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#Wait am I vague posting from the opposite end
bffsoobin · 11 months ago
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➤idol!yeonjun x non!idol reader, pure fluffy goodness, yeonjun gets teased a lot lmao
↳yeonjun has always been a hard worker; reaching above and beyond the expectations of every person he’d even met and even himself. There was only one part of his life he knew was impossible to better--you. In Yeonjun’s eyes, you’d never been anything less than perfect from the day he met you. He never lets you forget it either, even if everyone else was beyond tired of hearing it.
Word Count: 1,501
Requested: yes!
Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, very small sprinkle of angst (self-doubt in reader)
A/N: I wrote this super fast so it may not be my best work but it felt really good to get something out and posted again! Love you all, hope you had a happy holiday!
“Are you sure they want me to come?” You asked, shifting anxiously on the balls of your feet. “I mean, it seems like a thing reserved for just the five of you- celebrating the album- and none of the other guys have significant others to bring.” Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, leaving his shirt halfway buttoned up. Gently, he ran his warm hands up and down your arms. The sun had begun to set at some point while you were getting ready, and the light cascading in through the window opposite you washed Yeonjun in a golden ring of light.
You were so distracted by the sight that you almost missed the words coming out of his mouth.
“Baby, the guys love you. And they want you to be there. I promise. I wouldn’t ask you to come if it weren’t true. Hell, I wouldn’t even be going myself if it weren’t true. I’d much rather stay here with you and cuddle.” Your heart softened at his reassurance, anxiety bubbling away from your bloodstream in a few instants. Humming happily, you crushed Yeonjun into a hug that felt as if it could meld your bodies together.
Yeonjun lead you into the reserved restaurant with his fingers linked between yours with such fervor he might as well have glued your palms together. For that you were grateful though, because the party which you’d expected to be just the other boys and a few staff ended up being much more expansive. You spotted several important producers and a few other idols who had the time in their schedule to come and celebrate with their friends. The thrum of your heart kicked up tenfold as Yeonjun lead you through the crowds, eyes turning to him  and his head of bright pink hair immediately. Damn him for always being the man of the hour. The two of you had almost made it to the safety of his table; so close in fact that you saw Soobin waving at you enthusiastically and pointing at a pair of empty seats saved by jackets and hats. Mere feet away, Yeonjun was stopped in his tracks by someone you only recognized vaguely, but knew instantly was of importance. The man was tall, handsome and well dressed, balancing a bottle of beer between his fingers with practiced ease. 
As the two of them chatted about the album and general comeback procedures, you felt yourself becoming more and more out of place. For Yeonjun’s sake you plastered on a gentle smile, nodding along to whatever words were being exchanged between the two of them. 
“...her name?” You caught the tail end of the sentence just in time to see that the man was gazing down at you. You glanced between him and Yeonjun, trying to collect any information as to why you were being addressed. 
“I’m Y/N,” you offered carefully, not sure how they’d arrived at this topic. Yeonjun squeezed your hand reassuringly, running his thumb over the back of your hand.
“Well, I had no idea that Yeonjun had a girlfriend,” the man simpered. “What exactly do you do?” The implication of his words hit you like a MAC truck. What did you do? What did you do to deserve to be here, rubbing elbows with these famed people? 
“She’s a student, actually! She’s always busy with school work or research.” Yeonjun cut in, voice rising protectively. “She pretends it isn’t a big deal, but she’s pretty high up in her department, got all the professors to love her. And she’s on track for a really cool internship- right baby?” He shot the conversation back to you, attempting to ease the tears crawling up your throat.
“Oh, it’s not that big of deal, I don’t know if I got it yet, so-” 
“Shush, it’s amazing. And there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified person for the position. You’re amazing,” Yeonjun beamed down at you warmly, a blush cropping up along your cheeks as you fought the urge to cover your face. Yeonjun quickly exchanged his goodbyes with the man and lead you finally to the table where you could take a deep breath. As soon as you settled into the chair next to Soobin, Yeonjun began to apologize in a hushed voice.
“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think that he would say anything like that. You know that you’re amazing, though, right? I don’t want you to ever believe that I’m not proud of you, or you aren’t amazing because you aren’t an idol. I love how hard you work at school, I love that you aren’t busy with all the stupid idol things that I have to do. You’re such a positive light in my life, such an amazing person. I’m so happy that I know you. Seriously, I can’t imagine not knowing you. You know I love you, right? So much.” Your heart swelled, pumping so rapidly that it felt like it might fall out of your chest. All of the tension you’d felt during the conversation was completely gone, replaced by a pleasant buzz of happiness that only Yeonjun could provide you with. Despite the business within the restaurant, it felt as if you were in your own little bubble with Yeonjun alone, focused only on the gentle cadence of his voice and the steady heat radiating off of his body. His eyes were soft and round even under the concentrated eye makeup you’d helped him apply before leaving your apartment as he watched you carefully. 
“I know, and I love you too,” a smile split your face before you could stop it, straining the muscles in your cheeks until they stung. 
“Trust me, Y/N. We all know.” Taehyun laughed, causing the other three to nod in agreement. 
“Seriously, he literally talks about how much he loves you all the time. Sometimes even in his sleep he’s asking where you are-” 
“Hey! Stop it, you little-” Yeonjun growled, sending a menacing look toward Taehyun. 
“No! Keep it coming, tell me more,” happy to encourage the teasing of your boyfriend, you leaned back in your chair and picked at the shared plate of fries that had appeared in the middle of the table at some moment. 
“Oh, there was that one time we were in the studio and we couldn’t find him anywhere, like we even sent managers out to find him and everything and it turned out he got caught up talking with some random lady outside about you because he saw her carrying a bag you’d like.” Beomgyu offered, eyes sparkling at the chance to make fun of Yeonjun freely.
“Or the time when we were trying to film an episode of TO DO and he kept checking his phone because he was waiting for you to send a good morning text. The stylists were so mad that he refused to take his phone out of his pocket and they had to give him a top that would cover them.” Soobin jumped in this time, grinning just as wide as you were at the realization that Yeonjun was much more whipped for you than you’d ever estimated. 
“And lets not forget literally any time we have extra time at the dorm and want to watch a movie or play a game. He literally always asks if he can invite you. At one point it was like nine days straight and when we said we’d rather not have a guest he pouted in his room instead of playing with us.” Your eyes grew wide with recognition at the story, as you remembered the exact time Soobin was referring to. You had, quite honestly, grown tired of visiting the dorm every single night after class but you did it anyway for the sake of spending time with Yeonjun. 
“Did you guys know that he came to my apartment that night and complained that you were being mean to him?” Yeonjun whined loudly at your words, burying his flaming face into his own hands and letting out a defeated groan. He knew it was all true, and he was no stranger to admitting his attachment to you, but hearing it all at once made him shy. 
“It’s okay, Junnie. You know I love how whipped you are for me,” you teased, rubbing the nape of his neck with delicate fingers in an attempt to get his head off of the table. 
