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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 8 months

Note

I was thinking about this earlier so what about (Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Vincent Sinclair.) With like a mermaid siren creature! Reader and like how they first meet and what their relationship is like. I just thought it would be cool, you can ignore this if you want ☺️

Me tryna find every information about mermaids and sirens: 😎🫳💻

Also the scenarios where the reader is captured is because although I think mermaids/sirens are stronger than the average humans I don't think they have enough strength to break through things such as metal or stuff like that. (Correct me if I'm wrong) And the deranged people other than the slashers here are using metal items.

Warnings:

Relationship: romantic!

Slashers x mermaid+siren! Reader

Michael

Michael wasn't a man who believed myths. One of them being mermaids or sirens.

And a large body of water had never piqued his interests either. And he just never really went there.

He heard lakes were quite popular amongst people, and plus it wasn't far from where he was. He walked his way over to his destination, planning to ruin another thing for people in his town.

Disappointedly he didn't find anyone, but decided to just stand by or sit somewhere to enjoy a breeze of silence. Just when he had enough and got up to leave he heard the most angelic enrapturing singing he heard. He didn't really listen to music. Just occasionally stands by if he hears one he thinks is tolerable. But this voice, It almost sounded inhumane he couldn't think of anything else other than the sound of that singing it's got him hypnotised. He feels calm, he feels nice.

He suddenly broke into thought and confusion as he heard a gasp and the sound of water splashing. Although it felt like a second he noticed he was several feet away where he previously was.

This disturbed Michael, what the hell just happened? He looked in front of him and saw a slight figure against one of the many big rocks. Michael assumed this was the person who did this to him, power walked towards them. Ready to slash them but abruptly stopped in his tracks as he saw the person frantically move. They had one leg? Except it wasn't really a leg, it looked more like a huge lower part of a fish... A mermaid's tail?

He would've assumed they were fake but the scales and fins seemed pretty real and they were moving so fluently and like an actual fish. And the creature had a fade between its abdomen and the tail.

The creature froze at the sight of him, giving him a better look at their appearance. Its entire eyes was pitch black and it had sharp teeth but its features could only be described as interestingly attractive.

He crouched down. Unsure of what to do. He noticed their chest was bare and their tails were f/c. He saw a scale on the ground. Picked it up and walked away. Leaving the aquatic humanoid creature confused and scared.

The next day the creature came back on the shore, around the same time where they and the mysterious man met. Wanting to know more about him and unknowingly the mystery man reciprocated the same eagerness.

---------------

Dating the man was... Interesting.

The first months of your relationship he just kept observing staring at you. You realised the part he gawked at the most was your tail, you couldn't tell if he liked it or found it weird. But you'll move your mystically shining tail around like you were trying to dance and he looked pretty pleased. Except for when you'd splash water on him. He didn't like that part.

He would sit on the rocks with you (on good days.) And surprisingly without his weapon which made you feel less threatened and then have a silent blast together as you sit with your quiet murderous boyfriend.

Michael didn't understand why you didn't wanna live in his house, what do you mean you don't wanna live in his bathtub forever? He eventually gave up on that idea though.

He loves your sharp teeth ngl. Thinks they're freaky in a good way. (Can you bite him?)

He's less worried about you when he's away. You would be deep under the water and people won't spot you that easily and also will probably run away at the sight of you.

Touches your gills. Adores everything about you.

After a few long months you get carried by Michael into his house with a cold water filled bathtub and after he left, you squirm your way around the house and find the old scale that came out when you first met. You decide to say nothing. (He interrogated you about why his floors are wet.)

7/10

Jason

He heard tales of them a few times. But he had no reason to believe they were real.

Too clouded in his old pure rage that has yet to be dulled. How could he sit around and ponder about humanoid aquatic creatures when there were horny disgusting drunk bastards in the graveyard of he and his mother?

The sound of distant laughter and talking somewhere deep in the woods snaps him in guard. Sighing slightly in frustration, he reaches for his machete on the wooden drawers, Stepping out silently and walking his way somewhere near.

Staring at the people who made a 'grave' mistake coming to camp crystal Lake, this time was a little different. Instead of usual teenagers Or young adults instead he had caught sight of multiple men who appeared to be fishermen.

The more he stared, he noticed a huge squirming bag over the shoulder of one of the more bulkier men. It was way too long to be any normal large fish, and he swore he could've noticed a flash of something poking out. Something similar to human hands.

Realising his thoughts were going off somewhere else instead of his initial plan, he mentally bashes his head on a tree and focuses on getting rid of the nuisances.

Observing the men more he sees them throwing the bag into the lake, what was inside the bag had squirmed weakly as it seemingly disappeared into the depths of the water.

Undoubtedly angering him even more. Who did they think they were? Throwing whatever they want inside his lake?

Deciding not to delay any further, he waits just for a bit before he starts digging his weapon in their necks and worthless bodies.

---

Just after he's done ending the life of the last fisherman he hears the sound of chains rattling and the tearing of something. He looks over and for the first time in a long time he felt something other than anger and longing.

He saw a person with damp h/c hair slowly crawling their way to the shore. What he was surprised about the most was the f/c tail with scales. They were... quite beautiful.

Marching his way over to take a good look at the mysterious person he sees their hands are tied with chains, now figuring out their earlier struggle. Their fingernails were long with a darker tone than their usual skin tone at the tips and ends of their fingers.

Their features were a dark beauty. One of one horror but pleasantly beautiful. Pitch black eyes with sharp teeth and pointy ears

He stood frozen as the creature made a prolonged eye contact with him. A sea creature and a zombie. How hilarious.

He didn't even think thoroughly before he started walking towards the person. The half human half fish cowering back in panic and fear. But luckily Jason was quick enough and started untangling and prying off the chains of the person. Their hands felt cold but alive. Getting the job done, he got up from his crouched position and slowly backed away. Observing the person.

The person no longer held an expression of panic. But they still had a slight distrust.

He kept watching as the aquatic person slowly went back into the lake. Deciding to go after a few minutes of gazing at the ripples of the water fade. He was sure to get to know more about the scale tailed person.

-----------------

One of the most endearing relationships you could've ever had.

Mostly just sits and rests at the wooden docks and sometimes the waterboat while watching you swim around him.

Has you in his arms while tracing his fingers along the scales and edges of your tail, sitting together in silence or if you like (can talk) talking. He doesn't mind either one.

He does get pretty hesitant to get you out of the water. Thinks you'll die if you're outside water for more than like 40 seconds-

Since the lake is pretty large and it's pretty nice (except for when you're minding your own stuff and then you see a decomposing corpse somewhere down. Then you get the chills realising you're just bathing and swimming in dead people.) There's not much to complain about anyways.

Doesn't know wtf you eat but will try to the best of his abilities to give you what he can get and your cravings.

He'll be over the moon if you decide to help him in his 'getting rid of' little thing he does when someone other than you two enters the camp. (Via you drowning trespassers by holding them down underwater when they get too close.) If you'd like to stay away then he doesn't mind either.

He loves you. But sometimes his anger can get the best of him and he has days where he's acting out in anger and frustration at the fact you can't be outside of water for too long. And your tail is pretty much like a disability in land.

He sulks in embarrassment and sadness later and you see him sitting on the ground. Dragging yourself out of the water, you hug him when you get close enough. He's a bit startled but hugs you back ten times tighter. Kissing his mask where his cheek and then where his lips would be, you smile and just stay like that for the past hours.

Anyone who sees sight of you or manages to get away from you will be ensured death. And anyone who harms you will be guaranteed instant death.

He honestly just loves everything about you in every way. (Plus you got approval from Pamela.)

9/10

Vincent

Well this would be rather... Complicated. Considering Vincent's probably ever only been in Ambrose and it's basically a ghost town

Vincent had never put much thought into mermaids and sirens. More likely he's never even heard of them before. All his life resolved around really was wax, masks made of wax, art, dealing with Bo and Lester and turning people into wax.

He admits it's not really the best lifestyle but it's better than nothing I guess.

Spending some time of solitude and thoughts to himself, a sharp sound knocking him from his train of thoughts coming from above. Gesturing that new tourists have arrived.

Bo didn't really have to do this every time. Vincent would instantly know the moment they step foot in the House Of Wax, or when he's outside and spots them. But usually he does it when a rather large group, Possibly about four or more appear. A sign that both Vincent and Bo should be well prepared and careful.

After long minutes of waiting, he hears voices. Voices, tones and comments and remarks he's heard all too well and all too much over the years.

Voices that are high, voices that are deep. Those that are loud and the ones that are sometimes really low. They always contain of two tones though. Either way too happy sounding, sounds like they don't have a care in the world and the other which are full of reluctance and wary. Cautious of everything. But the remarks and comments seem to differ regardless of how happy or wary they sound. And one sentence catches his ear.

"Are you sure we should just leave it in there? In the car I mean."

"Well it's not as if it could break out and escape, it has a tail for Christ sake. Even if it did break out, I'm sure they wouldn't get too far trying to squirm away. And pretty sure the jackass in the gas station would shoot it or something."

What's it? And jackass at the gas station? Bo??

"Okay, but are you sure you want the dude to shoot and kill that thing? We could get rich and really popular if we catch it alive and sell or show it to the media or something. Like a museum."

"You're right." The soon to be dead man sighed.

Vincent didn't really have the slightest clue what in the world they were talking about, but he was guessing they caught a rare animal and were thinking of exposing it publicly.

"Well even if nobody believes it's real we could either get hella rich considering it's some sort of mermaid or something."

"It's freakishly weird looking."

Mermaid?

He didn't know what this mermaid thing was but it really has piqued his interest and curiosity.

-----

Setting the last man in the chair and turning on his mechanics to start spraying wax onto the paralyzed man, he thinks in the meantime where he wants the guy to be in. The man was quite dandy. Probably next to miss Ambrose?

But then a thought erupts into his head. That mermaid creature... He guessed the group put it in their vehicle, possibly in their conveniently large trunk.

He walks over to the wax caked guy. The guy who called Bo a jackass, fear evident in his eyes. Something Vincent had seen every damn time. Before he could do anything, his bedroom 'door' opens and the voice of Bo calls out to him.

"Vincent, there's something I want you to come check with me."

Vincent's head practically snapped to look where Bo was. His voice still remained of the cool rough voice but had a lingering small wave of urgency.

A rare occasion where Bo would ask Vincent to partake something with him in... Anything! So obviously it must be something really serious.

-----

The both of them stood in silence watching and listening to the growls and short screaming as well as the angry and loud banging of something inside a locked box. A box that was about the size of a coffin. Maybe a little shorter.

The two men reluctant to do anything. They don't know what's inside that damned box but it sounds as if it could absolutely tear them apart.

Bo's gripping on the crowbar he has in his hand. Prepping himself for anything that's about to be thrown at him

Vincent is unsure of what or how he should act right now. This 'mermaid' thing sounds dangerous.

Then in an instant the locks in the box break and fell way louder than it should've had. The top burst open and a humanoid looking creature sat up from it.

Its hair looked partially wet. Their face had weird patterns on them. They had gills, pitch black eyes. Pointy ears and webbed hands, almost like a duck's feet except it had sharp and long claws. And more odd patterns along their shoulders and other limbs

Although it might've been a terrifying sight for some. Vincent felt as if he fell in love with the aesthetic and features of it.

"What the hell...?" Bo uttered. Way too confused and feeling distraught from the sight before him.

Now Vincent notices their sharp teeth when they scowled and got in a defensive pose. Then noticing their scaled tail. It was shining beautifully and had a wonderful f/c color, it was sundown currently. So the sight bestowed upon him was astonishing. The person were a sea creature.

Vincent instinctively stopping Bo from doing anything to scare the person away from them, he thinks of a plan to get to get the beautiful scaled person to trust him.

-----------------

It was rather complicated. But Vincent tries.

Making you a huge wax pool or area. (With the help of Bo and Lester)

He absolutely cannot take his eyes off you. Thinks you're the most breath taking thing, ever. Sometimes wonders if he's hallucinating the whole thing this entire time.

You bet he mini wax sculpts you. Like a lot. He loves imagining and sculpting your fish tail and face features more than anything physically. But what he adores even more is when the both of you would spend all nighters gazing at the stars or do some activity. All alone, quietly and at peace.

Or you both could spend tender nights together, verbally appreciating each other and whispering the sweetest nothings about how you both are able to accept one another even when they're the way they are. Every moment forms a tighter bond between you two.

Absolutely thinks you two are meant to be.

Sometimes it gets on Bo's nerves when he sees the both of you dilly dallying being a couple. It never ends well, but you can shut him up for a while when you remind him your strength is not that of a mere average human.

Tries his best to hide you from anyone else other than him and his brothers, it's not that he's embarrassed of you he's just scared that a tourist might act on impulse and start attacking you.

He takes you somewhere other than the town and into somewhere that has a large body of water (seeing how we saw a river of some sort with stones sticking out in the movie near Ambrose, I'm guessing there's a lake/big pond nearby.)

Will make sure you live your best life as a beautiful creature with gills and a fish tail. He'll be absolutely saddened if you tell him how long your kind lives. His mood will be off for the past few days knowing that you'll be able to live far longer than he will and that he can't always be there for you. But that's precisely why he wants to make your experiences with him the best as he could make it.

Just gawking at whatever you do. Doesn't matter if you're combing your hair in the sun set or you're choking a victim to death. He just thinks everything about you is majestic.

He tries to learn his best about you and refrains from asking any questions that might seem a little personal. He just respects you so much.

He could make art of you a thousand times more.

9/10

Thomas

"AHHHH!"

The girl kicks and screams as she's being dragged into that horrific house. A house or place she should've never ever stepped foot upon. Tears streaming down her face as her voice was bringing the attention of no one, not even the attention of her boyfriend who was lying down lifeless with his torso sliced in half outside of the house. An expression and look of a face she'll never forget as long as she's alive. She closed her eyes for a second, praying to God or whatever higher being there was to at least let one person live.

Thomas who is growing more and more visibly irritated by the woman's cries of despair. It's been a long hell of a day, he throws her into the floor of the kitchen and revs up his chainsaw.

Before the girl could beg and plead anymore. The fast spinning sharp blades and spikes of his weapon piercing the middle of the chest her eyes couldn't help but stare at the large amount of blood coming out of her chest and as the weapon strikes even deeper, her long blonde hair being coated with red almost black liquids. Her scream lasted a second before blood went exiting through her throat and practically choking on her own blood, the feeling and predicament was too overwhelm to comprehend as she passed out.

Thomas didn't stop for a few moments then pulled out his chainsaw. He stood silently looking at the bloody mess he created out of the girl. Then he turned around to catch the other person the blondie was talking to.

'What are you!?' That's what she said before she noticed Thomas and shouted,

'You people are such a bunch of weird fucking freakshows!'

Clutching on his chainsaw in anger. These people... They can't speak of anything other than hate and disrespect about he and his family from the very start. Especially him.

But still... Despite that, he still hopes for someone other than his family members to be accepting of him. That's all he could ask for currently.

Shaking himself out of his fantasies, he composes himself and prepares to cut whoever there was left.

After stalking around the forest quietly he hears the quiet splash of water and an uncomfortable whimper. He steadily and silently makes his way over to the source of the sound and sees a person in the water.

Though it was quite dark, he could still clearly see a person. Running towards them with a chainsaw in hand the person's head whips around and he came to an abrupt stop and almost tripped over nothing.

He lowered his weapon and proceeded to stare at the person in front of him. Their pitch black eyes with sharp teeth that he would've missed if it were any darker, tips of their ears were weirdly pointy and they had some sort of weird lines on their ribs. Their sharp claws that were held up to their chest were like an extra cherry on top of their appearance. And the most astonishing of all was their lower body, he didn't realise it instantly but what was supposed to be a pair of legs was one long oddly shaped of what appeared to be shining scales and a fish tail.

He didn't even know what to say or do. What was he supposed to?

If he was honest... Right now he hoped he wasn't dreaming, he doesn't know why or how they look like this but he was really intrigued by it.

---------------

It was safe to say an odd life. Living with a man and a family who ate other people like them was... Quite an experience.

But ignoring all that, your lover was a big sweet heart. Always by your side whenever he could and never stepping out of boundary. He would always look at you with a heart melting adoration very visible in his eyes.

Considering your aquatic natures, living in a bathtub or some sort of tub wasn't exactly ideal. But better than that swampy pond you were in when you first met him, it was absolutely horrifying.

Luckily though the family made some adjustments and builds after a while to at least make you live a bit more comfortably since you'll be living with them forever now. (Not that you mind as long as you have Thomas.)

Thomas sometimes wonders how such a pretty creature person like you managed to like him?

Being a half fish half human in the house, you sure are bound to get stared at a lot. But worry not they're not from disgust. Fear because some of these are from mischievous malice and unwanted mockery and jokes from his other family members. That your dear loving Thomas always protects you from, it's why he's so hesitant to leave you alone. As much as he loves his family he knows how upsetting they can get.

When he's hanging out with you he's staring at every part of your face, how your expression changes to different topics and subjects. How your eyes and lips look when you smile.

He loves how everything about you is so unique and so... Ethereal. He's lowkey crazy over you.

If anyone makes a mean Or not very innocent remark about you, you bet your ass Thomas will put that person back in their place.

He's just so happy someone like you managed to accept him as who he is.

9/10

I'm sorry if the last one was cringe and short. I've been writing this for over two hours and I'm so tired.

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miintsprigz · 2 years

Text

Ohio RTC live-blogging

I watched the Saturday stream, and I documented my thoughts because hyperfixation goes brrrr

HEADS UP

there was a lot of ableism in the chat (I do discuss what it entails below so you’ve been warned) so I was distracted at the end of the stream

-Karnak’s frantic tone during the accident + freeze frame moment, very cool

-them holding up the prizes

-Constance’s mumbled “sorry”

-post-possession Noel and Mischa stuff is so good (the o.e face and shoulder shake)

-I don’t like Ricky’s disability being stolen again, but I do like the fact that they’re happy that he’s happy, seems to be “bro”ing it up with Mischa a bit, I do love that

-JANE! (OVERANALYZES LIKE CRAZY) The way she tips her head a lot like it doesn’t fit her body comfortably. She sounds so timid…awww, honey…she moves a bit like her body is off-balance from the new head, I love the details

-I see evidence of platonic (at least) spacedolls already. Ricky waved at Jane!!!

-BREASTMILK CHEESE SANDWICH EATING BLEGH

-even in the “ocean’s life” segment Jane’s movements are just a BIT off. I think it’s cool when the Jane is taller in the cast, makes me think of a Barbie/pos

Poor gal seems real uncomfy in those lenses tho, can’t blame her

-all of the cast looks like they’re having the time of their life

-Mischa’s mannerisms are already cracking me up

-I am appreciating Noel very much in this production tbh, very sharp-tongued and excellent emoting in the face

-Jane’s delivery of That One Line (I hear it gives you an—)

-despite the small theatre and tech limits because of that, they really do well getting the point across with the props

-gosh props to Noel that change takes too long even in the main show, but he works it

-RICKY’S LIL SHIMMY IN THE BEGINNING OF NOEL’S LAMENT AND HE SEEMS TO ACTUALLY BE PLAYING ACCORDION!!!

-CAN ALL MISCHAS EVERYWHERE STOP BEING SO PRETTY, RESPECTFULLY!!

-THAT NOIR FILM IN THE BACK, I LOVE!

-ngl I’m in love with this Ricky

-these dances are so fun!

-not a ton of Nischa in here with the end of the lament but—

-Constance’s “w h y” after the F word joke

-B O N S O I R

-them adding improv in ESGAL is a bit silly, but oh, RuPaul ref. That blindsided me lol

-RICKY AND JANE ARE GROOVING TO MISCHA’S INTRO TOGETHER AWWWW THEYRE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!!!

-they seem to be sort of un-possessed in TSIA, and Mischa seems a bit more friendly in this production so I think that fits decently

-RICKY HAS A LOW RANGE HEYYYY (Debby Ryans)

-I love how they try to make it like he can’t remember his rap—or can he actually not remember? Either way they played it off like it was on purpose and I appreciate that

-interesting how Jane’s a stand-in for Talia, cuz she could be anyone, she’s a blank body sorta

-I love the dances so so much, how they seem to be fencing Mischa in, and HE SINGS SO WELL, they did their best with the projector and got it across

-The way he just SITS DOWN AWWWW HON HE LOOKS SO SAD

-NOEL AND MISCHA HUG? NOEL AND MISCHA HUG!!!! AWWWWW IM CRYIN they seem so genuine about that whole part! person I’ve tagged said they noticed Mischa is audibly crying for quite a bit, poor dear

-again, Mischa encourages Ricky, I appreciate this! They see the Ricky and Mischa friendship supremacy!!!

-Mischa and Jane acting like generally strange parents and tHE FAKE ACTION SCENES which I genuinely think should have been in the original

-the implication that zolar daydreams came from food poisoning, this poor lad, I know it’s not exclusive to this version but dang

-this Ricky is just very captivating, I think this is a part that takes a lot of…uhhh, chutzpah, to play

-(sees Jane being a very passionate kitty) … (adds to spacedolls evidence folder)

-hehe I love that Mischa is Count Dogula

-also that black hole sound frequency reference made me so happy (“68 octaves below the middle C”)

-this Mischa has ADHD imo and I live for it

-AW JANE HAS SUCH A TINY MEMORY BOX. …big enough for a head. Cruel.

-they really worked with what they had for the background on Jane’s song. The way she blends into the scenery fits. That’s what she’s been doing this whole show. Also her trying so hard to grab her memory box and it’s always out of reach ;A;

-HER VOICE IS EXCELLENT this is impressing me in a bigger way than I thought it would

-the shadows moving!!! the way she can kind of recall knowing them, but not enough to know their faces or names

-the circling with the lights does make me think she’s falling, and the fact that she’s holding an umbrella…and sounds like she’s crying at the end…she’s so alone dude, I care her

-that last note was like a final scream

-Noel and Jane interaction!!! something I never see!!! I love it!

-Ricky is so gentle with Jane ;-;

-THEYRE HAVING FUN!!! SO CUTE!!!

-(chat is ableist about someone either ticcing, stimming, or having a meltdown in the audience and distracts me)

-Sugarcloud was excellent sorry I was too busy being full of rage

-Piano go breaking noises

-“you will soar to great heights” o u c h

-THE GROUP HUG AND THE BACKWARDS ROLLERCOASTER SOUNDS

-AW CONSTANCE AND OCEAN AND RICKY AND NOEL SPINNING EACH OTHER

-MISCHA AND NOEL DANCING!

-THEYRE SO HAPPY

-ACAPELLA DREAM OF LIFE WITH GROUP HUG HITS REALLY DIFFERENTLY

Do I have criticism? Uhhh well it wasn’t perfect but hey, from what I saw they didn’t have a ton to work with (nobody’s fault there) and they used their resources well.

I also constantly have to remind myself of the fact that this show has a cast of at most eight people acting, and it makes sense that it’s difficult to remember all of your lines, and the fact that everybody has a solo song!!!

I dream of some day playing an alto Jane, although I doubt it will ever happen, but I’m not sure I’m talented enough to do with this cast attempted

Also frick the people in chat who were being jerks about that audience member. git gud, Ricky would hate you you’re breaking the one rule

#ride the cyclone musical #rtc #ride the cyclone #rtc ohio #ocean o'connell rosenberg ride the cyclone #mischa rtc #noel rtc #ricky potts ride the cyclone #jane doe rtc #jane doe ride the cyclone #ricky rtc #mischa bachinski #constance blackwood ride the cyclone #noel gruber #tw ableism #tw tics #tw meltdown

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boasamishipper · 2 years

Text

tagged by @aberfaeth to post the last lines of my WIPs - thanks casey! 🥰 i’ve got a lot of wips right now (what else is new), so here are excerpts from the five i worked on most recently:

1. bring back that lovin’ feelin’ (tg2 fix it fic 3)

“Wasn’t there just a holiday? Which one is this?”

S-I-M-C-H-A-T T-O-R-A-H. Ice finger-spelled it first, then did the sign: clasping his hands together, moving them from left to right. Marks the end of the reading of the Torah. Big celebration. Dinner, singing, dancing…

Maverick smiled. “You going with Sarah and the kids?”

Ice lifted his hands, then stopped. He shook his head roughly and turned back to the sink, doing his best to breathe around the ache in his throat. The truth—one that Sarah barely understood and that Maverick certainly couldn’t—was that he’d loved going to temple, every part of it: the children running in and out during the prayers, the feeling of the siddur in his hands, the kippah at the crown of his head, standing in line for tefillin. It wasn’t the same with his voice reduced to a rasp; with him just short of a ghost because of it.

He felt Maverick’s hand on his shoulder, and turned his head to face him despite every instinct in his body screaming at him to ignore the warmth of his touch, to stay cool and collected. Maverick’s eyes were soft with sympathy, not pity, and he lifted his hands to sign. I’ll dance with you.

Ice breathed a laugh, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the sudden rush of tears. You have two left feet.

“Fight me, Kazansky.” Maverick put his hands on Ice’s hips, and Ice looped his arms over Maverick’s neck, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I can out-dance you any time. I’ll sweep you right off your fucking feet. You’ll see.”

