second book, including how to enter the kitchens, how to sneak out if the castle, how to find the Room of Requirement…

They've located more secret passages & rooms in Hogwarts using spells they created than the Marauders were aware of.

First-years are told how to put extension charms on their backpacks so they're not heavy — that's a crap-ton of stairs.

There's an incredibly thick book by a armchair near the fireplace that's full of testaments of Ravenclaw's alumni. "What's one thing you wish you'd known when you started Hogwarts?" First-years are encouraged to flip through it.

And taught a low-concentration spell for levitating books while laying down so your arms don't get tired (flick wand to turn page).

Common room's extended to fit all kinds of activities (and the bookshelves).

Some third-years built an aquaponic system on top of one of the window seats; take a cucumber, if you want, or stop to look at the fish.

Again, explosions are not uncommon. (Please don’t drop any explosives in the fish tank. As water isn’t as compressible as air, this will kill the fish.)

Everyone just kinda glances over to make sure you’re okay before going back to what they were doing.

There's always a record playing.

They host a hike through the Forbidden Forest once a week, because what even are rules?

If you hear an intelligent conversation taking place, feel free to sit down & listen or jump in!

The wind whistles against the windows all year round, but they've been charmed to keep water out.

Played The Floor is Lava before it was a meme.

There's a two-way mirror on the wall above the fireplace. There's a muggle television on the other side. No one's sure whose T.V. it is, but a lady comes in in the mornings in hair curlers & watches the news.

She puts in V.H.S. tapes of Disney movies at the start of term. Hypothesis says it's for the first years & this person's a half-blood or a muggle-born.

Sometimes, people work together to solve the Friday crossword in The Daily Prophet. It's the hardest all week.

Look at each other like they're the camera in The Office when someone says something stupid.

Oh, boy, if someone's found a really good mystery book… That sh¡t’s getting magically copied & passed around. We discuss theories at meals, pass notes in class, & set up a murder board in the common room.

Actually, Ravenclaw house has solved a number of murders in its free time.

Visit my Ravenclaw YouTube playlist & Pinterest board.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Ravenclaw #Ravenclaw Headcanons #Headcanons #Headcannons #remakethestars

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reallybadfeeling · 3 years

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My Obikin Playlist Masterpost

I'm gonna try to explain my reasoning, but you can give each song whatever interpretation you want. Also, use them however you want if any of them inspire you to make something creative.

(PS: Sorry for my ranting on the first song. I'm very passionate about it in particular.) (Tagging @imtryingsstuff because she asked for it. Even though I was already working on this post before she asked. I have way too much free time.)

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❧ Heart + Bones - Roisin O

I've tried to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times But I was always too scare of what I might find But if I keep on blocking this pain out It might be too late To heal my heart somehow Don't wanna open that wound Don't wanna replay that night Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know that love is gone 'Cause if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind It's the heart and bones It's an empty soul The dreams at night that shake me to my core And I can't get up off this floor It's in the bones of me An empty soul in me The dreams at night that shake me to my core I can't get off this floor [...] Don't wanna think about you When you're no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone [...] The dreams at night that shake me to my core I just can't take this hurting anymore [...] Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone 'Cause if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all I've tries to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times

A fair warning: each and every break-up song in this playlist is basically me crying at the idea of a very heart broken Obi-Wan post RotS alone on Tatooine. But for this song in particolar I mention the repetitions with the slight differences because in my eyes they are actually HUGE! The more the song goes on, the more Obi-Wan is spiraling! The way it specifically tells that the empty soul is his the second time, like he accepts that despite what Anakin did he still thinks there's a soul there to save, and the idea of not doing so makes his soul feel empty. And the switch from "get up off this floor" to "get off this floor", literally him being so desperate he stops thinking that he wants to get up (and the last time it literally becomes "i just can't take this hurting anymore", because Obi-Wan had to see so many people he loves die, he literally can't take any more breaking of his heart). The first "you are no longer mine" is the realization hitting him, but then it becomes "when you are no longer mine" and that feels like acceptance of that realization (but then later in the song it turns back to "you are no longer mine" like he's so desperate he wants to deny it once again, distance himself from it)! The switch from "that love" from "this love", like the first time he's thinking about how Anakin no longer loves him, but then realizes that no matter how much he still loves Anakin, there is actually nothing he can do about how everything is broken. But most of all the first time it's "if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind", which is Obi-Wan still being rational about things, or at least trying not to let his mind linger on the thought of Anakin; but then at the end it becomes "if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all", because he's already thinking about Anakin and he can't let his mind linger on it, otherwise he would realize how much he lost when he lost Anakin, which is everything. And the ending too, by repeating the start, but now it has a feeling of resignation to it, like at first he was literally scared to let himself linger on his feelings because he knew he would find heart break, but now he's just empty and at the same times he knows he'll feel like that a thousand times more, because he just can't let that hurt go, he can't let his love for Anakin be forgotten. ... I love this song and it shows. I mean, the playlist is literally named after it for a good reason. I swear I'll be less wordy for every other explanation.

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❧ Black Hole - Griff

It seems like things are going really well for you I wish that I could say the same about me too I wish that I could say the same [...] Without a trace You disappeared and took some of me with you, babe Like the way I used to laugh untile my belly ached Well, that's all gone away now And boy, you know I've tried to pray, I've bruised my knees I've tried to bring you back to me I've tried my best to find some kind of peace Don't you see? There's a big black hole where my heart used to be And I've tried my best to fill it up with things I don't need It don't work like that, no, it's not easy To fill this gap that you left in me

So, I see this as a song for an AU, maybe a Modern Au. Something basic like the two of them maybe being neighbors and Obi-Wan maybe being a tutor for Anakin when he was a teen, and Anakin having a huge crush on him. But then Obi-Wan marries and Anakin is heart broken. (Don't worry the idea is also that Obi-Wan gets a divorce and comes back to Anakin, but still, the song fits for the first part of this idea). But feel free to see whatever else you want in it.

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❧ Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bride To make you well, to make you well When enemies are at your door I'll carry you away from war [...] Give me reasons to believe That you would do the same for me And I will do it for you, for you Baby, I'm not moving on I'll love you long after you're gone

This is honestly a classic. It would fit with any ship, but that line about lying, cheating, etc... That screams Anakin. Like, literally canon that he would do anything to keep the person he loves with him.

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❧ What You Talking About? - Peter Bjorn and John

You used to be my hero Now you're just another boss [...] Five years as your understudy When I can't understand what you talking about [...] Tell me lies and I will listen Tell the truth and I'll be gone Tell me why I need permission [...] Shining in your shadow How could I sink this low? Our acquaintance has been so-so And I can't understand where my patience's gone

These lyrics just give me very frustrated Anakin as a Padawan trying to navigate his relationship with Obi-Wan. Not very romantic or shippy, but still relevant in my opinion.

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❧ Bruci la città - Irene Grandi

(Let) The city burn down or live in fear (that) within two hours everything will disappear anything else will disappear [...] I can't stop (myself) from screaming That I hold you to my heart To protect you from evil That I wish I could soothe Your pain, your pain [...] (Let) The stars explode (Let) The whole thing explode (Let) Everything other than the two of us die At least for a little bit At least as a mistake [...] I want to get my act together Maybe be better And shield you with my heart From catastrophe and fear

Don't really know why, but this makes me think of a quiet moment in the middle of the Clone Wars, just Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in a tent, hoping to have a moment of peace in each other's arms. (If you want the full lyrics translated let me know, I just picked my favorite parts)

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❧ Atlantis - Seafret

We got here the hard way All those words that we exchange Is it any wonder things get dark? 'Cause it's in my heart, it's in my head I never take back the things I said [...] I can't save us My Atlantis, we fall We've built this town on shaky ground [...] Now all the birds have fled The hurt just leaves me scared Losing everything I've ever known It's all become too much Maybe I'm not built for love If I knew that I could reach you, I would go

SO MUCH OBI-WAN ANGST POST-ROTS! Like, the birds that have fled are the Jedi that survived Order 66, the things impossible to take back a reference to the entire conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan during their duel... And the one thing that always breaks me: "maybe I'm not built for love", which makes me think about that "infinte sadness" thing that comes from one of the novels. *chef kiss*

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❧ No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

I should have known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe We were a pair [...] You were my life, but like is far away from fair Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else? That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side [...] I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Don't know about you, but this always makes me think of a lonely and bitter Obi-Wan after RotS. There's also another way of reading this honestly. This could absolutely be Anakin spiraling at the end of RotS, convinced that Padmé doesn't love him anymore; and then Vader facing Luke (the face from the past returning) and realizing the one who always lied to him was Palpatine.

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❧ White Flag - Dido

I know I left too much mess and Destruction to come back again And I caused nothing but trouble I understand if you can't talk to me again And if you live by the rules of "it's over" Then I'm sure that that makes sense But I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be And when we meet Which I'm sure we will All that was there Will be there still I'll let it pass And hold my tongue And you will think That I've moved on

There's no doubt that this song has been overused. And it is a very classic meme, so sometimes it's hard to take it seriously. But I still love it. And I can't help but relate this to something with Vader trying to redeem himself but failing at that too, and his and Obi-Wan's relationship still being broken as fuck.

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❧ Fight the End - The playground

When it's all falling apart I'll be the one who can hold you Console you When everything's getting dark And you can't find the spark To get through I'll fight for you till the end Whatever's broken I'll mend For you If you think it's all gone Just breathe in and hold on Till the end of time

Once again, just some H/C during the Clone Wars kind vibes, but also good for an apocalypse AU of some kind.

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❧ Hanging On A Lie - Striking Matches

I'm not mentioning a specific part of this song, because the entire thing in my head is just the whole journey of Anakin turning to the Dark Side and then turning back to the Light right before he died. Seriously, up until the first chorus, it's just Anakin talking about what he feels like about Padmé's supposed betrayal. ("Baby you've been up to something / don't you tell me it's not what it looks like" but also "I might have been naive but I'm not blind" and "Don't you know you should know better than this / Than to cover up the truth with your poisonous lips/I'm not falling for it this time"). The second half of the song is Vader facing Luke. ("I'll be the one who got away from you when you / finally figure it out / you won't find me"). And the last part is Vader realizing all the lies Palpatine told him all alon. ("I'm not fallin' for it this time/try and try too little too late" and again the "you should know better than this/than to cover up the truth with you poisonous lips") A bit of a weird interpretation, that's for sure. But look at me making a song about cheating all about Anakin's journey!

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❧ Bloodsport '15 - Raleigh Ritchie

Your love is worth it and for that I will wait And though you hate me when you have a turn I drive you crazy, but you always return [...] Although you love me, sometimes we're mean Things can get ugly, but we're still a team We are an army that breaks from withing but That's why we're stronger and that's how we'll win [...] I've got your back, and though it's stacked against us I've got your hand, it's us against consensus And I will burn the people who hurt you the worst and I will no learn Cause I am too young and too dumb to consider the terms of breaking the law And I'll curse the day that they return With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor And they're done, now it's curtains, the bloodlust's a clusterfuck, it hurts but it's working And even if you ask me to stop, it's too late because I've already decided their fate It's not a distaste, it's pure hate and it pulsates and it works its way around my brain Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you till the day I meet my maker So don't fight me now cause you might need me later Loving you is a bloodsport Fighting in a love war It's not what I'm in love for, I'm yours I don't know if you can help it, maybe I'm just being selfish

Soooo, basically Anakin doing to Obi-Wan what he did to Padmé: loving him so much he thinks he has to turn to the Dark Side to save him. The first part I can almost imagine said by Obi-Wan, actually. Like, he's aware that sometimes Anakin hates their dynamics, but also that they are both in love... Which just ends with total madness.

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❧ Sweet Love of Mine - Joy Williams

I was broken, I was blind Lost in a moment I thought I left behind Then you woke up this dark soul of mine Carrying a light I thought I'd never find When you found me, I was all alone The whole world around me, but nowhere to call home I heard your voice sing like heaven's choir Gathered up my fears and threw them in the fire

I'm well aware this song is about pregnancy and how the singer found herself in the experience of becoming a mother. BUT, hear me out: what about an AU with either one of them being a Sith and the other one is still a Jedi. Instead of fighting each other, the Jedi tries to save the Sith, because they realize that the Sith actually never had a chance to be anything else since they grew up with a Sith as their "parent" and Master. But if we still want to keep the pregnancy element, fuck it! It's perfect for an Omegaverse AU, with Anakin maybe about to fall when he finds out he's pregnant and that is how Obi-Wan and their unborn child save Anakin. (Is this very specific? Yes. Do I care? Nope, and that's why this song made it into the playlist.)

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❧ Senza fare sul serio - Malika Ayane

There's a post on my blog already about why this song makes me think about the Jedi Order in general. I know I should probably keep it in a different playlist. Alas, it's still here. Have a link to my previous post if you are interested on reading a complete translation and the explanation of my reasoning. HERE!

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❧ Conversations in the Dark - John Legend

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart [...] And we, we got places we both gotta be But there ain't nothing I would rather do Then blow off all my plans for you

It's just such a lovely love song, I couldn't help myself. This seriously gives me sappy Obi-Wan vibes in any way, shape or form.

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❧ If You Ever Leave, I'm Coming With You - The Wombats

You know I'll do Whatever you want me to [...] Take you out of this You reluctant optimist And if you ever leave, I'm coming with you Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe If you ever leave, I'm coming with you [...] Am I losing you in the dark baby? No more breaking stuff No more acting up Filling your head with doubt

A song about the obsessive kind of love that hints of a way too dependent relationship? Something that mentions losing themselves in the dark? Of fucking course I relate this to Anakin and the way he loves people!

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❧ Transplant - Sea Girls

You're breaking all the promises tonight I'm always dancing by myself as the music plays I'm always one step behind, off-beat, out of place Now I'm looking for you, you're looking away [...] Your heart changed Mine stayed the same I don't recognize your voice when you're saying my name Your heart changed And mine beats the same way [...] Wish I could be back in the moment We were shining, we were making mistakes 'Til your heart changed Mine stayed the same

Have I mentioned that I have a lot of RotS feels? Yeah, so, in my head the "dancing" works like an analogy to fighting and the "music" is literally the sound of battle. Which is why this fits perfectly as far as I'm concerned. An even the "always one step behind" part is just Obi-Wan not realizing Anakin was slowly turning to the Dark Side. But it can be related also to how Anakin basically felt like he didn't truly belong with the Jedi.

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❧ Read my Mind - JONES

Can't control my thoughts But I'm trying every day [...] But sometimes I want impossible things When you hear my voice, what does it say? Need a language, we're lost in translation From impossible thoughts and feelings Why don't you know before I know? What I need to say, before I can How come you don't have the answer Before I asked you the question? Wish you could read my mind [...] It's been a long time since we've been together In the same world, just want you to look at me Like I was everything you ever wanted again [...] Just hold me like I'm everything you wanted again

A good song of the two people pining will always make me think of those two dorks. And their feeling are definitely lost in translation even in canon, with Anakin never realizing how much Obi-Wan actually cares for him because of Palpatine's manipulations.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ So Much It Hurts - Niki & The Dove

Oh, I ask you where you've been 'Cause you always come home late nowadays What a fool was I to think we were safe From the thieves in the temple [...] Oh, won't you bring it back? After all that we've been through together Is it now you gonna throw it all away? Oh, a love like ours Tell me, was it worth it? Oh, the thieves in the temple Oh, but you said that For better for worse You would always be there for me Always be there for me Always be there for me like I'll always be there for you Good times and bad times

So this screams Padmé being cheated on. Like, Anakin still married to her, yet he is always sneaking away after they spend time together to be in the Temple with Obi-Wan. Like, Obi-Wan is literally the thief in the Temple that steals Anakin away from her. (Which I'm sure is actually a metaphor for how the couples' marriage is the temple and someone is disrespecting it by taking away the other's lover. But look at me making this literal, 'cause why not!).

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Power & Control - Marina

Give a little, get a lot That's just how you are with love [...] Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good looking But you're not a piece of art [...] Power and control I'm gonna make you fall I'm gonna make you fall We give and take a little more 'Cause all my life I've been controlled You can't have peace without a war

Another song for an AU, this time one with both of them being Sith, most likely being enemies too at first. Before they decide to work together against Anakin's Master.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ No Hero - Elisa

Don't you shut your eyes And hide you heart behind a shadow 'Cause you can count on me As long as I can breathe [...] I've fallen from grace Yeah, I'm much less a saint than a sinner Oh, no I ain't no superhuman 'Cause that's just in the movies, I know But I'll carry you throught the night Through the storm Give you love, always love in return I can't jump over buildings I'm no hero But love can do miracles I can't outrun a bullet 'Cause I'm no hero But I would take one for you [...] 'Cause I'm no hero But I'd spill my blood for you If you need me to I'll be there

Another song from an Italian artist, but this one is in English! And I totally see this song for a scenario where one of the two isn't a Jedi or even for a Modern AU. But it can totally work for Canon compliant too because Anakin is the one every calls hero with no fear. It fits then if Obi-Wan tells Anakin that he doesn't feel like a hero, but he would do anything for Anakin.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

SOOOO, this post is getting way to long (like, it was way too long even just with the first song). And I made it to an even 20 songs. I feel like this a nice place to stop for now. Don't worry, these are just the first 20. I have more in my private playlist, but I want to make another post like this when I add them to the public one. Because I can. And that's what I'm gonna do.