“I am not whipped!” He protests, sitting back up and trying his best to glare at you and his members. His face was still tinged with red, evidence of being caught in a lie. 
‘If you’re not whipped, then what would you call it, hyung?” Hueningkai questioned, taking a poignant sip of his drink all while keeping his gaze locked onto Yeonjun. The entire table, sans Yeonjun, snickered together as he opened and closed his mouth in quick succession, trying to find the right words. 
“I’m not whipped. I’m just...fond.”
914 notes · View notes
rottencherrypie · 5 months ago
Burn For You - Thorin x Fem!Reader
Rating - R-18+; Contains Sexual Content Please Beware!
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Pairing - Thorin x Fem!Reader
Warnings - Smut, language, screaming, mention of scars, female reader, female genitalia (reader), male genitalia (Thorin), nicknames (mainly reader), creampie, fluff (cheesy fluff).
Pronouns & POV - They/Them, third-person-ish
Summary - In a moment of panic the dwarven king proclaims you are his spouse and to your shock, everyone believes him due to a presumed meaningless kiss. Out of the pureness of your company's hearts, you and your 'lover' are sent off upon a honeymoon.
Word Count - 5.8k+ (generic plot & questionable smut)
A/N - This is based upon an edit I made on tiktok (here), though I am sure this idea has most likely been done before, whilst editing I just thought it would be fun to write. I have been having writers block lately so I apologize if at any point it seems off or forced! I also apologize in advance for any grammar or anatomy errors, I do use an online grammar checker yet it does not catch everything and I do just genuinely suck at anatomy. I try my best to keep the reader as vague as possible so you may fill in the blanks. (If you saw me accidentally post the draft no you didn't) I do not own any characters mentioned in this fic! (Except maybe the vague mention of Kili & Tauriel's child?)
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
The tap of your bare feet against the creaking floor echoed throughout the luxurious room, the massive cypress walls towering over you as you reached the opposite end for what felt like the hundredth time.
The luxurious room you had been sent to out of the kindness of your company's heart, though this kindness was not one you expected nor did you deserve as this kindness was extended towards you in the illusion of a pre-existing marriage between you and the dwarven king. A falsified marriage.
A loud groan escaped your lips as you cradled your face within your soft palms, your torso hunching over allowing your fingernails to rest against the cold wooden walls. Out of all the idiotic, selfish, and outright miserable plans Thorin had to get you involved in he had to settle on this!
It was only a few days prior when the newly crowned king had come rushing over to you, the clink of covered feet meeting the cold ground echoed throughout the stone halls as he inched closer to you.
"Y/N, I do not have much time to explain, however," He began, his voice wavering slightly as the cold mountain air graced his lungs. "I need you to agree with me in a few moments. Please."
The words were barely given a chance to process as you were approached by another dwarf, a friendly face whom you had accompanied throughout their treacherous journey.
"Thorin! There you are, lad." The elder dwarf stopped a few feet across from you, lowering his head slightly towards you as his lips curved upwards into a kind smile.
"Balin, may we discuss this matter later?" The king pleaded as he inched behind you as if you were a shield against his kind adviser. "We cannot! You have her waiting in there, Thorin...she's mortified." Balin sighed, his calloused fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes shut for a moment.
"As am I!" The deep voice boomed throughout the busied halls, all noise within the mountain came to a halt as the words bounced from one end to another. "Thorin, I understand this is not what you had planned but it must be done for our people!"
"I cannot be wed to her!" The king continued to inch further behind you, the pressure of his muscular arm embracing your lower abdomen the only thing that proved he had not fled.
"Thorin, I understand you dislike her but you may grow to love her one day if you just-" The adviser's words came to a halt as his eyes finally opened, the sight of his king's arm wrapped upon your waist making his eyes widen further.
"I cannot marry that woman as I have already wed," Thorin announced leaving the pair of you stunned, your eyes darting between the king who peeked out from behind you towards his adviser. "Y/N is my wife. I shall not entertain such thoughts of marriage outside of my own." The words ringing throughout your ears as your lower fell open, your mouth agape like a fish freshly pulled out of water.
The grip upon your waist tightening as the king stood upon the tips of his toes, his hot breath upon your breath as the corners of his lips curved upwards into a smile. "Go with it, please." The low whisper barely caught your ear as his rough lips pressed against your cheek, a heat quickly spreading beneath the flesh of your cheeks while your eyes widened to match the size of his adviser's.
"You are?" A pale bushy brow raised in your direction as desperate ocean eyes burned into your skull, a low exhale escaping your nose before you leaned into the king's sturdy grip. "We are, we've been wed for a while now." The warm embrace of your soft palm against Thorin's cheek made him momentarily melt within your touch, a familiar touch he had forgotten how long he had truly yearned for.
"We were waiting to announce our marriage, we wished to have Erebor reclaimed before any joyous occasions took place." Thorin's explanation caused the elder dwarf's face to break out into a wide smile, his gaze upon the two of you softening as he welcomed both of you within his tight grip.
"That is wonderful, Thorin! And such a wonderful wife you have wed!" The tight squeeze around you two tightening further for a moment before he released, soft pats on the back being switched between Thorin and yourself as the wise dwarf went on about how wonderful your marriage would be for dwarves and humans.
"Though this is a joyous occasion, I am afraid I have to extend the news to our guests...and pay that bet. I guess that kiss did mean something after all..." The last bits of his sentence barely caught your ear as the wise dwarf turned away from the pair of you, both left in shock within the soft grasp of one another as the wise dwarf rushed off in the opposite direction.
The click of the heavy wooden door unlocking anchored you back from your deep thoughts, the anger within your veins momentarily replacing with hope as you approached the dwarven king. The way your desperate gem-colored eyes peered into his hopefully tugged within the strings of his heart, was he truly that awful to be around?
"Please tell me you found a loop-hole." The softness of your tone further tugged at his strained heart, the low sigh escaping his slightly chapped lips telling you everything before he could even speak.
"Y/N, I am aware this is not ideal-" "Oh, do you Thorin?!" You scoffed as you turned away from the dwarven king, your gaze fell upon the low fire. "I had plans, Thorin! Plans I intend to see through!" The fire crackled and hissed as you tossed another piece of wood into it.
"I know, Y/N. I know." The king's low sigh was shortly accompanied by your bed creaking beneath his weight, his calloused hands cradling his skull as he searched his mind for anything that may save the two of you from this embarrassment. "For now, we should rest and attempt to enjoy this honeymoon."
"So this is what you call a honeymoon?" The words coming out as a low scoff as you rested your upper arm upon the brick fireplace, the soft heat which emitted onto your arm soothing compared to the nip of the bitter air outside.
"Thorin, we have been pacing around our separate rooms trying to outrun this elaborate ruse!" Your voice rising with anger, one hand tightening around the edge of the upper fireplace whilst the other embraced your thumb tightly. "We're doomed, Thorin! We can't escape this!"