“Keep telling yourself that, hotshot,” Ice said, instead of You already have, and kissed the proud smile right off Maverick’s face.

2. swimmin’ in the floods (dancing on the clouds below) (tg2 fix it fic 4)

Coyote: Hey you didn’t answer my question

Hangman: Well you asked in the group chat, you could have meant anybody

Coyote: Well for the sake of clarification

Coyote: I meant my boyfriend

Coyote: Lieutenant Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman

Coyote: Maybe you’ve heard of him?? He’s a real catch

Hangman: Hmm

Hangman: The name rings a bell……

Hangman: Tall, devastatingly handsome, great hair?

Coyote: And a kickass fighter pilot to boot

Hangman: Flattery will get you nowhere, Machado

Coyote: I’ll settle for it getting me a date

Hangman: If you want me, you’ve got me

Coyote: I do

Hangman: Then you do

Coyote: (loved a message)

Coyote: Can’t wait ❤️

Hangman: Me too ❤️

3. macheresin fake dating au

Rooster scoffed. “Hangman, the only place you’ll ever lead anyone is an early grave.”

“Hey,” Coyote said; not sharp, but a warning all the same. “Watch your mouth when you’ve got my boyfriend’s name in it, Rooster.”

Rooster’s jaw actually dropped. Hangman didn’t think that people’s jaws could drop that far outside of books or the movies, but goddamn was it satisfying to see. He wished he’d thought up this plan sooner. “Your what?”

“Boyfriend,” Hangman said. He sat on the edge of the pool table and raised his eyebrows, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “Problem, Rooster?”

4. first impressions

Goose sweeps her into his arms with such enthusiasm that her feet leave the floor, clutching her to him like she’s the only thing keeping the ocean from dragging him under by the scruff of his parachute, and Carole tears up as she breathes in sweat and linen-y soap and Aqua Velva. Her husband, home at last. “Oh, angel,” she says, and her voice is a quaver but she doesn’t care, not with Goose looking at her and holding her like she’s everything. “My angel Goose. You’re here.”

“Wild F-14s couldn’t keep me away, honey,” Goose says, and she bursts into wet laughter, cups his face between trembling palms and kisses him fiercely. His hand threads into her hair, gripping tight, and between the scratch of his mustache against her upper lip and the warm solid press of his chest to hers, it’s like coming alive again, the world exploding into music and screaming color. It’s not until she tastes salt and pulls away that she realizes he’s crying too.

“Oh, Goose. No. Don’t you cry or I’ll start crying.”

“Crying?” Goose says, tactful enough not to mention that she’s crying just as hard as he is, and sniffles loudly. “Me? Pfft. Just allergies.”

Carole giggles. “Yeah? What to?”

“Pretty girls.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should go, then.”

Goose’s arms around her tighten, and he rests his forehead against hers. “Not a chance.”

5. i’d be yours if you’d be mine

“What are you all fussing over?”

“New signing for Man City,” Thierry said, and handed Sam his phone so Sam could see.

On the screen was a man a few years older than Sam, with floppy dark hair and bright eyes and an even brighter smile. He was in his kit and talking animatedly, moving his hands. “I am very grateful for this opportunity,” he was saying. In the bottom right of the screen were his name and position: Dani Rojas, forward. “For me, football is life.”

“Football Twitter can’t get enough of him,” Isaac said. “Shit, he’s already trending higher than Jamie. Wonder if he’s a wanker too.”

“Ah, come on, Rojas seems like a nice guy. Sam, what do you think?”

Sam’s ears were ringing. Yes, he wanted to say, Rojas does seem like a nice man. In fact, Sam knew for a fact that Dani Rojas was exactly as nice of a man as this clip made him appear. He had been nothing but nice when they had last seen each other. Except when they’d last seen each other, both of them had been substantially less clothed.

“Sam?”

“I have to fix my thing,” Sam said intelligently, and left the locker room just as Coach Lasso entered.

“Sam? Sam, where are you going? - Can I have my phone back?”

tagging @academicgangster @icemankazansky @rad-topgunn @lookforanewangle @hacash @maverickcalf and anyone else who’d like to do this :D

#thanks for tagging me!#my fics #fic: swimmin’ in the floods (dancing on the clouds below)#fic: i'd be yours if you'd be mine #fic: first impressions #fic: bring back that lovin' feelin'#fake dating au #macheresin #icemav #goose x carole #robisanya #top gun: maverick #top gun #ted lasso

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Brothers With an MC That’s Only Soft for Them

So, cute Headcanons are my kryptonite! Please enjoy, my fluff loving brethren!

Lucifer

We at Stupid Headcanons inc. recommend that MC does not inflate this bastard’s ego further, but if they choose to…

Lucifer, the morning star, a high ranking demon, does not need MC’s affection… that was a lie he C R A V E S it.

This pairing is actually quite complimentary, Lucifer is only soft for MC, MC is only soft for Lucifer, perfectly balanced.

MC shouldn’t expect Lucifer to be too reciprocal to their affections in public until they’re both neck deep into the relationship, but in private, hoo boy.

The “good job!”s, the hugs, the quick pecks on the cheek, all of it just made Lucifer practically melt. He adores all the affection, and it’s all for him.

Finally, someone in this house appreciates him…

“Lucifer, try not to overwork yourself, if you need anything, just ask, okay?” “Thank you, MC.” “Hey MC! I need help, pass me the remote.” “YOU CAN WALK OFF A CLIFF BELPHIE! Love you, Lucifer.”

And to be honest, some of the roasts are funny, but MC, dearest, please dial down the sass near Lord Diavolo.

Mammon

Of course MC’s favourite is the Great Mammon! Heh, who else would it be? Not that he needs this human’s affection or anything!

…screw it, please MC, give him more head pats.

Hand holding, hugs, resting his head on MC’s lap… Mammon’s really living the life.

In public Mammon is constantly trying to get MC to shower him in praise and affection in his own weird tsundere kind of way. It’s good thing MC is always willing to give their demon all the love they have.

It just makes him so happy that all of MC’s affection belongs to him, it makes his greedy little heart sing.

MC’s love and care tragically does not save him from being caught for his shenanigans, but MC, stone cold bitch that they are, will always do something bad to get strung up next to him.

“MC, what’re ya doin’ here?” “Oh you know babe, just hanging around.”

Nothing makes him smile more than when they stick up for him, to MC, he isn’t scummy trash, he’s the great Mammon! Their super amazing guardian! He does what he can to live up to MC’s image of him!

Since Mammon’s super supportive of his human, he’ll always provide reaction sound affects whenever MC delivers a verbal smack down.

Levi

MC likes him? Must be a joke. Who’d like a gross Otaku like him…?

The human exchange student apparently.

They’d listen with a look of pure adoration on their face whenever Levi would ramble about his favourite anime, they’d help him organize his figurines, they’d play video games with him…

Man… MC’s really playing the long con here on this practical joke.

When Levi isn’t drowning in self doubt, he absolutely loves how sweet and gentle MC is around him, a side only he gets to see… *swoon*

A cold mean character that’s only soft for their love interest??? That’s one of Levi’s top five favourite romantic tropes!

Levi’s often taking notes on MC’s snappy remarks so he can sass people while he streams, he’s not too good at it, so he just streams with MC present. His viewership goes up whenever exponentially whenever MC says anything.

“Someone in the chat just said I must be insanely lonely-” “There’s no way in hell you’re lonelier than that guy at night. His bed ranks number one in the top ten loneliest places ever.”

Satan

At first, Satan took more of an analytical interest in MC’s attitude, they’re either suicidally impulsive or very confident in their ability to run from danger if they think they can sass demons and get away unscathed.

Once the two connect and MC goes soft for him, it’s game over. Satan’s weakness is cute things, and nothing is cuter to him than his usually mean MC raining affection and compliments down upon him!

Satan finally has a leg up on Lucifer! The human adores him and isn’t afraid to talk back to that pretentious motherfucker-

MC sits in Satan’s lap and the two read together, they smuggle cats into the house, they lay in bed together plotting the downfall of their enemies… just normal couple things.

Sometimes MC just sits next to him and makes a particularly nasty quip at someone else, then give him a big ol kiss on the cheek.

It just makes him oh so happy…

“Honey, I brought you tea!” “Ah, thank you MC.” “I took it from Lucifer’s private stash of relaxing tea :D” “You really are my soulmate, aren’t you?”

Asmo

Gasp! MC’s so mean! Do it more!

Asmo, sassy god he is, appreciates a good snide remark or twelve, so he’s always got a front row seat to MC’s shennaniganery.

Before the pact, he was back in the peanut gallery with Satan wondering when MC’s words would come back to bite them, but after the pact, nothing’s touching the human. Their sass is completely consequence-less as long as Asmo’s around!

These two are a match made in hell, literally. Asmo and MC get to be so in sync that they manage to make each other’s insults better by working together.

“I’d give you the name of a few surgery places but I don’t think they implant brains into unlucky people like yourself.” “They might be able to implant a better personality though~.”

Asmo’s fully willing to flaunt his relationship in public. Sort of in a “look at us! MC’s only nice to me! Eat shit losers!” kind of way.

It isn’t all vanity and insults, MC always finds a way to make Asmo feel better whenever he’s feeling down. MC makes sure to tell Asmo as often as possible that they love him for more than just his looks, and it makes the Avatar of Lust swoon.

Just as long as MC never turns their razor sharp wit on Asmo, he’s their cheerleader forever.

Beel

Good choice, MC.

Despite his resting bitch face, Beel’s a big softie, everyone knows that, and as the Simpsons said, ‘the strong must protect the sweet’.

Well… MC isn’t as strong as Beel, but they will verbally eviscerate anyone who even dares insinuate anything not nice about their precious gigantic cinnamon roll!

“Listen up bitches! Not you Beel, we’re all glad you’re here.” “^_^” “Y’ALL ARE IN DEEP SHIT.”

Beel loves how affectionate MC is! Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or private, he and MC are almost always at least holding hands.

MC always has emergency snacks on them, they never get upset when Beel eats everything in the house, they just smile and hand over whatever food they have on them and help fix the problem.

Beel is probably one of the only characters who would try and get MC to branch out and be nicer to everyone and not just him. Whether this works depends on MC.

Belphie

Does he deserve this? No. Did he almost start crying when MC began to show him genuine care and affection? Yes. Does he nearly die of laughter every time MC snaps at someone? Yes.

Belphie’s not sure why MC decided that they were going to love him of all demons… but they just… understand him.

They listened patiently and offered a shoulder to cry on, even after he hurt them… their understanding, their compassion, just wow. Belphie really lucked out.

MC lets him nap, fluffs his pillows, reminds him to wash his pillow cases and comforter, gets him sushi, like geez… what a simp… *sniffle*

In return, Belphie offers cuddles. Cuddles and quality time together. For the first time in how many millennia Belphie is going to get off his ass and do something for someone if they ask.

It’s a miracle.

Belphie isn’t one for flaunting a relationship but… he may just let some people know that this super mean human likes him the most by giving his human a quick kiss.

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rayshippouuchiha · 3 years

Note

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way. He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain. Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action. He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook. That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it. And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count? Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy.

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now. And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it. And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them. An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale. But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow. “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then. But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear! I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face. At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk. “Bullshit. No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all. But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration. “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him. One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without. “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go. For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything. Their nightmare yes but not their favorite. Especially not a child. Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him. And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

#BnHA #Anonymous #RayRambles #The Principal's Unexpected Protege AU

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

stay here [iwaizumi hajime x reader]

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, a bit of dub-con (bc of the fact that alcohol was involved), alcohol consumption, swearing, brief mentions of toxic relationships

word count: 3.5k

overview: a post break-up night at the club with your best friend ends a bit differently than you’d expected

notes: a commission for the lovely @devlovesiwa-channn! sorry this took so long bb but I hope the wait was worth it! thanks for supporting me ily ❤️

The heavy bass pulsating through the club shakes every bone in your body as you sit at the bar, head propped up by your hand and fingers tapping against the side of your face to the beat of the song playing. From where he is beside you, Iwaizumi watches you breathe out another, long sigh with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oi,” he barks, drawing your (e/c) gaze to his dark one illuminated by the bright lights flashing from the ceiling, “Quit thinking about that jerk, would ya?”

With a roll of the eyes, you retort, “You say that like it’s so easy, Hajime. I did just get my heart broken not even a week ago.”

“And you say that like I’m clueless. Don’t forget who’s spent the past—what is it now? Five?—nights over at your place, watching movies with you and making sure you get to bed at a decent time.” His words elicit an immediate feeling of guilt that wells up inside your gut and makes you avert your gaze to search for the bartender who should be finishing up your drinks any moment now.

What he’d said was entirely true, and you knew it. Ever since you’d gotten out of a relationship earlier that week, you’d been a bit of an emotional wreck. Mountains of snack wrappers and tissues had already been piled up in the trash bin placed in your room when Iwaizumi had first showed up at your apartment after hearing about the news. He’d sat with you every evening this week, huddled beneath the covers of your bed or a pile of blankets on the couch while you’d switched between directing words seething with venom towards your ex and struggling to speak through sobs. He’d made sure that you’d eaten your meals, gone to bed at a decent hour, and had done everything in his power to be the friend you’d needed.

So, to even mention that you’d just endured a heartbreak like he had no idea about the situation was nothing less than a slap in the face to him—and you knew it. However, the noticeable discomfort written on your face has Iwaizumi shaking his head as if trying to negate the harshness of his statement.

“Hey,” he tries again in as soft a voice he can use when he’s having to compete with the music blaring, “all I’m saying is that I’ve seen the hell you’ve been put through because of that asshole, so I want you to be able to take your mind off of it for a bit and enjoy this night out, okay?”

You can’t help but chuckle in a way that reflects how jaded you feel by your predicament but shoot him a small smile anyway as you respond, “No promises.”

“We’ll see about that,” he challenges, a smirk flashing across his lips when the bartender sets down two shot glasses on the metal bar top before you. As if in synchronization, the two of you reach for your drinks at the same time and clink them together in a toast. “Here’s to a good night.”

After downing your shot, squeezing your eyes shut and taking a sharp inhale at the burning sensation of the alcohol traveling down your throat, you state, “Gonna need a few more before we get started with that.” Iwaizumi nearly chokes when you raise your hand to summon the bartender for an instant refill so you can tilt your head back once more to knock another one down. “What?” you question upon noticing his wary gaze, “You said you wanted me to have fun, didn’t you?”

“I’m not hauling your ass out of here if you get wasted, (f/n).”

“Guess our definitions of fun are a bit different, then.” He clenches his jaw and grunts with indignation at your response, and you laugh heartily at his annoyance, reaching over to graze the sleeve of his floral button-up shirt with your fingers. “I’m kidding! I promise I’ll stay conscious.” Another, louder murmur of disagreement that echoes from behind his pursed lips has you rolling your eyes and placing both your hands on his muscular shoulders. “Learn how to take a joke, would ya?”

He huffs, “It’d be easier to if what you’d just said hadn’t actually happened before.”

Sighing, you move your grip from his shoulders to the hem of your skirt, holding it down as you hop off the barstool. “Well, if I have to choose between sitting here, recounting my unfortunate run-ins with alcohol or dancing to this mediocre song, I think I’m gonna head to the dance floor.” After attempting to give your friend money for the drinks that he refuses out of kindness, since your plans for the evening had been made by him to begin with, you offer, “You know where to find me,” before making your way through the throngs of clubbers to the dance floor at the other end of the venue.

Iwaizumi shakes his head as he watches your figure disappear in amongst the sea of people and turns his attention to the empty shot glass he’s taken to tracing his fingers along pensively. As much as he wants to ignore the thoughts that have a habit of returning each time he sees you fall out of love with someone else, he can’t seem to rid himself of them—of the idea that maybe, just maybe, things would be different if you were with him instead. All this time, he’d been sitting on the sidelines, forced to play spectator in the games that other men seemed to enjoy playing with your heart while knowing damn well he would treat you with the respect you deserved.

It makes him a bit angry for you, actually, the way others haven’t known what to do with your heart after you’ve given it to them. He knows better than most that you can’t help who you choose to fall in love with—since he’s felt a natural affinity towards you since the first moment he met you—yet he can’t help but hope, after each of your breakups, that you give him a chance with your heart instead. However, out of respect for you, since you haven’t given him any indications that you might return his feelings, he’s kept quiet and maintained your close friendship.

The nagging thoughts persist, and each time, he shoves them into the darkest corner of his mind so he can help you pick up the pieces of your heart after another man drops it.

But they return when he eventually ventures out to the dance floor to find you after you’d returned to the bar for another round of shots to fuel your agenda of forgetting about your ex and sauntered away once more. Navigating through the waves of gyrating bodies finally brings him within a few feet’s distance of where you stand, swaying along to the music without a care in the world.

As he watches you with the same admiration he would give the only twinkling star in a dark, nighttime sky, he wonders how your former boyfriend could’ve ever thought to treat you the way he had—with such blatant disregard for your feelings. Anyone who tried to dim your light wasn’t the one for you, and now all he wants is for you to shine brighter than you had before. Whether or not you do so for him doesn’t matter in his eyes. He just wants to see your radiance and happiness return.

Just as he’s about to approach you so he can join in on the fun, the song changes into one he knows well—because it’s your favorite. He can’t count the number of times he’s listened to you belt out the lyrics while driving or caught glimpses of you performing bits of the choreographed routine you must’ve created whenever you hear it played in a public setting, but what he sees unfold before him this time is entirely different to anything he’s witnessed before.

Even if he didn’t want to look, it’s impossible to ignore you when the thin veil of sweat over your skin makes you shine under the bright, multicolored lights in a dazzling display as you move to the beat. With the way your body’s undulating in cadence with the music, a seductive look on your face while your hands run from your torso down to your thighs, you’ve attracted more than a few hungry gazes. But his is the only one that you meet with your own, silently beckoning him over to you moments before you lift a finger to summon him in a request to join you. His feet carry him across the distance separating the two of you without a second thought.

There’s a gentle, somewhat amused smile on his face at seeing you finally letting loose, but it soon becomes much more serious when he feels your fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt. The space around you is hot and charged, and you’re barely able to tell one direction from the other with the way your head’s spinning in a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, but you know exactly what you’re doing. The heat of his body radiates onto your hands as you run them along his toned torso while singing along to the song’s lyrics, and you relish in the way his dark eyes are traveling along every inch of your skin.

When your hands reach his, you turn your back towards him and place his palms on both sides of your waist. Feeling his hold on you tighten and strong fingers pressing against your skin spurs you to grind your hips against him slowly in an attempt at testing the waters. He encourages your actions by pulling you closer to him and moving in synchronization with you. His acceptance and reciprocation of your invitation has heat pooling in your stomach and your heart fluttering in your chest.

The way your bodies as one, like they’ve been created to fit perfectly together in this moment has any restraint you would’ve normally shown evaporating completely. In your mind, you only want him. You’ve known that. You’ve known that for so long, yet you’d been out chasing down other men who’d inevitably become the sources of your heartaches. Now, you think it’s high time you finally go after who it is you’ve truly been yearning for in silence for far too long.

Once a change in the song brings an end to your fairly explicit dancing, you turn to face him again, (e/c) eyes drifting from his own down to his lips as your hands instinctively find his arms to steady yourself in amongst all the movement surrounding you. He seems to hesitate for a moment, since the two of you stand and stare at each other in silence despite the bass sending vibrations through your chests, but he eventually finds the courage to act on his desires. In an instant, his large hand is moving to cup your face and bring it closer to his so he can press a strong kiss against your lips.

A mixture of exhaustion and utter euphoria knocks the wind out of your lungs, sending soft pants tumbling out of your mouth when he finally breaks the kiss. “Hajime…” you utter, voice barely audible above the vocals bouncing off every surface of the club’s interior.

The distinct scent of alcohol taints the breath that fans across your face when he asks, “Yeah?”

“I want you. I want you so badly. Please.” The confession falls off your lips with such ease that you question why you haven’t been able to say it all this time.

A curse word escapes his mouth in a gentle whisper, and you can feel his hard-on against your body when he pulls you in for another heated kiss. “Wanna get out of here?” he wonders. Your enthusiastic nod forms a smile across his lips, and his arm is wrapping around your waist to safely guide you through the crowds so he can sort out a ride home.

What happens next all feels like a blur to you, since all you can think about the entire car ride back is having Iwaizumi’s hands all over your body the moment you get to your doorstep. It appears you’re not the only one who’s impatient, since he’s caging you against the wall in the entryway with his body moments after you’ve kicked off your shoes and locking lips with you once more. The combination of the booze and the pleasure is making your head spin, but you’re able to take his hand and pull him into the bedroom with you so your back can be against the mattress instead.

The strong, passionate nature of his sloppy, open-mouthed kisses serves as a telltale sign of how long he’s been waiting to experience such an intimate moment with you. All along, he’d thought he would want to take his time in this situation—trailing gentle kisses across every inch of your skin and making sure no part of you is left needing his tender but firm touch. However, in the heat of the moment, he’s quick to abandon any ideals of a slower pace, intent on ravishing you.

Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt so you can push it off his broad shoulders as his hands work on yanking off your little clubbing outfit. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with excitement at the new, uncharted territory you’re both delving into together. For the first time in the many years you’ve known one another, you’re seeing each other at your most vulnerable states.

A gentle moan sounds from your throat at the feeling of his fingers traveling between your legs so they can slide along the saturated fabric covering your slit. Wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him closer to you, you bring your hot bodies flush against one another so you can taste more of the alcohol lingering on his tongue. He swallows another whimper you release when his fingers shove your panties aside so they can toy with your sensitive clit. The sharp sensation of your fingernails pressing into his skin makes him grunt gently, but also sends a rush through him like a buzz of electricity.

“That feel good?” he murmurs, his deep voice prompting your walls to clamp around his thick fingers as he pushes them inside of you.

Hips bucking at his thumb stroking your pearl and legs already shaking from just how mesmerizing his touch is alone, you nod in response and breathe, “So good.” His lips return to yours for another kiss before forming a smile as they press against your jawline, neck, and collarbone, slowly making their way down towards your breasts. Feeling his tongue drag across one of your hardened nipples has you crying out softly as your hands fly to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair.

The delicacy with which he’s sucking on your pebbled bud sharply contrasts the fast, fervent motions of his fingers thrusting into your warm, wet core, edging closer and closer to your sweet spot each time.

“H-Hajime!” Your voice shudders when his name tumbles off your tongue. “Want you inside of me… please, baby.”

Hearing your voice become so needy and desperate as you beg has him groaning against your skin. “Wanna cum all over my cock, princess?” he suggests lowly, moving his head away from your breasts so he can look down at your eyes clouded with lust.

Your heart skips a beat at the name he calls you in jest being used in this situation instead, and you gaze up at him with a mixture of awe and affection burning in your chest until your mouth falls open again at his fingers kneading your sweet spot. You moan loudly in place of the words you’d meant to say, but continue once you take a breath, “Yes! Please, fill me up!”

The way you sound makes him want to do anything for you, and he withdraws his fingers from inside your core so he can unbuckle his belt and push his pants down. Your eyes widen at the sight of his large dick adorned with beads of precum, which he notices and acknowledges by rubbing soothing circles on your thighs while he rids you of your soaked underwear and spreads your legs further apart so he can slot his torso between them. “You can take me, baby; I know you can,” he reassures you in between gentle pecks to your lips.

You hum in agreement, your gaze focusing on his as he aligns his leaking cockhead with your entrance and pushes inside you slowly, stretching your walls in a way that sends currents of both pain and pleasure shooting through your body. He groans, “Oh, fuck; you feel so good,” while your pussy swallows him inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside your inviting warmth. He starts with a slower pace than expected given how quickly he was thrusting his fingers into you just moments earlier, rocking his hips against yours and nudging your cervix.

“Faster, Hajime, please,” you beg breathlessly, “I need you.”

A particularly hard thrust he can’t hold back at hearing your request has you mewling with both surprise and satisfaction. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he growls, heavy breaths falling onto your ear as he picks up his pace and intensity, filling your stomach with a familiar warmth, “Gonna be the best you’ve ever had.”

His strong hand gripping your hip, lifting you up slightly to meet the angle of his precise thrusts—despite the animalistic desire that’s overcome him—has your legs trembling where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sound of his skin smacking against yours is barely audible above your own moans mingling with his loud grunts. All you can feel is him. Every inch of his body, every ridge of each muscle beneath his hot skin, and every ragged sigh that fans over your neck. He’s all you want, and you can’t help but voice your desires over and over again in the form of his name.

“H-Hajime, I’m gonna cum!” you squeal when he starts drilling deeper inside of you, sending waves of pleasure flowing over your body with each thrust. Your toes are curling, your heart’s racing, every muscle in your body’s tensing as you dangle on the edge of your orgasm—so tantalizingly close to coming undone.

He seems to know what you need to reach the state of euphoria you’re craving, since he pulls out of you to flip you over onto your stomach. The room tilts around you ever so slightly at the sudden change in orientation, but your head drops to the comforter when he pulls your hips up towards his and slams into from behind instead. More feverish sounds of pleasure and begs of “Don’t stop!” leave your mouth unabashedly when the sensations overwhelming you slacken your jaw and create white spots in your vision.