#obikin #obikin playlist #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #if you do anything with these song please TAG ME!#I wanna know!#i get very emotional for heart + bones #it's one of my favorite song ever #the subtle poetry of it gets to me every single time #that is THE break up song #fight me over it #maybe I should have made a single post about it #that would have been smarter #oh well #also sorry for the truly terrible icon #i have no photoshop skill whatsoever #Spotify

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cryptidsandcatacombs · 3 years

Note

Hey! For the prompt meme, How about some “I know that you love me, but your jealousy is getting out of hand.” for L please! Only if you want to!

Uhuh this my shit This is an L x Reader so this should be fun~<3 I might be channeling my s/i's story into this but

Summary: Reader has been L's assistant for quite some time. They care about each other mutually during the ample time they've been around each other. L is usually good about keeping it subtle and under wraps but something happens that makes him mcfucking lose it. Rating: Pretty adult stuff here. NSFW. No one under the age of 18 may read. Sexual content is contained in this fic.

The evening had droned on with the hours wasting away unknown to L. He's never been one to keep track of the time that well. Once he's into his work, he ignores he forgoes a decent sleep schedule and what could be considered an actual substantial meal for coffee with an embarrassing amount of caffeine and sugar and what could be considered enough candy and pastries to give a horse diabetes. However, this has changed since y/n came along. It isn't that Watari didn't keep L in line when it comes to his diet. Watari has learned how stubborn L can be in the middle of an important case and getting L to do anything is like pulling teeth. But, there was something about y/n that made L listen and made L want to take care of himself a bit better. Watari definitely regards y/n as a miracle worker of sorts. Even L has to admit he has gotten a soft spot for y/n. Something he hasn't felt for anyone in a very, very long time. However, L has to admit his little soft spot has manifested into something of the more romantic variety. He can't help but see them and try his hardest to sound impressive. The blind man has no idea y/n already finds everything about him impressive. The hour was late however and y/n was nowhere to be seen. They had informed him that they had an engagement that evening. Didn't say what though. "Hey y/n, would you come here pl--," he said looking over to find y/n wasn't there. L was so used to having y/n around that he had forgot about this little detail. "Oh yeah, that's right," L mumbled to himself. One of the members of the latest task force he had been working with came over to L's side. "Sir, maybe you didn't know, but y/n has evening plans with a Mr. Enji Tanakada. I figure they have might informed you." "Enji Tanakada..why does that name sound familiar," L mumbled to himself quickly typing away at his computer. L froze when he saw the name come up. The case L had been working on was of the international sex trafficking variety. Dozens upon dozens of people of every gender had gone missing and it linked back to a company L had been tracking. They seemed legit on the surface, but the CEO, Renji Hiroto, had a dark side to him. Enji Tanakada was a certain Hiroto-san's close personal assistant in what L suspected was all matters including the illicit and illegal ones. "Son of a bitch y/n," L growled. He tightened his jaw in frustration. "Of all the stupid, reckless things you could have done." "Sir, I apologize I didn't tell you earlier. They had informed me that you were told and you had given them the approval," the task member had stated flustered and nervous fearing L's current state. "Well, next time inform me will you. Don't make a dumb mistake like that again," said L being snappy. He wasn't ok in this state of mind and any form or reasoning escaped him. "Now, did they tell you where they were going off to," L inquired. "I had overheard a phone coversation y/n was having that lead me to ask about the engagement. Some sort of hotel. Very high end. They both wanted to keep this under wraps," the task member said now regretting not asking for more details in case they needed back up. "And you didn't ask for the location? Your stupidity astounds me," L said not having any patience. L furrowed his brow, pinching the bridge of his nose in contemplation. He was kicking himself for not asking for more details now either, but he figured it was y/n's life and their business is their own. A mistake, he noted, that he will not make twice. "Well, I guess if you want something done right," L said bringing out the tracking device he had kept on him for cases like this. "Hopefully, y/n was wise enough to bring the tracking device I asked them to have on them at all times." L would reason with himself that this wasn't a stalking thing. That was partially a lie. The major part of it is when y/n signed up for this, he had known that the job came with a particular risk factor that could include kidnapping and so on. L has seen enough for the dingy, corrupt criminal underworld to warrant such

paranoia. L's eyes lit up to see that yes it had been on them. "Oh thank heaven y/n you beautiful angel," L muttered as he put the device in his pocket. "Watari, I need you to drive me," L ordered Watari already heading towards the car 3 steps ahead of L. The room Mr. Tanakada had booked super pricey with much leg room to go around in. Y/n wasn't sure whether he was seeking to impress or knew y/n was an agent and looking to throw them off. Either way, it was a lot. Tanakada had set down two champagne glasses. One y/n was wise enough not to drink. Tanakada had raised an eyebrow in concern. "What's a matter," he had asked. "Oh I'm doing a 10 step program. Major drinking problems a few months back," they said coming up with a lie. "Tch I'm sure you can let loose for one night," said Tanakada lifting his own glass in temptation. "So uh Tanakada-san, you said you had an ongoing business proposition to ask of me," y/n said. "Oh yes. There's a bit of travel involved if you're in," he said leaning forward to look y/n in the eye. "Oh, and what makes you think I'm a perfect fit for this business proposition," y/n inquired. "I can tell just by looking at you. I have a certain eye for these things," he said looking y/n up and down. "Well, if you're that sure, I guess I can be onboard," y/n said leaning forward, placing their hand under their chin. "Good. You're a smart one," Tanakada said lifting his glass, "You sure you don't to drink to celebrate. Excellent. Just had to close the deal before getting to this point. "Cheers to new beginnings," y/n said lifting their glass. Just as they were about to drink, the door to the room busted wide open with a violent bang. Y/n stared behind them to find a very angry L breathing heavily. Y/n froze figuring this might happen, but hoping they wouldn't. L snatched the glass and handed it to Watari. "Watari, can you bring this in for testing. If it tests positive for drugs, then we may have a few more questions for you," L said staring down Tanakada the angriest he's ever been. Tanakada snarled. "And just who do you think you are barging into my private room and--" Tanakada froze with the sight of the warrant L had lifted up. "I would watch what you say. You're under suspicious Tanakada-san. Let's just say your place isn't so safe either right now," L said with a voice that wasn't so whimsical as it is during these moments, but very cold and caculated. Y/n could tell he had lost patience. L took his seat in one of the chairs around the room taking a candy bar out of his pocket. "You don't mind if we just hang out til the boys in blue inform me of your dirty laundry now do you," L stated taking a bite of his bar. L had a look in his eye that wasn't of a detective giving you his knowing gaze, but of a predator looking to tear apart its prey. It sent shivers down everyone's spine whether he realized it or not. Hours later, L's task force had come back with evidence. Video tapes upon files upon illegal drugs had been found in Tanakada's home. All of them leading to the missing people. L's eye twitched suspecting the man got off on this job and liked to keep recordings of his capture for a certain Mr. Hiroto. And to think y/n might have been next. The thought of someone jerking off to this happening to y/n made his hand turn white and shake with rage. He snarled at Tanakada as he was being taken away in cuffs. L was kind of hoping merely staring at Tanakada would knock him out cold from the impact. After rigorous hours of y/n giving their testimony to L and the task force, L flopped down on the couch in his room tired. Y/n came in with their pjs as L had asked them to stay the night. "Sorry about that. I just didn't want you to worry cause I thought you wouldn't ap--" Y/n was interrupted by L standing straight up to face them. His posture was usually abysmal so y/n had never seen him with his back straight. Seeing it for the first time was absolutely terrifying. "You're damn right I wouldn't approve. What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed or

taken away somewhere no one would find you. Is that what you want," L said actually raising his voice. Y/n tried to find the answer, but couldn't finding L pretty intimidating right now. L flopped back onto his couch sitting in his usual manner. "Seriously, I'd love to know what your thought process was," L said voice low and raspy. "Well, I figured, if I could get taken by the people you suspect, you could track me having seen that I had gone missing and that would be your evidence right there," y/n stated. L looked over at y/n like they grew a third head. Y/n could be reckless some times, but holy shit this took the cake. "I'm going to have to ask you to repeat that as I don't think I heard you right. You were hoping to get kidnapped," L inquired, voice containing a thinly veiled tone of frustration. "Well, yeah. What faster way to catch the crooks then to catch them in the act yeah," y/n responded. "Of all the stupid..." L growled running his hand down his face. He tapped his fingers on his knees trying to figure out what to say. Y/n stared at L for a long time. Y/n noticed the fall and rise of his shoulders had become sporadic. L was far from composed right now and y/n was close enough to him to know it. Y/n shuffled over to L and sat by him. L turned to y/n noticing the new presence beside him. L shakily reached out for y/n's hand, rubbing it tenderly. "Don't you dare ever do that again. You might work for me, but believe it or not, I care very much for your well being. Too much for you to be doing impulsive actions like this. Do you comprehend what I'm saying? I understand you want to help, but not at the risk of your life. Never at the risk of your life," L said as if he was nearly going to break down. Y/n looked down to see L's hand trembling and gripping y/n's hand. His breath became shaky and anxious. Y/n had never seen L this upset. They were mostly taken aback by how much this had shaken him up. "Ok. I'm sorry," y/n conceded. L nodded slowly, pulling y/n close. Y/n stood frozen at the sudden contact. Y/n slowly held L back. L could feel how exhausted he was as he melted into y/n's arm. The warmth and comfort was far more healing than anything L had ever felt. “I know that you love me, but your jealousy is getting out of hand," y/n said cracking a joke. L gave a stifled laugh at this. Not only cause it was kind of funny to him, but also he didn't want to admit the truth. While what he did to save y/n was out of pure concern, he had to admit. He had grown jealous towards the idea of them being alone together. This dangerous man holding y/n's hand, kissing them, earning y/n's sweet words in his ear. Possibly more. L didn't like to think about it nor did he want to. It was far too unbearable. L decided to retort before this feeling of envy took him to increasingly dark places. "Oh and what about you? I joked about taking a certain lady out on a date for an investigation and you looked like you were going to kill someone." Y/n shoulders stiffened at hearing this. God, they were hoping he didn't notice that. "Now whose jealous," L said stick his tongue out playfully. Y/n blushed and began looking for a way to change the subject. "Hey uuu isn't that movie you wanted to watch on netflix," y/n said picking up L's laptop punching in L's password. "Oh right. I guess a movie night wouldn't be so bad," L said taking the blanket off the edge of his couch, covering both of them. L clapped a couple of times, dimming the lights as the movie started. L may have been joking about y/n being just as much of a jealous creature as he was, but he had a hard time admitting aloud that he was dearly hoping it was true. L truly didn't want to think about anyone having y/n's affection. Having this time they gave him to someone else. He had never been this close, this trusting, with anyone. This in love with anymore. Romance was never a possibility in his mind seeing as he had never been interested in romance. Then here came along y/n. Someone who had effortlessly won his heart and made him fall in love

with them in the most romantic way possible. If anyone were to take any of that that away, take away the person he loved more than life itself, the person he fell in love with, he wasn't sure what he'd do. All he could do was hope y/n had fallen in love with him too.

#fics for others

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luvreyn · 4 years

Text

My Manhwa List (2020) Part 6

sHi! How arth thou? I’m back to give you another list of recommendation!

Beware of the Villainess

Description:

Sit back and take in this romantic tale of an angelic heroine and her devoted suitors as they vie for the depths of her love... or not. This story’s about to go through some edits! After an accident, a modern-day college student awakens as the story’s villainess, Melissa Foddebrat. She’s far from anyone’s favorite, but she IS the daughter of the duke. Determined to live it up, this new Melissa is doing things her way — antiquated society, be damned! All idiots, prepare to step aside or perish!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

- plot = 4.5/5

- art = 4.5/5

- C O M E D I C G O L D

- their meme-able face are so funny lmao

- ml is so cute & soft & deserves everything in the world

- mc is such a bad-ass like?? she’s so cool & she doesnt deserve to be treated less by that stupid prince ok

- she is beauty, she is grace, she is the queen!

- all i do is fangirl over the mc basically

- isekai

- i love her dynamic with her bro cause honestly same that’s how my sibs and are act sometimes lmao

- her maid is so cool

- a bad-ass with a heart

- ml has this past and secret and i’m living for it

- a gem basically

- overall verdict, a highly recommended manhwa that will make you all sort of emotions. one of the best manhwas released this 2020 ok i said what i said

I Became the Villain's Mother

Description:

Summoned into her favorite novel as the infamous Duchess Roselia Chade, Haena is bathed in riches, power, and a family of her own. Life couldn’t be better, save for the small detail that her beloved stepson, Einspanner Chade, is also the evil mastermind destined to kill her. At this point in the story Ein is still just an adorable child yet to reach his cruel awakening, and so Roselia is determined to stop him from becoming a ruthless killer. But with the duke getting in her way and trying to poison his own son, safely raising a child that was primed for villainy may prove harder than she originally thought. The survival of both mother and child depends on whether Roselia can successfully rewrite their tragic ending!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

- plot = 5/5 ok i’m loving it already despite the few chaps released

- art = 3/5

- IM LOVING THE TWIST

- this is an all out war between father & son ok

- ain is so cute like??

- i s e k a i

- ain is such a bad ass cute little devil

- i know i know i’m collecting so many isekai-ish manhwas bcoz why not

- i love the mc so much shes so adorable and her previous job is awesome (i know you dont care but i wanted to be a daycare teacher too when i was a kid so yay)

- she’s such an awesome mom like??

- the dad... the dad is idk but he’s a terrible dad for me (right now)

- ^ why is this like a discouragement comment like idek what i’m thinking yet i’m not gonna delete it

- i love that this is mostly a son-mom manhwa bcoz it’s such a breath of fresh air and not to mention almost all dad-daughters manhwa are hurting me

- i’m here for the mom and son interactions basically

- overall verdict, a highly recommended manhwas for our souls!

Marked By King Bs

Description:

High school is hard enough without a target on your back, but that’s exactly the situation Annie finds herself in when she crosses a group of the most popular kids in school. Marked by the king bee himself, the notorious Ashton Griffin, Annie becomes his newest fixation--and he is determined to make her life miserable. Now at his beck and call, Annie must stay on Ashton’s good side to maintain her peaceful life and avoid becoming a social pariah. As she navigates her way through alienating social cliques, persistent old crushes, and the hot upstairs neighbor who never puts a shirt on, Annie will soon learn that there’s more to being popular than meets the eye. She just wanted to live a normal life, but maybe there’s no escaping these king bees. An official comic adaptation based on the hit dating-sim game. I AM TARGETED BY THEM!!!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

- plot = 3/5

- ngl but i can already feel the slight cliche-ness of this story and yet i’m still here forgive me this is a guilty pleasure manhwa

- art = 4/5

- i love the mc (yes, that quickly)

- dark haired boyo is mine ok??

- kinda funny

- i miss the school life setting so hihihi

- verdict, a cute and good read!

Pixel of Life

Description:

After finding out her boyfriend has been cheating with her boss, Hana loses her menial desk job of 5 years. Countless rejections later, she finally lands an interview at a small art gallery. Hana jumps at the chance to leave the drama of the past few months behind. But her high school friend (and worst enemy) Jiyeon is the gallery owner? Their most peculiar romance is about to begin… or not?!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

- o m g

- plot =4/5 this deserves more read tbh

- art = 4/5

- i’m starting to relate to mc since i started working cause #adultingsucks

- one of my dream jobs huhuhu

- i so love the twist

- the s i b l i n g s

- i wanna know what happens next!!!

- s u s p e n s e

- mix with mystery and spinkle with secrets and viola i present to you: the pixel of life

- verdict, a super good read!

The Antagonist’s Pet

Description:

Blessed with the face of an angel, young Sasha Tartt knows a life-altering secret: in this romance novel where she’s just a side character, she’s the only one who knows the true ending! When the antagonist of the story takes a particular liking to her, she must make a decision: help the clever and beautiful Rebecca find a happy ending, or side with the sweet-natured protagonist to ensure her own survival? On top of that, Sasha has to juggle the affections of her bespectacled love interest and tame a dragon boy! Can Sasha learn new tricks to win the hearts of these main characters? Based on the hit novel.

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

- plot = 4/5 so few chaps yet so good

- art = 3/5

- i so love that she acts dumb when she’s not cause i love scheming characters

- W O M E N E M P O W E R M E N T

- who run the world? girls!

- i love that she loves the villain cause girl same

- idec whether there’s an ml or not cause we stay for their future bond

- she is beauty, she is grace, she’s the villainess pet

- ^ it sounds better in my head

- verdict, a refreshing manhwa that will leave you wanting for moreee!

#The Pet of The Villainess #beware of the villainess #pixel of life #i become the villain's mother #when you're been targetted by the bully #manhwa #manhwa recommendation #marked by king bs #The Antagonist’s Pet #reynlist #reyn.manhwarecs

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.4 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff doesn't know where they are or where they're going, but he knows one thing. It's probably not good.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the van came to a stop, Stretch still hadn’t woken up. Not that it mattered very much, there wasn’t a thing Jeff could have done to change their situation. At the moment, they were very much outnumbered, overpowered, and even if he’d had a clue where they were, it wouldn’t have done them any good. Before they dragged him out of the van, one of the thugs yanked a bag over his head. Blinded, he struggled to stumble along as two guys pulled him out, trying not to cry out as they led him barefoot across crumbling asphalt into a building with rough carpet.