"Y/N, stop it." The warning within his deep tone merely added more fuel into the fire which roamed throughout your blood, the subtle dance of anger which swayed throughout your blood at his previous actions turned into a full-blown waltz of rage at this sudden command.
"Oh, please forgive me, your grace!" You scoffed as you turned towards him, his head still rested within his palms as if he were a dwarfling in trouble. "Your grace?" His gaze never met yours as his ocean eyes stayed glued upon the wooden floor.
"You can't even look me in the face!" "That's not true!" The blur of his brunette hair moving back catching your eyes before the deeply pained look upon his face did, the endless waves within his ocean eyes filled with guilt as they burned into you.
"And now I am forced to lie in this mess you made!" Your gaze quickly darted away from his back onto the low fire, fire you wished would overrun this room and save you from this mess.
"The mess we made, Y/N. I did not force your hand." The creak of the bed shifting at the lack of his weight echoed alongside the low crackles within the room, though he was right you did not need to play along, the statement did not aid the anger you felt.
"This was all your mistake!" "How is this my mistake? You agreed to this!" His voice rose as anger trickled into his veins, anger at himself rather than you. If he were man enough and simply confessed far before that woman stepped foot upon Erebor soil this might not have happened yet in a moment of panic, he acted upon an idiotic plan to cling onto you for one last time.
"You kissed me after the battle, Thorin! Do not act as if you have forgotten!" A familiar heat flooded beneath the flesh of your cheeks as the vivid memory of that day came back to you, a memory which always accompanied the lingering sensation of his lips upon yours.
The battle began to die down, corpses of your fellow friends and foes flooded the battlefield alongside the wounded yet you still pushed on. The clink of your covered feet against the icy ground was the only noise you could hear other than the ringing within your ear, the once brutal feeling of the freezing air nipping against your opened wounds going numb as your burning limbs pushed forwards.
Every corpse you passed upon the trail momentarily catching your gaze, each unknown corpse granted filled you with a moment of relief and further pumped adrenaline within your veins. Your sight narrowed down the path before you while you continued to sprint forwards, silently praying to the gods you would not find your friends like this. Not now nor ever.
"Y/N!" The hoarse yell stopped all movement within your body, your head whipping around towards the direction of the voice, a wave of relief washed over you as you began sprinting towards the golden-haired dwarf. "Fili!" Your hoarse voice was full of joy as you threw your arms around him ignoring the ripping pain of your wounds within your skin, one of Dis' sons had survived!
"How injured are you?" The panicked question caused laughter to slip out of the dwarf's chapped lips as you looked over his form, the smallest shake of his head making your brow furrow slightly. "Y/N, this was war. I am lucky to be standing in front of you right now." The warmth of his calloused palm against your clothed shoulder momentarily soothing away the nerves within you, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you nodded your head.
"What of Thorin and Kili? Did they-” ”They live, I promise you that." The joyous news of your friends' survival made your legs tremble beneath you, the panic which once fueled you now drained away as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "The gods have been kind today." The whisper catching the golden-haired dwarf's ear as you brought him into another embrace, your body trembling as you clung onto his shorter form.
"Fili!" The boom of Thorin's voice interrupting the tender moment between you and the often pesky dwarf you called a friend, the corners of your lips curved upwards into a wide smile as you released the tight grip upon his nephew. "I'm over here, Uncle! I found Y/N!" Fili shouted back as you turned around, relieved laughter slipping through your lips as you waved up at the new king and his other nephew.
In what felt like a matter of mere seconds the remaining kin of Durin stood beside you, Kili was quick to throw his arms around you while Thorin lingered a few feet behind. "Any poisoned wounds I should mind?" "You get shot with one, one, poisoned arrow and that is all you are known for." The youngest dwarf scoffed as he pulled away from the embrace, the attempt to seem annoyed quickly failing as laughter bubbled out of his throat.
Laughter which had died down the moment his uncle began to approach, the crunch of his heavy boots against the ground filling the tense air as your gemstone eyes glanced over him. "Y/N." His nephews were quick to nudge you towards him, soft giggles barely catching your ears as they attempted to shush each other.
"You're bleeding." His gaze softened as it fell upon your open wounds, worry and rage trickling within his veins as his calloused palm wrapped tightly around your upper arm. "Who did this to you?" A faint hiss escaping your lips as his thumb traced around a wound, a low sorry escaping his lips as you shook your head.
"Thorin that is not important-" The words dying upon your tongue as a calloused palm encased your cheek, the sudden sensation of his chapped lips upon yours and tickle of his beard against your soft skin froze every muscle within your body. Your eyes widening as his lips melded into yours for a few moments before he pulled away, though you had not expected it the lack of warmth against your lips left a lingering desire for more.
"It is important to me, Y/N." Words that would keep you up from the sweet embrace of slumber, words which would fill your mind within your most peculiar of daydreams, and words you secretly dreamed of being true despite your current anger towards it happening within these moments.
"I was prepared to take my life that day!" The king's deflection snapping you out of your haze of memories, memories you still longed for despite the fear you felt within those moments. "Thorin you do not understand." You groaned, your soft palms covering your face as an annoyed exhale escaped your nostrils.
"Then help me understand, Y/N." His tone softened as he began to move towards you, the floor creaking softly with each step he took. "With that kiss, I stole your fate, Thorin!" The moment your hands slid off of your face you were greeted with his ocean eyes peering into you, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head slightly.
"Y/N, I stole your fate that day." "Repeating me, Thorin? We are not children." You scoffed moving back from the dwarven king, his eyes softening with sadness at your sudden movement. "I stole your fate-" You began to deflect his words yet the words died upon your tongue as Thorin began to move closer to you. Though his height was not mighty, the anger that had irradiated off of his body made him appear far mightier than Beorn.
"No, I stole your fate!" The boom of his voice bounced off of the cypress walls before catching within your ears, a calloused palm encasing your shoulder with a tight squeeze. "Thorin, I do not did not mean for this to happen." Your words made the king shake his head with displeasure, the waves within his ocean eyes dying down as he took a deep inhale.
"And now you may be forced to love a man you hate..." A sigh escaped his lips as he released his grip upon your arm, his gaze slowly shifting from yours onto the floor. "Thorin, I..." Any words you could think of died on your tongue as you stared down at the dwarven king, a twinge of guilt trickled within your veins.
"I know you do not feel the same, Y/N, but I burn for you." The volume of his words a mere whisper as his gaze stayed glued upon the floor, the possibility of his one denying his affection far more terrifying than any blade Azog wielded or the heat of Smaug's breath.
"You burn for me?" Your voice matching his in softness as you cradled the side of his face within your palm, his gaze shifting up towards you while he softly nodded into your hand. "I burn for you." He repeated, the waves within his ocean eyes rising with hope as he stared into your gemstone-colored ones.