“That’s it!” Iwaizumi hisses as your pussy spasms around him and you cry out his name in the heat of your orgasm, “Fuck, baby; you’re gonna make me cum.”

Your velvety walls clenching around his dick so affectionately and your hips thrashing against his as you ride out your high has him reaching his as well moments later, and he releases inside of you, filling you to the brim with warmth. His hands on your hips keep them in place while he finishes, and he remains inside of you a few seconds afterwards before pulling out and lying down on the bed beside you.

“Fuck…” you sigh as your chest rises and falls with deep breaths. The exasperated tone in your voice causes worry to bubble in Iwaizumi’s chest for a brief moment until you turn to regard him with a bright smile. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Glad you feel that way too,” is his response delivered with a chuckle.

In the darkness only interrupted by pale shards of moonlight seeping in between the blinds, your hand finds his face so you can tilt it towards yours and press another, tender kiss against his lips. “I’m sorry,” you whisper even though your mouths are still connected.

“Why?” His fingers brush your hair away from your face on their way to rest at the nape of your neck.

“Because I should’ve been with you all this time and not those other losers.” There’s a short pause, bathing the room in silence save for the beating of your heart against your ribcage. “I love you, Hajime—and I have loved you—but I’ve just been running away because I’m scared of ruining things like I have with other guys.”

The warmth his lips spread over your body when they return to yours puts you at ease, as does his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“I love you too, (f/n),” he confesses, pecking the crown of your head, “So how about you stop running and stay here with me, hmm?”

Nestling your face against the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath, you sigh, “That’s all I want.”

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesiwa-channn, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus, @yamagucji

iwaizumi: @misora-msby,@lotsoffandomrecs, @tsumue, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #tw alcohol #tw dubcon #ahkaahshi gets wild #fran writes hq!!

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

“Diana.”

A/N: To be honest, I had wanted this to be a Diana-centric fic, from Diana’s perspective. I struggled to find a concept, and had a little help from a friend who sent me a random generator. (Thanks, Kate :>) And when I thought I’d just choose from a randomly generated idea, I came across this video on youtube which was actually a compilation of a tiktok series of the story of two neighbors. Of course, I changed bits of it, and obv the end so if you think you know what the source vid is, dw. I won’t hurt y’all like that ;-; And I’ll just link it at the bottom so no plot spoilers for those who don’t know what it is. Eyyyy.

This fic has a few song recs for y’all to listen to if you haven’t heard them already, lol. ;)

I had been looking for something... “emotional” for Diana’s bday fic. And I think... this works. At least for me, it does. It’s not from Diana’s perspective, but... I think this works. So without further ado, Happy birthday Diana and...

oh, thank you to @tracedinairlwa for some help with the music :> that y’all will see later in the fic :’>. Without further ado,

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

It all started with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

No, it isn’t Akko’s piano. Her piano has been sitting in a corner of her room, collecting dust- untouched for months. And that is just the thing. Unless her piano has somehow become cursed and has decided to ghostly play on its own, then there had to be some other source.

The source of that gentle sound, Akko eventually pinpoints, is her apartment wall- or more accurately, what lies beyond that separator.

As she sits on her couch, admiring the expressive tones, her mind has decided that it wants to capture this special moment, and keep it stored lest she never experiences it again.

Making a quick dash for her bedroom, she opens her bedside drawer and fishes for her old camera from her university days in film club, back when she was an actual student of the Arts and all that creative jazz. She has tried to maintain it, but being under lockdown allows her few chances of seeing the outside world, and the few corners of her home don’t exactly spark ‘inspiration’ for any project.

Dusting the device off gently, she takes it back to the living room, placing it on her coffee table facing herself. She clicks the record button, thinking of making an introduction; but she quickly abandons that idea as she realizes it may take away from the sounds she wants to ring more apparent on tape.

Maybe she can just edit a few captions later on her laptop. Yes. That sounds good.

So she sits.

And the notes kept playing.

[Video Diary(?) Diary? Is this a Diary? Day... Day 1. I hope it’s only Day 1. I hope there’s a day 2. And a three... and a five.

So anyway, Akko here. And uh... I got a new neighbor, I think. He/she plays the piano. I do too (kinda. Haven’t done that in a while, hehe).

I don’t know why I recorded this... this must seem like I’m being a creep, but... They just... played Chariot’s Melancholy from my favorite show and... it felt sadder than usual. The sound felt sorrowful. I don’t know...

I’m... moved.]

//-//-//-//-//

She does not know what compels her today, to slip that message under her neighbors door; but before she can even think about her actions, they’d already been done.

A simple, “can you please play ‘Ease My Mind’ by Ben Platt, maybe?” haphazardly scrawled on a piece of notebook paper is delivered with the anxious feelings of an interaction-craving Akko, starved of a social life since all this pandemic misfortune began.

She is sure she no longer knows how to string a proper introduction together after nearly a year of being by her lonesome.

This is about to change however. Starting today.

Maybe.

She counts down the hours ‘til sunset.

[Day 2! Yey! So uh... I kind of... went on the attack- no! I didn’t attack anyone! I just... You know how I have a new neighbor that plays the piano? I sent that neighbor a note.

And you might think that’s all fine and cute, but... I’ve never even met my neighbor... but...

I love his/her music. So much.

And I told them. On the note, of course. Duh, Akko.

I asked them to play ease my mind and... they did.

As you can hear in the video... I guess it was a yes. :>

...They eased my mind...

-Akko]

//-//-//-//-//

She wants to try something today.

She has been thinking about it the past few days after continually being blessed with such beautiful music. Music that had attracted her like moth to a flame. The piano’s daily sunset singing compels her to come reunite with her own.

She had wiped it clean earlier in the morning and now sits awkwardly on the bench, punching down a random note here and there.

What a nostalgic tone.

The C major scale then the G. She plays it. A few arpeggios to warm up. F sharp major doesn’t sound too good, with her fingers tangling up as she traverses the scale. What was the fingering supposed to be like again? Right. Start with the fourth and second finger on the left and right hand respectively.

That sounds much better.

She hums a few tunes, choosing from a playlist arranged in her mind. She settles on something gentle and sweet. A Yiruma song. Just to get the feeling back in her hands.

A river flows as notes along the plain that is her silent room, adorning the quiet flourishes and curves, bringing color to her atmosphere.

She misses this. This tingle in her heart as music fills up her entire soul, not allowing her to think of anything else but this exact moment.

Yes.

This... This is nice.

And Akko plays until the sunset comes.

She can’t wait for it to come.

[Day 6. I... I haven’t played the piano in a while, and I’m a little rusty. But brave ol’ Akko here thought it’d be great to ask for a duet from the virtuoso across the drywall, haha. I left a note...

And I though we had something going. I was excited... I said that they could play once I stopped my part, but... did they forget? Or I guess they didn’t hear me.

It’s okay... I can try again tomorrow.

I hope. Tomorrow...

-This has been Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

She excitedly videos this weekend ‘meet-up’.

Akko still doesn’t know who lives across the wall, but she sure knows his or her favorite songs by now, hearing it daily at the same sunset hours.

She admires the music, as usual, but this time it’s different. This time, they had sent her a note. An apology for missing out last time.

They request a duet with her, to make up for it. Of course, Akko accepts. And now she starts it off, praying and hoping her sound is heard through the barrier that keeps their music apart.

She ends her part of the duet, waiting in the most agonizing few seconds of silence. She briefly worries that her neighbor had forgotten their proposition; or maybe they couldn’t hear her once more.

It’s fine, she thinks... It’s okay. She scratches her cheek, wondering if she should hold on until next time again-

There it is. That beautiful sound, so personal to the one living across the wall. A sound of emotion that could only belong to whoever it was living there.

Akko had never heard anyone else play the way her neighbor did.

She laughs, she feels herself tear up a little. It hurts so sweet in her chest. It’s a fizzy, bubbling excitement. It’s a stretched-out joy across her cheeks.

A success!

A beautiful one, indeed.

[Day 8: Akko here. My wish came true. I... got to play with my neighbor! Yay!

... Maybe I should go meet them now...]

//-//-//-//-//

They do it again.

Akko excitedly bounces in her warmed piano seat, listening to her neighbor go first this time around. She listens intently. Once the wall music stops, she starts. This was their agreement, their deal.

The river’s flow stills a moment, and that’s Akko’s cue to pick up the current’s pace once more.

She plays with shy gusto, caressing the keys in a way that shows how she’s fallen in love again. With the piano? With music? Yes. With- ...

Love, huh. It’s such perfect timing too.

Today is Valentine’s day.

Akko doesn’t know whether or not her neighbor has anyone special in her life like that, but if they share the same situation, all alone in their apartments, locked in by the pandemic, she just wants them to know she receives the message their music is trying to get across to one another.

Her heart feels it. It translates it.

It cherishes it.

[Day 13.

Dear Neighbor,

I just... wanted to share the words we’ve exchanged, not through any verbal means, but through the sounds that reverberate against the very foundations of our connected homes. Thank you for this message.

I know that music is... our way of simply saying

“I don’t know who you are ... But I’m here. You’re not Alone.” This is for you too.

-Sincerely, Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

It is a challenge.

For Akko or for her neighbor, she doesn’t know. What she does know is that tomorrow is going to be the big day! She’s finally going to see the face behind the songs that have embraced her tenderly throughout the lonely struggle she hadn’t realized had weighed down on her so heavily.

The interactions they’ve had, the conversations, they brighten up her everyday, and Akko is somewhat afraid she’s gotten attached; addicted- if you will- to this unique bond she’s formed with another she has never actually met.

Her mind strays from her current piece, body autopiloting a song called, “Mind Conductor” that both of them just so happen to like, apparently. Another fact that makes Akko feel all giddy as they seem to share a taste in other media outside of music.

She feels herself vibrate with nerves and excitement.

It’s tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day.

[We’re Finally Meeting.

Tomorrow.]

//-//-//-//-//

Akko tells a story.

She’s met her neighbor, not knowing what to expect. Despite having a lack of said expectations, she could confidently say it was better than anything she could have anticipated.

She rolls up the sleeves of her flannel shirt, readying herself to write the melodious response to the already playing tune in the background of her video.

Though she tries to listen intently, waiting for her turn, she is distracted. She knows she is.

After meeting someone as wonderful as her neighbor.

Blonde hair and blue eyes invade her recall, flashes of a soft smile and calm voice playing over and over in her head.

Her neighbor is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever met. Breath-taking. Akko says this with utmost objectivity as her lungs struggle to function after first meeting the lady.

Hailing from Scotland, the twenty-five-year-old had introduced herself to Akko. They exchanged a few pleasantries, some questions and information.

Akko had asked how she’d never known she had such a talented neighbor, to which the response was an admission from the woman that she had just moved in and was only staying in the adjacent apartment temporarily while awaiting for a relative to come for her after selling their old house back in their hometown.

Her mother... rests. Having had a certain heart disease for a while, her immune system had proven very susceptible to the pandemic reaper that had claimed her life for its tallied count. She never knew her father, it seemed.

Akko’s heart breaks as she remembers these things.

“All I have left is the piano.”

That’s what she’d said to her earlier.

Akko’s fingers glide across the keys, playing her role in this drama for two.

“I play at sunset because my mother came home at that time from work... she was always stressed.

...I wanted to be of help to her. I was happy she loved it. As I grew up, it became a habit.”

Akko fumbles with a few keys, making a slight mistake. She hopes her neighbor can forgive her for being so distracted at the moment, and right after they’d finally met too.

“Thank you, Miss-”

“Akko is fine.”

“Thank you, Akko. You’re playing has, in truth, kept me motivated and less lonely.”

Akko remembers having promised before their parting to their respective units that she would keep playing with her until she moves out.

Akko blushes upon remembering the stunning smile she was offered afterwards.

Her neighbor had been camera shy and so Akko didn’t get the opportunity for a picture. She hopes for the best in the future. She’ll try again if ever the lovely lady was ready.

They have time, anyway.

They do.

[Day 20, folks! Akko here, writing another video caption entry, Diary, thing... haha. The song playing right now in the video is gorgeous right? It’s... her favorite song. It’s called, ‘In case you don’t live forever’. She said it keeps her loser to her mother. It keeps her in her heart.

She plays so beautifully...

She’s just as beautiful. She’s amazing.

She’s... a special soul.

I feel goosebumps.

I’m glad. For her. Her music doesn’t sound as sorrowful as when I first heard it. It’s still every bit as emotional, though. I could cry. Really, I could...

...I’m so happy she’s healing.

It’s a process, but... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for her.

I’ll be here for you,

“Diana.”]

//-//-//-//-//

There are times when Akko thinks she’d like to get to know her neighbor more, a little more chatting, a few more minutes talking.

However, it always seems as though there’s this unspoken rule. This... ‘don’t-get-too-close’, ‘don’t-ask-more-than-you-should’. It’s like a boundary that keeps Akko from learning more, discovering more.

Neither of them purposely meet-up outside their closed doors either, this lockdown and what-not all up in their face.

They see each other around the building sometimes, wave a hand, shake a plastic bag of groceries, but building protocols don’t really allow loitering in the halls, and Akko feels she’d be crossing a line in inviting the girl over, and she doesn’t see herself getting invited instead either.

Despite this longing, she isn’t all too dissatisfied with the current standing of their relationship. Peculiar as it may be, she rather likes this.

A relationship built on a communication based on raw emotion delivered through their music.

If Akko ponders it deeply, it’s quite an intimate relationship, what they have. Thoughts and feelings in their purest form- unspoken, but not hidden.

She might not know too much about Diana. She may not know much of her past, or even her present, or general objective facts about the woman.

But what Akko does feel she knows is Diana’s heart.

And Akko knows its utterly beautiful.

//-//-//-//-//

Moonlight Sonata has never felt so sad to her; its sounds reflecting something they both felt, Akko believed.

Akko feels her heart clench and ache in her chest, her face a little hot and her palms sweating.

Only a week left before the clock strikes twelve and the magic is broken.

Diana is finally moving out.

It is... their final duet.

How unfortunate.

Akko sighs, thinking about the pain she’ll feel later as she edits this portion of the video. Compared to the happy tones and build ups of all the others, this... is something she doesn’t know if she can do.

Maybe she can ask Amanda for a favor this time around?

She’s actually shown some of her closest friends her video logs, and they all had sent kind messages to Akko’s new friend, who in turn, felt worlds and worlds happier.

Akko feels happy as well.

Diana’s joy is contagious. It shows through her expressive music that gives away the feelings her face doesn’t show.

Speaking of Diana’s face... she still hasn’t agreed on showing her face on camera. Akko supposes it’s still too early. Maybe before she leaves? Oh Akko hopes so. She wants to have something to look at physically to remember Diana by. Not that she’d ever forget.

Still, a little memory help never hurt anyone.

Diana’s turn comes in smoothly through the wall, Akko unable to keep her smile from forming.

She’s going to miss this. The playing; the sometimes awkward, but unconventionally amazing duets; the letters shoved underneath door; and the very rare hallway meet-up where Akko can only smile at Diana as they exchange a literal word or two.

Akko reminisces.

The past... two months now, have been amazing. Incredible. Life-changing. Akko wonders what the future has in store for them both after they part.

Maybe they could meet again. Someday. Somehow. Somewhere.

Akko knows she’ll keep playing still. At the same time, on a weekend, as the sunsets. For Diana. She’s promised she’ll keep making the video logs. She’ll send them over to her so that they can still keep this music alive in some way.

//-//-//-//-//

[Day 62.

Hi, Diana. It’s me, Akko.

I... wrote you a song...? Or well, I started to... I’m not quite done yet, hihi. Got a little too ambitious and all... thought I could add some other instruments besides our- the piano... aha..haha...

When you first told me your story, I started picturing it out. A life dyed with all the colors of the spectrum. From the vivids to the grays, it was such a lovely imagery in my minds eye. A painting I could not get out of my head.

And so this song is... yeah. That.

A story.

A story about this wonderful twenty-five-year-old woman who so happened to move next door to this uninspired artist. She’d lost her mother to a stupid virus, and she’d never known her father. Her house got sold, and she had only one distant relative she knew of left.

She spends her days along in a box of white walls and empty silence. That is, until the sun decides to rest for the day, and it sends its golden rays of energy to the girl and to her piano that she thought to be her sole companion in this tragedy.

She plays her favorite songs, filling the emptiness with her own emotions; making the intangible manifest itself and cause a dumb girl next door to one day slip a scratch of paper underneath her door, asking for a song.

A note with a request... and with a message that she’d heard her feelings- her loneliness; and that she’d never let her be alone anymore.

And that’s how they became friends, huh, Diana?

Two pianos, Two people, and a wall that keeps them apart.

They didn’t know who was playing on the other side. But did it matter?

In this dreary, blackened time of the world,

‘You can be the light of somebody else’ darkness, so keep shining.’.

Dear Diana,

In case my playing isn’t as emotionally expressive as yours, I hope you at least know this now. Through this video.

That you were, and are... my light.

-Akko.

P.S. I hope I finish the song and give it to you before you leave.]

//-//-//-//-//

She feels herself hyperventilating, her vision bleary. She can barely stand. She feels like vomiting, and dying, and screaming all at once.

Her anxieties run rampant all over the room.

If this keeps up, she may as well hurt herself beyond help.

She trudges over to the one thing that could ground her at the moment.

The piano.

Her hands are shaky as they do multiple attempts to turn on the keyboard, hitting the wrong buttons and turning the volume knob up too loud that when Akko accidentally leans against the keyboard, hand pressing down on many keys, the sound almost blows up her eardrums.

She curses, smashing a hand against those same keys, the cluster of notes echoing through her apartment walls.

“aaaaAAAAGGHHHHHHHH!!!!”

She allows the scream to tear out of her throat; emotions, wild horses finally released into the open.

“AGH! AGGHHHH!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH”

She falls face first onto the keys, now ignoring the loudness of their noise, momentarily thinking it would be better to allow her ears to bleed out so she’d never hear a thing again.

She wants something, anything, to drown out the pain she feels right now.

...

She sobs against the keys, head lifting as she apologizes to her piano, wiping off the tears that are quickly replaced by fresh ones.

Akko gives up and plays a note. Then two.

Then she’s playing ‘you’ll be in my heart’ and she’s crying more.

She lets herself cry as she plays.

Today, she was supposed to see Diana off. She had left a final note the day before yesterday, asking if she could do so. Help Diana carry her things, maybe swap numbers, and just... maybe keep this connection going for years to come.

Last night, she’d said good night at Diana’s door.

The girl gave her the sweetest smile, an almost unnoticeable blush on her features.

Oh, but Akko noticed anyway.

Of course, she would. With how shamelessly she stared at Diana at that moment.

Diana laughed, stepping closer and patted Akko on the cheek- kissed her there- before turning about to shut the door, along with the lights Akko saw go off from underneath it.

She was excited for the morning.

But when morning came... Diana was gone.

Akko had been thrown into confusion and a frantic state that she’d bolted all around, searching for signs or a left behind message.

Nothing.

She had then run down to ask the land lady, and that’s where she’d found out.

The heart disease Diana’s mother had was hereditary.

Diana had had an attack, and with an emergency alerting device, she’d been able to contact her only family, and had been taken to the hospital.

That was good.

That gave Akko relief and joy.

...so why is she despairing now?

...She didn’t know.

No, not the reason for her despair. She knows that.

The reason she was in this state is because she didn’t know.

She didn’t know what had happened.

She didn’t know Diana had suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night.

She didn’t know where she was, or where whoever took her.

She didn’t know that Diana had that heart disease too.

She didn’t know because she never got to ask.

She never got to learn more, know more.

... Did she not know Diana then?

Her mind taunts her, her heart hurts her.

She doesn’t know a lot about Diana. Not as much as she thinks.

That’s what they tell her.

For all the emotions they’d exchanged through music, that was the extent of it. Had Akko been too presumptuous in thinking she’d known Diana so deeply because of what they’d shared?

When in reality she may as well be a random stranger playing her show tunes and disturbing her neighbors.

Akko almost believes it.

But no... no. She can’t do that. She can’t assume those things. Not about their connection. Not about Diana.

Because Diana had told her once upon a song that she- that Akko had been her light. Her comfort. Akko believes in Diana. So she believes these feelings as well.

Yet these feelings of her own were so conflicting, so daunting. They battle in her mind, questioning and justifying every little thing. All things relating to Diana. Diana and... Diana.

Akko coughs out a few more sobs, throat incredibly dry.

She stops playing for a moment, dragging herself to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then she goes back to the piano.

She... doesn’t feel like playing again.

What should she play anyway?

What song does she want to play? What song... Song... Song... Diana... What was Diana’s favorite song?

Diana? Song? A song for Diana? A song about-

Akko falls off her piano bench as she scrambles for her coffee table, sighing in relief as the papers for her composition are still there.

With shaky hands, she takes the sheets and a pencil and brings them over to the piano.

And she writes a few notes, then a few bars.

Diana.

Who is Diana.

What does Akko not know about her. Her other struggles? Her sickness? Her trials and her fears? Her past?

That melody... sounded too sad for a parting gift. Akko doesn’t want Diana to feel more sorrow when she moves out...

Then....

What does Akko know? About Diana?

“Diana is...”

Expressive, emotional.

Diana is intelligent, an intellectual.

Diana is sincere and sweet.

Diana is talented and tasteful in music.

Diana is... her neighbor, her... new friend,

....Akko’s... what?

What was she to Akko?

“You are my light.”

-Akko ends up writing as a title.

But that’s a little too embarrassing to give to someone who was just your neighbor and a new friend... right?

And maybe it didn’t exactly represent the whole thing Akko had written.

So she erases it, biting her pencil as she tries to come up with a new name, a new caption for this creation.

What could it be. That describes Diana in her entirety; her life, her struggles, her joys.

Who is she? Who is Akko’s neighbor?

Akko scratches her head in frustration, wracking her brains even more.

With a sigh, she replies to herself aloud, the simplest, somewhat plain, and stupidly obvious answer.

“Well, she’s Diana.”

And it clicks.

That she is.

She is Diana.

And Akko throws on a jacket, a mask, and some shoes and thinks no more.

//-//-//-//-//

[Dear Diana,

I know very little about you

But you’ve changed my life.

Really you have.

You gave me back my passion, and a little bit more of that even. Maybe aroused a new passion within me.

I’d say, “You’ll be in my heart”, but that sounds too much of a farewell, to be honest.

And I’d rather not say goodbye just yet.

Not like this.

Music... Is a powerful thing. Despite the rampaging emotions I’d felt as I found out what had happened to you today, I- I kept playing. It grounded me. It helped me.

Diana, you once told me I was your light.

And you know I’ve told you already. That you’ve been MINE.

Diana. This video might look incredibly shaky and chaotic.

But please forgive me for that, and know that it is because I’m running with all my might to find out where you are. I got a hint for the hospital you might have been taken too.

It kinda seems like I’m a stalker now, huh?

I’m sorry. I just... I-

I can’t say goodbye to you....

Not just yet...

I still... have a song for you.

So... wait for me?”]

//-//-//-//-//

Eyes blink, bright white melting into color. They scan the room, looking for hints to identify her location.

Her body aches, her chest hurts. Her throat is parched. Her head is throbbing.

What is that annoying beeping sound-

Ah. Of course.

The hospital.

Again.

She hates it. She hates the smell of antiseptic and sterile sheets. She hates the taste of badly prepared hospital meals, and too-dry food.

The water has this strange quality to it when you’re in the hospital.

She knows this well.

She hates that she does.

She sighs, sinking into her pillows. At least those are comfortable.

Ugh.

What bad timing, really. For an attack.

She was supposed to move out today. She was supposed to meet with her aunt- who actually has probably met up with her by now, seeing as Diana is in a hospital and her usual alert device seems to be charging within reach beside her. Also she sees Daryl’s purse on the seat.

Maybe the woman had gone out temporarily for something important.

That was fine.

It just meant Diana was left alone again. If only for a short while.

...Alone, huh.

These past two months, she hadn’t been that.

All because of one girl, one Atsuko Kagari that she’d met by chance through a piano and through a wall. The sound quite literally carrying over through a wall.

Diana can’t believe she used to be so skeptical of thin-walled living spaces, wondering how people kept their privacy.

Now, however, she feels blessed that that was the case.

Else she’d never have met... her light.

That’s right.

When everything, her vision, her hopes, her heart had steadily been dying out, through her dim came a glow. That glow was the connection she’d found through her neighbor across a wall.

It had surprised her the first time she realized someone was playing alongside her one sunset session, months ago. She would have thought it creepy had the person’s music been any less captivating.

There were just so many colors in the music, there was just so much warmth. It sounded a little rough, a few hinges rusty at first; but it came along after a few pseudo duets, and then Diana had found these duets to be a staple in her life.

Then she met Akko for the first time, and more warmth and color came into her life.

Diana found herself enjoying the musical conversations they had, intrigued by thoughts that they were actually able to communicate in that way and understand one another to that extent, no words attached.

And she enjoyed these nonverbal bonding moments.

But when they actually wrote to one another, or when they’d have their short greetings when they’d meet up in the hall, Diana found herself wanting to draw even closer, to get to know Akko even more.