He kept as quiet as he could, trying to not only listen in case they said anything useful, but also for Stretch, praying to a God he hadn’t spoken to since he was fifteen and his father threw him out that they didn't hurt Stretch. Jeff could survive a few bumps and bruises, but he didn't know how much Stretch could withstand. Intent was key when it came to Monsters, he knew that much, and these guys seemed to have plenty.

At first, he tried to keep track of where he was being led. An impossible effort when the twists and turns of being dragged along left him too disoriented to know his way up or down. They seemed to walk forever until his captors suddenly stopped and Jeff was shoved down into a chair. Rough hands grabbed at him, rope suddenly binding his wrists and ankles. He didn’t struggle as he was tied, only tried to tense his muscles as much as possible, some shitty internet meme he vaguely remembered reading said that it could help slip free later.

Turned out memes weren’t the best source for escape plans. When they were done, Jeff subtly tried to move and the best he could manage was a painful rope burn. The ropes felt like they were wound through the slats in the chair and unless Houdini decided to make good on his possible return from the other side, Jeff was going nowhere fast.

He could hear their captors moving around, muttering too low to be understood and the other sounds might have been more rope. Tying up Stretch, maybe, he hoped that’s what it was; at least if they were together, that was something, hell, that was everything right now.

The bag suddenly getting ripped off his head made him gasp, flinching from the glaring light pointed directly into his face. Squinting, he could barely see the shadowy figures standing behind it, but he was sure he could see a cell phone pointed in his direction.

“Say your name,” a rough voice demanded.

“Andy—” he began automatically. “No, Jeff, I’m sorry, Jeff! My name is Jeff!” There was nothing else and Jeff shifted, grimacing as the ropes dug in. It was on the tip of his tongue to go on, to blurt that he worked in public relations, that he was nobody important and not worth ransoming. He bit the inside of his lip to keep those rambles from pouring out. Partly because it was probably stupid to tell kidnappers your value or lack thereof, and partly because of Edge. He’d always told them to never offer more information than was necessary and yeah, he’d been talking about board games at the time, but Jeff doubted that Clue was where Edge learned that particular rule. If these assholes wanted more info, they could damn well ask.

Either his name was all they wanted or they already had whatever other info they needed. Jeff didn’t even have a chance to try squinting through the too-bright light when one of them came towards him and yanked the bag back over his head. He sat there, sweat beading on his face and his own breath threatening to smother him as he listened to their captors moving around next to him.

“He can’t talk,” one of them said disgustedly. “He’s still wasted.”

Stretch. That meant he was right next to him, thank fucking god.

The rough sound of a slap made Jeff tense, protests bitten off when the same voice cursed and there came the sound of someone rubbing their head, “What the fuck, man!”

“That’s exactly how we want him, dumbass! He doesn’t need to talk, all they need is a good look at him. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Footsteps and then the sound of a door closing. Jeff strained to hear if anyone was still in there with them around his own breathing loud in his ears, his pulse thundering. There was nothing, no shuffle of feet against the floor or the creak of a chair. Jeff waited a little longer, curling his chilly toes against the rough carpet.

Nothing. Jeff took a long, slow breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He needed to be cool right now so he could try to think of something. Even if the Embassy was willing to give these assholes whatever they wanted, they sure as hell couldn’t count on that saving their lives. He was no strategist, his degree was in sociology, for fuck’s sake, but. Stretch always called him Handy Andy and it made him feel like someone different, someone braver who could stand up to a violent asshole on a bus and help Stretch with crazy experiments involving swinging bottles of Diet Coke rigged with automatic mentos dispensers. Jeff might not be the best for this situation, but Andy was sure as hell gonna try.

“Stretch,” Jeff said softly. He waited for someone to shout or a slap followed by a demand that he shut up. When none came, he went on, soft and urgent, “I know you can't hear me, but, just in case you can. It's gonna be okay. I know you're big on promises and I'm promising you right now we're getting out of this. I promise you." If he could glean anything of what Jeff was saying, he hoped he could hear that much. At least maybe he wouldn't be afraid.

"i sure hope so, i didn't get this far in life to get dusted by a low rent group of third rate scooby doo level villains. seriously, they tied us up with rope, were they out of packing tape at ‘kidnappers ‘r’ us’ or were they just eager to try the knots they learned in boy scouts before they got kicked out."

Okay, that wasn’t quite the last thing he’d expected, but it was close.

"Stretch?" Jeff gasped out. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the bag, but he could hear a muted popping sound. Suddenly, the bag was gone, far gentler than before and then he was blinking up into Stretch’s smirking face.

Jeff looked around a little wildly and next to him was another chair, the still-tied ropes hanging from the rungs in loose coils.

“yeah, sorry. i woke up back in the van, didn’t want to tip them off. wherever they buy their roofies must not have given them a dosage chart.” Stretch settled his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “hold still, this is a lot easier than fighting with knots.”

It was the gentlest and shortest teleport he’d ever felt. Only a brief disorientation and when his vision cleared, he was sitting on top of the ropes that had just been binding him.

Jeff scrambled to his feet, swiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Holy shit, maybe he should take up praying again more regularly, this was the fastest service he’d ever gotten. “Can you get us outside?”

His heart sank as Stretch shook his head. “that's gonna be a no. with the bags on our heads, i couldn't see where we are. shortcutting is tricky, it's dangerous to teleport blind. that's how you end up stuck in walls or halfway inside a table or some shit.” Stretch waved a slender hand at the chairs. “dangerous, not impossible. a few inches above where i was sitting was a pretty safe bet to get out of the ropes, but anything else is more likely to get us dead than on the street.” He frowned, glancing around the room thoughtfully. “plus, i'm not going anywhere without a little intel. they’re fucking idiots, but they knew enough to drug me and how to do it. that's not information you can just look up on a wiki-how.”

“Okay,” Jeff took a deep, steadying breath. "So, what do we do, then?” He glanced at the door. “Can you pick locks?"

"sure,” Stretch said absently. He was looking around the room. It was a storage room of some sort, there was more dusty furniture aside from the chairs, including a rickety desk, and metal cabinets lined the walls. “but i can't do much about the door being barred. i heard something get braced against it when they went out.

"Oh. Right."

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, “at least one of them has a brain cell or two rolling around up top, enough to get them this far. but the road trip is over and it’s time to pay the tolls.” Stretch shook his head disgustedly. "first rule of kidnapping is never leave the kidnappees alone. seriously, i'm getting my cues from netflix and even i know that.”

His eye lights paused in their survey of the room, brightening. Jeff followed his gaze and saw in one corner there was an honest to god old-fashioned rotary telephone pushed into the far corner of the desk, nearly buried under the clutter.

"can't be that easy, can it?” Stretch marveled. He picked it up the handset and held to his skull, then sighed unhappily. “nope. no dial tone, no surprise there, no one has a landline anymore. don’t you worry though, little phone.” Stretch gave it a soft pat. “you’re gonna be real useful in just a minute. seriously, this is just embarrassing. my first kidnapping attempt and they locked us in a room with an entire arsenal.”

“I must be missing the vendor in the corner willing to hand over gear if we do a mission for them,” Jeff joked weakly.

“everything is an arsenal if you’ve got the skills.” Stretch rummaged through the desk and came up triumphantly with…a paperclip? He set it on the desk, adding a pencil, some scotch tape, and what looked to Jeff like an old tube of superglue. “kidnapped by the ebott equivalent of the america’s dumbest criminals, fuck me. edge is going to be up my ass for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” It was easier to be calm in the face of Stretch’s ease. “I think six months is the bare minimum.”

“i really wish you weren’t right.” Stretch glanced around the room again, this time directing his gaze upward. “hm, that’ll work.” Tall as he was, the ceiling was still out of reach even for him. Stretch pulled one of the chairs over, ropes trailing behind it like tentacles, and stood on it, reaching for the smoke detector. Jeff could only blink in confusion as he yanked it right off the ceiling.

"You're going to burn down the building?” Jeff asked. Not that he didn’t trust Stretch, but, uh, that seemed extreme for a first escape attempt. “That’d get us out, but I don't think we'll be any more alive."

"nah, just need some parts,” Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “keep an ear on the hallway, will ya, in case they remember that leaving us alone is probably stupid."

“Got it.” Jeff went to the door but before he could press his ear to it, Stretch called his name.

"hey, kiddo, i'm gonna get us out of this." Stretch offered him a familiar, lopsided smile. "i know i don't look like much, but i've been known to keep my head in a bad situation."

"You already saved me once,” Jeff said honestly, "why wouldn't I believe you now?"

Stretch’s pale eye lights flickered with memory, his expression briefly tightening. How did he remember that horrible night in that parking lot, Jeff wondered, what nightmares haunted Stretch’s sleep? He knew something happened after the ambulance took him away, but he’d never heard the entire story. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been wrapped up in healing enough to start his new job at the Embassy and as time passed, he hated to ask, didn’t want to dredge it all up again, not when everyone was slowly getting past it. Besides, the others had their own shit to deal with, what with the attack in California and everything happening in Ebott. His trauma was his to handle and that was the end of it.

At the desk, Stretch got to work, humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme under his breath as he dissected the phone and smoke detector with a makeshift screwdriver made from a bent paperclip taped to a pencil. His hands were as deft and easy as any demonstration he’d done for the local kids and Jeff could only marvel at his ease.

“How can you be so calm?” Jeff blurted, wincing even as the words escaped. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t want to distract him. Stretch only flicked a glance his way, both browbones raised.

“me?” Stretch snorted, “i am not calm. beneath this gorgeous cookie crust exterior is a honey pie of a person who would start shitting themselves if i could grow the prerequisite equipment. but we're gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?” Jeff hated the faint pleading in his own voice, he shouldn’t be distracting; Stretch was as stuck here as he was and with his HP, it was even worse. He was supposed to be the one helping Stretch, he’d promised, and the best he could do was lookout.

“you seriously think red isn't already on it?” Stretch asked and as terrifying as Red could be, thinking about him right now eased some of the aching fear that was settled in Jeff’s stomach. “all he needs is a clue and we’re gonna get him one. i only hope he can keep edge from razing the city and salting the earth beneath it until then. people might be a little tetchy about that and i’m not even sure you can come up with a press release that’d cover ‘sorry about starting city-wide armageddon, my bad.’”

Before Jeff could think of a reply to that, either an agreement, or a protest that a little chaos could be excused considering the circumstances, he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. Panicked, he hissed out, “They're coming!”

“fuck, okay, okay.” Stretch scrambled over and set some kind of contraption on the floor near the door that was all waggling wires and circuit boards. He grabbed Jeff by the wrist and dragged him along. “over here, come on, this a harder trick, but you can do it. i need you to hold as still as you can. if you move, they might see you, you get me?"

Jeff managed a hasty nod as Stretch shoved him into a corner, cramming them both in tight, out of the way. "don't move, don't talk,” Stretch reminded him, a low murmur close to his ear. The slim, bony arms around him were comforting and even knowing that Stretch couldn’t physically protect him, having him towering overhead as he caged Jeff against the wall felt oddly safe.

Then something happened. He didn’t know how to describe it. It felt like a heavy curtain fell over the world, everything going distant and muffled, even his vision greying like he was about to faint, only he’d never felt so awake. There was a sudden popping explosion as the door swung open and collided with Stretch’s contraption, but it sounded miles away, the kidnappers’ curses as muffled as if they were speaking from another world.

He didn’t move, held perfectly still even as that curtain slowly grew claustrophobic, nausea starting to churn. Jeff closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively and just went he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, that he either needed to move or he’d start screaming, it was suddenly gone and Stretch was stepping back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stretch was pale, sweat showing visibly on his skull. "are you okay?" Stretch asked.

“Me?” Jeff blurted. He caught hold of Stretch’s arms to brace him as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m fine, what about you!”

"i’ll be okay.” Stretch wiped his face on the sleeve of the crummy shirt he’d been forced into with a grimace. “i pulled us halfway into the void. it works, but it burns a lot of juice. the assholes booked it out of here, but more importantly, they left the door open."

The door was opened, they could leave, and yet, Jeff found himself blurting out, “They’ll get away!”

“no,” Stretch said grimly. “they’ll look for us first, thinking we couldn’t have gotten too far. these guys aren’t gonna ditch and run that fast, they know too much. think about it. drugs work on monsters but how do they know what kind and how much? lucky for me, skeleton monsters are different. our systems are finicky, we’re hard to drug. whoever tipped them off about how to roofie me didn’t know that.”

His sockets narrowed suddenly, Stretch turning away to look in the rusty cabinet next to them. “oh, honey,” he said gleefully, “jackpot.”

Jeff joined him, peering into the cabinet as Stretch cautiously wrenched it open. “What did you find?”

He held up a bottle of bleach and said, smugly, “just some nice, normal household chemicals. they can be lots of fun if you know how to mix 'em up and i'm a one hell of a bartender. but first.”

On the desk was another little contraption that was mostly wires and tape. Stretch picked it up and walked over to squat next to a wall outlet. Carefully, he pushed it into the socket. There was a sputtering spark and a tiny red light blinked to life.

“there we go.” Stretch stood, dusting off his hands. “i don’t even want to think about how pants-shittingly angry edge probably is right now, but we can’t let them get the ransom that asgore is probably going to pay and we sure as hell can’t let them get away.”

He grinned then, wickedly sharp for all that his teeth were blunt. “so, how’s about we have some fun, yeah?”

Jeff nodded determinedly. Fuck, yes. If he was going to add to his repertoire of nightmares, he was damn well going to make sure someone else paid for it, in spades.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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swarmkeepers · 3 years

Note

rickyesther 1 and/or figayda 21 for the prompt meme?

21. believing in you even when you couldn’t do it yourself + figayda (prompts linked here)

(some post-show hurt/comfort heavy on the hurt on the phoenix tour after sophomore year. thank you, anon, i find ayda very fun to write but this is my first figayda! i hope you like it. )

Fig knows she’s being unreasonable, knows that she’s being childish, knows that the skin-itchy hell-rumbling feels bad feels bad feels bad ripping through her mind right now is wrong and stupid and yet why can’t she stop thinking it.

That’s the thing about this particular kind of bad show—that she knows it was a bad show, and Gorgug knows it was a bad show, but if you hadn’t been listening to the same set for the days and days and days of tour for their second year now, you wouldn’t know. They keep the rebellious-happy smiles on their faces and they still jump and dance across the stage and the Infaethable Bass still makes glorious noise and Fig pours her heart out into a show even when from the very first chords she can feel it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

Fig doesn’t know if it’d be better or worse if no one else in the world knew it was a bad show, and she doesn’t know which one is true anyway. But inside her own head it’s grating and terrible and Fig barely held it together until they got up to the hotel room here before she let herself collapse, angry and upset and unreasonable and not caring or knowing about any of it.

The roar of the crowd tonight felt like mockery when Fig could hear every ever-so-slight way her solos weren’t quite right, could feel her fingers scrabbling to turn a mistake into a riff when she screwed up, could feel the talk sets not quite landing even when she puts every point of her charisma into it. The stage spotlight effects were just the tiniest bit late, and it feels like a perfect and perverse kind of validation when Fig would rather have ripped their too-hot too-red glow off her face before they could highlight every mistake she made, every fake smile pasted on.

She’s being childish, but right now Fig has wedged herself under the desk in this hotel room that’s the same as every other hotel room for two years of tour. Her horns are scraping the underside of the desktop with an excruciating sound that just might as well happen, and her back is pressed into the mess of cords sprouting from the outlet under the desk, and Fig’s digging her pointed fingernails into her own knees as she hugs them tight and feels like a toddler in a tantrum, unsure if she wants to scream or cry or hide or demand attention or destroy things or walk out into the city and keep walking until she’s far far away. She kicked the rolling chair somewhere away and couldn’t tell you where it went for all the gold in Solace.

Her bass doesn’t fit under here with her, and Fig’s tossed it on the bed with more upset carelessness than she’d ever usually show her instrument. Fig picks at the rips in her jeans and scowls out of the opening of her little desk den, an opening that feels too big, letting too much of the world in even when that world is just the bed across from the desk, with frumpy sheets and a bed skirt that’s the same as every other motel anywhere in Solace, which Fig knows from experience.

Gorgug knows it was a bad show, and Fig can faintly hear him in the bathroom on the phone with Zelda, quieter and lower than other nights on tour. He called his parents earlier, too—she heard him singing quietly to them over the phone.

Ayda knows it was a bad show. Ayda was in the green room and in the audience tonight, watching Fig fall apart, knowing so much more than Fig knows all the time, deserving so much better than the mess that is Figueroth Faeth on stage and off. Ayda knows it was a bad show and she’s not even in the hotel room with Fig right now, having disappeared somewhere off down the hall. Fig was too angry and caught up in her own mind to pay attention, which is just another reason Ayda deserves better right now. Anywhere that Ayda is right now is somewhere better than dealing with Fig in all her skin-itchy unreasonable childishness right now.

There’s a little tic tic tic of giant talons on hotel carpet and a whoosh of fire-warm air as Ayda appears in the doorway, as infuriatingly and as luckily as if Fig had said her name thrice and summoned her. Fig keeps quiet and watches her girlfriend turn first one way, then the other, looking for her in a room with neither Fig nor Gorgug visible.

“I’m having a bad time, Ayda,” Fig says, voice quiet and hoarse both from the show and from whatever silent-sobbing-tantrum she’s been having under the desk. She doesn’t even know if she intends Ayda to hear it, but then Fig sees Ayda whip around and move towards the desk, even faster than walking as she beats her huge wings once to take a flying, bounding step.