"Thorin, I burn for you." The words left the dwarven king stunned for a few seconds, his eyes widened in shock as his mouth fell open. "I...say it again." The words a soft plea as he leaned further into your touch, desperate for the warming sensation to assure him that this was in fact reality and not but another dream.
"I burn for you, Thorin. I burn." The words were barely given a chance to leave your soft lips as his chapped pair encompassed them, his lips tasting faintly of ale and apples he consumed moments before his entrance into your room.
The lids of your eyes fluttered shut as the king melted within the touch of your palm, your lips parting slightly allowing his tongue to slip within your mouth. The shared thud of your heartbeats began to rise in pace as the hand which once cradled his scratchy cheek roamed throughout his silky locks as you continued to breathe each other in.
Time around you came to a halt, a wave of warmth tingling throughout your body as you felt the leaning of weight against you, his muscular arms pulled you in closer as he continued to claim your mouth with his.
The warmth upon your lips suddenly departing along with the pressure of his weight against yours, the lids of your eyes fluttering open as the sensation of his lips on yours lingered behind.
"Why did you stop?" The question came out as a whine as your glazed-over eyes bore into his, the corners of his lips curving upwards into a gentle smile as a soft exhale escaped his nose.
"Because I fear if I did not I would no longer be able to restrain myself." The smooth flesh of your chin resting on top of his balled-up fingers as his calloused thumb lightly traced the shape of your plump lips for a few moments before he backed away from you.
"What if I do not want you to restrain yourself?" The floor creaked underneath your bare feet as you closed the newly created gap between you and the king. "Y/N," The bright glint within his ocean eyes dimmed at your words, his teeth sinking into the inner flesh of his cheek. "be careful of the words you speak." He warned lowly, his shorter stature inching closer towards you pushing you back towards the bed as your lips curved upwards into a mischievous smile.
"Or what, your grace?" The words were not given a full chance to escape your lips when his lips covered yours again, the harmonious way your lips melded against one another was purely hypnotic beyond all reason.
The familiar taste of his lips against yours further silenced all thoughts as a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, his toned arms pulled you in closer as they wrapped behind your neck.
The lids of your jewel-colored eyes fluttered shut as the fluttering beneath your ribs intensified, your knees growing weaker with each kiss as you could only focus on how perfectly his lips felt upon yours.
Though the lids of your eyes fluttered shut, his ocean ones stayed half-opened as he would often gaze upon you each time he pulled back for air allowing him to take in all of your perfection at your most relaxed state.
You were everything he could have dreamt of and more within a partner and now he had you for himself, part of him wondering if this was another cruel fantasy yet those thoughts faded away as he felt the sway of your body against his.
His rough hands were quick to slide out from behind your neck and onto your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed before your knees gave out on you. The bed creaked slightly at the shift in weight as you sank into the plush mattress, your eyes opening at the sudden movement as you shifted your weight up into your elbows propping yourself up to gain a better view of the man who towered over you.
The speed at which your chest rose and fell quickened as his lust-filled eyes burned holes into your sprawled out form, the corners of his thin lips curved upwards. "I need you to tell me to leave right now if you do not want this," The hotness of his breath tickled your lips as his lips hovered over yours. "if you do not want me."
"Thorin, shut up and fuck me." The man before you wasted no time shedding his garments, his calloused hands quick to unravel yours. His hands momentarily hovering over your bare form, all words and thoughts being freed from his mind as he stood there in awe of the deity sprawled out beneath him.
To say the gods had taken their time carving you out of the most luxurious marble was truly an understatement within the king's eyes, each inch of your flesh more heavenly than he could have ever dreamt of. Gazing upon you was as if someone had gathered all of his desires and melted them down into a cast of a human's form, or rather a deity as he refused to believe someone as purely ethereal as you could belong to them.
His calloused hands began to roam your heavenly form, slowly gliding down every curve and ounce of your flesh. The tips of his rough fingers lightly kissing each scar and indent your flesh held for a moment before gliding to the next mass of flesh, though your skin held imperfections, each one only made him love and admire you more.
"You're perfect." The vibrations of his words against your neck accompanied by the faint tickle of his fingers inching closer towards your lower abdomen sent a shiver down your spine, his lips pressing against the flesh between your neck and shoulder, nipping at it slightly sending another shiver throughout your body.
His sturdy hand inching closer to the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, the tip of his thumb hovering a mere speck above it before delicately coming into contact with it. Small circles being traced upon your clit as he sucked upon the most sensitive spot on your neck, your toes beginning to curl at the sudden sensations as a soft gasp slipped through your lips.
While his thumb toyed with your sensitive bundle of nerves the tips of his opposite fingers ghosted over your glistening entrance, the faint pressure and burn of his thick fingers delving inside of you allowed yet another gasp to slip through your lips.
His fingers filling your dripping cunt to the brim, the gentle stretch deep within you making your eyes loop upwards towards the back of your skull, his fingers moving at a painfully slow pace allowed you to feel every stretch and curl of his fingers deep within you.
"Thorin, please." The desperate whine was music to his ears, his fingers coming to a complete halt inside of you despite your displeasure. "Please, what?" "Please fuck me already." Another displeased whine escaping your lips as the pressure within you subsided, his glistening fingers hovering out of your drenched entrance as he pulled himself away from you.
"Patience, my love." The king hummed lowly, his calloused hand wrapping around his enlarged cock before he aligned the tip with your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against it slowly allowing another displeased groan to slip through your lips.
"You're such an ass-" The attempt to speak dying upon your tongue as the tip of his throbbing cock began to push inside of you without fair warning, a mischievous grin spread upon the king's lips as your hands slid up from the bed and onto his hips.
The faint sting of being stretched out as he continued to ease his cock into you accompanied the sting he felt as your nails dug into his toned hips, the gentle sting of his cock stretching out your inner walls allowed your eyes to roll to loop up towards the back of your skull.
Though you had imagined this moment many times before yet nothing you had imagined before had lived up to this, it was as if the gods had handcrafted him meld with and within you perfectly.
"Fuck." He groaned tilting his head backward, the lids of his eyes fluttering shut at the heavenly sensation of your drenched inner walls squeezing around his throbbing cock. His length slowly slid out of out, nothing but the tip resting inside of you for a few moments before he pushed into you yet again.
A slow rhythm arising from his hips as he continued to thrust into you deeply, each inch of his aching cock carving itself deeper within your heavenly walls at each movement he made. The once silent room filled with only the small crackles of the fire quickly filled with the melody of his skin slapping against yours.
The tip of his calloused thumb coming into contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves as the speed of his hips slowly began to quicken, your nails dragging down his hips to the sides of his thighs as a familiar tingle began to rise from the tips of your toes.
"You take me so well, wife." The groan of praise coming out as a tease as his hips continued to slam into yours, each thrust striking the most sensitive spot in your core as the movements of his hips became rougher. His calloused thumb tracing small circles on your clit as he leaned his weight further into you, stretching out depths you had yet to reach before him.