And when Akko asked if she could do the same, Diana had found it so easy to open up.

She’d loved to know even more about the girl.

But how would she do it now?

They didn’t have the chance to exchange numbers, and Diana was probably moving as soon as she left the hospital. Her things were already being shipped to her new home, after all. There wasn’t much reason to return to her apartment, really.

“Idiot. Stupid, Diana. Not asking her sooner. What are you supposed to do no-”

Two knocks on her door.

It doesn’t open right away. It doesn’t seem to open at all.

Diana deduces it’s not a doctor or nurse then. And it might not be Daryl either because the woman would have already called the attending nurse to open the door already.

So then, who could it be?

Diana tries not to let her mind wander and get her hopes up, because there is no way- just no way- it’s who she hopes it will be.

The door opens, and her breath is unexpectedly bated- and she releases it, seeing it’s just the janitor.

Trying not to let disappointment leak into her tone, she greets him a good mor-

“I’m glad... I was right.... hah... hah... You’re here... Diana.”

And Diana really shouldn’t just assume things such as being wrong, and that maybe her neighbor was a creep two months back.

Because now her neighbor, all frazzled, sweaty, and out of breath, is right there in front of her, a bunch of papers crumpled in one hand as the other is held over her heart, trying to calm herself.

“You... hah... didn’t let m-me... Sa-ha-y goodbye... so... you’re not allowed... to leave me waiting in silence and never respond...” Akko huffs. “There’s no more wall preventing you from using words now.”

Her breathing finally slows, and she manages to look up.

“I still have a song for you, after all.”

Diana doesn’t realize, nor does she feel the tears flowing down her face.

Akko doesn’t either.

“L-Let me know what you think... It’s my first song and all...” She becomes this shy blushing school girl as she approaches Diana’s bedside, awkwardly handing over the worn pieces of paper, all wrinkled up from whatever adventure Akko had been on prior to arriving here. “... then maybe we could play a duet again or something...”

She mumbles it so quietly Diana almost didn’t catch it.

She smiles.

She doesn’t think about the reality that was supposed to occur today had she not been taken to the hospital.

Virtual duets aren’t really her thing. She much prefers hearing sound in person, in real-time. She prefers the ability to adapt and adjust to play alongside someone; to feel expression and emotion first hand; to experience a duet in full.

So it’s a simple reply that she has ready, along with a smile on her face as she takes Akko’s hand in hers.

“I’d love that.”

//-//-//-//-//

Diana has told her many times that it’s thanks to her that she was able to recover as quickly as she did, and be out of the hospital in only a week.

Akko sheepishly denies that every time.

They’re both just glad things seem to settle to be alright now.

Diana leans her head against Akko’s shoulder as they share a pair of earphones, listening to the composition play on the latter’s laptop.

“I love it.”

“I know. You’ve told me that the past 4 months, everyday.”

“And I will continue to.”

Akko tries her best to hide the smile that had grown on her face, but it’s impossible. It comes out in laughs and a few soft tears, and she rubs her head against Diana’s.

“You have all the time to, it seems.”

“Yes, and I won’t waste it.” Diana quips, turning her head up to look at Akko with the tenderest of smiles. “Care to play?”

Akko simply smiles, before wrapping Diana up in a hug so deep, and warm, and tender. Without a word, she stands them both up, walking them over to two keyboards now positioned side-by-side.

They take seat. With eyes meeting, and a small nod, they begin.

They don’t need words to figure out the rhythm they’ll fall into, or what they should do, or who plays what part for today.

Akko’s colors seep out, her warmth embedded in her music. Diana’s expressive emotions tell Akko all she needs to know, and they play in harmony.

Together, they tell a story.

A story that began with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

A story about its music and what lay beyond a wall.

A story once called, “Diana”.

Now,

“Diana and Akko”.

A/N: .... Hrmmm... I didn’t like how i ended it, tbh,,, hahaha. I just... lost my thought process now. I’m tired and lost.

Anyway.

Based off this story

The follow-up to this won’t be now, or anytime too soon. Or tbh, I could just end it like this. But there’s this ache in my heart that wants to know what happens next as well. Or more things such as how Diana ended up staying. But well,

...who knows.

Bye for now.

~Shintori Khazumi

#diakko #dianakko #lwa #Little Witch Academia #diana bday fic #sorry it's sloppy #fanfic #diana cavendish #kagari atsuko

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sirenizuku · 3 years

Text

Or if we’re blind and the truth is just a painting in grey..

Izuku midoriya x gender-neutral reader!

BTW y/f/c stands for Your Favourite Color

Quirk info: Your quirk, Siren, allows you to have most of the characteristics of a siren. You can hypnotise the weak-willed with your voice, alluring them to do whatever you wish. You can breathe underwater AND on land, because i can’t keep you in the water if I want you to go exist near 1-a. You also have razor-sharp teeth for biting people, though one of the downsides of biting people is that you enter a euphoric/manic state whenever you accidentally drink someone’s blood. Allllsoooo your legs turn into fins in water and vice versa Y’know. But they still have scales!!! Cute little scaly legs. Also other downsides include:Sore throat from singing, weakened immune system (not too badly) and occasional aches in the gills

Summary: You’ve been a villain your whole life, or at-least since your quirk developed... But you aren’t really a villain. You’re a vigilante, and even still that term angers you… Because some vigilantes claim to kill for justice, and maybe if you disagree with that you aren’t one. But you’ve never killed anyone and you never plan to. Unlike those ‘heroes’ who claim to fight for justice, killing all those who oppose them.

If you asked yourself, it doesn’t matter what somebody’s done.

Because if you kill them, that’s just another life taken…

And they have the gall to excuse it with their sickening justice.

You hate heroes.

————;=+ Act 1; In which a siren sings her encore +=;————

You lied. There was one person you wouldn’t mind killing.

All Might.

And so, You had managed to engage a student of UA whilst trying to break in.

You just wanted him dead, is that too much to ask? Actually, don’t answer that. Hell, He was putting up such a fight that you’d happily just leave at this point! You didn’t want all-might dead THAT badly.

Suddenly, you’re snapped out of thoughts by Izuku going in for a punch. You hiss in anger as you quickly throw yourself out of the way, hearing a rib or two of yours cracking.

God.

Dammit.

’I’ll be fine for now.’ you mumble, standing up. You look Izuku in the eye, watching as his face swirls from anger to hate to pity to an apologetic look then repeating. Stop it, you think.

Stop pitying me, you think again.

He’s readying an attack, you notice. His stance tenses slightly when he’s charging an attack.

Your eye twitches as you seethe in rage. Finally, you begin to get too frustrated. You sigh, readying your voice to sing your song in one of its purest forms.

The boy hisses in confusion, seemingly trying to break out of your hypnosis. You tut.. He’d have so much potential, had it not been ruined by these ‘heroes’

Finally, you begin. Your voice wavers for a second at the beginning, but you manage to iron out most imperfections. Slowly but surely, the greenette’s eyes glaze over and he steps towards you.

You smile genuinely, for it has been far too long since you last hypnotised someone.

The boy stands awaiting your orders and you slowly stand, wincing. “Lucky for you, little bunny, - ow, - I didn’t plan on killing any students today, or any day, really..” you say, still pondering what to order him. ”Ah, Right, Tell me, little bunny, where is.. All might?” You sigh. you’ve always thought the name All Might was dumb.

The boy slowly points down the hall and you smile, turning on your heel. Your smile drops immediately as Eraserhead’s capture weapon wraps around you. It’s not too uncomfortable, all things considered, but you’d rather not be in it. And so, You struggle, attempting to bite the ‘scarf.’

It does not work, clearly, as you listen to your teeth scratch across the material. He seems to hum in realisation as he sees your teeth, scarp and triangle-shaped, clearly made for eating meat. You keep struggling as you lose energy, the pure adrenaline running through your bloodstream slowly fading out. Your struggling fades from ‘Feral cat’ to ’angry cicada’ in the span of about 20 seconds.

And the worst part? The ‘hero’ who caught you didn’t even react.

You feel the scarves tighten, cutting off your oxygen and covering your gills. After about 30 more seconds, you begin to pass out.

————;=-+ Act 2; In which.. Interviews amiright +-=;————

You awake in the UA interview room. More so an actual interview room than.. an impromptu villain interview room.

It still peeved you to be considered a villain, but at least it’s better than being considered a hero... You glance down to your hands, stuck in handcuffs. You aren’t all that uncomfortable, really, and you can’t help but be glad it’s warm in UA. Better than the streets, at the very least.

You glance down at your legs, thick scales running up them and slowly dissapearing at your hips. They glow a brilliant light Y/F/C, darkening at the edges where light doesn’t fully reach them. There’s some traces of a scalpel inspecting them, you judge by the perfectly straight scratches leading up some. You snort, imagining their confusion. Suddenly, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

”What’s so funny?” It says. You assume it’s an older man, judging by tone. “Ahh.. so there is someone listening,” you smile, “Were you inspecting the scales?” You say, cutting yourself off a few times with short-lived laughs. You hear a sharp sigh of exhaustion from the speaker.

”Name?” They ask. You decide to respond, despite the part of you telling you to be rebellious and silent. ”Technically don’t have one. Pronounced dead,” you sigh, “Try searching y/n y/ln”

Theres a 10 minute pause consisting mostly of you getting lost in your thoughts, before somebody seems to relay info to the mysterious voice (tm).

”Pronounced dead.. at age 5.” they say and you giggle. “Big surprise! I’m not dead.” You say, voice dripping with venom. There’s a resigned sigh as you avert your eyes.

So competent they just decided you were dead.

”Quirk?”

You giggle. ”My quirrrk?” You draw out the r, “It’s siren.”

”Siren as in ambulance siren?” The voice says.

”Siren as in man-eating mermaid.” You answer, though you dislike calling yourself a mermaid.

”…” There’s a short pause followed by… silence. Pure silence. It’s deafening, really, and your mind can’t help but imagine all the ways they could kill you. A few minutes later, a staff member - not eraserhead, luckily - walks in and removes the restraints. You flex your hands at the newfound freedom, immediately raising a hand to your gills which are placed upon your neck, as they try - and fail, due to you having lungs for on land - to suck in air. You stumble over to the camera, assuming - and hoping, - that there’s a microphone there too.

“You guys got any water bottles?” You ask, scratching at your gills. A few moments later, another staff member - it might be the same one, actually, - walks in with two bottles. Your eyes light up and you immediately open one, pouring it into your gills. You feel some relief at having ‘cleaned’ them out. It’s never fun when you get gunk. though, for a second, you are concerned that the water might be poisoned.

You take your other water bottle, pouring out a little bit onto your palm. There’s enough water left to soothe your sore throat, since you are now realising that you weren’t, at all, ready to use your song at such a high perfection level. Slowly, You run your now-wet palm up your scales, moistening them slightly. It feels nice, okay? Don’t judge, It’s rude.

”hang on..” you mumble, spinning on your heel to walk around the room. “did those assholes take my phone?” You ponder aloud. There’s a short crackle from the speaker, followed by a “Yes.”

”oh.” you sigh, kicking your legs up onto a table. You immediately fall over, since you managed to forget you were standing.

”Hey, what time is it?” you say into the void, hoping the mic will pick you up. “16:34” they say.

“cool!” You say, ironically unenthusiastically.

After a few minutes, you begin to get bored. You decide to whine to the mic. “I’m borrrreeeddd….” you whine, seemingly forgetting you’re literally a criminal. Not a big one, but a criminal. Of

Theres a short click from the door as a staff member opens it, they’re holding a phone. Not your phone, sadly, but a phone. “Hell yeah!” You say, bounding over to the phone. You grab it as the staff member hurries out the room, seemingly afraid. “Don’t get any ideas, it’s tracked.” The voice says, once again coming from the speaker at a slightly-lower-than-comfortable volume.

You scroll through the mostly blank phone, until you stumble upon a group-chat. ‘Class 1-A,’ It’s named.

Huh, you think, clicking on it.

————;=+ Act 3; In which you make fun of class 1-a +=;————

Class 1-A

16:47

Tsu: We still up for girl’s movie night?

Y/n: mowovie night

Kirishima: huh???

Bakugou: WILL YOU STOP BLOWING UP MY FUCKING PHONE

Bakugou: FOR FIVE

Bakugou: MINUTES

Y/n: will youwu stowop blowoing uwup my fuwucking phowone owo

Bakugou: I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU APART

Kaminari: lol

Kaminari: Wait who’s that?

Kirishima: bro yeah who IS that

Iida Ten

Bakugou: STOP PARROTING EACH OTHER YOU DUMBASSES

Y/n: stowop parrowoting each owother youwu duwumbasses owo

Bakugou: I’LL RIP YOU APART

Y/n: I’ll rip yowouwu awpart…

Kaminari: Bakugou hang on lmfao

Momo: Theres nobody named y/n in our class

y/n: i’m ur uncle

Momo: Who’s uncle?

y/n: yes <3

Tsu: ?

Izuku: Guys, please stop blowing up my phone I’m trying to watch tv,,,

y/n: izuwukuwu

Izuku: Huh,,,,?

y/n: huwuh,,,?

Izuku: Why is everyone messaging me???? and telling me not to use this chat???

Bakugou: WE COULD‘VE EXPLAINED IT TO YOU IN DMS YOU IDIOT

Y/n: we cowouwuld’ve explained it towo yowouwu in dms yowouwu idiowot

Tenya IIda: Please stop sending so many messages in the chat. I am trying to sleep.

y/n: damn lemme just stop my hilarity so you can sleep /s

y/n: wait

y/n: I mean uhh

y/n: please stowop sending sowo many messages in the chat. I am trying towo sleep.

Tenya Iida: Please do not make fun of what I say. Please remember I am a moderator here,

Y/n: ’moderator’ bitch this is a gorilchat

y/n: shit

y/n I mean groupchat

y/n: also I mean

y/n: Please dowo nowot make fuwun owof what I say. Please remember I am a mowoderatowor.

Kirishima: srsly who is this

y/n: me looking into a mirror ^^^

Bakugou: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION

y/n: woahh calm down there hot stuff

y/n: get it

y/n: because you’re not hot

Momo: Can’t say they’re wrong there, Bakugou.

Kirishima: ^ Don’t be mean to bakubro!!!

y/n: are any of you organic creatures

Kaminari: I am

y/n: give life juice pls thx

Kirishima: they’re reverting back into gamer speak from their hunger :ooooo

y/n: what u want me to talk like mr stick-up-my-ass iida

Tenya Iida: Please refrain from using profanity, Y/n!

y/n: wow I’m so sorry I’ll never do it again (1/2)

Tenya Iida: Thank you.

y/n: I mean really I’ll never do it again mr stick-up-my-ass iida (2/2)

Bakugou: KARMA FOR TELLING MEMTKO GET MY FEET OFF MY DESK

y/n: wow mr not-hot did you just have a stroke

Bakugou: I’M GONNAKILL OYU

Y/n: well I hope Oyu is ok

Y/n: also if you’re wondering who I am

y/n: sorry for lying (I’m not)

y/n: Y/n sent a photo

(PHOTO ID: A photo of a young girl, seemingly. they’re no older than 16, by the looks of it. They have brilliant y/f/c scales across their entire legs that fade out near the hips. Her face is pulled into a grin with razor-sharp teeth unlike that of a human.)

Kirishima: wasn’t Izuku fighting someone like that in the hall

Y/n: bingo! fingetbuns

Y/n: *fingergusn

y/n: fINGERSUNS

y/n: NO

y/n: FUNGHUNS

Y/n: HFJFHHFJDIDBJDIFH FINGERHUNS

Izuku: it’s okay, take your time (:

Y/n: FINWR GUNS

Kirishima: ur getting there bro!!!

Y/n: FINGERGUSN

y/n: NO

Y/n: Finger guns

Bakugou: STOP FUCKING SPAMMING

Kirishima: i’m so proud of my mermaid son

Y/n: siren*

Kirishima: I’m so proud of my mermaid siren

Y/n: yeah ok I guess

Y/n: serious question

Y/n: does anyone have a small amount of blood

Y/n: that they’d be willing to gift towards me

Kaminari: wtff

Kirishima: bro I got some right here

y/n: give pls

Kirishima: where do I have to go B)

Y/n: go find aizawa and tell him to give blood to the siren girl

Kirishima: oki

-——————-

In the UA interview room, You smile down at your phone.

They’re actually willing to be kind to you, even if you just fought them. You’re actually happy.

It’s an odd feeling,

But it’s one you’d like to keep.

-——————-

Class 1-A

17:22

Y/n: I got my blood

y/n: down the hatch

Kirishima: kindness is manly

y/n: damnfucki; right iwns tis

Kaminari: huh

Izuku: are you okay

y/n: bkoodjsm

Izuku: i think they’re saying blood?

y/n: hehe

Bakugou: STOP BEING WEIRD

y/n: djhrnsia rothg god i am so fhilarous

y/n: nr igni kimsh

y/n: ithink I might have anxiey

y/n: anxieuty

Kirishima: bro u okay?

Mineta: cute…

y/n: i am going to hurt you

AUTO: MINETA left the chatroom

Momo: oh thank god

Jirou: ^^^^

y/n: hwlrnd

y/n: how say

y/n: how say jrlis

y/n: jirou

Jirou: jee-roh

y/n: skfnsj blood make

y/n: me is haopy

Izuku: Blood makes you happy?

y/n: yed

Izuku: it’s very interesting to have a quirk that’s mutation but also allows you to gain serotonin/dopamine

Izuku: what else does your quirk do?

y/n: sing sovng

y/n: make peop,e do what I want

y/n: but hurt throat

y/n: leg turn fin

y/n: make hunfhyehdbvlood

Izuku: I’m designing a hero costume as we speak!

Bakugou: NERD

Kirishima: manly!

Izuku: (:

y/n: thenhahighswearingiffof

Izuku: translation: The high is wearing off

y/n: thus koamsjs

y/n: brb

——

y/n: ): high wore off

Izuku: What WAS that?

Y/n: blood side effect

Y/n: its really fun

Izuku: Hang on

Auto: Izuku called Sensei Aizawa

——

Class 1-A

18:12

Izuku: ok I asked eraserhead n he said he doesn’t mind (:

Izuku: Can I interview you

Y/n: do I get blood after

Izuku: Sure!

Y/n: DEAL

———

You look down at your phone.

It’s been a hour of you scrolling the internet, looking at memes that only earned a short snort from you.

You’re tired, although it’s only 19:32.

You decide it doesn’t matter, and that you’ll sleep.

You spin around on your heel, before pausing. There’s no bed.

Ah well. Floor looks awfully comfy.

-———

You awake around 9Am with only the light of an old lightbulb to illuminate the room. You miss seeing the light from the water, sitting on a rock until the sun finally peaked... But you were lonely, back then. You aren’t sure whether or not you want to go back to those days.

A small knock at the door alerts you of Izuku coming around for his interview. He’s holding a notebook that has ‘Y/N quirk’ messily written on.

He glances down at your legs, covered in shimmering scales. His eyes light up with fascination, to which you chuckle. “You can touch.” You say, watching his hand reach down to the y/f/c coloured scales.

His hand runs gently over them. You grin watching his fascination, and he looks up. He pulls a fold-out seat from the hallway, placing it behino the table before placing himself upon it.

You sit down on the opposite table, smiling. He glances up towards your teeth, watching them glimmer. “Don’t they.. hurt your gums?” He asks.

“Oh, these,“ you press a finger against the top of your tooth, immediately drawing blood, “the skin near them is hardened so they don’t stab me.”

you watch him turn his head down immediately and start writing in his notebook. You glance over, watching him write down all the info about your quirk. He seems to be sketching a costume on the side.

”Oh, don’t forget the voice thing.” You notify to him. He glances up, eyes questioning, tilting his head like a puppy. “Cute.” You say flirtatiously. He turns bright red, averting his eyes before trying to change the subject. “S-so.. if I were to film your song would it still hypnotise me?” He asks.

You wink at him. “Wow, wanting to listen to me sing already..” You say, “I’m just kidding, It wouldn’t hypnotise you, but you might cry. Just a side effect.”

Izuku averts his eyes, blushing furiously. “Could I get a r-recording of it.”

Does he really have a crush on me? You think. Is that really why he wants a recording of me singing?

You respond with a mere “Yeah, sure.” He nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket, ”Should I leave?“ he asks, and you nod.

As soon as he leaves, the pull of your quirk on your phone begins.

You derive your tune from the one you’d sing at the beach. It’s sad and melancholic but there’s an upbeat note, reminiscing on times where you felt free even if there was a tug upon your heart. The air seems to split, allowing the vibrations of your song to pull across the air. It’s not the perfected version, but it’s close.

You love to sing, really, but you’ve always felt bad. you’re only good at singing when you’re using your quirk.

Finally, your song fades out and you hit the record button to turn it off. There’s now a 3:30 minute long recording on Izuku’s phone.

You open the door to see Izuku with a pair of earplugs in, so you push aside your shock at the fact you could just open the door.

You tap him, watching him jump. So cute, you both think in unison.

So cute.

You him his phone, having now secretly added your number.

Very sneaky.

—————

13:36

Izuku: Very sneaky lol

Y/n: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ what can I say I’m an assassin.

Y/n: btw tell aizawa to get me a bed lmfao

Izuku: You don’t have a bed!? Where did you sleep last night?

Y/n: floor comfy

Izuku: lol weird

Y/n: said the boy with a notebook about me (⁄ ⁄•⁄Ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: bullying

Y/n: possibly <3

———

Another day passes, more texts coming back and forth from Izuku. He’s really flirting.. huh…

He’s cute. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar ding of Izuku messaging you

———

Izuku: wyd lol

Y/n: nursing my sore throat lol I practiced my song too much

Izuku: :o oh no

Y/n: it’s fine B) I’m too cool to be defeated by a mere sore throat

Izuku: lol (:

Y/n: wyd

Izuku: just went to recovery girl!!! I broke a finger again ):: I was making so much progress,,

Y/n: it’s not reverting your progress!! It’s still progress.

Izuku: y/n you’re gonna make me cry..

Y/n: go listen to that recording then crybaby

Izuku: THAT RECORDING LITERALLY MAKES ME CRY ):::::

Y/n: yeah cuz ur a crybaby <3

Izuku: stopppp bullying meee <3

Y/n: it always looks like ur flirting when you put a <3 (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: does that mean that you’re flirting?

Y/n: possibly

———

A few more days pass, flirtatious messages passing back and forth.

They’re just a joke, you’d think, blushing furiously.

———

15:32

Y/n: IzukuHeklp

Izuku: ??? Whats wrong??

Y/n: ripped scalepain

Y/n: Y/n sent a photo message

(Photo ID: It’s a picture of y/n’s y/f/c scales. One appears to have been ripped off of her skin, and there’s blood coming from underneath it. Through the blood you can just barely see an underdeveloped scale that was going to replace the broken scale when it was ready.)

———

You’re pulled out of your agony but Izuku slamming open the door, rushing to your side. He’s holding a piece of cloth clearly ripped off of his shirt. He wraps it around your leg gently, watching attentively as it soaks up blood. He picks you up bridal-style, not even noticing the way both you and him blush heavily.

(By the time you’ve reached Recovery girl, the piece of cloth is almost as red as your face.)

You lay on the small bed, bleeding now stopped due to recovery girls quirk. You glance toward izuku, tears welling up in his eyes. You gently pat his head, watching him watch you.

”Stooppp cryingggg” you whine.

Recovery girl watches you with a look that says “oh to be young and in love..”

Izuku pouts. “Make me.” He sighs jokingly.

You spot your opportunity there. “What if I told you that you could come ’round to my room later?” You say blushing.

Izuku turns tomato-red, nodding.

————

As soon as your out of recovery girls office, Izuku follows you like a puppy. You glance toward the bandage now wrapped around your leg to stop infection. Turns out ‘you didn’t have enough energy to fully heal it from all those all-nighters‘ or something.

You open the door to your room, fairy lights turned on and glowing purple. There’s a small sofa that fits two and Izuku beelines for it. You’re so glad Aizawa let you decorate your room. You sit down next to him, cunning your perfect plan.

”I think I hate all-might a little less, now-“ you say, preparing yourself for the infodump from Izuku.

“i’m so glad! You know, ever since the toxic chainsaw fight-“ Izuku begins, not noticing you tune him out after 5 minutes. “Stop infodumping..” you say playfully and he picks up on it. “Make me!” he pouts.

”Sure.” You smirk, leaning in.

As soon as your lips collide, Izuku seems to blank out. He’s blushing red like a tomato. The rain outside seems to quieten over the roar of your pounding hearts..

And you don’t regret it at-all.

Once you finally pull away from the kiss, izuku’s a stuttering mess. “Wh-W-What does th-this make us?…” he asks, stuttering and stumbling over his words. You chuckle, leaning in close to his face so you’re essentially in his lap. “I think you know..” you coo into his ear, watching it slowly turn pink.

He nods slowly, watching you. “So.. I was thinking about a beach date?” you say, softly. He giggles slightly, although he still stumbles over the sound. “Sounds to me like you just want to go into the water..” he says.

You look him in the eye.

”I never said you couldn’t come into the water, too..”