Ayda doesn’t listen to any warnings Fig might try to give about how it’s “really a bad scene under here, you don’t want to see me like this” and just crouches down so she’s under the desk with Fig, spreading her wings to block out everything except the two of them in this ridiculous position. Fig can’t see anything except her girlfriend and her big concerned eyes darting around Fig’s face and her fiery wings blocking out the world for her.

Fig doesn’t even say anything, just reaches out and scoots closer awkwardly on her butt on the floor in the small space. Ayda doesn’t need her to say anything, just tangles her legs with Fig’s and loops strong arms around Fig’s back, holding her close. Fig takes an angry, shaky breath and feels it push against Ayda’s arms.

“You’re upset,” Ayda says simply, fingers tracing a shape on Fig’s back as she waits to see if Fig wants to talk or just wants to be held.

Fig hisses through her teeth, irritated but not wanting to take it out on her girlfriend who’s barely been here for half a minute and who’s already making her feel so much better. Ayda’s fiery hair and wings are the only light in this little space Fig’s wedged them into, and they’re casting bright bright light over the both of them. Fig reaches out and tucks her face right into the crook of Ayda’s neck, so close to the fire of her wings that she can feel their warmth. Fig can’t see anything except the curve of her girlfriend’s neck and a little bit of her back and flame, flame, flame. She wonders if there are tear tracks visible on her face. The nice thing about tiefling skin is that no one can tell if her eyes are red from rubbing at them; the nice thing about Ayda is that her girlfriend doesn’t need to be able to see them to tell something’s wrong.

“It was a bad show, Ayda,” Fig whispers almost too quietly to hear except that she’s doing it inches away from Ayda’s ear. “I hate this.”

“I’m not sure I understand?” Ayda says, fingers slowing on Fig’s back as she picks her words carefully. “You are the expert on this, and if you do not want to elaborate that is perfectly okay, but all of your shows are good ones to me.”

Fig turns her head so her cheek is resting on Ayda’s warm shoulder and says, “It’s just little dumb things going wrong. And that’s why I’m doing this dumb thing, which is sitting under a desk and thinking you don’t want to see me.”

Ayda’s fingers circle over the knobs of Fig’s spine through the leather jacket Fig hasn’t taken off.

“That doesn’t seem dumb,” Ayda says. “I understand wanting to get away from the world when it feels like everything is going wrong. Under a desk is an excellent location, because it is dark and quiet and Gorgug is in the bathroom so you can have this space for yourself.”

“Oh, Ayda,” Fig breathes. Ayda keeps talking, and Fig watches just the corner of her jaw moves as she talks. Ayda talks to her gently, like you’d talk to a slightly skittish animal. Every part of Ayda looks soft and warm, including the fiery feathers tickling Fig’s face.

“Your lyrics are extremely meaningful. I have memorized many of them, but I am still impressed all the time that you have written all of them.” Ayda says it matter-of-factly, and Fig blames the way that the words make her want to cry on the fact that it’s just been an extremely emotional day. “You are a very accomplished musician, and an even better writer, and an even better person.”

“You’re very smart, Ayda, but how am I supposed to believe you when I can’t even deal with one show going wrong?” Fig tries not to wail it. She doesn’t know if she succeeds. Ayda’s wings make a soft roar, the sound of air and flame, and Fig pretends that it’s loud enough to hide the tremor in her voice. The childish panic.

“I do not need to believe in you. Belief implies that my trust in you is something constructed in my own mind, when it in fact is, as far as I have been able to tell, something I can back up with evidence and fact.” Ayda says, and Fig pulls back indignantly.

She whacks the back of her head on the wall behind her, but it’s worth it for the little smile she can see as she leans just a little away from Ayda.

Fig smiles back, and she believes it too. Or doesn’t need to.

from the prompt list linked here! (i’m closing prompts from this particular list because i have so many ones to get through already, but thanks!)

#by word count this is almost half hurt no comfort #i'm so sorry i didn't mean to do this to my best girl fig #my excuse is that ayda offering comfort is so potent it could make up for any hurt #sometimes you need a big fiery-winged girlfriend to shut out the world and believe in you #anon i'm sorry i'm writing so slow this was one of the first prompts in my inbox #but i hope you like it!#fig faeth #ayda aguefort #figayda #fantasy high #sophomore year #sola said #sola ficced #anonymous #sola answered #long post

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ezzydean · 3 years

Note

Number 19 of the winter prompts with rare pairs of your choice both as the mistletoe misfits and their “victims” thank you!

So this is... yeah. Better late than never and all that I suppose.

5+1 - Five times Iwaizumi & Tsukishima got other people under the mistletoe and one time they were caught under it

ONE

Hajime freezes when he hears the distinct sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat behind him. Unfortunately freezing makes him go a little bit wobbly — he feels it reflects more on the condition of the step stool he found in the supply closet than it does himself thank you for asking — and he barely manages to stick the pushpin into the ceiling before he half steps half topples off the stool and slowly turns around. Tsukishima is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing an unimpressed look on his face and a sweater that reminds Hajime a little bit of the kind of ridiculous things that Oikawa always manages to find around the holidays.

“I’m the mature, responsible one,” Hajime says before Tsukishima can even open his mouth. “No one will believe you if you try to rat me out.”

“Sawamura would,” Tsukishima counters. “He trusts me.”

“He’s too busy trying to keep Tanaka from convincing Hinata to dye his hair purple to really pay attention right now.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Gee. I wonder who put that idea in Tanaka’s head.”

Hajime shrugs.

“Do you think this is too obvious of a place to leave the mistletoe,” he says instead of admitting to anything. “Or not obvious enough?”

Tsukishima glances up and then past Hajime into the next room.

“Depends on who you’re trying to catch with it.”

“Whoever I can.”

Tsukishima nods, gesturing for Hajime to move out of the way. “Hey Kuroo,” he calls into the next room. “C’mere a sec.” He grins at Hajime. “Pick a person.”

Hajime spins around and gestures frantically at the first person he makes eye contact with. Nishinoya hurries over and nearly collides with Kuroo in the doorway, clearly too worried about the way Hajime had been waving him over to pay attention to what was going on around him.

Kuroo and Nishinoya laugh and start going through the motions of waving each other through the doorway when Tsukishima clears his throat. He smiles sweetly when they look at him and points to the mistletoe hanging above their heads.

“Seriously, Tsukki?” Tsukishima scowls at Kuroo but keeps pointing at the mistletoe.

Nishinoya looks up and laughs, cheeks flushing. Kuroo rolls his eyes at Tsukishima but leans down and gives Nishinoya a kiss that, from Hajime’s perspective, Nishinoya seems to enjoy quite a bit despite how innocent it is.

Kuroo straightens up and rolls his eyes one more time before wandering back to whatever he was doing before Tsukishima called him over. Nishinoya watches him go, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering.

TWO

The suspicious look Kenma gives him from the armchair as he tucks his phone under his leg would probably make a lesser man falter. But Kei’s known Kenma for over a decade and has worked with him in the IT department for the last three years. So he’s been on the receiving end of more than his fair share of suspicious looks from Kenma.

“Whatever you’re planning the answer is no.”

Kei huffs softly and gives Kenma an offended look.

“I am not planning anything.”

“Please. I’ve seen you talking to Hajime. I’m not an idiot.”

Kei shrugs. “At least you don’t automatically assume he’s innocent and I’m the bad influence.”

“I’ve been the lead IT person for four years. I’ve worked with Hajime for five. Trust me. I know he’s no more innocent than you.”

“I would say that hurts.” Kei glances over his shoulder at the burst of noise and laughter that pops up from the kitchen. “But your words haven’t hurt me since we were twelve and you called me a lanky broccoli flavored popsicle. Whatever that meant.”

“It meant you were as appealing as a broccoli flavored popsicle.”

“So I’m an acquired taste.” Kenma nods. “I can deal with that.” Kenma rolls his eyes and reaches for his phone, conversation ended in his mind, and Kei steps back. “Let it be known I was gonna warn you.”

Kenma frowns at him and then his lap is full of flailing arms and a solid body. Kei glances at the doorway that Hajime is peeking out from, looking surprisingly innocent considering he had just shoved Futakuchi hard enough to topple him into Kenma’s lap.

Futakuchi finally manages to get a grip on the arms of the chair and goes to lever himself up when Kei clears his throat and points up.

“I will plant a virus so good it will take you years to recover from it.”

“Just kiss him already.”

Kenma gives Kei a rather rude gesture but he pulls Futakuchi in for a kiss that the other man melts into.

THREE

Satori had seen the mistletoe hanging above the fridge. Hell he had watched Iwaizumi climb onto the counter to stick it to the ceiling; he had been pretty impressed that Iwaizumi hadn’t fallen flat on his face considering how drunk he appeared to be. It’s not like any of them are all that sober at this point so it’s not like he’s judging the man at all. In fact he’s counting on the fact that none of them are all that sober because then they’re more willing to go along with his shenanigans.

Though some of them would be willing anyway. They’re just that awesome of coworkers and friends.

“Are you the guard here or something?” Satori grins and gives Wakatoshi a wink.

“Or something.”

“You planned the mistletoe didn’t you?”

“More like I’m taking advantage of something that was here when I arrived. Using the territory to my advantage. You want in the fridge?”

Wakatoshi smiles a little and leans down to kiss Satori’s cheek.

“Yes, please.”

Like he said. He’s taking advantage of the territory. He gets a kiss on the forehead from Sawamura. A kiss on his hand from Kuroo. Three kisses from Noya in about five minutes because he kept coming back in for more shots. Kenma stares him down until he opts to step out of the way — the last time he pissed Kenma off he hadn’t been able to log into any network in their five building company for almost a month. and despite what some people think he’s not completely stupid.

Just a little reckless sometimes.

“Have you seriously just been standing in front of this fridge all night?” He glances up at Tanaka’s voice and grins at him. Recklessness often pays off. Which is why he does it.

“I have been.”

“You know most people come to a party to socialize.”

“Basically every single person who has come to this party has come into this kitchen. I am socializing.”

“By blocking the fridge?”

“By blocking the fridge.”

Tanaka glances around the kitchen and sighs. “And if someone wants into the fridge because that’s where their drinks are?”

Satori grins even wider and tilts his head before he flicks his pointer finger up and gestures towards the ceiling.

“One kiss to get into the fridge. That’s the fee.”

“Have you seriously been waiting here all night and just kissing anyone and everyone who comes along?”

“I mean. More or less. I don’t necessarily mind kissing any of them but I will admit that I have been hoping for one particular person to come along more than the others and I haven’t kissed them yet.”

Tanaka raises his brows and eyes Satori. “Oh? And who would that be?”

Satori crooks his finger at Tanaka. “C’mere and give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.”

He’s only been wanting to kiss Tanaka for about two years now and the moment their lips meet he knows that it’s been worth the wait. Every moment of the last two years has been worth it.

“Tanaka what’s taking so long to get my—” He has no idea how long they’ve been kissing when Tsukishima comes into the kitchen. “Seriously. Seriously?” Tsukishima sighs and mutters something but Satori is too busy making up for two years of not kissing Tanaka senseless every chance he got to really listen.

FOUR

“It’s kind of hard to watch,” Hajime says as he sits on the couch next to Suga and grimaces.

“Yeah. They’ve been like this since high school.”

“That long?”

“That long.”

“Damn. And I thought Oikawa and Makki were bad.”

Suga snickers. “Oh they were. These two are almost worse somehow.”

Hajime tilts his head as he watches the two men across the room. “It’s impressive in a frightening way.”

“It really is.”

They watch the other men in companionable silence as the men laugh and talk, heads tilted together gently.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Tsukishima says and Hajime looks up in surprise. He swears Tsukishima hadn’t been there just a second ago. But now he’s perched on the arm of the arm of the couch next to Hajime. “Put us out of our misery, Suga. Please.”

Tsukishima hands Suga something. Hajime can’t see what it is but it makes Suga’s eyes light up and he gives them both a wild grin before shooting off the couch and hurrying across the room. Hajime figures Tsukishima will get up and take Suga’s seat but he just stays there perched next to Hajime as Suga grabs Mattsun’s attention and starts whispering to him. The way Mattsun smiles makes Hajime wonder for a brief moment what kind of chaos Tsukishima just unleashed.

Then Suga is clambering onto Mattsun’s back and Mattsun is striding over so Suga can dangle the mistletoe in his hand over his unsuspecting victims.

“Daichi,” Suga calls out. “Chikara. I love you both and I know you both very well. So just trust me when I say just kiss already.”

Daichi’s cheeks flush and Ennoshita looks ready to kill Suga but the entire living room starts to chant for them to kiss and Ennoshita shrugs and pulls Daichi into a deep kiss that has the whole room bursting out in cheers and whistles.

“So,” Hajime says. “Who’s next?”

FIVE

He will deny it to his dying day but Kei actually does kind of have a soft spot in that dark pit he calls a heart for a certain overly enthusiastic ball of sunshine and happiness. He doesn’t want to date Hinata but he does like to make the little shit happy when he can. It usually doesn’t take much. A cute cat meme or a meat bun left on his desk here. The absolute destruction of an opposing company whose CEO thought Hinata was an easy target there. Little things.

The look Iwaizumi gives him when he suggests giving Ushijima the mistletoe with a little bit of instruction is highly uncalled for. It’s far too soft and fond and it makes it look like Iwaizumi thinks Kei is sweet or something.

“Do you want to do this or not?” Iwaizumi snorts at Kei, which is also uncalled for. “Look just give him the mistletoe and leave Hinata to me. And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some puppy who just learned a new trick or something.”

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi says as he grabs the mistletoe from Kei. “Just get him to us in a couple minutes. I’ll make sure no one else is there.”

He watches Iwaizumi wander out of the room and takes a moment to brace himself. No matter how long he’s known Hinata he needs to prepare himself to interact with the guy. There’s just so much energy there. It’s a lot to take in.

After he gathers himself he heads for the front porch. He’s pretty sure he saw Hinata head outside a few minutes ago.

“Hey,” he says as he leans against the railing next to Hinata. “How’s it going?”

“Not too bad.” Hinata chuckles. “You’ve been busy tonight.”

“Didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me.”

“Well when half our coworkers are suddenly making out it tends to draw some attention. Especially since before this party all of one couple was already a couple.”

“That’s fair.” Kei bumps their shoulders together. “You wanna make another couple happen tonight?”

Hinata peers at him curiously. “Who?”

“You and the tall wall of muscle you drool over during your lunch breaks.”

Hinata perks up. “I like the sound of that. But do you think he does?”

“Iwaizumi is talking to him now. From what I’ve seen while you’ve been drooling it’s a safe bet that he does too.” He pushes away from the porch railing and starts to head back inside. “You coming with to find out,” he asks over his shoulder. “Or are you going to chicken out?”

“Lead the way Tsukishima. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Kei leads Hinata to the home office in the back corner of the house. He can practically feel Hinata vibrating behind him and he shakes his head. He opens the door and ushers Hinata inside. Iwaizumi is leaning against the desk next to Ushijima but he pushes away from it when Kei and Hinata step inside the office.

Iwaizumi pats Ushijima’s shoulder and smiles at Hinata.

Hinata heads for the desk and Ushijima stands up straight when Hinata gets to him.

Kei doesn’t work with Ushijima much so he can’t read him the greatest but he thinks the guy actually looks nervous as he pulls his hand out from behind his back and holds a sprig of mistletoe above Hinata’s head.

Hinata smiles up at Ushijima and nods enthusiastically.

PLUS ONE

Tsukishima pulls Hajime out of the office just before Hinata and Ushijima’s lips meet.

“So,” Hajime sighs happily. “Job well done all around I think.”

Tsukishima laughs softly and nods. “We did good. Though you weren’t nearly as sneaky as you seemed to think you were.”

Hajime waves his hand as they walk down the hall.

“Being sneaky wasn’t the point.”

“What was the point then?”

Hajime leans against the wall next to the hall closet and Tsukishima stops in front of him. Hajime’s gaze flickers to the ceiling and then he watches as Tsukishima looks up and a smile slides onto his face. He reaches out and grabs Tsukishima’s sweatshirt, tugging him closer with a grin.

“Come on and kiss me already.”

“Well if you insist.” Tsukishima lets Hajime tug him forward until he’s pinning Hajime against the wall. “Happy Anniversary, Hajime.”

“Happy Anniversary, Kei,” Hajime mumbles against his lips.

#haikyuu #hq writing #IwaTsukki #EnnoDai #TanaTen #UshiHina #FutaKen #KuroNoya #IwaTsukki fic #vball-baes-bball-babes

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onetwosevensquad · 3 years

Text

Dungeons and Dragons and... Love?: Dungeon Master

Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: the kind Dungeon Master who helps guide your team through your campaign also becomes your math tutor.

Warnings: none??

Rose: sorry this literally took forever to write. Hope your all still interested in this mini series. Next member is Renjun.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

———

Why were you here again?

Oh right, cause you’re a giant nerd who needs an outlet.

The poster had caught your eye when you were headed to lunch one day. It was a beige poster with a 20 sided dice in the middle. That was what got your attention.

You had played Dungeons and Dragons with some of your friends before. It has been a few months since your last campaign and you didn’t know when the next one would start. So, in fear of not being able to escape to a fantasy world, you decided to check it out.

It was now 3:45 in the afternoon. School had ended 15 minutes ago, the hours ticking by slowly. You now stood outside of the AP Government classroom where Mr. Jung taught.