The intense squeeze earned another groan from his thin lips, his eyes squeezing together tightly for a moment as the speed within his hips became faster. The near entirety of his weight in each thrust as he attempted to cling onto the sensation like the way your drenched cunt clung around his cock.
A familiar knot began to tangle within the pit of your stomach as he continuously struck that spot deep within you, your hands sliding away from his hips back to the furs beneath you. "Oh fuck! Right there, please don't stop!" You yelped out, your loud cries ringing throughout the room.
Any concerns which previously lingered within the dwarf's mind fading away at the sound of your moans as his lust consumed him while he attempted to recreate that motion, a faint burn spreading throughout his hips which he paid no mind to as he continuously struck deep within your core.
"Ah!" His hand gliding away from your sensitive bundle of nerves and onto your thighs as his thrusts quickly grew animalistic, small trembles wracking throughout your body as you clawed at the furs beneath you. A faint sheen of sweat glistening upon your forehead as you tilted your head back against the plush mattress, the fresh marks he had left upon your neck on full display.
"Fuck! Thorin, I can't hold-" The choked out words being cut off with whine as the knot within our stomach threatened to split, soft groans escaping his lips as your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock.
"Then don't." He whispered, the burn within his hips turning ablaze at the pace of his animalistic thrusts. Each thrust rammed his cock into the most sensitive spots within your core as he reached his hand back between your legs, his thumb finding its spot upon your tense bundle of nerves as he circled it perfectly.
"Let it all out, my love." He hummed through moans of his own, the knot within your stomach tightening as a familiar static spread up from the tips of your toes, each sloppy thrust nudging you closer to the endless abyss of pleasure you had yearned for.
Despite your grip tightening upon the furs beneath you, your limbs began to feel as weightless as the birds which soared throughout middle-earth.
The rough tip of his thumb gently grazing the now overly sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Oh!" Your body arching into his touch as your nails clawed deeper into the furs beneath you, a wave of electricity roaming throughout your body as the knot deep within you snapped. His name was an endless prayer upon your lips as you sank deeper down that heavenly abyss, small trembles wracking throughout your body as your pussy fluttered around his aching cock.
How your flesh bounced so perfectly with each thrust he made, how your hands clawed at the furs beneath you desperate to keep yourself steady, how your inner walls fluttered and tightened around his cock as you sank further down into the abyss, and how his name was the only word you could muster as he relentlessly pounded into your beaten cunt was nearing far too much for the dwarven king.
"Fuck, Y/N!" The low words lightly nudging you back into reality, everything still a haze as your cunt continued to milk around his cock, the crisp air finally greeting your lungs while you trembled beneath him. His hips relentlessly slamming into yours as the strings within him pulled tightly, the knot deep within his stomach at the verge of snapping.
A spew of ineligible moans slipping through his lips as his hips continued to roughly buck into yours, a hand gliding down from your left thigh back in between your legs. The tip of his rough thumb quickly circled on your clit as he desperately attempted to pull on more orgasm from you before he rode out his own.
"Holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The pathetic cries of the king echoing throughout the room as his grip upon your thighs tightened, the skin on his knuckles turning as white as the snow outside your door as the knot within him finally unraveled.
His weight further pressing into you while his hips roughly bucked into yours, his thumb twiddled around the sensitive bundle of nerves sending another wave of electricity wracked throughout your body.
The knot within his stomach completely unraveled as white-hot ribbons painted the inside of your depths, the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim with him pushed you off the endless cliff of pleasure.
Your toes curling as your body trembled beneath him, the creak of the bed ringing throughout the room alongside your ragged breaths as he leaned his weight into yours. His head buried within the crook of your neck, his rough hands moving away from their previous positions as he cradled you within his toned arms.
"I've got you." The words were nothing but breathy laughter while his cock continued to pulsate deep within you, the faint tickle of his lips upon your neck accompanied his hot breath as he muttered sweet nothings in dwarvish.
Many of those sweet nothings were confessions of his undying love and admiration for you alongside his soft thanks to the gods for creating you, his better half, his one.
"Are you okay?" His brow furrowing with worry as he raised his head from the crook of your neck, the corners of your lips curving upwards at the worry within his tone. It was as if he was not slamming into you mere moments before, his rough palm cupping the side of your soft face while he looked over your bare form.
"Thorin, I am fine." The hoarse words scratching the back of your throat upon exit, your brows furrowing together as you hummed slightly in an attempt to soothe it. Had you truly been that loud? A faint heat radiating off of your cheeks as you leaned into Thorin's gentle touch.
A relieved chuckle escaped his lips as his grip upon you loosened, pulling his softened cock out of your depths before lying next to you wrapping you back in his muscular arms. A pleased sigh escaping your nose as you inched closer towards him, the weight of your head against his chest allowed his hazy smile to grow wider.
"I'm sorry that I-" His words came to a halt as your finger rested upon his chapped lips, a faint shushing escaping yours as you snuggled further into the king. "Thorin, my love, I do not have the energy for any discussions right now." The soft hum nearly masked by the low crackle of the fire not far from you, the warmth which radiated off of the dwarf beneath melting away the last bit of energy your body held.
A low chuckle vibrated against your finger as he took your soft hand into his calloused one, the faint tickle of his beard grazing upon the back of your hand as he pressed his lips against it. "Rest all you need, my heart. I will still be here when you wake." The soft embrace of the furs around your bare form was quick to lull you into a peaceful slumber, the corners of your lips curving slightly upwards into a blissful grin as you melted into the soothing embrace of your lover.
The welcoming embrace of sleep not far behind for the king yet he forced the lids of his eyes to stay open, wanting nothing more than to gaze upon the beautiful creature who rested upon his chest. The faint golden heat from the fire glowed cradled your stunning features, the faint smile upon his lips grew wider as a pleased exhale escaped his nose, how kind the gods were to bless him with such a strong, clever, and overall stunning spouse.
Within these blissful moments with you, he had finally realized that all the hardships he experienced throughout his travels and the sickness he experienced within the mountain's halls, what he was truly seeking, what truly put him under a spell, was you.
The tips of his fingers lightly traced upon the golden light that cradled your cheek causing you to stir slightly before melting further into his chest, the soft pressure of his lips upon your forehead one of the last actions he did as the soothing harmony of sleep called his name.
The once elaborate ruse had quickly become the truth making the return upon Erebor soil far less stressful than expected, the most stressful event to transpire that day was Dis tackling you onto the cold marble ground whilst screaming up and down the mountain halls that she finally had a sister.
The king's nephews, or rather your nephews, following within their mother's steps as they spun you around gifting you with the title "Auntie" before rushing to every dwarf within Erebor to give a proper introduction of you despite Thorin's complaints, complaints which died down the moment he watched you stick out your hand and proclaim yourself as part of their family.
The simple action sealing your fate within those mountain halls, a fate you welcomed with open arms and a smile similar to how you would greet every dwarfling, and later a tiny red-headed dwelfing, that ran over to you in glee with tales of their own to share.