#Bnha x reader #Midoriya Izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x y/n #reader-insert #reader insert #midoriya Izuku x you #midoriya Izuku x y/n

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the-final-sif · 4 years

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I lied, I’m not actually clearing out my inbox today b/c someone left a super amazing comment on ‘a soft tongue and sharp teeth’ and so I’m going to write an analysis/breakdown/ramble of all the things I had going on in that fic because I want to and it’s one of my favorite bnha fics.

Warning! Discussion of suicidal thoughts/self-sacrificial suicide/kidnapping/child death/general fucked upness we see in BNHA ahead.

The entire story is about how children with strong quirks are seen and treated as tools/weapons by adults in BNHA’s universe. They’re forced to grow up too quick, to fight to defend themselves or surrender to that fate. I wanted to tackle this through the eyes of one such child who we’ve seen subjected to that by both heroes and villains.

Katsuki is the focus of the story, he’s the only one whose given a name throughout the story, and he’s one of only two characters allowed to “Speak”, that’s because this is his story, his and the child’s. The fundamental core of his story is that he is the one who gets to decide it. He would rather die than allow anyone else to control him or his story, so he and the child are the only ones allowed to actually speak in it.

Pronouns only ever refer to one character. He/him = Katsuki. She/her = Momo. They/them = the child (I’ll talk more about why in a minute).

One of the primary metaphors of the story is Katsuki holding his sharp teeth over his tongue. Katsuki has notable sharper teeth in the manga, and here they also represent his general willingness to fight. His anger, his guarded nature, his strength. His tongue represents himself, his agency, and his story.

Katsuki gets his quirk, and the moment he does in the story, others demand it from him. It starts with just his friends who demand he keep showing it off, something he’s happy to do and which seems harmless. Then it slowly escalates when more powerful people start taking notice.

This manifests in many ways, the attempted kidnappings, the sports festival, people around him trying to forced him into change one way or another and him refusing.

Katsuki also starts the theme of ‘biting his tongue’ early on in the story. Here, it actually has two meanings that converge into the same core theme. He metaphorically bites his tongue when he refuses to tell anyone about what happened to him, because he no longer trusts anyone after what happened. Only himself. Later, he resolves to more literally bite his tongue to take his own life if he’s ever unable to escape. So he can’t be turned into a weapon.

In both cases, for Katsuki, biting his tongue is him denying other people any say in his story on the most ultimate level. He refuses to tell anyone else what happened to him, because it is his story, and by telling it, other people could turn it into their own narratives. So they won’t hear it at all. Similarly, by killing himself he’d be taking control over his own story in the most final way possible. He can’t be used as a tool or a weapon if he’s dead. So that’s his final solution, if he has no other way out, then he will end his story there to stop them from taking it from him.

Or at least, he refuses to tell his story until he meets someone who truly understands it. The child.

We have a city being destroyed, and a few more characters come into play. The most important two are Momo and Hawks, with mentions of Eri.

Momo has also had people try to use her for her quirk her entire life. She’s been reduced down to it by a lot of people, but has managed to at least somewhat overcome that with her intelligence. Still, her understanding of what it’s like is why she’s the third pronouned character and why she’s the one whose able to figure out how to communicate with the child.

Hawks is a case where he was turned into a weapon/tool by adults. He gave in and gave up his freedom. He understands the pain of it, at least on some level. That’s why he’s noted as one of the few people able to enter the bubble of destruction without harm. Because he kind of understands. But he’s not able to pass through safely like Katsuki, and he’s not the one the child wants because he gave in. Hawks gave up on his freedom, so he can’t really understand the choice the child is making.

Eri is another case where a child was turned into a weapon. The bullets made from her blood are the proposed solution, and they don’t work because of who they were created from.

All these characters lead to Katsuki entering the bubble of destruction enclosing the city. Katsuki is the one allowed to enter because he understands.

His journey is broadcast outwards, as a gift to him from the child. Because the child understands how hard it is to tell this story, and so they give Katsuki a platform to tell it where nobody can take his story from him. Nobody else can interject, interrupt, or try to change it.

All anyone else is allowed to do is listen to it and accept Katsuki’s story as he presents it.

Also I’m going to note that I use the repetition of Katsuki’s age a lot here because I want to hammer home how young all these children are as they’re forced into these fates.

When Katsuki reaches the child, he notes that the child does not have sharp teeth. This is meant to mean that the child did not have Katsuki’s same willingness to fight back/lash out, not until it was too late and they’d gotten a serious head injury, one that caused them to lose control over their quirk.

The child is bound too, which tells Katsuki that someone had tried to kidnap them. He understands upon seeing them what’s going on, that the child had adults try to turn them into a tool/weapon. Since they’re no longer able to control their quirk properly, the child made the choice to overuse their quirk until it killed them rather than allow themselves to be turned into a tool/weapon.

I want to note that the child is never described in any detail physically. They/them are used for the child the entire time. They are never given a name, hair color, eye color, etc. That’s all on purpose. Because this child is meant to be every child forced into this situation, who’ve had to make this choice. They could be any child, because this issue is so prevalent in bnha.

In his effort to make the child feel less alone, Katsuki tells his own story to them, about how adults don’t listen when you say no, and about how he’d fought back and made them. He tells his own story, making himself vulnerable for the first time in a long time, because he knows he can trust this child not to take his story away from him.

Likewise, the child trusts Katsuki with their story too. They ask him to tell their story like he tells his, not the story of a victim, but the story of a hero, and he does.

Katsuki then offers comfort the only way he knows how, by singing a lullaby that he remembers from before he got his quirk. Bringing back memories of a time before adults saw them as tools, as weapons, as nothing more than their quirks.

He offers them one last chance to be a child, to be a person, to be human again. To be treated as they should’ve been the entire time.

Katsuki clings onto the child long after their gone, finally crying and unable to let go and accept their death because not only is it tragic, but it’s his very first time seeing his own story from the outside. It’s the first time he realizes how fucked up all of this really is, well and truly.

Aizawa enters here, earlier in the story he was the only one to protest Katsuki entering the bubble. He’s often one of the few characters in BNHA who actually treats these children like children, who protests against sending them out into the field, who protects them.

In the end, he’s only one person though, and he tries, he tries so hard, but he can only do so much. Often times all he can be is there to comfort them afterwards.

Aizawa still tries, he sits with Katsuki, he lets him cry, and he comforts Katsuki. Treating him like a child, because Katsuki still is one.

Very purposefully, Aizawa does not say anything here. There’s nothing he can say that will make things better, so instead he stays silent and lets Katsuki/The Child tell their stories and have that control. Rather than trying to shift it by telling them everything’s okay when it’s not.

Afterwards, everyone is left shaken by their sudden understanding of Katsuki’s world. But Katsuki isn’t because this is just his life.

To him, as hard as it was, this is just a reality of life. He hates everyone who forces children to make these choices, the circumstances of the choice are tragic. But the choice itself is not to him. It’s the heroic thing to do. It’s powerful. It’s maintaining your own agency and humanity against all else.

We see this when he meets the child’s parents, he makes sure they know who the hero was that day. He holds to his promise and keeps telling the child’s story how they wanted it told.

When Katsuki’s answering how he’s moving on, you’ll notice I used “their” to describe the child in his eyes. That was very much so on purpose and goes back to the idea of the child he encountered being symbolic for every child that’s been forced to make this choice.

After all of this, we finally get to the sweet pea flower Katsuki finds after he’s gone through his grief and started moving forward again.

So, sweet pea flowers mean goodbye, but with a grateful/happy tone to them. It’s meant as both a ‘thank you’ to Katsuki from the child for sharing his story and comforting them in their last moments, but it’s also meant as a reassurance that this was a happy ending for them. This was their choice, that they made to keep power over their own story. It’s a choice that hurt them to make, but it was still theirs. They don’t regret it.

The flower is crystal rather than organic matter so it won’t die. It’s a permanent reminder for him, an endless symbol of their story and choices that will live on after them.

As such, Katsuki puts the flower in with his will. Because he understands the meaning, and he wants to pass it along. If he dies, he’ll be going out on his own terms. And he won’t regret it. His story will be his until the end.

Okay this has gotten very long, and I didn’t even get to everything.

Anyways, a soft tongue and sharp teeth is my favorite short bnha story I’ve written, I was basically possessed while writing it, and there’s like 10 million little details in it that I’m very proud of.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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precisemuseum · 4 years

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Puyo Puyo PC-98 Manual Translation

Once upon a time, in the age when the power of magic was bestowed upon the world, a powerful sorcerer created a great spell named "Owanimo." One of the strongest spells of all, it could banish monsters to a space between dimensions, but he sealed it away, recording it only in his "Book of Magic."

Not because it was forbidden knowledge or incredibly hard to use, but because to him, it seemed useless. And thus, the spell entered a dormant state, awaiting a day when a new sorcerer would come forth...

Years came and went until finally, the seal came undone with the appearance of a great sorceress: Arle Nadja. One day, this auburn-haired girl with golden eyes came across the Book of Magic.

"Owanimo...?" Arle studied the chapter on forbidden spells for what seemed like hours. "When four monsters of the same color are in your sights, chant this spell loudly. The Goddess of Time shall listen, and whisk the monsters away to a space between dimensions."

Arle continued to read, learning the Owanimo spell, but then closed it with a heavy sigh once she finished.

Why set it aside like that? Well, Arle had never seen "four monsters of the same color" as the spellbook described.

"I spent so much time reading, and it's not even a spell I can use for anything..."

But just as fate brought the Book of Magic into Arle's hands by chance, so it brought from the world of darkness the very monsters she had read about.

And thus, a great battle awaits. With her great magic abilities, and the newfound power of "Owanimo," Arle Nadja sets out to protect the world.

CHARACTERS A・C・P

Arle Nadja The protagonist of the game and the (aspiring) sorceress who released the spell "Owanimo". Nobody knows how she ended up this way, but despite looking like she wouldn't hurt a fly, she's actually a merciless girl that slaughters innocent Puyo. She currently attends a magic school, but she's already too scary for anything to stand in her way. That's my opinion, anyway.

Carbuncle During the game, when you find your eyes moving towards the center of the screen... Awww~! He's sleeping!!! This is Carbuncle. When he's lying still, he almost looks like a loaf of bread, but as he sings and dances he shows off a wide range of movement and facial expressions. A truly profound deuteragonist.

Puyo Puyo Despite their fate as short-lived, jelly-like monsters who are stacked and popped, they have managed to secure a leading role this time around, and even get to dance on the title screen. They're sure to enjoy this special opportunity to perform on a grand stage in five different colors. Looking at them with an empty stomach will reveal their appetizing nature and make you hungry. Hehe.

Arle, the protagonist, is brimming with curiosity.

PRACTICE STAGE ENEMY MONSTERS

Skeleton T While he appears as the epitome of a tea-loving Japanese man, he is a fine monster as well. He will be the first opponent you face during your trials. But you'll find that in a rather endearing way, he's a miserable fool who doesn't even know how to rotate his Puyo. Boohoo. Sipping bitter green tea during battle will instantly make you one of his tea-drinking buddies.

Nasu Grave An eggplant. Specifically, a Kamo eggplant. On top of that, he makes for a rather strange presence. Just what the heck is this thing? Despite appearances, his defensive power is high, so novices might find themselves struggling a bit. You'll have no choice but to keep at it and apply a steady technique. But in the end, your opponent is still just an eggplant. A regular talking eggplant. …Heh.

Mummy Even though it's called Mummy, it isn't a mommy. It's a mummy. What? You already knew that? Oh, deary me, I'll wrap it up then. (←One-man comedy routine.) Mummy is an opponent that makes you want to bully it because the crying face it makes when it's about to lose is just too cute. Sorry, Mummy.

The Goddess of Time whisking the monsters away.

BATTLE STAGES 1-6

Draco Centauros As you might expect from someone who shouts "Rawr", this half-dragon being takes pride in those sharp horns. Appearing as the first obstacle of your quest, this opponent has top tier judgment and piece precision but takes forever to think things through. Because of that, she's a pitiful lass who is only ranked as a third-rate monster girl... You heard me right! Draco is a girl. I'm sure someone around you thought she was a boy...

Suketoudara A pollock who has an aura of coming from some far-off sea. However, he seems to have the character of an Edokko. He's an athletic-type who tends to err on the side of caution. However, he's also arrogant. When he wins, he makes a face that screams "You're no match for me!", which is truly aggravating. Many say they especially don't want to lose to him.

(TL Note: Literally meaning “Child of Edo”, Edokko is refers to a person born and raised in Edo (renamed Tokyo in 1868). It implies personality traits such as being assertive, straightforward, cheerful, perhaps a bit mercantile.)

Sukiyapodes Let's just get this out of the way; he has a giant foot. It measures about 16 mon. Even though he has a complex about it, he directs that frustration into bettering himself. Well, we're not sure if that last part's true, but he always has a cheerful expression on his face as he slowly and steadily builds precise chains. He's a bit of an unpleasant guy.

(TL Note: mon is a unit of length for measuring the size of one's foot. 1 mon is equivalent to 2.4 cm. His foot is 38.4 cm, or 15.12 in.)

Harpy Now then, it is time for Miss Harpy's song. She loves singing more than she loves having three meals a day. She could sing for ages if no one stopped her. If there was something like a "Puyo Puyo World Karaoke Tournament", she'd win for sure. But unfortunately, this is only Puyo Puyo.

Sasori Man “How d'ya do, partner? I’m a famous Naniwa salesman known 'round these parts as Sasori Man. Put 'er there! Huh? Yer askin' for my secret to success? I ain't spillin' the beans no matter how much ya beg. That's somethin' to look forward to when we do battle. Till then, happy trails.”

Panotty A flute-playing boy. But honestly, he's nothing more than a noisy, mischievous brat. He disrupts his opponent's chains by dropping large amounts of Nuisance Puyo on them. Everyone has fallen victim to his antics at least once. What a truly ruthless Puyo technique. For when his last flute sounds, the dead shall be raised. Just kidding.

BATTLE STAGES 7-12

Zombie A zombie. All of his lines are stuff like "Ugheeee." This zombie is quite the formidable trickster. Sometimes he will be swiftly defeated, and other times he will take you by surprise and suddenly pull off a huge chain. If you don't take him seriously, you'll find yourself in a tough spot. Battle with caution.

Witch In the forest stands a grand mansion. Living there was a very ordinary family whose lineage can be traced back hundreds of years. The family's only daughter was born and was raised in a very ordinary fashion. But there was one thing that was not so ordinary...That young lady was a haughty witch. Ohohoho! Ohohohoho... *fadeout*

Zou Daimaou Pawoo! The mammoth mogul has arrived! A young aristocrat who comes from an ancient and distinguished line of royal Indian elephants. An irritating fellow who likes bad puns, gives his words an elephantine quality, and casually rhymes. He also enjoys Puyo Puyo. Plus, he's strong. An aphant-garde aristocrat whose ground-shaking chains are as sharp as his tusks.

Schezo A silver-haired man with deep blue eyes. Schezo, the embodiment of picturesque beauty. However, he's been deemed a pervert thanks to Arle, and strives to restore his honor by challenging her.

B-E-A-U-T-Y! Perfection won't pass you by! P-R-I-N-C-E! Of the Puyo Puyo World, it's meant to be! Go now! Go forth! Show us what you're really worth!

...Well, this has turned into something rather silly..

Minotauros Risking life and limb for his duties, a bull who lives by the code of chivalry, leaving a flurry of cherry blossoms in his wake. That is Minotauros. Ever since Rulue rescued him long ago, he has served as her devoted attendant like a faithful dog. Seeing him like this brings some to tears. For Rulue, he'd go through hell and high water. He's giving it his all today, and his one-eyed look is as cool as ever.

Rulue A woman truly worthy of the title of "Fighting Queen". The queen of the Puyo Puyo world. There's nothing that she can't obtain... Oh wait, there is something — Satan's love. Possessing a very jealous nature, Rulue is always lying in wait, ready to obliterate anyone who gets close to Satan. It's rumored that her true strength is even greater than Satan's.

BATTLE STAGE 13

Satan He is the king that rules over heaven and earth. He soars the skies with wings that slice through wind. His two horns point towards the heavens. His sharp eyes are like glistening gems. Cloaked in the veil of night, his devilish hand beckons you in. He is darkness’s cherished protege. It seems playing Puyo Puyo is a guilty pleasure of his. His true strength is unknown. It's said he's won the Puyo Puyo World Championship a countless number of times. In any case, he's obviously a bigshot. Can you truly defeat Satan, who boasts of elite skills in speed and chaining?

(You can download the PDF here)

#puyo puyo #translations #tl acy #text #puyo puyo pc 98 #source florek #photo

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raitrolling · 3 years

Text

No more worlds like this, no more days like that

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Katrin woke from her ‘nap’ on the couch, one that she thinks was just meant to be a twenty minute thing that turned into sleeping through the entire day. She never intended to make the couch her typical sleeping location when she had a perfectly fine recuperacoon in her respiteblock, but she always just… Ended up staying here. It was her nightly routine by now; leave her hive for either a night working at Barsho’s boutique or wandering around the city with a vague aim to do some pickpocketing, try to sneak her way into a bar, get caught, then go home to finish off whatever drinks that still happened to be lying around. It was genuinely not a way to live, she knew that very well. But, she just felt… Stuck. Certainly getting through each night fine and meeting the minimum requirements for socialising before people started openly worrying about her, but not making any sort of progress. A monotonous loop of drunkenness and misery.

She wasn’t rostered on to work tonight, and she didn’t feel the motivation to leave the hive. The drive to write had been gone for a long time, the tales of Rirsan Katish had become too unbelievably over-the-top in her desperate attempts for escapism that the life of her self-insert character was no longer appealing. There wasn’t much left for her to do, aside from locate the remote and an unopened alcoholic beverage...

However, as she moved to sit up, Katrin caught a glimpse of something she had forgotten that she still owned: An old keyboard propped up against the wall.

It was a gift from her kismesis, although Katrin couldn’t recall exactly which 12th Perigees it was. Of course Klavir would buy her something related to his own hobbies, it was his way of sharing a part of himself with his quadrant. Katrin had given him some books she’d stolen in return, her way of telling him to get better hobbies than playing piano and being depressed. He retorted that it was better than her hobby of drinking and being depressed, to which she couldn’t argue with. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

She recalled a conversation she had with her neighbour one night. Soroll had invited her over to listen to the latest song he had been practicing on his drum set - which was a homemade mishmash of discarded rubbish bins and some actual drums he had scavenged from the local garbage dump. It sounded horrible, as expected, but whenever he hit the bass drum and crash cymbal (which accounted for half of the proper equipment he owned), she could recognise the alt-rock song he was trying to play. She had asked him why he likes to play, despite not being able to play properly and gain any sort of recognition or money from it. He shrugged.

“I dunno. Its jus fun.”

He was probably right about that too. Soroll and Klavir spoke of playing music as just something you do whenever you feel troubled. Klavir was never away from the piano for too long, it was equally his career and his down time, and he’d mentioned the therapeutic undercurrent behind each note and key change. The same could be said about Soroll; Katrin didn’t know much about his “job” in the gang as he didn’t like to talk about it, but late into the night after he’d gotten home from whatever he did, she could sometimes hear him practicing his drumming.

Perhaps there is something about hitting things in a non-destructive way that can be beneficial. It’d be healthier than opening another bottle of cheap wine, and safer than breaking into someone’s hive, at the very least. Katrin lazily rolled off the couch, getting to her feet and then wandering over to the keyboard.

Eichio had gifted her a couple books for learning the keyboard after he noticed it when he came over one time: A few simple sheet music collections for beginners that allows one to play classic tunes with just one octave, and one slightly more advanced one to play some famous pop songs. If she put her mind to it, she could probably play the latter ones with ease. Klavir had given her countless lessons, but over time had given up trying to teach her when she either became too discouraged from not being able to keep up with him, or their lessons would devolve into some sort of black-fuelled flirting session. Needless to say, whenever Katrin attempted to recall the times she did play decently, her mind would wander to the way she would slip under Klavir’s arms while he was performing to sit on his lap in an attempt to distract him from his music, only to get flustered herself when he would grab her wrists and guide her to play for him. He was much too good at turning the tables on her.

… Right, the books. Katrin picked up the keyboard and one of the simple sheet music collections, using the weight of the instrument to push numerous empty cans and clutter off the coffee table for it to rest on top. She never bothered to buy a proper stand for it, nor a chair to sit on. Pulling the couch cushions off onto the floor and stacking them on top of one another will have to suffice. It’s not like there’s any foot pedals to worry about. Without any room under the coffee table for her legs, Katrin opted to kneel on the cushions as she flicks through the pages of the piano book.

She settles on one short song: My Favourite Things. The sheet music only covers two pages and three verses of the song, and the keys don’t go beyond the centre of the keyboard. The book is propped up on the music stand attached to the keyboard. Katrin rests her hands on the keys, right thumb on middle C as she remembers Klavir teaching her, and plays.

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Rain - drops on | rose - es and | whis - kers on | kit - tens

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Bright cop - per | ket - tles and | warm woo - len | mit - tens

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Brown pa - per | pack - a - ges | tied up with | strings

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

She plays slow the first time, trying to get a feel for the keys again. There’s no metronome to keep time, but she’s heard the original song enough for her to recall how it should sound. This melody is simple, there’s only one sharp for her to keep track of and only one note is played at a time. There’s a small sense of accomplishment when she completes the first verse without any mistakes, such a thing doesn’t happen often to her. If she hadn’t sat through those lessons with Klavir and was trying solely on her own, she probably would have given up immediately when things didn’t go perfectly. But she at least knows something, and not some fantastic idea straight from her imagination that she could immediately discover that she’s a prodigy who will make millions performing for others. She should probably give her kismesis credit, if it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t be here right now. She begins the second verse.

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Cream co - loured | pon - ies and | crisp ap - ple | stru - dels

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Door - bells and | sleigh - bells and | schitz - el with | noo - dles

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Wild geese that | fly with the | moon on their | wings

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

The pace picks up, and rather than singing the lyrics listed in the book, Katrin finds it easier to repeat the name of the note as she plays it. Nothing any of her friends could teach her - Soroll and Eichio don’t know how to read sheet music, and Klavir is such a natural he struggled to dumb anything down to her level. It was her own way of playing, and a way that felt right to her.

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Girls in white | dress - es with | sat - in white | sa - shes

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Snow - flakes that | stay on my | nose and eye - | las - shes

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Sil - ver white | win - ters that | melt in - to | spring

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

If the book of sheet music continued to the next verse, Katrin would have kept playing. It felt good to play, to make the instrument make sounds that were pleasing to the ear, even if they were much simpler to the music other people would make. It even felt a little fun, for reasons she nor her neighbour could elaborate when she first posed that question to him all that time ago. She thinks she understands it now, and plays the song over from the beginning. Her pace continues to quicken, until finally reaching the tempo of which the song is meant to be played. When she vocalises the notes, it stops being a mnemonic tool and turns into an accompanying harmony. E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E. E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E. E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C. B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D.

Again and again she plays, until if anyone could hear the song from outside of her hive they would undoubtedly be sick of it. She could flip the page and try a different song, but something about this one just feels right. There’s a calming rhythm to the repetition of the notes, and a sense of progress as she scales the keys in the final line of each verse. Progression. Another thing that doesn’t happen often to her, but here it feels doable. Maybe tomorrow she’ll try another song in the book, and maybe she’ll keep going until she feels ready to try the more difficult piano book later on. For now, she’s content - perhaps another emotion that feels foreign to her - to play whatever she feels like because to feel something at all is an improvement to her current lifestyle. And unlike everything else, she has no reason to play, there’s no monetary gain from playing alone in her lounge room, no reason to impress anyone, no skills that can be carried on into any career or useful activity. It’s just fun.

#drabble #katrin rissah #also mentioning #soroll delfim #eichio maccau #sharp knives #inspired by the song ive taken the title from and the piano scene from eva 3.33 LMAO #also i nabbed the sheet music off this rly shit copy i found on google images that the website required u to make an account #to get a high-quality scan and I Aint Doing That #i did try it out on an online keyboard cuz i cbf getting my old one out and idk if its just me but that D sharp sounds rancid as hell #but idk enough about music to know what the note should be so rip

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missfluffywriter · 4 years

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Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected!!!! I’ve been MIA for like almost two weeks now. I am so sorry this was lateeee!! And we’re almost as 100k!!! Ahhh I don’t want to dissapoint anyone! Sheesh anyway, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 12.3k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, discription of gore, minor character death, inconsistant grammar lol

Yes I had make that a header, the gore is like pretty discriptive and I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I have put markers where the discription starts and where it ends if you would like to skip the the gory bits look out for the markers and just skip that little bit, you won’t miss anything important I promise!

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

‘Tansies’

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Unease lacing Jimin’s voice as he shadowed your path.

‘No, never theorize before you have data,’ You reprimand yourself, recalling one of the many pieces of advice you had filed away for future use. For all, you knew Duri may have simply liked the vibrance of the golden blooms and added the sunny flower to accent the otherwise monochrome room with a pop of color.

“(Y/n)?” Tenderly taking your hand into his Surprisingly larger ones. His attention wholly focused on your ever-changing expression.