The poster, you remembered, said that Mr. Jung would oversee the club. He was your favorite teacher because he was funny and the class was enjoyable.

Finally, you slowly opened the door to the classroom and stepped in. In the middle of the room, a few desks had been pushed together to create a large table.

Sitting around the table were seven boys who were all staring at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for literally anyone to say something.

“Is this the d&d club?” You finally spoke.

“Y-yes,” the only boy who was standing said. You recognized him as Mark Lee. The cute, smart boy from calculus. “Yes, uh, grab a seat.”

You nodded and dragged a chair over to the only empty spot at the table. It was right next to Chenle, the loud basketball player you shared chemistry with.

“Well I’m pretty sure that we all know each other,” Mark said clearing his throat. “I’m not gonna make us do ice breakers cause literally no one likes those.”

“I do!” Haechan, the class clown that you also shared chemistry with.

“Only you,” Jeno, the star basketball player and probably the last person you expected here, commented. Haechan pouted and stuck his tongue out at Jeno.

“Anyway,” Mark said. “It’s my fist time DMing, but I have played before. Just so I know, who here has played before?”

You, along with Jisung, the quiet kid from history, Haechan, and Renjun, the kid from math who doesn’t do math but draws, raised your hands. Mark seemed to relax a bit when he saw there were at least a few experienced players.

“Well I guess this first meeting will be going over rules and how to play, then next time we’ll do character sheets,” Mark said.

———

It was now the third session and the first one of the start of you campaign. Last time, everyone made their characters, the atmosphere becoming less tense as time went on.

You made your character an Elf Wizard, something you’ve never played before. Everyone else had their own unique character combos, having fun coming up with the most ridiculous names for them.

Today, the party was slightly buzzing with excitement to finally start their campaign. You all gathered around the table giving character introductions, ready to get this show on the road.

Three hours, several rolls for initiative, and Haechan’s character almost dying later, Mr. Jung had to finally kick you all out of the building. The sun had already set and he was letting you way past what was allowed.

You realized how late it actually was and scrambled to get your stuff. You said a quick goodbye to the boys and Mr. Jung and sped off to get home before your parents killed you.

You get a ways down the hall when you heard someone running behind you.

“Y/n, wait up!” You turned to see Mark jogging to catch up with you. He stopped in front of you, breathing slightly harder. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, smiling at the cute boy. You’ve never really had a full conversation with Mark. He’s quiet and, honestly, talking to someone attractive was a bit out of the realm of your comfort zone.

“C-can I have your number?” He said. Your eyes went wide and as did his when he realized what that sounded like. “So that I can add you to the group chat! Just in case anyone can’t make it or we cancel.”

“Yea, sure,” you said, slightly disappointed. You heard Mark exhale probably in relief that his save worked. You handed him your phone with your number displayed on the screen and he quickly put it in his.

“Thanks,” Mark said, handing you back your phone. You both stood there in the most suffocatingly awkward silence ever.

“Well bye,” you said turning to leave.

“Oh! Yea, uh, bye,” Mark said waving slightly. He turned back towards Mr. Jung’s room and you saw the other six boys crowded around. They were all giggling as Mark shoved that back into the room.

———

Six sessions and three weeks later, any morsel of awkwardness was gone. It was like you have known these seven boys your whole life.

The group chat blew up your phone with memes from that days session but didn’t you mind? No. Though sometimes at ungodly hours in the mornings, you still enjoyed the content.

On this particular day, you weren’t going to be able to join the session. Your calculus teacher was making you stay after school and retake a test that you failed miserably. You felt bad when you hand to text the group.

You: I can’t make it today

Haechan☀️: whyyyyyyy

You: I failed a calc test

You: I have to retake it

Lele🐬: thats stupid

Sungie: good luck Y/n

Injunie: yea gl

You: thanks boys

Marker: hey if you need any help studying for calc, I’d be happy to

jeNO: oh?

You: yea I’d like that, thanks

Minnie: ann I oop-

You laughed at Jaemin’s comment as you made your way to your calculus teachers classroom.

———

Considering the second time you took the test you barely past by the seat of your pants, you took Mark up on his offer to tutor you.

Today was the first day Mark was going to tutor you in the library. You walked in and saw him already set up at one of the tables in the very back.

“Hey,” you whispered. He smiled at you as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said back. “Ready to get started?”

After about an hour and a half of Mark explaining different theorems to you, you were finally starting to get it. Whenever you asked a question, Mark would take the time to explain it to you carefully, making sure you got it along the way.

When he would give you a problem to solve, and you got it right, both of you would get excited, annoying the librarian. She ended up shushing you more than once.

“Hey, you hungry?” Mark asked.

“Not really,” you said. As if on cue, your stomach slightly growled, making Mark laugh. You looked down at your stomach, a pout on your face. “Traitor.”

“Come on,” Mark said between giggles. “Let’s get something to eat.”

You got your things and headed out of the library with Mark to get food.

———

For the next three weeks, this became your tradition. On the days the D&D club wasn’t meeting, you and Mark would study calculus in the library for about two hours, and then go get food. It always felt like a lot less time with Mark, him always making it enjoyable.

Today, you had a study session with Mark. As you neared the library, you noticed him standing outside the doors on his phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mark said putting his phone away. “But you need a break.”

“Mark-“ you whined.

“No,” he said. “I think that you’re ready. You’ve made a lot of progress over the last couple weeks. Besides, they say you shouldn’t study the night before a test.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” you said crossing your arms.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Mark said waving it off. “But, I do know that you’ve worked hard and whatever grade you get, I’m proud of you.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at Mark’s words. You bit back a smile as he continued.

“So tonight we are not studying,” Mark said grabbing your hand and leading you away from the library. “We are going to the basketball game with the others to cheer on Chenle and Jeno.”

You didn’t protest as Mark led you down to the packed gym and over to where the rest of the boys were sat, waiting for the game to start.

———

After the game where your boys won, the party went out for dinner. Afterwards, Mark drove you home, the two of you talking about the game, D&D, or literally anything.

When Mark pulled into your driveway, he insisted on walking you to your steps. He said it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Hey,” Mark said when you got to your front door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Tell me how it goes, ok?” He said. You nodded giving him a smile that he returned. “Good night.”

“Night,” you called after him as he went to his car.

———

At the end of the day, your calculus teacher had finished grading the tests. She told everyone to come pick them up before they left school.

When she handed your test to you, she had a big smile on her face. She made a comment about how nicely you did and how much you improved. When you finally saw the grade, you nearly passed out.

You practically ran to Mr. Jung’s room. D&D was today and you wanted to show Mark you grade. You arrived at his classroom, bouncing into the room.

“Well someone looks happy,” Jaemin commented.

“Did something mean happen?” Jisung asked. You stuck your tongue out at the younger boy making everyone laugh.

You made you way to Mark at the head of the table, him watching you with a smile. When you reached him, you slapped the paper with a big 90% scribbled at the top down in front of him.

“All thanks to you,” you said as he continued to stare at the paper.

“I told you so,” Mark said standing up. He caught you by surprise when he gave you a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ugh, just date already,” Haechan commented from his chair. You and Mark pulled apart making a face at the boy, but avoiding each other’s eyes.

It’s not that you were entirely opposed to dating Mark. You just didn’t know if he felt the same way. And he didn’t. Right?

———

You and Mark continued your study sessions even after you proved you didn’t need to. You both agreed that it was to benefit both of you and not just an excuse to hang out.

One day, while walking out of calculus with Renjun, the boy made a comment that rocked your world.

“He likes you, ya know,” Renjun said.

“W-what,” you sputtered turning to him.

“Mark, he likes you,” He clarified. “I know like bro code, I’m not supposed to tell you or whatever, but I see the way you two look at each other. We all do. You should ask him out. He’d say yes.”

You stopped dead in your tracks thinking for a second. On one hand, this plan that you were formulating could embarrass you. On the other, you could get a date with your dungeon master / calculus tutor / crush.

“Y/n?” Renjun said turning to you. You quickly turned on your heel and made a mad dash for Mark’s locker. “Y/n!”

———

As you speed walked to Mark, you saw him in the distance talking to Jeno and Jaemin. Mark spotted you coming to him and waved at you.

“Hey, Y/n what’s-“

“Do you want to go an a date with me?” You said quickly.

“W-what?” Mark said.

“Jeno, I think that’s our cue,” Jaemin said dragging Jeno away.

“Do you want to go in a date with me?” You asked again, slower this time. Mark looked at you wide eyed, like a dear in headlights.

“A-a date?” He asked. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake. “Wow.”

“Wow?” You asked.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just never thought you’d ask and I’d have to do it,” Mark said. “But yes, I’d love to go on a date.”

“Oh thank god,” you said leaning against the lockers. Mark laughed at your dramatic reaction. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and turned you around to walk to lunch. As you turned, you and Mark stopped and saw the six other members of your party standing there amused.

“God, finally,” Haechan said.

“Took you long enough,” Chenle said.

As the eight of you walked to lunch, the boys continued to tease you and Mark. But when you looked up at him with his arm still around your shoulder, the teasing didn’t matter when Mark smiled at you.

———

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

prompt: modern MDZS, Wen Qing berating someone as she does DIY bullet removal

Leverage AU, huh? Sounds like you want to talk about a Leverage AU. For this H/C ask meme!

“Everything was under control, Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling through clenched teeth. There’s drying blood gluing his slacks to his skin and sweat beading on his forehead and throat, but his hands don’t tremble as he lowers himself into a chair. He at least has the good grace to sit at the table, so that she’ll have somewhere to put her supplies. She’s going to murder him anyway, but it’ll be much more convenient to kill him in a kitchen chair than on the couch. Wen Qing likes her couch. She intends to keep it blood-free.

“Clearly it was not,” Wen Qing half-snarls, and she snaps a hairtie around her bun to keep her hair out of her face as she glares down at him. A quick rummage in her pockets produces several purple exam gloves, liberated from the hospital during a shift and forgotten. “A-Ning, get me a towel from the kitchen, one of the flour sack ones, and a bowl of warm water, and the shears kit from the junk drawer. Everyone else, figure yourselves out, I’m not running a daycare.”

A-Ning, who’s always been a good boy even if Wen Qing is taking pains not to know what he does with his time these days, vanishes like a cat into the kitchen. Mianmian, who has sense, promptly knocks her knuckles against Wei Wuxian’s head and says, “Be good, Yuandao,” before she flops down onto the couch without regard for her regal evening gown and apparently goes to sleep. Nie Huaisang, who knows when he’s no longer needed, picks his way across the room to Wen Qing’s only armchair, and folds himself up like an origami figure that looks very unlikely in his suit.

Lan Wangji, who has never done anything convenient in his life, remains standing beside Wei Wuxian’s chair and blinks at Wen Qing.

Wen Qing has no idea why everyone pretends Lan Wangji is completely unreadable. He couldn’t be clearer if he printed make me move, I dare you on his forehead. He’s smeared with blood, all down one side from half-carrying Wei Wuxian to her doorstep, and he’s bruising up blue on one cheekbone, and there’s a table knife tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, bent out of shape into makeshift brass knuckles. Wen Qing doesn’t really feel like fighting the point just now.

“Fine,” she snaps, “just stay out of my way. And you,” she adds, pointing at Wei Wuxian. He cringes a little, because he’s smart. “We’re going to have a talk.”

“Jiejie,” A-Ning says, reappearing with towels and trauma shears in hand. She doesn’t twitch when her brother pads up behind her and lays the lot on the table. Wen Qing is used to her brother drifting around like a ghost, and to his wide-eyed expression of trying to get on her good side. “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I am very mad at him,” Wen Qing says. “Bring me the water or I’ll be mad at you too.” Wei Wuxian snorts out a breathless laugh, and Wen Qing grabs the trauma shears from her tidy pack of tools to shut him up. “So,” she says, crouching down and briskly cutting up the seam of his pants toward his knee. “What the fuck happened?”

“Got shot,” Wei Wuxian says, helpfully.

“I can see that,” Wen Qing says, and only barely resists the urge to give his leg a shove and see if that makes him focus up. She cuts the extra fabric away, straight across the knee crease, and gives a light tug on the rest, just to check if she might be able to get it off immediately. Wei Wuxian makes a breathy noise, like a swallowed gasp, and she absently touches his calf, a soothing gesture until the trembling eases. “Can I get a little more detail? Was it a cop?”

“No! I’m--I’m just a hacker, people don’t shoot hackers,” Wei Wuxian says with completely false confidence. “People shoot, I don’t know, cat burglars and hitters. Lan Zhan’s been shot, right, Lan Zhan?”

“Clearly, people shoot hackers too,” Lan Wangji says flatly. But then, because he’s weak, he adds, conciliatory, “But yes. Five times. It is my job.”

“My brother’s never been shot, right?” Wen Qing raises her voice at the end, over the rush of water in the other room, and hears a squeak of alarm.

“Uh--that’s right, A-jie!”

“Because I would kill him,” Wen Qing tells Wei Wuxian matter-of-factly. “And then I would kill his entire team that got him shot. You understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nie Huaisang confirms from the armchair, because he might be a ruthless son of a bitch when he feels like it, a mastermind whose best game is poker and has the mask to prove it, but he’s also a well-trained younger brother and he’s never once had the guts to fuck with Wen Qing. “Wen Ning has never been shot.”

“Good,” Wen Qing says forbiddingly. “Because I don’t ask questions about what you get my brother into,” she continues to Wei Wuxian. “Just like I didn’t ask questions about how my brother paid for my degree. But that doesn’t mean you get to show up on my doorstep at eleven on a Saturday night with a bullet hole in your leg, and answer no questions.”

“That’s fair,” Mianmian says, without opening her eyes. “You have to give her that one, Yuandao.”

A-Ning slips back into the room and puts a metal bowl of warm water on the floor next to Wen Qing’s knee, and then walks into the bathroom, because he’s a good boy and he knows what she’ll need before she can even ask for it.

“This is going to hurt,” she tells Wei Wuxian, quiet and serious. "Keep talking, it’ll keep you awake.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he complains as she wrings out a cloth until it’s only damp. “You won’t even let me pass out? I got shot! I got shot taking down the CEO of an oil company, by the way, you should--fuck!”

Wen Qing’s free hand locks around Wei Wuxian’s lower leg, a practiced grip to hold him in place as he startles at the pressure on the wound. “Hold still, and it’ll be quicker. Tell me about your latest idiot crusade, Wuxian.”

She soaks the blood-stiff cloth until it can be cut away and lets Wei Wuxian’s shaking voice wash over her, barely listening. Something about an oil spill, and a family whose entire town was crippled when the fishing industry went belly up. It’s all very idealistic. It’s all very Wei Wuxian. They got the guy on camera shooting a civilian, though, which is apparently just icing on Mianmian’s grifter cake of very illegal bank transfers and a burgeoning RICO case.

“Okay,” Wen Qing says, when she’s cut away the rest of Wei Wuxian’s pant leg and exposed the bullet wound--halfway up his outer thigh, blessedly clear of the artery, but clearly a very small caliber, the kind of thing a CEO might be able to get into a benefit without looking excessively paranoid. Which brings her to... “Well, this is going to suck a lot,” she says.

“It already sucks a lot,” Wei Wuxian says, and his laugh is a little hysterical. “What in particular are you thinking about?”

“Next time,” Wen Qing says, carefully dipping her tweezers in rubbing alcohol, “get shot with a bigger gun.”

“Absolutely not. What? I’m not getting shot again, and definitely not with a bigger gun, what is wrong with you?”

“This bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Wen Qing says. “So I’m going to have to take it out. A-Ning, come here and hold a light. Lan Wangji, hold him down.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breath and it trembles, but for all his dramatics, he’s never been a coward. Once, when Wen Qing was in undergrad and she and her brother were surviving the fallout of the Wen mob going to prison in droves and Wei Wuxian had just been kicked out of the Jiangs, he cut open his palm with a broken glass. He sat on the floor and let Wen Qing pick shards out of his skin for twenty-five minutes, and joked and teased the entire time.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m ready.”

It’s a bad hour, as Wen Qing pulls the bullet from his thigh and then puts two stitches in the hole. Wei Wuxian doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, just takes shallow, shuddering breaths and doesn’t move. Sometimes he even laughs, a ragged sound of apparently genuine amusement when A-Ning wonders aloud if Jiang Yanli is going to kill them before Wen Qing gets the chance, and a bark of vicious humor when Nie Huaisang reports that their target’s been arrested on more fraud charges than you could shake a stick at.

“We’re not telling A-Li,” Wei Wuxian says when Wen Qing finally tapes down gauze and collects her bloodied tools into the emptied water bowl. “She’ll come look sad at me.”

Wen Qing summarily ignores him. Instead, she looks at Lan Wangji, who looks nearly as shaken as Wei Wuxian. He’s not holding him down anymore, but his hands are still resting on those stiff shoulders, a thumb smoothing over the skin at the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck just above his collar. Wei Wuxian’s head tips a little toward that side, resting lightly on Lan Wangji’s forearm without apparent concern for the blood on the hitter’s wrist. Maybe Wei Wuxian’s, maybe whoever got to experience the pleasure of being punched by one of the Twin Jades.

“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji firmly. "I can get him antibiotics--you are taking them, Wei Wuxian--but I’m not getting him painkillers, because the second he feels okay he’s going to get A-Ning to teach him to free climb a building or something, and A-Ning is going to do it because I raised him terribly, I guess.”