A wide smile glued upon your lips as your previous company began to tease you upon the knowledge of your new title after an onslaught of tight squeezes, all within Erebor welcoming you as one of their own as news spread throughout middle-earth of the rise of the new heart within the misty mountain, you.
Maybe, just maybe, one of Thorin's elaborate ruses was not so awful after all.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
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theweasleysredhair · a year ago
Intoxicated [G.W.]
Character: George Weasley
Word Count: 1484
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: George and Y/n have a cheeky snog in the Gryffindor common room during a party after a Quidditch game.
Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi | message or send an ask to be added/removed!
Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it
A/n: i know my next fic was supposed to be one of the fics on that list i posted and i promise i’ll write them but i ended up being motivated to finish this one i’m sorry! but also enjoy some drunk fluff with my main man george (warning: mentions of alcohol and drinking)
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“He keeps staring at you,” Alicia spoke, shooting a sly smile at you as she lifted her firewhisky to her lips.
You glanced around the busy Gryffindor common room, frowning a little in confusion as you wondered who she was talking about, your eyes flickering through the faces of a few Hufflepuffs, a group of Ravenclaws and a couple of Slytherins who were stood in the opposite corner, “Who?”
Alicia’s reply came instantly as she let out an amused scoff, “Who do you think? George, of course!”
And suddenly you felt like you were on fire, your nerves being set alight just from the mere mention of his name, your heart pounding at the idea of the ginger boy noticing you. You instinctively gripped your cup a little tighter, tipping the cool liquid down your throat - your third, possibly fourth, drink so far of the night.
“He’s not staring at me,” you mumbled, chewing on your lip as you played with a strand of your hair, staring down into the half-empty cup, your eyes slightly unfocused.
“How would you know? You’re not facing his direction,” Katie, who had been listening to the conversation, pointed out, nodding her head to somewhere behind you.
You so badly wanted to turn around but decided against it, not wanting to bring more attention to yourself, “I just know. Why would he be staring at me?”
“Because he very clearly fancies you,” Alicia rolled her eyes playfully, “Plus you’re hot, there’s a lot of guys interested in you, I just know you have your eye on the particular redhead sat on the couch over there.”
You wished George fancied you. Why wouldn’t you? He was tall, fit, funny. Freckles dotted across his skin, messy ginger hair that made your heart race.
At the thought of him, you turned in his direction casually, as if you were observing the room, but you didn’t fail to notice the way he was looking you up and down.
“Let’s go get another drink,” Alicia suggested, placing her empty cup to one side. You nodded, walking with her and Katie towards the drinks table, joking about something before Alicia suddenly looked at you, biting her lip.
“Please don’t hate me for this,” she grinned mischievously. “Hate you for what?” You asked, confused.
And before you knew what was happening, Alicia gently bumped into you, the force just strong enough to make you lose your balance in your tipsy daze and fall onto someone’s lap.
You were vaguely aware of Alicia and Katie running off just as strong hands gripped your waist, steadying you on the lap as your eyes widened, your head whipping up to set your gaze upon no other than George Weasley’s shocked yet happily surprised face.
“I’m gonna tell her,” George announced determinedly as he stared over in your direction, allowing his eyes to wander down your body, appreciating the outfit you had chosen to wear for the party that evening.
“You’re not gonna tell her,” Fred grinned, downing the last of his drink and dumping the cup on the nearest table. George glanced over at him and crossed his arms over his chest indignantly, “I am!”
“Then here, you’ll need this,” Lee joked as he pushed a full drink into George’s hands. George stared at the clear liquid for a moment before shrugging and downing it in a few seconds, before handing the empty cup back to Lee.
“Right, I’m gonna talk to her,” George said, eyes finding you in the crowd again and admiring the sight of you laughing, his lips curling up into a smile. Fred and Lee looked at each other, waiting for him to stand up or even move, however after a couple of seconds, Fred waved a hand in front of his twin’s face, “Do you think you’re already moving right now or..?”
Receiving no response, Lee prodded George’s shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?” George looked over to Lee and suddenly grabbed another drink from the table before finishing it off too.
“Right I’m gonna-“
And suddenly, George was interrupted as he felt someone fall onto his lap, his hands moving easily to catch whoever it was, before he realised with a jolt of his heart that it was you on his lap right now.
Later on, he’d remember to comment on how cute your scared face was, and thank Fred and Lee for excusing themselves from the couch, however right in that moment, all he could focus on was the way your body was pressed against his, your face literally inches from his and he couldn’t believe his luck.
”Hello there love, fancy seeing you here,” George grinned at you, squeezing your waist.
“Oh Merlin, I-I’m so sorry George! It was Alicia, she-“ you spluttered out, stuttering slightly over your words.
“Don’t be daft, darling, no need to be sorry. Not everyday a beautiful girl falls literally straight into my lap,” George replied cheekily, pulling you further onto his lap as he sat up slightly. You felt your cheeks warm as you smiled, ducking your head down before looking back up at him, “So um...”
“So, what brings you to my part of the common room?”
“Well, I was supposed to be getting another drink but I guess I fell into a cute guy’s lap before I made it to the table,” you replied, before your eyes widened as you realised what you’d said.
“Cute, huh?” George grinned wide, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Um well I didn’t mean- I mean you’re not exactly not cute I suppose...” You stuttered, trying to cover up what you had just admitted to him.
“Don’t go backtracking now, darling! I want to know more about how cute you find me. How dashing, how devastatingly handsome,” he smirked, squeezing your waist again.
“Don’t put words into my mouth,” you pouted playfully. “I am devastatingly handsome though,” he boasted, dramatically flicking a hand through his hair.
You rolled your eyes at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You played really well in the match today,” you changed the subject before he could tease you any more.
George grinned again, “Oh you noticed?”
“Kinda hard not to notice, considering you and Fred stole the show with how many times you hit those bludgers away,” you replied, tucking your hair behind your ear as you shifted slightly in his lap.
“Seems like you were very focused on me,” he said confidently, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You scoffed out a laugh, “I said you and Fred, don’t get cocky!”
“We all know you just mean me though. Wonder what it was like for you, watching me and my rippling biceps working hard. Bet you enjoyed the view, right?” He teased, his eyes flickering back and forth between your eyes and your lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shook your head but couldn’t help smiling as your hands absent-mindedly fell to rest on said rippling biceps.
“That wasn’t a no,” George commented and suddenly he was slowly closing the tiny gap between you, his lips just barely brushing against yours a couple of times before he moved away slightly, resting his forehead against yours, “I um- I want our first kiss to be somewhere romantic, you know? Maybe with candles, or in Hogsmeade after I finally got the courage to ask you out. I have it all planned out.”
Despite his words, you noticed his head tilting up, his lips inching towards yours, his eyes flickering again back from looking into yours and down to your lips. His tongue darted out to glide across his bottom lip as his hands moved from your waist down to grip your hips.