“Oh, uh, flower一uh tansies一 where? Where is she?” Mind working faster than your mouth could articulate, you stumble on your words, (e/c) orbs searching for a certain peach-blonde female.

“Where is who?” Jimin questions, his honey-brown orbs narrowing in confusion, your jumbled mess of a sentence further perplexing the silver-blonde.

“Soomin!” Your answer is immediate, almost urgent as your body makes a full ninety-degree turn, holding onto Jimin's comforting grasp, your eyes hunting for the peach haired woman in the space behind you.

“What?!” The woman in question squeaks, startled by your booming voice as she enters the room, having just returned from stationing her men to accommodate the situation. Preparing them to move out at a seconds notice though maintaining a certain level of organization.

“Flowers, did Ji-Eun like flowers? Or did she have an interest in them or anything?” You question the female eagerly, gesturing to the lavender vase as she fluidly makes her way towards the object of your concerns.

Her facial features fold into a frown at your question, looking at you as though you had just asked the most bizarre of questions. “Not that I know of,”

“Do you know who might have put those there?” You blurt, eyes actively scanning over the blonde girl's expression. The imperativeness in your voice may have come out more of as panic as Jimin’s hold around your hand tightens comfortingly, which does to some length relax your posture.

“Why the fuck would I know?” She glares, exaggeratedly dropping her hands to further display her incredulity.

‘Damn it,’ Your teeth grab onto your lower lips, softly nibbling on the soft muscle. The tightness of frustration seizes your chest. This did absolutely nothing to narrow down the variables and possibilities of what had really happened, and this largely widens the margin of error when making predictions or even planning your next move. There was nothing more aggravating than missing pieces of information, especially when lives were on the line.

“But,” Soomin’s sharp voice breaks you from your train of thoughts. “I do know that Duri would never own something as hideous as that,” Emphasizing “that”, she gestures to the slender lavender vase that held the flowers.

And she was right, although the vase in itself wasn’t all that awful. It was just that the lilac of the vase clashed with the golden petals of the tansies and the overall aesthetic of the room. But did that actually mean something?

The skin of your palms tingled as sweat accumulated on them from both excitement and fear. Your instincts scream at you in warning, there was more to these flowers. ‘No, that still doesn’t account for every variable. One of the maids could have put it there. Or maybe she just felt like having flowers in her room,’ But this was too perfect, flowers with a meaning of a declaration of a war placed at a kidnapping site of a possible ally. But then why bother leaving a declaration of war in the language of flowers? It would have been much easier to leave it in writing, would it not?

As a matter of fact, not leaving any sort of note or evidence of their presence would have given the kidnappers - or rather the Yeongs - a bigger advantage. So why go through the trouble of declaring war through flowers? And flowers of all things; if you hadn’t been there, the men and even Soomin together wouldn’t have caught it.

Your eyes widen at the thought; if you hadn’t been there no one would have noticed this message - if it was a message. And it clicked, this was a warning, a proclamation. And the reason behind the effort put into this covert notice. This message wasn’t just for anyone to find, this was a message for you to find and in translation for Bangtan. This was Yeong's declaration of war against Bangtan. But more than that, they were targeting you. They chose to relay their words through you.

In other words, this was a warning to you as much as it was for Bangtan. This was their way of letting you know they knew you existed and that they were preparing to deal with you as well. If they knew of your hand in the recent achievements then their mole must be much closer than you might have earlier anticipated.

“Jimin,” You breath out, your grip on his hand tightening in distress.

“What is it?” Jimin soothingly rubs his thumb back and forth, trying to ease your hold and worry.

“Tansies,” You say. “Tansies mean hostility, “I declare war against you”,” Eyeing the male you guide his thoughts to where yours were. The whites of his eyes are a little more visible as his eyes spread a tad apart, understanding what you were insinuating to.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice breathy in the same disbelief you were in earlier. You reply with a tentative nod, his expression souring as he turns to the peach-blonde female leaning against the wooden desk. “And you’re positive it was the Yeongs that called for this attack?” He asks Soomin.

“Well, considering we have security footage of one of Yeong’s closest men calling the shots on the scene,” She scoffed at the male’s question. “So yes, I’m sure,”

“So does this mean what I think it means?” Taehyung quips from his seat on the sofa.

“This is Yeong’s move,” Jimin mutters, his honey-brown orbs narrowing as he moves towards Taehyung and Hoseok.

“So Yeong’s called a war against you, huh?” Soomin’s voice audibly drops an octave, her chocolate-colored orbs sharpening into a glare.

“We’ll have to be extra careful from here on out,” You state, singing as you rest your weight on the desk behind you.

“What a shit storm,” The chestnut-haired breaths out as he rests his head against the back of the sofa.

“I can’t exactly speak for Duri but,” Soomin pauses. “Know that you can expect my full support going on out,”

“Oh?” Taehyung eyes the female.

“Yes,” She affirms confidently. “Yeong dares to take one of my own, my mother, no less. The bastard isn’t gonna get away with this,” Growling as she spoke, anger burned in her chocolate irises.

“We appreciate your support,” Jimin replies formally. An action you wholeheartedly agree with. If Yeong was on the move then Bangtan had to begin preparations as well.

“Don’t worry we can go over those details some other time,” Soomin waves her hand dismissively, knowing you wouldn’t have been satisfied with just her vow.

“Thank you,” Your eyes fall to the floor, head tilting down in respect to the girl.

“And I guess I should thank you too, huh?” Looking to the ebony-haired male that had been standing silently to the side.

“Huh? Me?” Hyuk questions, his eyes blowing wide as he points a finger to himself.

“Yes, you,” Chuckling, you nod. “If you hadn’t pointed out the flowers I would have totally missed it.”

“Oh, no!” Hyuk furiously shakes his head from one side to another. His cool disposition melting in a flustered mess. “I was just trying to make conversation, and those flowers were the first thing that caught my eye was all.”

“Well, I’m glad it did,” You smile at the slender man as he fakes a cough, gathering together his composure. “Thank you, Hyuk,” You softly express your gratitude, partly to further fluster the male.

“Uh, no probl一”

“We found her!” Namjoon charges into the room, cutting off the ebony-haired male. A cell-phone in hand, Namjoon power walks to Jimin. “Ji-Eun was there at the location,”

“She was?! Are you sure? Was she okay?” Soomin kicks herself off the desk as she practically rushes Namjoon.

“Yes,” Namjoon speaks. “The location you gave me led us to an abandoned building way far up in the mountains. I had operatives closest to the location scope it out and the building was guarded by Yeong’s men and she was there. Ji-Eun Duri was seen on the third floor of the building,” He narrated the situation.

‘This feels too easy,’ Your forehead knitted together as you listened to the male. Now that you knew of Yeong’s awareness of you, this was too easy, too simple, too straightforward. After everything that’s happened, it couldn’t be possible that straight forward. Almost as if someone had dictated the direction of the scene, like this was meant to happen.

Really thinking about the whole situation, this worked out too perfectly, considering a thousand variables that could have been in play. This scenario was far too ideal. If Duri’s captors had the time to place those flowers. ‘The footprints!’ Your head snaps to the floor as you examine muddy footprints left behind by the kidnappers.

And sure enough, none of the footprints led towards the vase, all of them stopped quite a distance from the desk. So unless they threw the vase onto the desk, someone else either planted the flowers late on or there was someone else with the kidnappers. But the question was who? And if all of this was scripted by the Yeongs then what was the real goal? What were they after?

‘Think, come on think. There must be something I’m missing! What could they gain by kidnapping Ji-Eun Duri? Why Ji-Eun Duri? And Why today? Why would they take her only to let us find her?’ Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you had just answered your own question. ‘So that’s what’s going on,’

“Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?” Soomin’s booming voice startles you from your thoughts. “Let’s get going already!” She briskly stomps out of the room.

“Hyuk,” Jimin calls for the charcoal-haired male. “Follow her and make sure she doesn’t get herself killed,”

“Sir,” Hyuk salutes before hurting after the female that had stormed out the room. Though normally the peach-blonde was a rational woman, however, going by the way she charged away. Her sense of reason may not be at its peak at the moment.

“Where is our team right now?” Shining, Jimin asks Namjoon.

“I told everyone to be on standby a good distance from the actual building. Which was made easy thanks to the place being surrounded by a forest,” The syrup-brown haired man reports.

“Good, tell them to stay there until we get there,” The silver-blond nods approvingly, making his way toward the exit before noticing your lack of presence.

“(Y/n)?” Calling for your name, the don pivots on his foot to meet your rattled expression as you stiffly stood by the desk.

“Where are Jiyoung and his family being kept?” You ask the two men.

“At one of our safehouses farther away from the city… Why?” Namjoon answers his calm features hardening into a serious expression.

“Jimin, Namjoon before we leave, can you do something for me?” You request.

“What do you want me to do?” The taller of the pair inquires, looking down at his boss questioningly.

“Man, they really dragged us out, huh?” Taehyung yawned, stepping out of the luxurious short limousine, he stretched his limbs.

“Where is Duri?” Soomin demands the minute she steps out of her sleek black SUV.

“Over there,” One of the many well-dressed men points to a cloud-grey, four-story building situated a distance away, and the more you examined it, the more it looked like a school. “She is being held in one of the rooms on the third floor.”

“How many of them are there?” Jimin comes to stand beside the peach-blonde as he questions the man standing before them.

“Not many,” The male answers. “Ten or fifteen at most,”

“That’s it?” Soomin blanches at the man’s reply.

“Yes, ma’am,” He respectfully responds.

“Report,” Jimin commands as the other man bows before beginning.

“The main and back entrances are each guarded by two guys. From what we could see there are men on each floor stationed around the stairs or hidden in rooms. The first floor has the most men, the second floor has fewer men, but the third floor is the least guarded,” He gives a detailed report of the situation.

“Do they have a sniper?” Namjoon asks.

“Not that we’ve seen,” A diplomatic answer if you’d ever heard one. The hickory-brown haired male that had been explaining the situation cleanly offered his findings without promising or assuring you of anything. You would have to remember to bring him up at the meeting, he could prove useful in a higher position, but at the same time, he could also become a threat. ‘No, stay focused,’ Shaking your head you refocus yourself on the task at hand.

“Send out the snipers, we’re going with the usual,” Jimin directs both the man standing before and Namjoon, who acknowledged the command with a nod, walking towards the group that had been gathered.

“The usual?” You question the silver-blonde.

“We attack with all our forces while our snipers provide support from a distance,”

“So basically you’re gonna rush ‘em,” You retold what you had taken away from the mafia don’s plan.

“Pretty much yeah,” Taehyung chirps in, hands behind his head, he strolls over to where you stood.

“What if they use Ji-Eun as a hostage and threaten to kill her?” A questioning brow lifts on your face as you ask the group of three men and a woman.

“I… didn’t think that far,” Taehyung pauses, surprised, his eyelids fluttering as his hands drop to his sides and into his pant pockets.

“Right,” You huff a breath as your brain moves to formulate a plan that would give you a better chance of getting Duri out of her captors hold, safely and quickly. Eyebrows furrowing together, your forefinger moves up to rub the skin underneath your lower lip.

Duri’s safety was the top priority, you needed a plan that ensured Duri’s well being while effectively dealing with the armed men and minimize damage and loss for both Bangtan and Soomin.

“First things first, we need to take care of the men closest to Ji-Eun. Then we can deal with the others as they come,” Heaving a deep sigh, you decide to speak your thoughts aloud when your imagination begins running rampant and muddling any coherent plan that may have formed.

“Tell me,” You call for the attention of the three men standing before you, the same thoughtful expression present on each of their faces. “Can the snipers take out the people guarding Ji-Eun?” You ask.

“Uh. We’ll have to draw them to a place where the snipers have a clear shot,” Jimin answers.

“But that doesn’t mean we would get them all and I don’t think the guys from the first and second floors would do nothing when they hear gunshots firing,” Taehyung adds, waving his hand dismissively as if rejecting your idea.

“If we could somehow clear the first floor, lure the men from the second floor to the first and take care of them there while taking out the guys up top, then we’d be golden,” Stringing together the few intelligible thoughts that you retained from the jumbled mess your mind had been.

“We sure would, wouldn’t we?” An aloof hum leaves the chestnut-haired mafioso’s lips.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” You grumble at his unproductive contribution to the conversation.

“Well then, why don’t we do just that?” A rich, honeyed voice resounds in the vicinity.

“Hyuk,” You say the name of the owner of the sweet voice. “There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong,” You explain, providing examples of the many mishaps that could occur. “Like what if we don’t get all of the guys from the third floor? Or what if someone from the second floor got to the third floor?”

“Plus, we can’t exactly use guns,” Jimin chimes into the conversation.

“And why can’t we use guns?” Nose scrunching in confusion Taehyung asks.

“Were you even paying attention?” Your question flatly, your black gaze staring him down. “The loud sound would give us away,” You explain with another deep breath as exasperation made its way into your system. The situation was much more complicated than you had originally expected.

“No. I think guns will be plenty useful,” Hyuk strums as his forefinger swipes across his cupid’s bow.

“Oh really? And how would that be?” Shifting your weight in your other foot, you ask.

“Just leave it to us,” He says, much to your confusion.

“Us?” You repeat.

“Well, them,” The charcoal-haired mafioso gestures to the group of men and woman standing behind him.

“Them?” Your face scrunches at the male’s vague words.

“Yes, with the team gathered here today,” Hyuk further explains with a proud smile. And though your expression remained muddled with confusion.

“And just what exactly do you intend to do?”

“Hm, I’m surprised you don’t already know,” Your features sour at his words, though it wasn’t exactly his words that off-put you, it was his mocking tone of voice. Besides, did he expect you to know everything?

“And just what might that be?” You ask the ebony-haired male.

“It’s simple really,” He answers. “We’ll need a distraction upfront while people sneak in from the back. And when it comes to Ji-Eun-ssi, our snipers will be watching her until our rescue team has a chance to get to her,”

You fall into silence as you consider Hyuk’s plan. It was by no means a foolproof plan, but a plan nonetheless. It was a gamble seeing as you would be risking the lives of those who would be playing decoy, but it was absolutely better than just rushing into the enemy’s fortress without an organized plan of attack. You look to Jimin for his take on the matter and you see the same consideration that you had displayed on your face.

“Jimin,” At the call of his name he lifts his gaze to meet yours. To find the same question in your (e/c) orbs that he had been mulling over. After seeing a deep breath leave Jimin’s plump lips, you decide it would be better to do something than doing nothing.

Tentatively you pull Jimin’s soft hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze simultaneously letting him know of your thoughts. His eyes fall to your hold before returning the comforting gesture, a soft smile curling onto his plump lips.

“Alright then, change of plans,” The don finally speaks. “Namjoon split the team into two, we will be going with this new plan,” He commands, piercing gaze landing on the syrup-brown haired man.

“Got it,” With a sharp nod, Namjoon turns towards the crowd standing by.

“Taehyung, Hyuk, you two are with me,” Removing his expensive navy suit blazer, then undoing the cuffs of his shirt, Jimin instructs his operatives. “We’ll be going with the infiltration team,”

“Oh. You’re dead fucking wrong if you think you’re leaving me here,” Soomin’s pointed voice cuts through the atmosphere as she shrugs off her black, business-casual blazer. Subsequently revealing a glossy, cinnamon-brown, leather double shoulder holster, two jet-black guns neatly tucked in their spaces.

“Do what you want,” Jimin’s voice drowns in apathy as he inspects one of the guns from his double shoulder holster - the gun you recognized as a tanfoglio force. You don’t exactly remember much about that particular gun; it looked awfully similar to the one you were carrying. ‘Now’s not the time for that!’ Admonition yourself for drifting thoughts, you return to the situation at hand.

“We’re going to be in enemy territory, be careful, watch yourself. And remember, the idea is not to get killed,” Separating from your little huddle, Jimin continued, once satisfied with the state of the weapon and securing it back into its place. Soomin and Taehyung wordlessly followed as the mafia boss made his way towards the decently sized group of men and women gathered.

Unsure of what you were supposed to do, you quietly trail behind the trio, assuming you would be tagging along as you had been up to this point. However, you were sorely mistaken as you were stopped by the baritone voice of a certain chestnut-haired mafioso.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Taehyung asks, stepping directly in front of you.

“Uh, with you guys?” Your answer comes out as more of a question, seeing as you yourself weren’t sure of where you were supposed to be or go.

“No, you are not,” Jimin interjected, gently pulling you into him with an arm, a gesture you gladly obliged, making yourself comfortable in his hold.

“Well, then where am I supposed to be?” Craning your head towards the silver-blond you ask.

“Here,” Jimin casually replies.

“Here?” Mimicking the mafioso’s words, you look at the male questioningly.

“Yes, here,” He says, his eyes drifting to Hoseok’s form. “While we take care of that, you and Hoseok are staying right here,”

“So, you want me to stay back?”

“Exactly,” Jimin nods.

“Why?” The question flies out of your mouth before your brain could register what was coming out of your mouth.

“You already know why,” The silver-blond’s response is immediate as his eyes narrow at the unusual amount of attitude that laced your voice. You lowered your head as his hardened gaze fell onto you. He was right, you did know why you were being left behind. With your current level of skill, you were more of a hindrance than any help.

“Just stay here, okay?” Sighing, Jimin pulls you into a proper embrace as he speaks to you softly, delicately even. “We’ll be back soon enough,” The warm breath of his whisper brushes against the inner shell of your ear ticklishly before moving his lips higher tenderly placing a lingering kiss on your temple.

The action sent the metaphorical butterflies of your stomach into a frenzy. There it was again, the Jimin effect, you contemplated officially naming this - now - regular phenomenon. With an inaudible groan, you bury your flushed face into his neck, sluggishly nodding a ‘yes’. Before a single coherent thought is finally able to process in your brain.

“Wait if I can’t go, then why are you going?” You ask, tilting your head upwards to meet two gorgeous pools of honey - which are Jimin’s eyes.

“Because I’m the boss,” The nonchalance in his tone truly astonished you, your agape mouth a clear sign of your amazement and dismay. How could he talk about walking into a dangerous and very much so a life-threatening situation so calmly, so easily?

“Isn’t that more of a reason to not go?” You blanch at he male’s coolness.

“No,” You receive a single worded answer as he gently presses a chaste kiss on your forehead before releasing you from his warmth.

“But一”

“Everything is set, we’re ready to move out,” Namjoon’s firm voice interrupts your oncoming rebuttal to Jimin’s short statement.

“Then let’s move out,” The silver-blond moves further away from you, though you suspect he was purposefully ignoring you.

“Jimin wai一” You call, only from the man to completely discounts your voice, continuing on his path. ‘He’s ignoring me isn’t he?’ Relenting with a sigh you instead decide to wish the group their best. “Be careful out there,” To which Jimin acknowledges your words, turning to give you an adorably sheepish grin. Before his gaze flickered to the crimson-haired male standing beside you, his golden honey orbs hardened into a chilling stare, a wordless warning.

“And they’re gone,” You say, heaving another breath, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. In your mind you were sure Jimin would be perfectly fine, he had been in the business for years, life-threatening situations were nothing new to him; he had faced and survived many of these situations since before you had arrived. So why would this be any different? He had survived many times before, he could surely do it again. Yet you still couldn’t help but worry your head off. The rational side of you knew he would be fine, but the irrational side of you ached to be by Jimin’s side to personally make sure he returned safe and sound. Not that you had the skill to actually pull that off.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? As long as Taehyung’s with him, nothing will happen to Jimin,” Sensing your inner turmoil, Hoseok offers words of cheerful reassurance. “Besides I think he’s just trying to protect you,” He was absolutely trying to protect you. If the scowl Jimin had given him was anything to go by. Hoseok was convinced that regardless of if you had prior experience in the field or not, Jimin would have most certainly made you stay behind. A cold shudder reverberated through Hoseok’s body as he recalled the withering glare Jimin had thrown at him. A silent warning, saying something along the lines of “anything happens to her and it’s on your head”.

“Let’s go sit inside the car, yeah?” The scarlet-haired male gave you the best smile he could muster with Jimin’s warning still ringing in his head. Hoseok had seen the young don when he was angry - when he was truly angry. The palpable chaotic fury that rolled off the don moved in waves, crashing against all those who stood around him. The reason not many knew of the true extent of Jimin’s anger was that few ever survived his wrath. The silver-haired mafia boss was nothing to be trifled with on a good day, one could only imagine what he was like on a bad day.

Hoseok may have been close with the don, but you too held a special place in the mafia boss’ heart. Considering that factor, it would be near impossible to anticipate Jimin’s reaction should anything happen to you.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me?” Your delicate voice brings the mafioso back from the flashbacks of an angry Jimin on catastrophic rampages.

Hoseok gulps down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth before answering you, “Uh, no, I need to be out here, just in case they need me,”

“Oh, okay,” You return, closing the car door as you did.

Just as you had settled into your seat, the sharp, deafening sound of gunfire reverberated through the area, the pops of gunshots so loud they were heard over five-hundred feet away.

For minutes you sat silently, (e/c) orbs thoughtlessly tracing the stitches and ridges of the leather seats. The popping and booming of gunfire becoming nothing more than white noise, a strange emptiness taking over you. No thoughts passed your mind, you could feel yourself sitting down, you could feel the sharp biting sensation of running your nails up and down the first knuckle of your forefinger. Eyes zeroing in on a single point on the plush seat, it was almost as if your body had been locked in place, you could feel but you could not move - not fully at least, but it was more of you didn’t want to move.

You weren’t sure just how long had passed in this frozen state, but you were broken from your spell-bound state when your ears started ringing from the silence of the area. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned against the back of the car seat, stretching your arms as a drawn-out yawn leaves your lips. Wiping away the tears that had pooled at the corners of your eyes, you rub circles on the pinna of your ear once the ringing from the quiet becomes too uncomfortable. ‘It’s too quiet,’

Fully registering your thoughts, your eyes fly open, head swinging towards the car door where Hoseok had been standing against. The crimson-haired male had a similar look of confusion playing at his expression; head sawing from one direction to another, trying to make sense of the sudden quiet that had fallen on the previously bustling battlefield.

“What’s going on here?” Quietly mumbling to yourself, you gently push open the car door. Hoseok jumped, his hands automatically reaching for the guns tucked away in his shoulder holsters when he heard the door behind him open, his attention having been concentrated on gauging the situation, deciding on whether to send you home or not.

“Hoseok, what happened? Did they win?” Dangling your feet out of the car, you awkwardly ask, your proper communication skill having disappeared in that instance.

“Aish, (Y/n),” He sighs moving aside, allowing you space to step out of the car. “You surprised me.”

“So, are we done here?” Pushing the door closed, you ask the mafioso.

“I’m not sure,” He mutters, his hand coming to brush against his lips. “I haven’t heard anything from either team,”

A soft ‘oh’ leaves your lips as you watch the direction the two groups had left. ‘I don’t like this,’ The eerie stillness felt something akin to the calm before a storm. Anxiousness bubbled and churned in your chest, your palms getting clammy with your sweat when you suddenly felt your heart drop. A cold pricking sensation rapidly spreading throughout your body like vines of ice wrapping around your insides. Inhaling through your mouth while your mind flies in a thousand different directions trying to figure out why you felt that chill.

‘Just as BBC Sherlock Holmes said, “Intuitions represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” So think! There has to be something!’ With your brain running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were forming, and even if they were forming you would forget them not a minute later as too many thoughts and scenarios all playing out in your head at once. Deciding your brain had once again failed you and that nothing comprehensible was coming out of it the next best thing would be to go into the building in person.

“We should go up there,” You breathe out, which was also the only warning you gave the crimson-haired male before storming towards the abandoned building.

“No, we’re gonna stay he一 (Y/n)!” Hoseok gets no more than five words in before he is chasing after you as you scamper off in the direction of the building.

“Come on slowpoke!” You exhorted, daring him to catch up to you. A horrible idea really, seeing as he was faster than you and would probably catch you before you even reached your destination, but more than that you weren’t sure what you would do once inside the building.

Usually, you would never rush into unpredictable situations where you weren’t sure just what exactly could happen or situations you had an obvious disadvantage in, but here you were charging headfirst into a practical battlefield with little to no fighting experience. ‘So much for being rational,’ You scoffed to yourself, though you knew you were running straight into the belly of the beast, you could feel the light flutter of excitement, however today, you didn’t have to bite back an excited grin. The ominous chill you had felt earlier was still ever-present, sitting at the forefront of your mind. And you knew this somehow involved Jimin, which only caused your stomach to churn.

“(Y/n), come back here!” All of the scarlet-haired mafiosos’ words fell to deaf ears. Not really, truthfully you were hearing every on of Hoseok’s words and you actually wanted to go back to the limo as there was a large possibility you would become a major hindrance to the people fighting, but something was happening, something bad, and you needed to be there to prevent it, only the question was, what was happening?

“What?” A quiet whisper that leaves your lips as your head frantically sways one side to another taking in the sight, or rather a lack of one. There were no people, no cars, no weapons, nothing; just barren empty grounds. You slow down to a jog as you cautiously enter the building. What exactly was happening here?

BANG BANG

You flinch when the loud booms of gunfire reach you, your eardrums ringing as you slowed further into a stalk as you navigated through the desolated building. But a single question rang in your head louder than any gunshot had, if there were people inside then why wasn’t there anyone outside?