“Hey,” A-Ning says.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I will keep Wei Ying from doing anything stupid,” Lan Wangji recites obediently, and goes up a few notches in Wen Qing’s estimation.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Qing-jie,” Wei Wuxian says, stirring like he’s going to get up, and Wen Qing stands and sighs and scowls, and peels off her gloves to make a neat little ball of latex in one palm, all the blood concealed inside.

“You can stay here,” she says. “You can take A-Ning’s room and he’ll sleep on the couch. Everyone else, you have to get out unless you want to sleep on the floor, though,” she adds, pointing to the two in her living room.

“I will stay,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yeah,” Wen Qing says, already distracted by the odds of being able to find a pharmacy open at this hour. “A-Ning has a full, you’ll fit.” Wei Wuxian makes a choking noise, which she ignores. “I’m going out to get ahold of some meds for you. Don’t do anything stupid, and lock up if anyone leaves. A-Ning, don’t let this idiot leave.”

“I won’t, A-jie,” A-Ning says obediently, and Wen Qing stomps into her bedroom to change into something not speckled with blood.

#the untamed #mdzs #wen qing #wei wuxian #wen ning #leverage au #fic meme #ask meme #starlight writes stuff #YOOOOOO SORRY THIS IS LONG BUT IT WAS SO MUCH FUN #okay so here's the deets on the leverage au #ex-insurance-investigator-turned-mastermind!nhs grifter!mianmian hacker!wwx hitter!lwj and thief!wen ning #wen qing and wen ning were already disowned by the wen empire when the wens went down because wq refused to be a mob doctor #she and wen ning observe a strict Don't Ask Don't Tell policy about his payment for her medical degree #but he's really good at stealing and they're mutually PHENOMENALLY well-educated on every crime possible #golden tower insurance used to employ the nie bros but nmj died and nhs blames them and got hired to oversee some thieves #before lwj worked with leverage (which was actually wwx's idea that he brought to nhs and continues to spearhead)#he worked with lxc as a grifter/hitter team (the so-called twin jades) that the nies hunted for literally years #to the extent that nmj and lxc like...went and got drinks a couple times. they were bros. lxc has Strong Protective Feelings about nhs.#they bring lxc in as a guest grifter sometimes as well as sometimes using jc and jyl as Legitimate Business comrades #meng yao still works for golden tower and the endgame shit here is taking down the ceo of golden tower #and installing his son in his place because jzx gets to be kind of unexpectedly tight with leverage inc over time #the rest of these will not be so long but i got hype about this one #i'm not going to queue this i'm just gonna post it #tanoraqui #asked and answered

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chaoticspacefam · 3 years

Text

OC Music Meme

I was tagged by @raven-of-domain-kwaad , thank you! :D I shall tag (no pressure as always, only if you want to!): @mercurypilgrim , @mimabeann, @rainofaugustsith , @thelastenvoyyy , @a-master-procrastinator and anyone else who wants to do this one, yes, I promise I mean you!

Yaaay another music meme, I LOVE these, as any of my long-term followers/mutuals probably know :P Oh no, Raven what have you done! 🤣🤣

List one or more songs that relate to the following

*drags Rai and her three consecutive playlists full of songs in here and plops her down proudly* Now I’m not joking when I say combined her three playlists would run for ~10 hrs if I played them all back-to-back. Sooooo for that reason I will be trying to restrict myself to 3-4 songs per “question”, except for the last one which is annotated with an explanation there, ANYWAYS!

reminds you of them most:

Down To The Bottom - Dorothy :: This is a very new one to her playlist (discovered a few days ago), but it still vibes so well with Saarai’s attitude to love, and her need to have some sort of emotional closeness to other people, to love and be loved, or else she just doesn’t function quite right

Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats :: This was one of Rai’s first EVER theme songs that made it onto her list as I gave the Ahaszaai the backstory that led to them becoming main characters, so it feels only right that I include it here. To me it perfectly sums up her character progression, from a frightened young woman with a lot of skeletons in her closet and no willingness to be a commander of anything or confidence that she could, to a strong and dedicated leader willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people she works with, and make sure that the person who once took it from her family will suffer the righteous justice he deserves for his actions. Oddly enough, Saarai never goes back to take over the Sith Empire as D’leah planned (in Subterfugeverse anyways), they do eventually “come home” and build something of their own with the other members of the Alliance <3

Bruno Is Orange - Hop Along :: This song is very important too. It makes me feel a lot of things and as I developed more of Saarai’s backstory and began tying everything together, it became an essential part of her backstory. This is 100% a “Saarai Song” in my brain (and I’ve had the script for that meme planned out for over a year, I’ll get to it soon :3), summing up the chaos and her own feelings on what happened with Tsâhis (and her mother and sister’s reactions to finding out about what happened, and Ty, the baby which resulted from that clusterfuck of a relationship)

Someone New - Hozier :: Kinda supplements “Down To The Bottom”, Saarai was a character who puzzled me sexuality-wise for a long time, she has a lot to unpack and a lot of nuances in her attractions, and for a long time (because it is the default for modern media) I tried to shove her in the monogamy box, except...that doesn’t work for Saarai LMAO. I remembered this song existed one day (I think it came up on Youtube shuffle or something) and it was the lightbulb that went on in my head that finally clicked and told me she was actually polyam as well (though ironically I forgot to actually put it in her playlist until @darth-bagel reminded me it existed again a few months ago LOL).

reminds another character of them:

All The Pretty Girls - KALEO :: (Sash - Zephyrverse AU) This one had a few options too, but I think this is the best song that Sash would associate with Saarai. Their relationship was slow burn, although there was near-immediate attraction there, Sash struggled with self-doubt and her own insecurities for a long time, firmly believing that Saarai would get bored of waiting for her to be “ready” to take things further and explore other options (she didn’t. They’ve been married something like 20+, nearing 30 years now, you’re stuck with her sweetie <3)

The Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy :: (Lana - Subterfugeverse) “I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do.” Lana wasn’t looking for Saarai when she found her, but Lana wouldn’t have it any other way. Though Lana is a big pillar of support for Saarai, and Saarai in turn is the social “glue” that holds the Alliance together, what many people don’t realise is that the feeling is mutual and Lana relies upon her just as much. Saarai’s dependable, and trustworthy, even if sometimes she makes Lana want to roll her eyes into the ceiling because of her antics, she wouldn’t want to change her for anything, it’s that part of Saarai that she secretly loves the most because it reminds Lana that it’s okay to unwind and have fun or be silly every once in a while, especially with the people you love.

Shut Up And Dance - WALK THE MOON :: (Koth - Subterfugeverse) Koth’s relationship with Saarai took a lot longer to develop into something openly romantic because Saarai had a lot of stuff to work through before she could accept her own feelings for him, but the cantina party at the end of KOTFE was the moment that Koth realised she was comfortable with him, because it’s the first time she really opened up to him, the first time she asked him to do anything together, and the first time she didn’t flinch or jump away from him when he touched her.

reminds you of a relationship of theirs, doesn’t have to be romantic, can be paternal, friendly etc.: I’m taking that as an invitiation to do a song for each of the main ones of any kind and that means this one has like six songs because...Saarai has a lot of influencial relationships in her character arc, I’m sorry (but not really) :’)

Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons :: Saarai & D’leah (Familial, It’s Complicated). This one is probably gonna be the “controversial” song of this post but you know what I’m gonna do it anyway. Saarai and D’leah have a very complicated relationship, because on the one hand Saarai does love her mother very much in spite of the horrible things she said and did, and on the other...the last thing that she wants is to turn out like her. And sometimes, sometimes you gotta call your mom out on her toxic shit. Hey Brother - Aviici :: Saarai & Ni’kasi (Familial Love). “What if I lose it all? Oh sister, I will help you out. Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you...there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” The “brother” part does not apply to the twins, gender-wise, but the essence of this song is undoubtedly Saarai & Ni’kasi’s relationship. When Saarai thought she had no-one else, Ni’kasi was there to pick up the pieces and get her back onto her feet. They’re ride or die till the very end, wherever Saarai leads, she knows Ni’kasi will follow her.

Son of A Gun - Lord Huron :: Saarai & Tsâhis (Romantic ”Love”, though I’mma be very clear here that he was a manipulative abusive asshole, but Saarai loved him so...quotation marks. Y’get it yeah? Good.) “Well she fell in love with that son of a gun, but he was not the man that she took him for.” This line in particular sums it up. Saarai was young, naive and a perfect target for someone like Tsâhis to take advantage of because she didn’t know any better and believed him when he said he “loved her”, only for him to pull the rug out from under her feet later on. (he got his tho, don’t worry 😈)

Youth - Glass Animals :: Saarai & Tyûk (Maternal Love). This is the closest I can find to a song that sums up their relationship, I have a lot of thoughts about it but there are very few songs (that I’ve found) that touch upon the essence of Saarai & Ty’s relationship. D’leah chose to blame Ty for his father’s actions, Saarai chose the opposite. She chose to love him in spite of what his father had done to her, and to make sure he grew up feeling safe, loved, and learnt to be better than that.

Curses - The Crane Wives :: Saarai/Sash (Romantic Love) Both Saarai and Sash have had difficult pasts, with a lot of emotional trauma, and they both had hurdles they had to overcome in order for their relationship to truly work and stay healthy. But with each others’ support, they’ve managed it and are all the closer for it. If you asked either of them where “home” was, they’d say the other’s name.

Sorry I Stole Your Girlfriend - Stereo Skyline :: Saarai/Lana/Koth (Romantic Love). Okay, I really really wanted to pick a more serious song from their playlist for them, BUT....this song is the song that started this ship in my brain so here we are. LMAO Originally, this popped into my brain as an idea of Saarai’s response to Koth’s attempt at getting between them in that scene of KOTFE on the Gravestone. Koth and Saarai’s moral compasses are very similar and I wanted them to sit down and have a proper, healthy discussion about their feelings instead of becoming enemies and sort of agreeing not to hold a grudge against each other, though I didn’t expect for that piece to get away from me and for Saarai to end up developing feelings for Koth too, I can’t say I’m unhappy with it. I love them and I will fight anyone who tells me I can’t make them an OT3, I can, I will, and I have. >:) (Healthy Polyam Good, Love Triangles Are Fucking Stupid (tm). No I am not taking criticism on this lmao) Though Saarai & Koth’s relationship isn’t sexual in any way, they love each other just as much as they love Lana, just express it differently. So even though the snideness of this song doesn’t really apply to them, I kept it in their playlist and it also became their ship name because it was too good to pass up, though “Stole” is in inverted commas as it’s definitely more of an inside joke between the three of them than actually seriously accusing them of stealing each others’ girlfriend. 🤣 (as always, Saarai & Koth thinks it’s hilarious, Lana rolls her eyes at the stupid pun but also secretly thinks it’s funny as hell)

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #swtor OCs #tagged meme #OC music meme #swtor oc: saarai ahaszaai #sith pureblood #the outlander #LS! eternal empress #subterfugeverse #ot3: sorry i ''stole'' your girlfriend #saarai/lana/koth #saarai x tsâhis #zephyrverse au #saarai/sash #the ahaszaai twins #the sith twins #yes i have written down a lot of stuff regarding the ot3's relationship and how it developed etc #one day i will throw them out into the world when i feel like they're ready #but they're not ready yet so sorry y'all you gotta wait #but trust me when i say this is very elaborately planned out #LMAO #[banging pots and pans] they're. poly. and. in. love. fucking. deal. with. it. or. leave #my ships my rules #complicated mother daughter relationships are complicated #projection? i don't know her #no sir #tw: manipulation #tw: abusive relationship

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astyle-alex · 3 years

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[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim]

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

It could save lives.

So… fiddling.

Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

And then… it wasn’t.

One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

A big flash of blinding light.

Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_ _ _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

It found an Angel.

Sorta.

It found a something.

And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

Yeah. BIG Weird.

Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

HELLA Big Weird.

So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

Personally.

And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

Charlie’s met Castiel.

Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

But, like, a cool alien.

Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

Not really.

For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

He is looking for something, though.

Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

So, she makes the call.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, they do.”

“Okay. And?”

“They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

“Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

“Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

“Trench coat?”

“I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

“Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

“Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

“What if he really wants to head out?”

“Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

Only to find him looking back.

For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

But he seems kinda zonked.

And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

He’s not really expressing anything.

He’s just looking.

It’s weird.

Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

It makes her shiver.

But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

He blinks, real slow like.

Then he nods.

Relief floods Charlie.

Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

“So, kid, what’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

“My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

The kid simply frowns.

“So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

“My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

“Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

“One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

“You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

“Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

The kid rolls his eyes.

It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

“Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

“But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

“Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

Immediately, he softens.

“Hey, what happened? You okay?”

Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

“Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

“Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

“Like apocalypses?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

“Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

“Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

“Yeah,” she tells him.

“So where are you now?”

“Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

“Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

“That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

“So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

“Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

“And..?”

Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

Sounds totally doable, right?

In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_ _ _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

#fanfiction #fanfic #batman #batman & robin #BatFam #DCU #dcu fanfic #SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #destiel #jay x tim #jason todd x tim drake #dean x castiel #multiverse #crossover #charlie bradbury

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himox · 4 years

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BNHA Boy’s During the 10 Minute Kiss Challenge (With S/O!) Ft. Izuku, Shoto, Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Hawks.

A/N: I’ll leave the link to the video at the end of the post.

Summary: A new’s station decided to interview class 1-A for a day, having them do fun challenges to complete, as the only couple in your class, you and your BNHA boy of choice have to do the 10 minute kissing challenge! (Pretend it’s Valentine’s Day in this particular arc, haha).

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Ok, so we know Izuku would be shy via public with his relationship, so once he heard the challenge in store for the both of you, he was already a blushing mess

(I cannon him to be a closet perv, so he’s more comfortable when you’re alone ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) )

When the time starts, he’s still just as red in the face

However, throughout the challenge, his face reverts back to the original shade, a hint of pink still on his cheeks

Sitting in those chairs, you’d have your hands on his cheeks, his on your waist, trying to tilt to find a comfortable position

He randomly starts to ramble about some of his All Might theories, while you ask questions in between

You two just start giggling halfway between the competition, making conversation

You talk about your new special moves, or random questions about the class

“Hey babe?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think Tokoyami needs to migrate in the winter?”

“Princess, I don’t think that’s how it works-”

Then you both start talking about schoolwork, upcoming tests, etc

“Do you wanna study with me on Wednesday?”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You eventually shifted onto his chair, your legs draped across his

You guys finish with a big, “MWAH!”

He keeps his arm around you while you both answer some questions the station has

Overall, he loved it, he had fun, and got to kiss you, what could be better?

SHOTO TODOROKI

When the director announced what you and Todoroki would be doing,

They received a shocked stare from the whole class

Let me give you some background information:

Todoroki is touched starved, that’s obvious, so when you started dating and the kisses became a regular thing,

He yearned for your kisses

Movie night in the common room and you’re both early? Make-out session.

You’re the last ones to change back into your uniforms? Make-out session.

The teacher left to go to the bathroom? Make-out session.

You get it

And this man has no shame if someone is in the room while doing so, he will grope, use tongue, the whole 9-yards

Once the timer started:

You were already straddled on his lap, tongues down eachothers throats

Que 1A covering their eyes, with the acception of Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, and Iida, who was just trying to get you to stop

And if you thought this kid would hold the groping since, y’know, this is being recorded

You’re w r o n g

One hand was wrapped around your waist, the other switching to your chest and ass, squeezing

You didn’t even talk, just exchanged saliva the whole time

Your hands were on Todorokis cheeks, cupping his face

Once the timer went out, everyone was rejoicing, no longer having to see the sight in front of them

Wrong again, you just kept going, falling out of the chair

It took Aizawa, Iida, Shoji, and Sero to get the two of you off eachother

You and Todorki obviously loved it, the funny part was that you guys showed no shame, especially with your lipstick all over Todoroki’s face

KATSUKI BAKUGO

Bakugo, being the person he is, acted like he didn’t want to do the show at all

Regardless, you dragged him out anyway

When he heard you and him would be doing a challenge, they had his attention immediately

Better yet, one where you guys got to make out the whole time

Once it was said the timer started, you just went along with a heated make out session, but the mood was ruined when his friends started taunting him

“GET SOME BAKU-BRO!”

(Muffled) “SHUT UP-”

Eventually you just start talking to eachother, more like Bakugo just starts talking to the camera

“I’ve already come up with multiple moves that’ll be better than anyone else’s, it’ll kick everyones ass.”

“Even mine?”

He’d just slap your ass, responding with, “Nah, that’s for my own needs.”

He loved having the excuse to have his lips on yours, bragging about himself, sometimes you, too

“This body is all mine,” he glared at the camera

“You’re so sweet when you want to be, babe.”

“I’M ALWAYS SWEET, WHAT DO YOU MEAN-”

After the challenge finished, he just had a smug ass smirk

As you were standing up from the chair, he nonchalantly slapped your ass

“We’re finishing this later.”

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

“HELL YEAH!”

He was excited, he loves you, he loves kissing you!

I feel liked you’d almost be doing the kabedon, without your arm, his would be around your shoulders while supporting your neck (It was the manly thing to do!), his other draped on your cheek

The crew asked you both some questions to answer

“What was the funniest moment between the two of you?”

You both pondered for a moment before you snapped your fingers,

“Kiri and I were training, and he accidentally punched me directly in the face, he wouldn’t stop crying for a week!”