“You sure we can’t just kiss right here? Because... you kinda look like you wanna kiss me,” you whispered into his ear, your chest pressing against his as you leant forward.
George shifted, his breath catching in his throat as he caught the mischievous glint in your eye. The corner of his mouth curled up into a half smirk.
“Fuck it,” he breathed out.
He pressed his lips to yours properly, kissing you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. His hands ran up your back, holding you close to his chest as he licked into your mouth, your own hands running through his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the back of his neck, making him let out a small groan.
He cupped your jaw, deepening the kiss as he pulled you further onto him, your thighs now straddling his waist as he trailed kisses down towards your neck.
“I reckon you’re glad you fell for me then, right?” George’s breaths hit your neck as he moved to look up into your eyes. You smiled at him, lips swollen and hair messy from his hands raking through it,
“I guess you could say that.”
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chisheya · 10 months ago
hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!
Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility. 
 i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will. 
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‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘
Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)
Word count: 2.5k
The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm. 
The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream. 
‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever. 
''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''
''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''
''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does... 
''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''
''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.
''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.
Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes. 
I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.
''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''
''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not. 
I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.
                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 
 After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.
I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.
''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.
''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''
''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?'' 
''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..'' 
''Great, I'll let him know then.'' 
                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 
Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me. 
''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?'' 
''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods. 
''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better. 
''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings. 
''And you?'' 
''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.'' 
I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me. 
''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?'' 
''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?'' 
''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.'' 
Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently. 
I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual. 
''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.
''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.
''So where will we head to?'' 
''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''
 ''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing. 
''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue. 
''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.
Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am. 
Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N. 
As you always do. 
''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree. 
''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims. 
A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.'' 
''I'm not sure-''
Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."
As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously. 
"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.
Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.
Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.
We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful. 
                                                         ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 
After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him. 
''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway. 
''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. 
''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat. 
''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.'' 
''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.'' 
''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table. 
''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful. 
''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...'' 
''Go ahead, silly.'' 
Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-'' 
''Not happening.'' 
''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.'' 
''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.
''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly. 
''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks. 
''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''
''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks. 
''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''   
He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.
''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''  
''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''
''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''
''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.
''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''
''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''
''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''   
''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''
''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it. 
There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.
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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 6 months ago
fine line - a close reading
gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.
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(x x x)
want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go
fine line, track 12
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sung in falsetto
live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her
live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her
Put a price on emotion
pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written
exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit
I'm looking for something to buy
cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?
~ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out
You've got my devotion
But man, I can hate you sometimes
“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 
“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him
⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (~ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)
“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time
“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense
I don't want to fight you
And I don't want to sleep in the dirt
like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt
“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do
“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose
“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well
We'll get the drinks in
So I'll get to thinking of her
drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl
who is “we”? who is “her”?
narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?
⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.
⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part
We'll be a fine line
balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive
we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”
“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way
“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category
Test of my patience
patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge
waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness
There's things that we'll never know
my favorite line
“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 
~ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance
peace to be found in accepting this!!
You sunshine, you temptress
“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?
sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still
female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him
other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ~ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)
My hand’s at risk, I fold
⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”
not showing his cards just yet / forfeits
anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved
Crisp trepidation
I’ll try to shake this soon
nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)
“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”
sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”
wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)
Spreading you open
Is the only way of knowing you
(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)
“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical
to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 
⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself
We'll be a fine line
We'll be alright
“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans
collectiveness from tpwk
(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)
Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 
“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)
This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 
Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.
That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 
After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 
To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 
“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 
Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 
All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.
This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.
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read all my lyric analyses here
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sleepdeprivedsloth · 7 months ago
In the Dead of Night
[MHA - Midoriya, Bakugou]
summary: Not wanting to return to a nightmare, Bakugou spends the night alone in the common area. That is, until Midoriya finds him and tries to get his old friend to open up with an effective technique from their childhood. (platonic BakuDeku tickle fic)
potential warnings: swearing, tickling
words: 1.5 k
a/n: ahhh my first fic!! …kinda hoping no one sees this but yeah imma post it anyways haha. hopefully whoever ends up reading this will enjoy it! happy national tickle day guys :D
Bakugou stared blankly out of one of the windows in the common area, gazing into the empty void that was the night sky. He rarely ever was awake during the dead of night, but yet here he was. Sleeplessly seated on the couch, long past the time his classmates all retired to their dorms.
He would much rather be asleep, heaven knew he needed the rest, but he was not going to risk returning to his nightmare. The experience felt more like he actually relived the sludge monster incident rather than only a dream. He could never willingly go back to that.
His mind being in its own world, Bakugou didn’t quite catch the faint sound of footsteps that grew closer. He vaguely recognized the familiar noises of the refrigerator door opening and closing before he was brought back from his daze by a hand offering him a bottle of water in front of his eyes.
Bakugou looked up and spotted no other than Izuku freaking Midoriya. He felt his facial features try to form a glare out of a force of habit, but his body was too exhausted to actually comply. Reluctantly, he grabbed the water bottle and took a sip as the green-haired boy wordlessly sat on the opposite end of the couch.
Midoriya, whose brain was still in the waking-up process, had just been awakened a few moments ago with his throat strongly craving for some cold water. Maybe it was due to the fact that his mind was still a bit clouded with sleep, or that the two boys had been sitting in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Midoriya actually broke the silence and spoke up.
“What are you doing up at such a late hour?” he asked, turning slightly in his seat so that he could study Bakugou’s reactions. Midoriya didn’t know what he expected as a response, probably a snarky reply or just outright rage, but what he received definitely shocked him.
Bakugou completely ignored him and avoided any chance of eye contact by staring straight ahead. It was as if he didn’t know that his classmate was sitting not even three feet away from him. Midoriya immediately became more attentive and alert, his Kacchan Radar going off like crazy. Bakugou never missed an opportunity to pick a fight with or insult anyone, especially Midoriya.
To his credit, Midoriya took a moment to consider his options. He could go interrogation mode on Bakugou, but he doubted that the blonde would actually open up to him like that. Maybe he could just sit there in silence until Bakugou willingly chose to talk to him, but that could honestly take days. Of course, he could go back to his dorm and leave Bakugou alone, which was probably the option that his classmate would have wanted him to choose, but when was Midoriya even known for actually pleasing Bakugou?
Suddenly Midoriya remembered a technique that had never failed him back when he and Bakugou were younger. A method that they had both been sworn to secrecy about, and hadn’t been used in years.
“Why are you down here so late, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked again, grinning slightly, this time punctuating the other’s name with a poke to his side.
Bakugou let out a quiet yelp, obviously not expecting a small tingling sensation to suddenly shoot through his entire body. He internally cursed himself for showing a reaction and flinching away from the touch.
Still awaiting a response, Midoriya dared to poke again, but before his finger could come in contact with the boy’s body, Bakugou abruptly brought himself to his feet and made a move to leave the common area.