As you quietly climb the staircase to the second floor, once again notice the lack of personale, enemy, or otherwise. The first floor was supposed to be just as heavily guarded was it not? So why was it deserted?

“(Y/n),” Hoseok growls, roughly tugging at your upper arm, you turn to look at him as his grip tightens. “We’re leaving now.” He barks, pulling you down the steps.

“Hoseok, Hoseok, come on,” Your attempt to call for his attention fails as he continues on his path with you in tow.

“What were you thinking!?” He chides you sternly. “What if something happened to you? What if you got hurt? What if they took you hostage too, huh?”

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You struggle against his stronghold, though your intent was to break free from his grasp, all you could do was struggle as Hoseok’s vice-like hold being too powerful for you to break. And thankfully he does. Halfway down the stairs he pauses and turns to you, though begrudgingly, he gives you the attention you requested.

“What?” The single word comes out like a quiet snarl.

“Guns are firing on the second floor, you can hear the fight going on up there. But the first floor is deserted, practically empty, why?”

“How about we go back to the car and then you can sit there and figure that out, yeah?” He says stiffly, turning to continue on his path.

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You plead, futile wrestling against the stronger male’s grip.

“I did and now we’re leaving,” Huffing, he turned raring to leave.

“Look, we're already here,” You exclaim, jerking your arm towards you, though his hold doesn’t falter in the slightest, instead just moving with your actions.

“Not for long,” Scoffing, he simply ignores your struggles as he moves.

“Hoseok,” You call helplessly, which is again met with indifference. ‘Alright then, be that way,’ If Hoseok was going to be difficult then you would have to get creative. You needed a distraction, something that would loosen his hold. But what?

You desperately searched for something, anything you could use when a wicked smile danced on your lips as you found your distraction.

“Jimin watch out!” Hollering at the top of your lungs, you tear your arm from Hoseok’s grip, his hold loosening as he processed your words. Immediately you break for the second floor, skipping steps at a time, you launch around the corner and into the corridors.

“Jimin, where?一 (Y/n)!” The red head’s voice booms as he races after you. “Wha一 (Y/n)! Don’t!”

All sense of caution out the window you focus on getting as far into the building as you could before you were caught again, a terrible idea.

“(Y/n)! Get down!” You barely register Hoseok’s words before the next thing you knew the floor was getting larger. ‘Larger?’ The only thought you were able to make out as a series of ear-splitting gunshots echo throughout the floor. And this was much, much louder than the one you had heard earlier as if they were right beside you.

‘Oh, right,’ Perhaps they sounded as though they were beside you because they were right beside you.

“My God! I thought you were supposed to be smart!” Hoseok shouts as he brings you closer to his body. Leaning against the wall next to the door, he returns fire, making sure to push you further against the wall to completely hide you from sight.

You wince when more gunfire follows, the already blasting noise of the shots reverberating against the wall of the abandoned building and becoming louder. ‘Earbuds,’ Quickly fishing out the noise-canceling earbuds and stuffing them at the entrance of your ear canals, effectively muffling most to all of the sounds.

“What the fuck?!” Hoseok curses while with practiced movements his hands automatically remove the used cartridge, changing them with new ones. ‘How many of them are there?!’ Carefully aiming at one of the two men that had been shooting at you he manages to injure one of them. But this wasn’t right, the first and second floors should have been cleared by now, so why were they still here? Alive at that?

“Shit,” He mutters as he ducks back behind the wall as a few more shots follow. His head snaps to his side when he feels a hand tightly clutching at his arm. ‘Now's not the time for that,’

Heaving out a sigh he uses the hand he had been holding the gun with to cover yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze with the gun still in his hand. His eyes soften when he sees your expression, eyes wide, eyebrows knitted, and lips tugging downwards, worry, and concern written across your face. However, this expression was different from your (e/c) orbs pooled with guilt and anxiousness. And he knew the idiot of a woman sitting beside him was worried for him much more than herself.

“(Y/n), listen carefully,” He speaks gently. “Go to the first floor and hide, then when you can get back to the car and get out of here. Here are the keys一” Your eyes fall to the single key with a sunflower keychain he places in your palm. “一It doesn’t matter where you go, just get as far as you can. Then contact one of the guys, and they’ll come to pick you up wherever you are. But, if you can, go back to the mansion, okay?” He instructs, but this felt much more like a goodbye, which you absolutely did not like. He didn’t even ask if you could drive or not. Regardless, you were not leaving, not yet, not without Jimin... and everyone else of course.

“And don’t forget, Yoongi gave you those for a reason,” His gaze points to the two firearms strapped to your thighs. “If you think you need it, use it,”

“Why are you talking as if you’re not gonna be with me?”

“Because I’m not,”

“Like hell, you’re not,”

“Okay, you were right. Something’s going on here, all this,” He gestures to the space around you. “Doesn’t feel right. And it’s become too dangerous for you to be here. So, you need to go home”

“Then you’re coming with me,”

“No, I am not,” He sighs. “I need to stay here,”

“Why?” You ask petulantly.

“Look, if we both leave then they’ll follow us, so I need to stay here and distract them while you get the hell out of here. Then I’ll just meet up with Jimin and the others,”

“I’m not going, Hoseok,” not without him, the words are left unsaid and you’re not sure whether Hoseok understood the unheard words or not. But more than that, no matter how experienced he may have been, one man against - god knows how many enemies - were not the odds you were leaving him in - not that you were leaving.

“(Y/n), you need to go,” The male pleads, exasperation evident in his voice. “Please,” He adds.

Beats pass though not a moment goes by without the constant barrage of enemy fire, just how many of them were there?

“Fine, I’ll go,” Gruffly, you mutter. You didn’t like the idea of leaving Hoseok in such unfair odds but you also knew that this was perhaps the only opportunity you would get to find what your senses have been roaring at you to find.

“Thank you,” Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Alright, when I say go, you go,”

You nod at his instructions, you face to the opposite direction Hoseok was, reading yourself to bolt away.

“Alright go!” You launch off of your position, straight towards the staircases, and up to the third floor. Hoseok’s eyes widen as he watches you ascend to the third floor.

“(Y/n)!一shit!” Ducking away from the gunshots his eyes fill with panic as he sees your figure disappear up the steps.

“Jimin’s gonna skin me alive,” He snarls before digging for his second gun and fully entering the room, pure rage and irritation filling his veins. ‘Oh, you’re gonna get it the minute I find you!’

“I’m sorry Hoseok, but I need to do this,” Though in hindsight you never said you were going back to the car, you only said you would go, not where to.

‘Okay,’ Crouching, you cautiously approached the closest room to the staircase, though making sure to divert a part of your awareness behind you.

You could hear the muffled booms of gunshots as you made your way closer to the first door. Though judging by how faint the sounds were, you knew the shootout was happening farther up than where you were.

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧

However, you maintained your cautiousness as you slowly peeked into the room. And the sight that welcomed you was nothing less than bloodcurdling, it was like you were in the set of a horror movie as any normal human being seeing this would be retching their guts out. Not many people understand the true extent of damage a bullet can really do. They don’t realize that a single bullet has the ability to not only pierce tissue but also shatter bones and even dislocate limbs, especially when in close quarters.

Bringing your palm to cover your mouth, your eyes rove across the room, taking in the sight before you. Lifeless bodies were scattered across the floor. For some you could see the damage that had been done; one of the bodies had been shot somewhere on the jaw, and the whole jaw had been destroyed, as a matter of fact, not much of the jaw was left. You could see some portions of the cheeks though the tissues frayed and torn with only parts of the upper jaw remaining.

The other bodies were in similar conditions, holes blasted through the flesh and bones alike. Leaving ruptured cracks and gaps in the muscles, chunks of flesh litter around the bodies, blown off by the bullets that pierced the flesh. Large rust-colored splotches decorated all corners of the room, no area had been left untouched, almost as if carnage itself had washed over. Although the sheer amount of dried blood would have been enough to make the sight gruesome, in this case, the blood was only a cherry on top.

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧

Tearing your eyes from the horrendous sight of the room, you quickly charge ahead, caution once again was thrown to the wind as you try to accept your new reality. This was your new reality, this was your life, this was the world you had entered.

Your eyeballs burned as tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. When coming into this life, you thought you knew what you were getting into, what lied ahead of you, what would become of you. You thought you knew, and you did, you knew this would become a part of your life. But knowing that something is a part of your life and watching it become a part of your life, were two very different things.

It was true you had your strange bouts of excitement at the most inappropriate times, in places where you should be fearing for your life, or fearing for someone else's life. But that didn’t mean you weren’t scared, that you didn’t fear the worst, however, that also didn’t mean you fully understood the worst.

Back then, perhaps you didn’t, it was more likely that you didn’t. Sure, you knew people would get hurt, blood would be shed, lives would end. You knew that in your mind, you understood it in your conscious, but seeing the death, the hurt, the destruction was much different from simply knowing about it.

And now that you truly understood the weight of death, you were scared - terrified. Perhaps it may have been much more bearable if you had only your own life to fear for, but you didn’t. You had eight other lives to worry about. Shelty, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk, and Jimin. Jimin.

You could feel a bitter-cold chill spread through your back, all the way to your feet as images of your dear friends in the same state as those people you had found earlier came to mind. Swallowing the lump in your throat you forcefully push away the image as far away as you could. Trying to forget the horrifying thought altogether, you shake your head clearing your mind, refocusing on the task at hand.

Breathing in a deep breath, then slowly exhaling, you steady yourself before moving on.

As carefully and as discreetly possible, you poke your head through the next door. And this room was in a similar condition as the first one. Tearing your eyes from the sight, you move on to the final door. However, the final room before the turn that continued onto a new corridor was without any traces of bloodshed. The room itself was old and worn down but bodies didn’t litter the floor or blood painted the walls.

Heaving out a breath you continue down to the end of the hallway before turning to the new corridor. And you could hear the muted booms of gunfire, though this time there were a lot fewer than before. And seeing as you were on the way to - what you were assuming - the only set staircase in the building, so there could only be one explanation to the reduced numbers of gunshots. People were dying. And you could only hope your friends were safe.

Quietly, you unlatch the strap holding your tanfoglio witness in place, removing the gun from its holster, you point the nose of the gun towards the floor. Inhaling and exhaling deeply you stabilize any shaking or jittering. If you were going to use such a destructive weapon you couldn’t afford to make many mistakes.

Muzzle pointing downward, hands tightly clutching the grip, you move into the new hallway. Taking deliberate steps you stalk towards the first door in the hallway.

Courtesy to the noise-canceling earbuds protecting your hearing you couldn’t hear much aside from muffled gunshots and muted shouting coming from the end of the long hallway. And because of those earbuds, you had almost missed the sounds of struggles coming from the first door.

Leaning against the wall along the door, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in that room. ‘What?’ Eyes the size of saucers, you watched motionlessly. The scene before you looked as though your nightmares had come to life.

Jimin, pinned to the wall by a tall, bulky man. Held to the wall by his throat, you couldn’t clearly see his face, but you could never mistake the silver platinum mop that was Jimin’s hair.

“Why don’t you just die already!?” A cry so loud you could hear the hulking man with dark mocha brown hair through your earbuds.

“Jimin?” A faint whisper leaves your lips. The words are so soft that it goes completely unnoticed by the two men.

Seconds pass of you standing there, unmoved, mind blank as you thoughtlessly started. But then your body moves as if it knew what to do before you did. You don’t feel yourself moving however, as your eyes remained fixated on the figure before you, there was a gun held up in your peripheral vision. And it was your arms that held the gun. You don’t feel anything happen but you were leaning forward, arms ready to support the backlash of gunfire. For seconds the gun bounces with the rhythm of your breathing. Up and down and up and down, before slowly the movements steady and you finally regain control and feel of your body. And you know what you have to do.

‘Always aim for the center of the chest. Hitting something is better than nothing,’ You recall Yoongi’s words, reciting them like a prayer. ‘Once you have an aim, lock it. Watch your breathing...then,’

Breathing in through your nose, you click off the safety at the side of the gun, then holding the breath you took in its place before slowly letting it out, watching the minuscule movements that came with the action. Then at the trough of your breath, you squeeze the heavy trigger, bringing it all the way to its end.

BANG

Your solid stance efficiently absorbs the shock of the gunfire. Though the powerful blast of the gun ricochets throughout your body, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you feel your heart’s rapid thudding in your chest cavity.

Your eyelids flutter as you gather your bearings, readying yourself for another shot if there was the need. But as you watch red bloom across the white suit jacket the man wore, your shoulder slack, arms falling to once again point the mouth end of the gun to the ground.

Breaking into a fit of coughs, Jimin gasps for the oxygen his lungs had been deprived of. Taking in as much air as he could and too occupied with accommodating his body for the air it had been denied he had failed to notice just who exactly his savior was.

“Holy Fuck!” He chokes out as he uses the wall he was being held for support. “Ha, ha, Taehyung一 Have (Y/n) sent home,” Taking in another deep breath he continues. “Tell Hoseok to take her home. It’s too dangerous for her here,” He speaks, head down, steadying his breathing, he was still unaware of just who he was talking to.

“Jimin,” Your voice came much softer than you intended to, though it was enough to get the male’s attention. The silver-blond’s had snapped up to meet your quivering form.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaims, immediately walking over the corpse lying on the floor, swiftly pulling you into the room before poking his head out of the door, looking both ways. After determining the area was safe he turned on his heel to face you, his vice grip locked onto your wrist. “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!” Gently pushing you closer to the back he hisses.

“I told you to stay back didn’t I! What are you doing here? Where is Hoseok?” He releases a barrage of questions, but you stand there wordlessly, eyes tracing his visage. You had almost lost him, you had almost lost Jimin. If you hadn’t come up here, no one would have found him, you would have lost Jimin…

The tears that were pooling your eyes earlier came crashing, cascading down your cheeks as a river of tears soon following the first few droplets, soft hiccups left your lips as you collapsed into Jimin’s arms, not caring the exterior of his suit and shirt were curated with dried blood. And pushing away the thought that you had just killed someone.

“(Y/n),” The don whispers softly, wrapping his own arms around your frame.

The tears slow once you feel Jimin’s comforting warmth surrounding you. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you take in the scent of Jimin’s cologne as you felt the calm thudding of his heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest. It takes much longer than you had expected it would take to convince yourself that Jimin was indeed alive and breathing, that he was alright, and that he was with you.

“Yo, boss一oh,” You entirely ignore Taehyung’s voice as a ginger sigh leaves your lips, tightening your hold around the male, nuzzling further into Jimin’s familiar warmth. Though you feel Jimin’s head turns towards the owner of the nonchalant voice.

“What’s she doing here?” The chestnut-haired male asks the mafia boss, only to receive silence as an answer. “(Y/n), what are you doing here?” Taehyung questions you directly, and this time his voice was a deal gentler than what it had been before. Though again his question was only met with silence.

“Is the floor cleared?” Jimin looks at the male standing by the door.

“Uh一 yeah, we secured the building, and uh一 Ji-Eun Duri was freed. And well, everyone gathered back in the room we found Ji-Eun, you were the only one not there… so I went out to look for you,” The younger awkwardly explained. “I’ll just head back, you guys come whenever you’re ready,” Taehyung quickly adds before scampering away.

“(Y/n),” Sighing softly, Jimin speaks. “We need to go,”

“Okay,” You mumble as you reluctantly let go of the male. Jimin tenderly takes your hand into his as he leads you back into the hallway and to - what you assumed was the bigger room.

“(Y/n)! There you are! Oh my god! Never ever pull something like that again! Do you hear me?!” Hoseok’s voice booms in the room as he comes in barreling towards you, though his intentions to chastise you fizzle out as he takes in your dazed form, clinging to Jimin’s arm.

“I’m sorry Hoseok, I promise I won’t do that again,” Your eyes flutter open and close, a small smile curling on your lips as you are brought back from your disoriented state.

“You better not,” Hoseok adds, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“I won’t,” Chuckling, you return. Your quiet laugh smoothly eased the tension that had built on Jimin’s shoulders, his expression reflecting the release of tension as his scowl morphs into a fond smile.

“So you actually found everything I left, huh?” Duri’s crows from her position on the single chair that sat at the center of the room.

“I guess I did,” You hum.

“Well, good job then,” She gives somewhat half-hearted praise.

“Hah, thanks,” You huff out a playful scoff.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon calls and you hum at the call of your name. “About the thing, you asked me to do before we left,”

With the progression of Namjoon’s words, your mind instantly sobers, now wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings and situation. ‘You can contemplate life choices after we get home. For now, focus,’

“Right,” You reply. “What happened?”

“It was exactly as you said,” The syrup-brown haired male speaks grimly. “There was an attack at the safe house Jiyoung and his family were being kept in. As well as an attack at the hospital Gu Joon’s sister was being treated in,”

“I see,” You mumble, bringing your index finger to rub the skin under your lower lip.

“Wait. Wait, What?” Taehyung arms flail in the air, his eyes wide as he questions you.

“Wait, we did make it in time, didn’t we?” Ignoring the chestnut-haired male, you continue the conversation.

“Thanks to your warning we did,” Namjoon says. “Jiyoung and his family were moved as soon as we left for this location. So was Gu Joon’s sister,”

“That's good,” You breathe a sigh of relief, it would have become quite problematic if anything were to happen to those people.

“Oh? So the little fox able to see past Yeong’s trick?” Duri's eyes narrow as a smile curves onto her lips, amusement dripping from her onyx orbs. ‘So she knew?’ You thought, examining her overly entertained expression.

“I certainly hope so,” Grumbling, you tug Jimin closer to you, more so than you already were. ‘The tansies!’ The words jumped in your mind as you talked to the female, almost as if triggered by the presence of the older woman.

“Tell me, Ji-Eun, do you like flowers? Or have any interest in them?” You ask, tentatively waiting for the charcoal-haired woman to answer.

“Flowers?” She parrots, her eyes narrowing quizzically.

“Yes, flowers,” You affirm. “I didn’t really take you for someone who would be all too interested in flowers, but the flowers on your desk were really pretty and very well taken care of,”

“What flowers?” Duri questions, your eyes narrowing at the woman as a sly grin twisting onto her lips.

“You know, the pretty yellow flowers that were on your desk,” You describe tansies without mentioning the flower by name.

“I don’t have any flowers on my desk,” She answers, head tilting back as she crosses her legs. With the sly smirk the woman wore one would assume she was lying, but this Ji-Eun you were talking about. This woman could never be as simple as that.

‘So it was the Yeongs after all,’ You watched as his expression grew ever more amused as the time passed. You may have not known her for longer than a single night, but anyone could tell, she was not a woman so easily interested. She was a cautious woman, you knew that much. It was not possible she would just let herself be kidnapped, for someone who's been in the business for as long as she has, she was taken without much of a fight. From all the experience she had, one would think she had precautions taken for such events.

Though there may have been a few explanations, at the moment the most probable one was that she let herself be caught. She did this on purpose, but then, she also let herself be found. Why? Why would she let herself be caught then leave a way for people to find her? Though it was more of she was allowed to be found and yet. She had this whole elaborate plan for people to find her. ‘An elaborate plan?’ Your eyes widen as you register your own thoughts.

‘Of course!’ You had assumed that her whole iCloud rescue plan had been created in advance, a just-in-case precaution - seeing as she didn’t carry any trackers - so the iCloud tracking method was near perfect for this situation.

But that was precisely it, it was perfect for this situation. And that is why the method is so flawed - as a matter of fact - the iCloud tracking may have been the most flawed tracking method of all. For one, if the mobile phone had been switched off the computer wouldn’t have been able to track it. And what if her battery had run out? What if they had taken her farther and possibly out of the tracking radius? What if they had destroyed her phone? Or taken it? Like any serious kidnappers would. There were too many uncontrollable variables and not enough information. Simply put there were too many conditions to be met for the plan to work successfully.

And thus the conclusion, she knew she was getting kidnapped and that her kidnapping was nothing more than a distraction for something else. It was a distraction for the Yeongs to be able to regain control over their former operatives or possibly even revenge against them for betraying the Yeongs.

‘But was that really it?’ Revenge against the former members? Did the Yeongs even have the resources for something so petty? But then, why would someone smart enough to make a two prompt plan - infiltrating Bangtan’s ranks then using a ceasefire signing and attack to send Jiyoung into the fray - do something so brash and unnecessary as taking revenge when they had already suffered heavy losses.

“Unless,” too absorbed in your own thoughts, your mouth moves before your brain does.

“What?” Hoseok questions, unsure of what you were saying.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” A sheepish grin curls onto your lips as you reassure the men around you. The redhead eyes you doubtfully, but drops the subject nonetheless. Sighing in relief, your drifts from the male to land on the awfully entertained expression dancing on Duri’s face, her onyx orbs taunting you as she watched you reach the somewhat guided conclusion.

The many puzzle pieces were coming together, the jigsaws were fitting into their places. Only for you to realize the puzzle you had just solved was nothing more than a piece in a larger whole.

“Right, so how about we postpone that meeting for another time and call it a day for today,” Soomin quips, a hand on her hip - she tries her best to maintain a blank expression, however, an exhausted scowl breaks through her usually well-crafted mask.

“We can hold the meeting five days from Wednesday,” Duri says, massaging her wrists as she stood from the chair she was most likely bound to. “I’ll send your right hand the exact date.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Jimin looks to the three core members present, a silent command lying in his gaze. Quickly recognizing the order the men swiftly move into action. Namjoon turns away, fishing out his cell-phone and calling god knows who; while Taehyung moves to talk to - who you were guessing - the many Bangtan operatives that were standing to the side. Hoseok on the other hand, entirely excuses himself from the group, jogging down the hallway you had come from - probably to get the car ready, though you weren’t too sure just what exactly he had planned to do as you had the keys to the car.

“Five days from Wednesday then,” Jimin bids the two women goodbye as he places a hand on your back, gently nudging you towards the same way you had entered form.

You weren’t sure just how long the whole ordeal had actually taken, but the sharp orange light that covered the grounds told you it was much longer than what you had may have felt.

The rest of the daylight passed in a blur as there was much to do. Many of Bangtan’s members were injured, few fatally so. Those who were gravely wounded were rushed to the gang’s official doctor, but most of the operatives only had minor injuries: cuts, scratches, bruises, easily treatable wounds. And though it wasn’t part of your original job description, your inner doctor wouldn’t let those injured go without cleaning and dressing their wounds.

That was where the rest of your day had gone. Cleaning and dressing wounds of the twenty or so operatives that had participated in the day’s rescue mission. However, with only you on the job, getting to everyone - quickly - would have been nearly impossible. Fortunately, Jin had joined you in your endeavors, putting the skills you had taught him to use. And going by the speed you were getting through people, it was almost as if two long term professionals were on the case. A pleasant surprise really, you had assumed Jin would fumble with the bandages of the first few patients - a sound assumption, seeing as Jin didn’t have official training before working with you - but you were proven very wrong as the older male swiftly and deftly handled the bandages, efficiently treating one patient after another. And thanks to that great efficiency, you were done with everyone long before the moon had reached its peak. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if the day’s patients were used as exercise tools to improve the male’s skills.

A soft chuckle left your lips as you stepped into the luxurious waterfall shower, where the shower head was attached to the ceiling. The controls of which were actually quite easy to operate; there was a knob for hot water and a knob for cold, the only problem was - they were both identical to each other… and the shower head was right over the controls as well. So you did the only thing any sane person would do, you turned both knobs to where you thought would be the right temperature, then ran like hell to the other corner of the shower space.

You sighed as the hot water soothed your tense muscles. Looking up, you let the water splash you face, and though the temperature of the water may have been a tad too hot for your face, that was the only thing you could do to distract yourself from the feeling in your chest, or rather the lack of feeling. The warm liquid cascaded down your body as you motionlessly stood under the falling water.

‘Who am I kidding?’ Brining a palm up to cover your eyes, before lowering it, you gaze falling onto the limb. This was the hand you used to pull the trigger, this was the hand you used to end a life. But it doesn’t shake, it doesn’t quiver, it doesn’t tremble now and didn’t tremble then. You remembered it, you remembered everything - vividly - like a film in HD.

How you held up the gun, how you aimed, how your body moved, everything. Though you also recall not feeling nothing.

No, that wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all. You did feel it, you felt every bit of it. From raising the gun to pulling the trigger, you felt it all. Your body wasn’t moving on its own, it was you, you were the one in control, everything that happened was what you did. Then why did you think your body was moving of its own accord?

A question you were doing everything possible to avoid, a question you didn’t want to think about, a question you already knew the answer to. And you knew, part of the reason you insisted on treating the wounds of those injured was so you had something else to focus on, something to distract you, something you could use as an excuse to not think.

‘Maybe I am heartless,’ You thought as you used a fluffy white towel to dry your body, quickly slipping on a pair of penguin shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you shuffle out your door towards your last patient of the day.

Softly knocking on the double doors, you wait for Jimin to allow you in. Though minutes passed not a sound came from the room. ‘Is Jimin not in?’

“I’m coming in,” You announce as you hesitantly twist the golden door handle, poking your head through the crack you had opened. And the sight that welcomed you, had to be one of your favorite scenes you had ever seen.