“bABe tHaT wAsN’T fuNny-”

You both had fun remembering about older memories you had

“Remember that time where you took my headband?”

“You wouldn’t give it back before I promised to get you one of your own.”

The camera crew was suddenly drawn to the attention of the red headband, similar to Kiri’s, sitting on your head

“My girlfriend is so manly...”

“It’s all you, Kiri.”

You guys finished the challange with a bunch of quick pecks, goofy smiles on both of your faces

You guys are trying to beat 20 minutes now!

DENKI KAMINARI

You guys were already the overly affectionate couple

Even before the show started, you were sitting in his lap, sharing a Capri-Sun

You and Denki were so excited when you found out what you got to do!

You got to kiss without anybody reprimanding you or gagging!

(People still did)

Before they even started the clock, you both started making out

Eventually he randomly stopped and started laughing on your lips

Which caused you to laugh

Which left everybody confused

You both started quoting random memes and vines, suprsingly people understood with either one’s tongue down the other’s throat

You guys started humming random songs, moving your intertwined hands to the beat

Then you guys started making stupid arguments

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are-”

“No-”

“Yes-”

“N O -”

“Y-” “YOU BOTH ARE, SHUT UP!”

Thanks Bakugo

You guys just acted the same as if your lips weren’t on eachothers

“Babeeeeeeee”

“(Y/NNNNNN)”

At the end, you pepper his face in small little kisses,

10/10, would do again

BONUS:

Keigo Takami

You weren’t suprised when the both of you were called into an interview

Being the Number 4 hero had its perks, plus, it wasn’t the first time you both had been called in together

Similar to Denki, EVERYONE knew you two were together

Endeavor was close to ripping his ears out hearing him babble about your guys latest date to him

So when the producers said that today would be a bit different, both of your ears perked up

“Well why wouldn’t I miss the opportunity to kiss my chickadee for 10 minutes??”

You’re sitting on his lap, and it’s basically like nobody was watching

You guys already do this, especially when patrol has nothing special to offer

“Hey, can we have chicken tonight?”

“Didn’t we have that last week, babe?”

“Yeah, but...It’s chicken...”

“Well when you put it like that, sure.”

“Thanks, nugget.”

Some of your fans from the audience had questions

“Who snores the loudest?”

Your finger already pointed at Hawks, but his finger that was pointed to himself beat you first

“Thanks, kid.”

“No problem, chicken man.”

Once the time was off, Hawks didn’t loosen his grip on your waist, letting out a muffled yell,

“Add 10 more minutes!”

You both eventually had to be escorted out for adding 10 minutes every time the timer when out.

As promised: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tOZHuFsuh_o

youtube

#Youtube

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wincore · 5 years

Text

troublemaker | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 6.9k

prompt: anonymous sent: hello! Could I request with an au with either bad boy yangyang or jaemin thank you so much !!!

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff

warnings: mild language and mentions of a bunch of juvenile things, possible character inaccuracies

a/n: as these aus go, he’s not really a bad person he just.......does a lot of.....questionable things.......and he’s............pretty annoying.........

and this got weirdly long, but enjoy!

Your first mistake was to assume Liu Yangyang is just shy.

When he walked into the classroom, with a smile you perceived as nervous but still as wide and sweet as can be, you thought he’d be pleasant to deal with. Looking past the dark clothing and a peek of a tattoo on his neck (you never really believed in judging books by the cover), you thought he was funny even, the way he spoke and the way he stood. You might have even thought he was cute. He didn’t talk much the first day, barely any polite conversation either, and that was what led you to believe that Yangyang is just shy, or introverted. But you were quite wrong, you figured out eventually.

New kids don’t make a reputation as fast as Liu Yangyang did. He found friends in the troublemakers at the back of the class, sooner or later unravelling what you would label as an obnoxious personality; and now he walks boldly through the halls, says whatever comes to his mind, and overall, he’s as tame as a wild horse. His smile, which you might have thought was cute at some point of time, now looks more of a devilish grin to you, only making an appearance when he’s making a joke at your expense, talking back to people he shouldn’t be talking back to, and all the other things that make him unpleasant. He lets his tattoos show in full view, and while you find the vines curling up his neck fascinating, you’d rather be dead than caught staring.

Despite Yangyang’s obvious connections with the devil, everybody adores him. Every time he walks through the hallways, you can almost hear your fellow classmates sigh out ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s. It’s embarrassing to you, the way he’s allowed to have his way when he obviously doesn’t deserve it. He’s the very epitome of bad influence, and wherever he goes, trouble follows. It’s not uncommon for him and his gang to get into fights, as you’ve noticed them running through the alleyways at the dead of night from dangerous looking thugs, their laughter disrupting the quiet neighbourhood. (It’s confirmed when he shows up to class with bandages wrapped around his bleeding knuckles and bruises blooming along his jaw.) Vandalizing isn’t off their to-do list either and the one time you caught Yangyang spray-painting a yellow rose on the school wall, he pulled you into a quiet corner, putting a finger over his lips before you could say anything. He left with a wink, not a word of explanation escaping his lips.

You especially hate the way Yangyang treats you. You don’t know what you’ve ever done to him, in the year and a half you’ve known him, but he’s taken it upon himself to be the bane of your existence. Every time you see the sadistic little shit, you resist the urge to turn around and skip the class altogether. And you would have, if it weren’t for your fear of failing the class.

“Hey!” you’re greeted with widest grin from someone who shouldn’t be sitting in your place.

“That’s my place,” you state bluntly.

Yangyang clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t move, leaning further onto the chair, resting his chin upon his arms on the headrest.

“I know that,” he says, tilting his head.

“Get off,” you say, absolutely unprepared to deal with this right in the morning. You can already feel a headache creeping onto you, as if the one in front of you isn’t enough already.

But he doesn’t move, no, and he has the audacity to smile and command you to “say please!”

You groan, and by this time the rest of your class have already turned their heads to focus on the two of you—a daily source of entertainment they probably won’t lose very soon.

“Yangyang,” you begin, “please get off.”

Yangyang frowns. Perhaps he was expecting you to flare up as usual, keep up the squabble. Whatever he thought, it doesn’t matter now when you’re too tired to deal with everything, especially him. He gets up reluctantly, and mumbles something your ears aren’t tuned enough to catch, and when you look at him, he’s not really looking your way. Whatever, you tell yourself. At least it’s a more peaceful morning than usual.

But it’s also strange to not have his voice, a tad too cheery, dangerously close to getting you riled up. He likes interrupting when you speak, full of useless opinions, doesn’t let you leave class without at least one stupid comment on how you look, making you feel a little sick in the stomach sometimes at how awkward he makes you look, and the purpose of his existence seems to be heaven’s way of testing you. When you asked him once, by the corridor long after classes had ended just what exactly his problem is, he seemed at a loss for words (highly unusual) and pretended to think, dramatically placing his fingers under his chin.

“Because I think you’re neat,” he said with a cheeky grin before turning and leaving with a wave.

You never really understood what he meant, and you’re still trying to figure it out. Maybe he needs someone to pick on, and even if he doesn’t do anything dangerously harmful to you, there are times when he just gets on your nerves. He doesn’t have to blow up your test tube in the chemistry lab, or throw shredded paper bits at you in the corridors, but he does anyway. He doesn’t have to tell you, you look like a seal when you arrive late and disgruntled to class, but he does. He doesn’t have to yell ‘catch!’ with barely a second for you to react before hitting you in the face with a basketball, he doesn’t have to suppress his laughter at you for getting tears in your eyes after getting hurt, but he does. You might have even forgiven him for all these things if he were your friend, but he’s not and that’s the whole point.

Despite everything, Yangyang still holds his childlike innocence. A trouble child, is how you’d describe him—only doing these things, these socially unacceptable things, for attention, for fun, or just to act out, and not to be mean in particular. Even in his appearance, his teasing, his movement, there’s something outrageously innocent. Maybe it’s his bright smile, the genuine one, that reminds of you of sunflowers, not cigarettes or motorbikes, or the tint of his cheeks in winter proving him wrong when he’s adamant on not getting a sweater because he doesn’t need it. Maybe it’s how he looks like a boy laying on the grass in the nearby park all alone with his eyes closed, letting the afternoon sunlight play with his hair and lashes. (You totally weren’t staring, and you totally didn’t run away when he noticed you.)

You didn’t mean for your daydreams to progress into thoughts about a guy hellbent on ruining your days, but when you snap back to reality, class is already over. You catch yourself sighing at yet another wastage of class time when you promised yourself you’ll focus on the subject more. You get up sluggishly, but you’re met with Yangyang staring intently at you. You’re sure nothing of worth is going to escape his mouth—he talks too much sometimes, and you need to get to the next class.

“Wait,” Yangyang scrambles after you, while the rest of his group snickers.

“I’m going to be late,” you tell him and excuse yourself, barely sparing him a glance. It’s not unusual for you to ignore him, but you know he’s going to be extra annoying the next day.

You think it’s just your luck to trip down the stairs, and scrape your knees right after all the classes are over. Thankfully, there was no one around and while your knees burn like crazy, you get home just fine. The blue skies harbouring dainty afternoon clouds and the cool breeze are a little too upbeat, and you feel yourself anticipating summer break with a sigh of relief.

Your afternoon nap has you revaluating your life choices, and you greet the reds and purples of the sky with a feeling of regret. Your to-do list for yet another day has been thrown into jeopardy. You probably won’t be able to sleep tonight until it’s too late and your sleep schedule is going to be off for the entire week, not to mention the dark circles you’ll end up with. As you feel yourself getting worked up, an uncomfortable feeling rising in the pit of your stomach, you end up wasting some more time much to your aggravation.

Most of the days, you don’t even know where your time goes. It’s like you’re not you, you’re not the same person during the day or the night or any hour you have in your grasp. It feels like watching a timelapse video of a person who’s not you, and being forced to accept that it is, in fact, you and you’re not very happy with that, to say the least.

By the time you begrudgingly take out your notebooks to prepare for your upcoming tests, a task far too daunting for a poor soul like you, it’s already the dark hours of night. You grimace at the topics you don’t understand, and consider procrastinating some more—maybe you should check the newer memes your friends sent you, or fall into the never-ending spiral of videos, or finally start the books that you purchased left unread on your shelf. But no, your fear of failure won’t allow you to, and neither will the sense of responsibility you might even have come to pride yourself on.

Neither of your two qualities, however, prepared you for a sudden turn of events. When the neighbourhood should be asleep, you hear rapid knocks on your windows and you whip your head around to face it. The curtains are drawn, and fear creeps in—what if it’s a murderer? A thief? A grotesque monster to bring back your childhood fears?

You take hesitant steps towards the window when the knocking gets violently loud. You’re afraid that whatever is out there might shatter your glass, calling for your neighbours’ attention. Before you can regret it, you draw the curtains to find a frantic Yangyang, whose eyes widen at your appearance. He turns his head around once to check something and looks back at you, gesturing wildly for you to open the latch. You gulp and do as he says, and he immediately climbs in. His footsteps are a little heavy and he closes the windows again, before reaching for the light switches and plunging your room to darkness. He glances outside the window once again, possibly noticing something as he pushes you against the wall beside the window, his hand over your mouth to ensure you don’t spill the obvious questions, or a scream. You stay like that for a few minutes, a few agonizing minutes that you spend glaring at him.

Yangyang peeks through the window once again and sighs in relief, falling to the floor with his head in his hands. You gape at him, a little dazed from this sudden appearance while he rests on the floor of your bedroom.

“Uh,” you start wisely.

Yangyang whips his head towards you, finally remembering your presence and the fact that this is your bedroom.

“Uh,” he responds, springing back up and moving his arms to accompany his explanation. “Sorry about this. Really sorry. I didn’t even know this was your house! I—”

“Yangyang,” you rub your temples. “Get to the point.”

“Well. We…kind of got into trouble, and I’m pretty sure those thugs had knives and I didn’t want to die today, so.”

“What?” your eyes widen. You move to the window, and reach for the curtains but Yangyang grips you by the arm.

“What are you doing?!” he whisper-yells. “Do you want to die?”

You realize the situation and gently tug your hand back.

“Oh,” you say, “well what about- what about the rest of your friends?”

“It was just me and Renjun,” Yangyang explains, “and he’s pretty good at hiding so I’m not too concerned.”

“Okay,” you nod, absolutely not comprehending the odd circumstances.

“Really?” he asks with a sudden half-smile, “Aren’t you even a little bit worried about me?”

Yangyang takes a seat in your chair, arms sprawling over the armrest. You furrow your brows at the return of Yangyang from school, and wonder how he’s the least bit concerned that he could have been seriously wounded, or even died today.

“Are you serious?” you say before rolling your eyes and turning on the lights.

Yangyang laughs, a sweet tone contrasting his black sweatshirt and ripped jeans, as he leans further back onto your cushioned chair.

“Get off my chair,” you scowl.

“Oh, come on. We’re not at school.”

Yangyang crosses his legs and throws his head back to further his exaggerated comfort, and it does nothing to help your deepening frown.

“Alright, get out of my room,” you tell him as calmly as possible.

He sits back up straight with wide eyes. “What? You want me to go out there- out there and risk my life?”

You put your head against your palms and sigh. You can’t actually kick him out—he’s right, it could be very dangerous and it just doesn’t settle right with your conscience to do such a thing.

“Now, you don’t have to be dramatic,” Yangyang says, a playful note in his voice.

You sit on your bed facing him and unable to do anything else, you just glare. Yangyang smiles at you, like you’re holding his favourite candy or something of the sort, before he glances down and his lips are suddenly pulled into a frown.

“Did you scrape your knees?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

You look down, a little surprised, and nod at him with an awkward ‘yeah’.

“And you didn’t even clean it?” he chides.

You don’t think Yangyang is in any position to be scolding you, but you can’t come up with a response either. To your surprise, he rushes to the washroom despite your protests and brings in a wet handkerchief to gently dab at your knees. You hiss softly at the initial contact and he stops to look at you before getting to clean it again.

“You do not want an infection, trust me,” he says, “I ended up with a fever.”

You giggle at his foul expression, and he seems to light up, a smile quirking the corners of his lips.

When he’s done, he stands back up and feels his pockets before taking out a bunch of Spiderman band-aids. He notices you staring at him a little too intently and tilts his head.

“What?” he asks, “I get scratched up a lot.”

“No,” you say, “Spiderman.”

“Well…I’m not judging you on the ridiculous amount of soft toys you have but go off I guess.”

You let out an amused laugh and he stares at you momentarily before his face breaks into a bright grin. He remembers the band-aids with an ‘ah’ and gingerly places them on your wounds.

You’re a little caught off guard at his sudden display of kindness and you end up staring at him, following the movement of his lips as he proceeds to talk about how he’d got into the mess in the first place. He keeps oscillating between different topics, frequently getting distracted to describe the one cat he seems to be enamoured with or how he’s still mad at Renjun for being able to run faster, and you can’t comprehend how normal your relation with him suddenly seems.

“You’re being nice,” you note out loud, and realize a bit too late, your ears and cheeks turning pink.

Yangyang tilts his head, a little confused but responds nonetheless, “Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do. Besides, I owe you.”

He shrugs and you smile back, letting yourself accept everything for once. He shoots off about some vague topic once more, and you wonder how you ever thought this boy was shy, too quiet even. You don’t know why he’s suddenly so friendly with you either, why he’s talking to you so much, without any hint of teasing or malice—maybe he just needs someone to tell all these things to, and you’re the only one around. But Yangyang has a way of making you feel somewhat important, even if you think you’re not. You can hardly pay attention to his words when you’re so engrossed in taking in his details—the honey hair brushing his eyelids, the curious curl of the tattooed vine at the base of his neck poking from behind his jacket and the very noticeable bruise on his jaw, the way he keeps jerking his head to the side when he needs to rethink and how he does have a cute nose, like what the girls in your class say. For a moment you try to stop thinking about it, noticing all these things—after all, he’s the sort of person you don’t think can ever bring good news. But at the same time, he’s a different person when he’s talking like this, a rather positive, happy one when he has no prying eyes or hushed whispers surrounding him. It makes you rethink a bit.

Yangyang leaves by dawn, having eaten away the better of your time. But he leaves you feeling a little different, that perhaps you had misjudged him, despite believing that you’re not someone to do so. It makes you a little uneasy but relieved all the same. That perhaps the universe isn’t all that cruel even if it did just horribly destroy your sleep schedule.

“You know, just because I let you in once doesn’t mean you can come in any time uninvited.”

You look at the boy sitting at the ledge of your window, with no obvious intentions of leaving. Yangyang pouts but he isn’t able to contain a smile, and he swings his leg over the ledge to enter properly and stand in front of you.

“I have something to show you,” he says, his words merging with each other.

“Now? At midnight?”

You’re a little unsure as to where this is going, but Yangyang has been popping in at random for the past few weeks in spite of your various displays of annoyance. Sometimes, it’s to ask you for help in physics (“Why do you need my help?” “I don’t know why you expect me to be good at physics.” “I wouldn’t if you didn’t yell the answers from the back of the class.” “…whatever.”), sometimes it’s to display his generosity by treating you to ice cream (he likes making fun of your taste for some reason, saying it’s childish) and sometimes, he just talks—in sudden bursts of words, but he talks.

“Yes!” his vocal inflection makes him sound desperate, and you know you’ll have to give in.

Yangyang grins at your defeated ‘alright’ and climbs out the window, telling you to get ready as quick as you can.

“Why do we have to go out the window?” you complain.

“Are your parents okay with you going out at midnight with a boy with tattoos?” he remarks.

You shut up and follow, carefully feeling your footing and balancing yourself before landing on the pavement with a soft thud, Yangyang gripping your waist to steady you. The contact makes you blush involuntarily, and you look anywhere but at him to avoid any comments.

Yangyang seems to be in a rush as he runs ahead of you, jogging in one place to show his impatience. He looks like a child, not the least bit intimidating like tries to be, especially towards the freshmen with his glare and all. You wonder if this the real Yangyang, the one he only lets his closest friends see.

“I hope you’re not dragging me into doing something illegal,” you call out.

Yangyang shakes his head, knitting his brows together, “Of course not!”

He doesn’t let time slip away though as he grabs your arm and starts running at an inhumane pace, with you struggling to keep up.

“The place closes at one, we have to hurry!” he notifies.

And you won’t admit but you think you enjoyed it. How long has it been since you’ve felt the wind in your lungs? Or been reckless like this? How long has it been since you’ve felt the prickle of the cold night, or race time itself? You don’t know, but you end up smiling after stopping to regain your breath.

You look at the vivid blue exterior of what seems to be a coffee shop, but the dried flowers lining the door make you reconsider.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Yangyang smiles at you.

“Why did you want to bring me here?” As much as a part of you wants to think of Yangyang as a friend, his reputation and past experiences precede him.

“I thought you’d like it,” Yangyang frowns.

After a pause, you softly say, “I do.”

He immediately seems to brighten, and opens the door a little too loudly, the ‘BANG!’ making you cringe. There are barely any customers, but it does draw the attention of the man behind the counter.

“Two drip coffees!” Yangyang says, upbeat despite the disdainful expression on the man’s face.

He pulls you into a seat, and starts talking again, this time about his old dog and the times before he became rather juvenile—painting on cars and private property, getting into fights with people three times his size or just straight up pissing off the police only to run from them. You don’t know what he does them for, what he likes to act out for and it’s hard to believe the boy in front of you, talking brightly can be the same person your school adores and fears at the same time.

“You know,” Yangyang says, his voice suddenly growing soft, “Thanks for listening.”

“Huh?” you look at him inquisitively.

“People don’t like me talking,” he says, glancing down at his fingers with a nervous laugh. “And I’m sorry. If I was ever too mean to you.”

You think out of all the things he says, he doesn’t actually say anything. It’s just incidents and events, never really feelings or what he thinks. You feel a little guilty too for resenting him so much if all he wanted was a companion, a chance to show what’s beneath the painted exterior.

Coffee tastes delicious at around one in the morning, but it also means you won’t catch a wink of sleep tonight.

“Do we have to walk?” you complain, out in the barely lit streets of the city.

“What’s wrong with walking?” he says, turning towards you and walking backwards.

“It’s making me tired. Don’t you have a motorbike or something?”

“Are you stereotyping me?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow and pointing at the racecar tattoo on his wrist.

Your shoulders shake with laughter as he breaks into another grin.

“Let’s go to Walt’s,” he suggests after a few minutes of aimless walking.

“I don’t drink,” you say, grimacing at the idea of bars and drunk people and throw up, and whatever else you knew from movies.

“Me neither,” he shrugs, “I just wanna dance.”

“Really? Of all the crimes you commit, you decide to leave out underage drinking?” you ask, amused.

“I don’t like the taste,” he defends, “Are you stereotyping me again?”

You suppress a smile and follow him to the bar, which you really feel you should regret. But you don’t, and when you’re greeted with the purple and blue neon lights at the entrance, you’re admittedly curious as to what it’s like inside. It’s not surprising that Yangyang knows where the secret entrance is, or that he knows a few of the bartenders, who he seems to have charmed already.

But the noise through the speakers is really blown out of proportion as you try to make out the gibberish people talk around you. You hold onto Yangyang’s jacket, for fear of getting lost in the dense crowd and you wonder how people make time at this hour and come all the way to drink and dance. The flashing blue lights illuminate Yangyang’s face occasionally as he pulls you through narrow gaps to a relatively quiet corner, with less people cramped in.

“There’s also a ballpit in the basement but I almost broke my arm there,” he says. “And I never really asked if you like dancing before bringing you here. Do you like dancing?”

You take a moment to decipher his quick words and shake your head, saying you’ve never really tried.

“Never tried dancing?” he repeats incredulously, “Everybody has tried dancing.”

“I don’t think dancing in my room counts.”

“That’s exactly what counts,” he says before grabbing your hand and rushing to the dance floor.

“Like this!” he yells over the music when he notices your stiffness. He proceeds to do the silliest dance move you’ve ever seen, raising an arm upwards and the other at a right angle, legs going anywhere they want. You end up laughing too hard, clutching your stomach as he tries another pose.

It’s not about looking cool here, it’s about enjoying wholeheartedly despite being swallowed inside a crowd. It’s about looking at yourself and being able to laugh off your insecurities, and you think maybe this is why Yangyang does the things he does—to laugh, to make memories to laugh about. It possibly runs deeper than that, but it’s all you can think of at the moment, grinning and laughing like friends do.

Yangyang drops you home, in your room, safely, when you become too sleepy to continue, even offering you a piggyback ride.

You can only mumble a ‘thanks’ as he makes his way to your window, turning at your voice.

“Thanks,” he tells you too before leaving with a wave.

It’s a little odd to not have quarrels with Yangyang at school (although there’s still the occasional ones where he starts it on purpose) and your classmates are a little in awe at the casual conversation you manage to have with him, even smiling at each other.

“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything?” your friend narrows her eyes at you. “Maybe about the thing between you and Mr Troublemaker?”

“There’s no thing,” you glare at her. “Is it that unbelievable that we can speak normally?”

“Obviously,” she responds, “why else would everyone be ogling you?”

You groan and place your face in your hands. This is not the reputation you’re aiming for, but a rather obscure, perhaps ugly part of you isn’t upset, it’s glad even. You suppress the feeling and scowl at nothing in particular, hoping the rest of the day passes quickly enough.

It’s terribly unusual to be greeted by Jaemin at the school gates, eyes twinkling like he knows something you don’t. You’ve no idea of what he’s like except he’s Yangyang’s friend and a flirt, and you’re bound to get your heart broken if you ever find yourself catching feelings. You quirk an eyebrow when he calls your name and smiles sweetly.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi…” you drawl out. “Do you have anything to say?”

Jaemin pouts. “Can’t I just start a conversation?”

“You can, uh,” you say, a little unsure.

“You know you’re going to be in trouble if you get too involved, yeah?” he says, focusing on his fingers and stretching them, getting to his point rather quickly.

“Sorry?” you ask, a little taken aback.

“I’m guessing Yangyang hasn’t said anything yet?”

“Said what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jaemin shakes his head, a shadow of a frown threatening to take over his pleasant expression.

“Just warning,” he says, “You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“What’s up?” a voice interrupts, and Yangyang appears by your side, his dark red t-shirt glowing under the sunlight. You’re weirdly relieved to see his face, not sure why.

Jaemin doesn’t delight him with a response, and instead laughs and pats him on the back. It’s a little strange to see Mr Troublemaker and Mr Heartbreaker (as your school has regrettably nicknamed them) in one place, although they’re part of the same group of friends. As far as you remember, they’d got off at the wrong foot in the beginning, but eventually warmed up, getting closer than ever.

“Enjoy your date,” Jaemin teases, and waves.

Before you can protest that you weren’t exactly notified about a date with anyone, Yangyang puts an arm around your shoulder, obviously displeased and mutters a ‘whatever’ guiding you far from the school entrance.

“Uh, Yangyang?” you ask, stumbling over your steps.

He stops for a few brief seconds and asks, “did he say something weird?”

“I don’t think so?” you say, unsure and trying to replay the rushed conversation you had with Jaemin.

Yangyang shakes his head, a little antsy, and starts walking, expecting you to follow.

“Where are we going?” you ask, before the word ‘date’ flashes across your mind and you blush a brilliant red, trying to make the thought dissipate as quickly as possible.

“I don’t really know,” Yangyang says, pausing to think, “Do you have anything else to do?”

“Even if I did, would you let me go?” you cross your arms.

Yangyang grins and gets back to walking without a sound, you trailing behind him.

“The arcade?” you crane your neck to read the dull red letters above the entrance.

“It might not look like it but it’s actually one of the best,” he says, signalling you with a thumbs-up.

You should’ve known it was a bad idea when Yangyang decides that hitting your head with the little basketball is more fun than hitting the target.

You clutch the back of your head, glaring at him while he laughs at your expression. You were already disappointed with neither of you being able to get the plushie at the claw machine, having wasted enough money on the retries. And Yangyang thinks it’s funny how you look like an ancient Chinese warrior when you’re focused. He’s incredibly good at the racing game, and you knew you’d lose in the few starting seconds. But you did score incredibly well at the shooting game, perhaps your best achievement of the day. The basketball game, however, Yangyang seems to take as a joke, more focused on throwing you off course than his own score.

Yangyang freezes mid-laughter when he glances behind you. You turn your head to find a burly man, painted head to toe in ink, and just looking very dangerous in general, especially with the glare he keeps.

“Oh crap,” Yangyang breathes, “No, no, no.”

“What?” you ask.

“Wait for me outside a bit,” he instructs.

“Why?"

He scratches the back of his head. “Just…like that? I’ll be out in a minute, please.”

You comply in a daze, simply because he’s said the word ‘please’. For someone who talks a lot, he doesn’t exchange polite words very often, he didn’t even explicitly thank you for letting him into your room that night, instead opting to show you gratefulness through treating you at random (when you say random, you mean random).

You kick a non-existent stone, leaning on the wall beside the entrance. It’s been quite a few minutes and you’re getting worried if Yangyang actually had something to do with scary mountain of a man. You wouldn’t put it past him, the fights and all, but really, is this the time?

As you chew the inside of your mouth, a sudden dash of red appears in front of you, grabbing you by the hand and sprinting off. Yangyang looks back at you for a fraction of a second, and you see him almost smiling. The gruff voices behind you accelerate the rapid beating of your heart and you run faster, not entirely focused on your steps. The pavement proves difficult to run on, but it’s the burning in your lungs that causes you to stop in an obscure alleyway. The daylight seeps in through the crack between the two massive grey buildings, and you breathe heavily behind the steps to the fire exit of one of the buildings. Yangyang peeks through the corner and runs back to you, steps as nimble as a cat’s.

“You’re not gonna like this,” he bends to face you doubled over, still trying to breathe. You don’t comment on the busted lip, or the scratches across his jaw as he explains that you’re going to have to climb the building right now and also hurry before you get into serious trouble.

The stairs end one storey below the roof and Yangyang jumps to get a hold on the edge, and you’re sure the roughness of the concrete is going to leave scratches on his palm. Once he’s up, he spares a quick glance to the side, and grits his teeth before bending to grab your arms and pulls you up with much difficulty. You trip a little when your foot hits the edge of the rooftop, making the both of you lose balance and you land beside him on your knees, while he does so in a sitting position. You make eye contact, and Yangyang can’t help the smile stretching across his face, although he flinches a little. Before either of you can erupt into laughter, he presses his hand against your mouth, effectively stifling any noise and manages to keep himself from laughing. You lie flat on the roof, his nose a few inches from yours as you wait for the shuffling and shouting noises from below to dissipate.

You breathe out a sigh of relief in sync with Yangyang, glad you’re finally rid of your pursuers.

“Are you going to explain to me what just happened?” you ask, sitting up.

Yangyang sits up beside you, bending a little, making his hair fall over his eyes. He manages a half-grin while your concern shifts to his bleeding lower lip, and you involuntarily reach for your handkerchief.

“You don’t have to,” he says, shying away from your hand. “I didn’t mean to…uh…bring you into this.”

He looks at his fingers, and you notice the red scratch lines on his palm.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “It was fun.”

“Right?” he whips head towards you. “No one believes me when I tell them I like doing these just for fun!”

You giggle before gently dabbing at his lip, greeted with a sour expression.

“What was up with those guys?” you ask, focused on applying the correct amount of pressure to swipe.

“I…we…uh, kind of used to play here without paying. And he’s related to the owner, so…”

Your expression turns into a displeased one, and he sheepishly smiles, promising you he paid this time and will pay at wherever you want to go. Your cheeks start getting hot at how casually he talks about taking you places, like they’re actual dates. You tell you should head home and apply some antiseptic to his lip, before it gets worse.

“It’s alright,” he says when you’re done cleaning the wound, “I’m used to it. I don’t really wanna leave right now.”

He gestures towards the sky, which has started to merge reds and blues at a purple middle. It eventually fades to orange and dimming yellow, and you can see the sun start to dip towards the buildings in the horizon.

“I like it here,” he says, dipping his head towards the side.

You glance at the warmth spreading across the sky for only a few moments, before you’re distracted by the boy beside you. The sunlight brings out the pools of honey in his eyes, and you suddenly can’t deny the secretly growing affections for the boy, or whatever it is that you feel. The mole on his left cheek calls for attention as the lighting makes his skin glow, although the scratches disturb its softness. The curious vines peek from behind his shirt again, and it looks like a sort of companion of Yangyang’s, enjoying the sunset with him.

“Did it hurt?” you ask, distractedly.

“Huh?” he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “I actually get punched pretty often so no- wait- gosh, that was embarrassing to say. I just mean—”

“No, I mean the tattoo,” you clarify.

He forms an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Not really. I mean, kind of? Less than what I thought it would, to be honest. People always ask me this, but I can’t really answer it, you know?”

You nod, trying your best to understand.

“I got this one with my friends,” he brings down the collar to display the full tattoo, which covers most of his collarbone and shoulders in pretty curls and windings of grapevines.

“And this one, I got first,” he says, pulling his sleeve up to show the racecar tattoo once again. “Mum was so mad, but she accepted it eventually.”

“Oh?” you smile.

“Yeah, she’s always been a little, I don’t know, strict? She believes that life should be lived through rules and following them, just caging yourself in blind beliefs—I mean what’s the point of that?”

Yangyang sounds irked, so you just hum along.

“Living blindly, delusionally—it’s better to be reckless,” he scrunches his eyebrows, looking you in the eye as if he expects some response as his words flow out bitterly.

“Is that why you do that? To feel?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Yangyang chuckles and lies down on the floor of the roof, resting his head on his folded arms while his hair parts to show his forehead. He looks very relaxed, more so than at school or anywhere else, really.

“I’m sure,” he starts, “that on the last day of my life, when I think of all that’s happened, I’ll have a lot of things to think about.”

“Didn’t know you thought that far ahead,” you interject.

“It makes me feel at ease,” he half-grins at you.

That’s when it strikes you. Life has never been about staying alive to Yangyang, while you have trouble distinguishing between the blurred lines of today and tomorrow. He’s not that difficult a person—just an extremist at worst, and simply a boy overall. He makes himself out to be tough to handle, lets himself be reckless, and of course, reckless attracts trouble. He wants something whole from a broken universe, and maybe you did guess right—he wants a friend, someone to listen to him. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s horribly optimistic, in fact you’re drawn to it in a way you can’t explain. He’s starting to make sense and you can’t contain the bubbling excitement in your chest at the development.

“Yangyang,” you call, softly.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you like telling me these? These things about you.”

“Feeling special?” he jokes.

You slap his shoulder gently, saying, “Come on, tell me.”

“You look like someone who listens,” Yangyang says, eyes following yours. “And I thought I was obvious…”

His voice trails off and he looks down at your lips, before tilting his head at an angle and leaning just right so your noses don’t bump into each other. You can only shut your eyes in panic, the beating in your heart getting louder when his breath falls on you, the smell like peppermint. The moment your lips touch, a soft feeling momentarily settling in, he winces back and both of you are suddenly aware of his injury. You blink once before bursting into an amused laughter, and you can see the corners of lips into a familiar feline smile.

“You are so stupid,” you remark.

“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?”

“Tell me why you think getting your lip busted would please me.”

“…That wasn’t part of the plan.”

He scoots closer to you till your shoulders touch, and you hardly pay attention to the setting sun and the calls of the homeward birds. He tilts his head too, to gently let it touch yours and you feel him smiling.

“In my defence, you’re terribly dense.”

“Me? Dense? How?” You turn your head and cross your arms.

“I took you on like three dates and you didn’t get the hint!”

“What date?!”

“I took you to my favourite coffee shop!” he says, shoulders hunching up. “And the bar, and the dog park, and the arcade!”

“You never said they were dates,” you grumble.

“See? Dense.”

You hit his shoulder again, but he laughs, not even flinching now.

“Fine,” he says, “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? At the amusement park. 11am sharp.”

“As long as you fix that busted lip,” you chide.

“Why? You wanna make out?”

Your cheeks flare scarlet and you can almost see his ego swell with the smugness that shows up all across his face. Even so, you’re satisfied how you really did find your way to the core of him, and more so to be pleasantly surprised. Night falls, and the stars come out to play, but Yangyang makes sure to keep his focus on you.

“I knew it,” your friend remarks as she eyes your fingers intertwined with Yangyang’s.

“Don’t start again,” you groan, taking your place while Yangyang smiles smugly.

“Hope you know how to play with fire, darling,” Jaemin calls from the back only to be greeted with a smack across his shoulder by Yangyang.

Fire, wind, whatever Yangyang is—you don’t mind. Because every day is different from the other, and memories remain even after the day ends, especially if the memories were this troublesome to make, and fun to experience.

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