There he was - a ferocious mafia boss - sitting on his bed - running his fingers through the fur of Shelty’s fluffy head on his lap as he read to your seventy-pound puppy dog.

“Well hello, you two,” You playfully greet the pair as you take your usual route to the first-aid box.

“Hey,” Jimin returns, closing the book in his hand, he shifts farther into the bed, making room for you when you return.

“You didn’t come by earlier,” You mention, as Jimin - in fact - hadn’t shown up to the medical room for an injury check. And coincidentally enough happens to be the only one of the four that you had yet to examine. Granted, you did somewhat corner the other three into an examination.

“Were you injured?” You ask, easing your way back to the bed - tentatively sitting beside the male.

“No,” The silver-blond answers shortly.

“Don’t lie to me,” You huff

“I’m not,” Removing his shirt over his head, the boss pouts.

“Uh-huh,” Nodding in mock agreement, you eye the small cuts and scratches littering his forearm.

A peaceful silence falls as you wordlessly apply antibiotic ointment to the healing wound. And even though you had repeated this routine nearly every night since your arrival, skipping removing the bandages still leaves an odd discomfort. It felt as if you had missed a step when in reality it was just the night bandaging happened after Jimin’s before bed shower and the old bandages were removed before he would shower.

Gently wrapping the fresh, clean gauze around the boss’ shoulder your mind drifts as your hands move with practiced ease. The events of the morning felt almost as if it were part of the distant past, not something that occurred just hours ago. The kidnapping, Duri’s clues, her clues actually leading you to her, the tansies, the attack on the two former Yeong operatives, you little epiphany, you killing someone. So much happened in the span of fewer than twelve hours. Your movements slowed as your thoughts drowned your consciousness. A familiar melancholy settling in your chest once again.

“(Y/n),” Jimin’s voice is soft as he calls for your attention.

“Huh? what?” You snap from your thoughts with a heavy sigh as you look to the silver-blonde in question. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing,” He pauses. “It’s just, you were spacing out,”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You apologize, moving on to the smaller cuts and scratches. “It’s gonna sting, okay?” Softly, you warn the male, bringing an alcohol pad to his forearm. For minor injuries, you used band-aids to cover them up.

You fall into another silence as you individually place each band-aid on each scratch. While reflecting on the events of the day, you fail to notice the stiffness of this silence. It was unlike when you enjoyed the silence and simply basked in each other's presence. This was a familiar silence, a silence that had fallen once before. And Jimin was quick to recognize.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles, gently taking your hand into his then pulling you into him. “I never really thanked you for saving me, did I?” He whispers, rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back.

“Thank you, (Y/n),” The silver-blond murmurs in your ear, placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Jimin,” You mutter into his bare chest, turning your body to comfortably rest against the male. “It’s happening again.”

“(Y/n), you did what you had to do,” The hold around your body tightens as he speaks.

“I felt nothing, I feel nothing. Even as I pulled that trigger there was nothing. All I knew was I had to do it, but there was no reluctance, no hesitance, I wasn’t scared,” You barely make out as your throat constricts, eyes prickling with tears that threaten to fall at any given moment. A hollowing feeling burning in your ribcage.

“But that’s exactly what scares me,” You lift yourself from his chest just enough to meet Jimin’s honey-brown orbs. “It scares me I could kill someone so easily, then move on even easier,” Your tear ducts run loose as droplets of salty liquid freefall down your cheeks.

“Once I even thought my body was moving on its own,” You scoff at your own miserable excuses. “But it wasn’t, it was me. I was moving my body - I raised the gun - I pulled the trigger, I killed the man.” Your voice comes out much stabler than you had expected.

“You know, I think the only reason I thought my body was moving on its own was that I was trying to justify my feelings. I was trying to justify not feeling anything as I killed a man.” Your voice elevated as you spoke, getting louder and louder as the sentence went on.

“Who does that?!” You exclaim, hand moving wildly, exaggerating your words. Jimin opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off - continuing on your tangent.

“And I know I said that I would take things as they came, but I killed someone. I ended a life with my own two hands. I should feel something shouldn’t I?! Remorse? Pain? Guilt? Something? Anything? But I don’t. And that’s terrifying, but maybe even that maybe I’m just tricking myself into thinking I’m scared, maybe I’m not even scared!” Your voice rises as your words bumble together into barely coherent blubbers.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re okay,” He shushes you, pulling you back into his embrace, tenderly running his fingers through your locks. The feeling of his digits combing through your hair instantly soothing you.

“It’s alright, there is nothing to justify,” He speaks slowly, calmly. “You did what you had to do to protect your own,”

“That’s not it! I killed someone just hours ago and I just moved on like it was nothing!” You try to convey your thoughts, but your thoughts were getting louder and muddling as time went on.

“(Y/n),” Jimin murmurs.

“Just what kind of monster am I,” You rest your forehead against Jimin’s bare chest, all your bravado draining from your body as tears continue to run down your flushed cheeks.

“(Y/n),” All he could do was try his best to comfort you and hope you snap out of your current mindset. Jimin wasn’t all too sure how to react when you reprimanded yourself for something those in the mafia community were trained and schooled to do. The first kill is never light, most aren’t even able to pull the trigger, while some retch their guts out once they do. He had been carefully observing your behavior and temperament from the moment he realized you had just had your first kill. He was prepared for you to hurl your guts out the moment you saw the dead body, or even later, thinking it may have been a delayed reaction. And yet there was nothing, especially after you had regrouped with everyone else. He could see you were distracted, but quickly regained composure then almost instantly returned to your work. As you were standing, he could practically see the wheels in your head-turning. And if there were ever a ranking or a test for newcomers, you would have passed with flying colors. Yet you couldn’t see how useful and quite honestly necessary abilities you had.

Eventually, as it was made clear you would be spending the night in Jimin’s room - he fully pulled onto his lap. Continuing to rub circles on your back as you cried.

“I don’t know what to do,” After what felt like hours of bawling your eyes out, a quiet whimper left your lips as the exhaustion of the day and the crying hit you like a freight train.

“Just keep going as you are and you’ll be fine,” Jimin whispers next to your ear, his warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Whas that supposed to mean?” A muted whine resounds in your chest at the feeling, you bury your head into Jimin’s neck, nuzzling into his skin as you basked in his warmth. The strong pull of sleep swamped you as the pleasant heat of Jimin’s body and his comforting touch ease you into sleep’s embrace. And at that moment, it was just a tad too tempting to resist.

“Goodnight (Y/n),”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

A quick taglist!

I saw your message and I felt like I should lol hope you don’t mind. Thank you for reading! Lots of love! 💜

@crookedstarlitnight

Comment or send in an ask if you would like to be tagged too!

#purple irises #mafia au!#bts mafia au #mafia park jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #Mafia Park Jimin #MAFIA BTS #Mafia Jin #mafia jungkook #mafia boss Jimin #mafia yoongi #mafia Namjoon #mafia taehyung #mafia hoseok #Doctor reader kind of

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kuzuhinasecretexchange · 3 years

Text

Work Title: How To Learn To Enjoy Coffee In Four Days

Author: @jagopolis

For: @starryy-night

Pairings/Characters: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu/Hajime Hinata, Peko Pekoyama

Rating/Warnings: General audiences, warning for a lot of foul language

Prompts used: Coffee Shop AU, urban fantasy

Author’s notes: I am so sorry for the foul language. And the other thing, I hope this small piece is to your liking! I adore modern/urban fantasy so I immediately jumped on board, and while coffee shop AUs are not something I often write, I think I did decently! Enjoy this small piece and glory to the lovely kuzuhina ship! Also, 10°C is 50°F.

Nobody liked Mondays.

And that was the fact as true as the sun setting every morning, the stars showing up at night, or that every full moon werewolves would go a bit feral.

Even the weather seemed to agree that Mondays are shit. The temperature was no higher than maybe 10°C if not for the wind, and the sky had that ugly, grey color of clouds that won’t bring rain, but will obscure the sunshine just because.

Amidst all that, just after they got a moment off their duties, Peko approached Fuyuhiko with an offer. Apparently, a new coffee shop opened nearby, and she was looking for a friend willing to visit it with her.

And, you know what? Yeah, sure, why not, any break from the bleak reality will make this boring day much more bearable.

Turns out the shop wasn’t even far from their workplace, they didn’t have to take a short-distance teleport, just a quick train ride. At least, it would be quick, if not for the elf who suddenly decided to argue with the driver. Seriously, even goddamn dragons aren’t that proud.

But finally, they arrived at their stop and headed towards their destination. It was in one of the more rural districts. With narrower streets, mainly small houses and equally small gardens.

“So, this is the fuss is all about?” Fuyuhiko mused out loud, judging the rather modest front of the cafe.

Peko nodded quietly, though what interested her more were the fluffy cushions leaning against one of the windows. Knowing her, they won’t leave without a new one.

This was actually a good opportunity to take a peek into the cafe. And it wasn’t anything stellar, truth be told. Just a few tables with chairs or more comfortable sofas, a small counter, and a single, tired employee checking something on his phone. No customers at this hour? Sheesh, if this is another shitty place… Fuyuhiko sighed and pushed the door, walking inside. What hit him immediately was the sheer intensity of magic woven into this place. It felt as if they transitioned from a shitty autumn Monday to a bright summer Sunday by just taking a single step. The interior transformed from a cheap look to a full-blown forest. With trees and birds singing and all that shit. And, yeah, Fuyuhiko was aware this is all just very good illusion magic at work but y’know, this shit is still impressive. Especially since he tried and failed miserably at learning it.

And then Fuyuhiko noticed that there is a fucking window with soft cushions next to him and all immersion went poof.

Peko, however, was absolutely taken in, and he knew that from the way her lips twitched in the slightest of smiles.

“…come on, let’s not keep the barista waiting,” he grumbled, before moving to the counter, now overgrown with moss and flowers. But behind it was the same, very bored barista, checking his phone. The audacity! Fuyuhiko very loudly clears his throat, and the guy finally has enough common fucking sense to look at his customers. “Welcome to our small shop, what do you desire?” barista’s voice was no less enthusiastic than the way he greeted his only customers, and Fuyuhiko was so, so fucking tempted to curse this idiot out right there and then. Let’s go. Let’s fucking go.

“What we fucking desire, is–” There was a hand on her shoulder, and Peko’s voice quickly cut him off. “We don’t desire anything, Fae. However, we would like to order an espresso and a caramel latte. With almond milk.”

…of fucking course it’s a fae. As if anything today can go right, he almost told his desires to a fae. Good job Fuyuhiko! Good job you idiot!

The fae barista nodded and got to making their order, while Peko, with her hand still on Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, guided him to a table far away from the counter. The shorter man huffed angrily and sat down.

“…This was close. You need to watch your tongue around faes.”

To that, Fuyuhiko just grabbed a handful of moss growing from his chair and ripped it off. “It’s not my fucking fault that bitch tried to scam me out of my wants! How the hell was I supposed to know he’s a fae to begin with? These stupid illusions make him look almost amagi–”

Peko cut him off with a nudge before he could continue his angry rant as the barista approached them. He placed their orders on the table. It didn’t appear as if he heard anything, then again, who knew with these sly bastards. “Anything else?” Your stupid head on the platt–

“No, thank you very much.” God bless Peko for her natural unshakable composure.

The barista nodded and then walked away, all while Fuyuhiko dug his sharp claws into the living wood of the illusionary table. Meanwhile, Peko picked up her espresso and took a long, slow sip. She was someone who not only knew a lot about coffee but also enjoyed this devilish brew of the evilest of demons. No, seriously, how the fuck could anyone ever enjoy its bitterness? Fuyuhiko let out a frustrated growl, before finally taking his cup and sipping some of probably the single sweetest coffee in existence. It still tasted like coffee, and that meant absolute garbage though. “For being clearly a front for fae activity, their coffee is rather delicious.” Peko mused, setting down her cup. It was already empty, much to Fuyuhiko’s horror. His latte was barely started and he already had enough!

“If you say so. I just think it’s a very shitty business practice to try to extort desires from your clients,” he muttered, grip tightening around his glass. “I’m just gonna go pay and then we’re out. And never, ever coming back.”

Peko looked at him with that slightly amused look of hers, before turning her eyes to the weird-ass not-illusion-hidden window with the cushions. Oh no… “Please don’t tell me you want a souvenir.” She nodded. He cursed out his life again. Then got up and walked to that counter and damn barista, who somehow already got back onto his phone. Fuyuhiko had to try real hard to not start growling at the fae. But he was a distinguished dragon, and way too old to growl at people he disliked. “I’m paying, card, how much is it?”

The barista looked up at him with these annoyingly green eyes of his, then on the register.

“830 yen.” And at that moment Fuyuhiko started growling. What a fucking steal! He could get coffee that’s equally as horrible for what, a 100 yen? Fucking faes and their fucking shady business practices!

No, Fuyuhiko, remember your goal here.

“…you’ve got quite the prices.”

The barista just shrugged. The bastard-

“I didn’t set the prices, I just work here.”

The eyeroll Fuyuhiko made was one of the more subtle kinds. Absolutely.

“Alright, whatever. Can the cushions you have by the window be bought?”

And that, for fuck’s sake FINALLY, got a reaction out of the bored guy. His brows furrowed in genuine confusion, as he looked over Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and at the window.

“Well, no, they’re a part of the interior…”

Aha. Sure sure, anything a fae has in their sight can be acquired through a bit of rule-bending.

“What about exchange then? You can exchange anything for anything with equal value.”

Gotcha bitch.

The barista sighed, before rubbing his temples and hesitantly nodded.

“That… Is true, but you’d have to bring me an equally as fluffy cushion for trade. You’d already have a cushion though, so why-”

“Then it’s a deal!” Fuyuhiko took his card out and quickly made the right payment. For the coffee. But the more important and tricky one will have to wait. “I will bring you that cushion tomorrow.”

Barista didn’t say anything, visibly too stunned by the weird happenings. Haha, 1-0, shitty customer service guy. With everything taken care of, and his power and pride flaunted, Fuyuhiko turned around and gestured at Peko to follow him. She sighed, with that smallest of amusements on her face. She was lucky to be his best friend, he wouldn’t bother for anyone else.

“I’m never doing you any favors again.”

To which Peko just laughed, as they walked out of the enchanted cafe and into the much less gray Monday of the city.

—

So, Tuesdays.

On most occasions, Fuyuhiko didn’t mind Tuesdays as much as he did Mondays, for a simple reason. His work started later and he could wake up at a reasonably late hour and not be late. Sure, not much happened, but there wasn’t any reason for outright hatred either.

That is, usually.

Because today, he had to carry a fluffy fucking cushion to a stupid cafe and uphold his end of the deal with a fae. Because, in his own stupidity, he shouted ‘it’s a deal’ in front of a being known for making shady deals with other magical and amagical creatures for a living. But this was fine. Everything was fine. This was a harmless deal with clearly stated conditions. Pillow for a pillow, exchanged today. That’s all, the fae really had no room to scam him out of his soul or some shit.

And so, after work, he made it very clear to Peko how dissatisfied he was with what she put him up for, before leaving with his sacrificial pillow, one he extorted from Souda with a few threats and curses. What? He doesn’t have stuff like that just laying around, he prefers smooth materials.

He took one look at the traffic and decided to not bother with a train, instead preparing to pay quite a bit for a teleport. Really, fuck whoever thought that instead of making this perfect means of transportation free, one has to pay stupid amounts just to make a short jump.

The machine situated on the end of his street happily swallowed a few whole bills while he typed in the address. Glass doors of the booth closed behind him, the low hum of magic filled the closed space, before pulling him under for just a moment and spitting out at a different machine. THANK YOU FOR USING OUR SERVICES flashed across the screen, as the glass door opened to the narrow street from yesterday. “Thank you for ripping me off, assholes,” Fuyuhiko muttered to himself. At least he wasn’t one of the losers who were nauseous after teleportation. He covered his mouth with his hand. Just in case.

The street was as empty as yesterday. Actually, everything looked exactly like yesterday, even the weather was the same. Pushing the annoying deja vu aside, Fuyuhiko quickly made his way to the coffee shop, pillow in his hand. A plastic bag, but who cares.

Inside the exact same illusion has greeted him. His eyes wandered to the counter, behind which the same shithead from yesterday was standing, but this time just mindlessly fidgeting with some coins instead of being on his phone. What an improvement.

So Fuyuhiko walked over, slammed his cushion on the counter, and stared the barista dead in the eyes. “My end of the deal. Your turn.” And the barista looked at him with such deep confusion Fuyuhiko was sure the last time he saw emotion as strong as this on someone’s face was when he breathed fire during a party to get everyone’s attention. So he just stood there, waiting for the idiot to remember what this is all about. Up until now, he didn’t really have the time to examine his target of curses. He had the appearance of a guy roughly his physical age, with a standard built and brown, spiky hair. So spiky in fact that some strands seemed to completely defy gravity and just stand upright. Fuyuhiko briefly wondered what kind of hairspray the guy was using. He was dressed in a brown apron and striped shirt, just standard work clothes. No one would wear that atrocity without being forced to.

“…wait, you’re the guy who wanted to trade pillows-?” the barista finally spoke up, examining the bag. He reached into it, and took the cushion into his hands, squeezing it.

But Fuyuhiko really had no patience for this place, nor this guy.

“Yes. Now, which ones can I trade this for?”

The barista stared at the pillows stacked up against the window as if he saw them for the first time in his life.

“Any, I think. Just, uh, bring one to me and I’ll decide?”

Without waiting for any further encouragement, Fuyuhiko bolted towards the window, grabbed the single fluffiest bastard situated there, almost tripped on a tree’s root on his way back, and placed the soon-to-be-his pillow right next to the one he brought.

The barista blinked in great confusion again, before nodding.

“Yeah, sure, this looks about equal in volume…”

Which, to be fair, surprised Fuyuhiko. Was this fae just. Agreeing to the terms of a different being? What the fuck. What the Fuck.

“Would you like to order anything, though?” the barista continued. Fuyuhiko shook his head.

“No, that’s all I wanted out of this place. Bye.”

He grabbed his bag, the newly obtained gift, and turned around. “Wait!” the barista’s voice caught up to him. “…we also serve tea?”

Did that bastard notice that he didn’t drink his coffee yesterday? More importantly, remembered it? That’s very fucking weird of him.

But also rather rude of Fuyuhiko to just walk in, demand a pillow, and walk out? Fuck this shit… a single cup of tea couldn’t harm anyone. Even if served by a fae. If they used some illegal charms they’d be shut down before they could even open.

“…single cup of green tea then.”

As Fuyuhiko turned around, he caught the barista smiling to himself. Yeah, good job dipshit, you just convinced a guy to become your customer again. This time though, instead of sitting by a table, the dragon decided to sit by the counter. Maybe to observe the sly fae. Maybe.

Said fae in question easily maneuvered between the shelves and picked out what seemed to be Fuyuhiko’s ordered tea, then scooped some into a tea infuser, placed that into the cup, and poured hot water onto it. And it’s not like Fuyuhiko has never seen someone make tea, for fuck’s sake he makes it himself, but damn this man had some moves.

“Enjoy your drink.”

Fuyuhiko looked at the cup with still brewing tea with the slightest hint of suspicion. But he just went over all the arguments, so he just picked it up and took a sip. “…that’s one sweet green tea.”

The barista laughed a bit, before scratching his neck. “Yes, you see, I picked a sweeter mix, I thought you’d like it after your last order.”

“Do you remember every order you get?” Fuyuhiko could not contain a snark. The barista answered with a slow nod.

“Pretty much-? That’s what I’m paid for.”

The dragon just stared at him as he continued to sip his tea. The fae shifted his balance from left to right, then searched for something to look at, finally landing on the pillow.

“…that girl is really lucky to have you. I mean, not everyone would make a deal with a fae to get a gift!”

And to that, Fuyuhiko spat out his tea for the first time. He coughed loudly, to the barista’s bewilderment.

“Peko is like my sister!”

The barista shook his head with stunning speed, his voice seemed to get a tone higher.

“No, I wasn’t trying to insist anything like that-! She’s lucky to have you, as a brother-?”

Fuyuhiko continued to cough his lungs out. The barista leaned forward and, after hesitating a moment, awkwardly patted his back. And while Fuyuhiko would prefer for a stranger to not touch him, the gesture was somewhat appreciated (and, damn, his hands were warm). A few more coughs and the cursed tea finally left his lungs in its entirety, it would appear. He could finally breathe freely. Barista went back to standing at a distance of the counter (would it be strange to be disappointed by that?).

“Uh… Sorry about that. So, your ‘like sister’s’ name is Peko, and yours is?” That was probably the most awkward segway into a different topic Fuyuhiko has heard since he met Kazuichi. Anyway, it’d be pretty rude to not introduce himself.

“Name’s Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko.”

The barista’s eyes went a little wide, no doubt recognizing the family name. But he made no comments about it, instead just nodded.

“I’m Hinata Hajime. It’s nice to see new faces around here.”

That’s… An underwhelmingly typical name. The dragon hoped to at least find a family connected to this fae, but it seems he truly was just. A guy working in a cafe.

The momentary quiet apparently startled Hinata, as he reached to scratch his arm.

“So, you-”

“Before we change the topic again,” Fuyuhiko cut in. “Let me finish this tea. It’s getting cold.”

Hinata gave an apologetic look and a nod, before shuffling off to poke some buttons on the cash register. From the side, Fuyuhiko could appreciate just how. Nicely he fit into the scenery, with his green eyes, and hair in a shade similar to the trees, and–

Hinata turned his head and flashed him a quick smile, before going back to work, and Fuyuhiko was almost sure his heart stopped. Gh, get yourself together, you useless fucking homosexual!

“Actually, there’s something I want to ask you,” quickly start a conversation maybe then he won’t judge him for staring. “You behaved like a completely different person yesterday. I’m not tryin’ to pry, but what’s up with that?”

Hinata stopped for a moment, before resuming the apparently absolutely pointless fidgeting with the register.

“Yeah, I. Apologize for that, not very professional of me, hah?” from just the tone of his voice Fuyuhiko could guess that he stepped into something he shouldn’t have. “It was just. A long day, I barely got any sleep, and–” “Y’know what, nevermind, forget I asked.” Good job Fuyuhiko. You absolute moron. You idiot. How do you ruin your chances in a single sentence.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I get it, it must look pretty weird from the outside, like two different people, or something!”

“Like, identical evil twin shit?”

Hinata’s smile got wider for a moment, covering up a laugh. “I wish! Someone to cover my shifts, that’d be fantastic.”

And, alright, listen. Fuyuhiko was prying way too much, but this a matter of planning his week ahead and knowing when to come to this cafe and when to ditch it all and not expose himself to any bullshit from faes.

“So you work here alone? Sounds tough.”

“Well, not really. I’m just the only one on shift right now. My coworker will come to give me a break eventually.” said Hinata, following it with a dismissive wave of his hand.

So of course Fuyuhiko followed it with:

“Then, when are you free?”, praying inside that his hidden intention is not picked up just yet.

“Uh, I finish my shift Friday evening?”

The intention wasn’t picked up but if Fuyuhiko had any more tea, he’d probably spit it out again. Luckily, the cold, half-finished cup laid abandoned next to him. “…it’s Tuesday.”

“Yes, well, fae don’t really need to sleep as often as most sentient species, so I can take 5-days-long shifts without much issue.” and he had the audacity to say that as if it was just a common occurrence to work for 100… something hours nonstop!

But that. Did give him quite a bit of time to get to know Hinata better…

“Sounds fuckin’ awful, I can barely stand 8 hours at work.”

Hinata responded with a chuckle, just shrugging.

“You can get used to it, I guess. Are you going to finish your tea, or-?”

Aw, shit, the tea. Yeah, it was undrinkable now anyway, and it’s not like Fuyuhiko liked it that much in the first place.

“I’ll pay, how much is it?”

“A cup will be… 300 yen.”

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE– the prices here will kill him! Drain all of his goddamn earnings!

He just took out enough bills and handed them over. Staying longer than this would be rude, even if nobody else was in the cafe. Or, that was an illusion, he just fell for an illusion, and it’s all fae tricks designed to make him lose money.

He grabbed his pillow and stood up.

“Till next time, then.”

Hinata’s brow slowly raised.

“Next time?”

But before he had to answer that question and no doubt embarrass himself further, Fuyuhiko walked right out of that cursed place.

Just one glance, through the window. And, sure enough, Hinata stood there, stood there, alive, and probably real since apparently glass resisted the illusion. Luckily, his eyes were still stuck looking at the door, so he did not see Fuyuhiko questioning his existence.

Turning away and walking down the street, the dragon took out his phone and quickly opened the chat with Peko.

FUYU: How do you learn to enjoy coffee?

KOKO: Why are you asking? FUYU: None of your business! KOKO: It’s that barista. FUYU: …… KOKO: I knew you’d enjoy that place. :-)

#kuzuhina #kuzuhina secret santa 2020 #jagopolis #starryy-night #submission

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skinks · 4 years

Note

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

#long post #once again i did not mean to write over 2k about fake sex comedy Bongo Smugglers (2002) when i started answering this message #reddie #ficlet #bongo smugglers

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