Midoriya quickly and quietly followed suit, walking up behind his unsuspecting classmate. He tasered his index and middle fingers into both of Bakugou’s sides, latching onto them and relentlessly digging in. “C’mon Kacchan, talk to me!”
Bakugou had to squeeze his eyes shut and cover his mouth with one hand to prevent himself from making any noises that could potentially wake up his classmates. He desperately tried to fight off Midoriya’s fingers with his other hand (emphasis on “tried”), but he was too tired physically and mentally to actually get away.
With the advantage of the surprise attack on his side, Midoriya was able to keep the minimally thrashing Bakugou in his grasp. Being the teasing shit that he is, Midoriya taunted, “I bet you wanna laugh, huh Kacchan? Go on, you’ll feel better if you just let it out.”
“N-no I w-won’t!” Bakugou argued from behind his hand, struggling to keep the laughter building up inside of his throat under control. “If we w-weren’t in the dorms right now I would not he-hesitate to blast your ass into nehext week.”
Midoriya gave a playful, over-dramatic gasp. “Did the Kacchan just giggle?” He moved his hands up to Bakugou’s ribs and started scribbling his fingers against them, causing the boy’s weak wall of defense to come crumbling down. As Bakugou’s little laughs started leaking out, Midoriya continued wiggling along the sensitive bones and drilling into the grooves between them. “I am now officially addicted, I must hear mor-”
“Hehehaha Deheheku quirk! Quhuhuhuirk!”
Midoriya immediately recognized the meaning of the word and stopped his tickling, letting his own arms drop to his sides. He watched as Bakugou bent over, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, trying to regain his self-control.
Meanwhile, Midoriya’s head began to flood with memories from his childhood, when the two boys had tickle fights almost on a daily basis. To prevent one of them from pushing the other past their limits, they had decided to use “quirk” as some sort of safeword. Midoriya was a bit surprised that he had immediately understood Bakugou’s intended context of the word, considering that it hadn’t been used for what felt like forever.
A soft, sentimental smile crossed Midoriya's face as he caught a glimpse of Bakugou's face for the first time since tickling him. The blonde’s lips were brought upwards in a reluctant smile and a light blush, most likely from embarrassment, dusted his cheeks. If only Midoriya had a camera to capture the rare moment.
“Did it really tickle so much that you had to call “quirk?”” Midoriya questioned, genuinely curious if he had gone too far.
Being somewhat in control of his own body again, Bakugou stood to his full height and faced his former best friend. If Midoriya noticed that his arms were still wrapped around and protecting his ribs, he didn’t say anything. “Of course it wasn’t that bad, dumbass. I-” Bakugou paused for a moment before looking away from Midoriya and continuing in a whispered voice. “I just didn’t want to risk making too much noise and waking anyone up and…”
He didn’t have to finish his thought for Midoriya to catch on to what he meant. He easily realized that Bakugou didn’t want any of their classmates to find out that he’s ticklish, which was understandable.
Midoriya nodded, showing Bakugou that he didn’t need to further explain. They stood in silence for a moment before the greenette chose to speak up again. “So why are you down here so late at night instead of sleeping in your dorm?”
Bakugou’s body visibly stiffened as he quickly cast his gaze towards the floor. If he hadn’t been exhausted beyond belief and still recovering from those nimble fingers that definitely did not tickle him, he probably would have told Midoriya to screw off and mind his own business. But instead, he answered, “If you really must know, shitty Deku, I had a dream about the damn sludge villain. I didn’t wanna deal with that shit again, so I just came down here to wait out until morning.”
Midoriya knew from experience that Bakugou didn’t want comforting words or pity. That would only make him feel even more vulnerable than he already was, and that wasn’t Midoriya’s intention. So instead, he simply replied in an indifferent tone, “Oh, alright then. Mind if I wait out here too then?”
Not waiting for an answer, Midoriya walked back to the couch and sat back down, spreading out comfortably but still leaving more than enough room for Bakugou. The last thing he wanted was for his former childhood best friend to have to recover from a nightmare alone. But he would never say it out loud, for Bakugou’s sake.
Two minutes passed before Bakugou inevitably decided to walk over and take the seat next to the other boy. Midoriya looked over and caught his classmate’s eye, nodding slightly to him with a small smile before turning back to gaze outside of the window.
Having gone from childhood best friends, to bully and victim, to rivals, to… wherever their relationship stood now, the two boys shared a strong bond that neither of them knew how to describe. But just being in each others’ presence in the dead of night, enjoying the silence between them, was comforting.
However, the pair would definitely not be feeling so relaxed if they hadn’t failed to notice a certain pink-haired alien queen that managed to capture a short, incriminating video before excitedly running off back to her dorm only a few mere moments ago.
a/n: thanks for reading, and i hope you guys liked it! i’m still working on that fandom list but yeah MHA will definitely be on there lol. i’ll try to update again soon but until then have a great life y’all!!
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ficklefics · 8 months ago
Burden To Keep - Zemo x Reader ~ Chapter One: Saviour
Five years ago you were kidnapped by a mysterious group lead by a man only known as Critical. Five years of experiments. Five years of torture. And then in a blink of an eye, you're free. Three men, your saviours, asking you one question: where is the serum? But it could never be that easy. You join them as politics and terrorism throw you across the world, the hunters and the hunted. And through it all, there's him.
(starts towards the end of ep. 3, between Madripoor and Riga. will deviate from canon to an extent, but will likely follow the plot of the show loosely. planning for this to be a short series!)
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The unlikely trio of allies made their way through the compound, dead-set on their purpose. Zemo had informed Bucky and Sam about a supply of super-soldier serum, purchased from the Power Broker six months ago, being kept in this facility. They were on their way to Riga when the information came through, and a quick pit-stop wasn’t an issue if it meant possibly getting evidence that could help them.
For being owned by a client of the Power Broker, the place was poorly defended. Sam came in by the air and drew their fire long enough for Bucky and Zemo to get past the outer wall. Reuniting in the courtyard, they took out the remaining guards and shut down the emergency siren.
Now they followed the path their intel had provided through the strangely unprotected building. They came across a few men with tactical gear and weaponry but dispatched them with ease. Posts seemed abandoned as they got closer to what was marked as a storeroom on their map.
“A lot of security for a storeroom,” Sam had commented when Red Wing brought back the scans. “That’s where it will be,” Zemo assured.
A long corridor marked the final stretch. The security cameras lining it were all thankfully deactivated as Zemo lead the way.
Rounding the final corner there was a lone guard in front of a solid door. Seemingly distracted by his radio, he didn’t notice anything wrong until Bucky’s metal arm was throwing him against the wall, knocking him out cold immediately.
On closer inspection, there was a slat at waist height in the door, and a glass window layered with metal and covered from the inside. With a wrench, Bucky broke the handle, forcing his way into the room.
What they found was not a store. There were no shelves or crates. No serum.
What they did find was a makeshift bedroom. In the corner stood a woman, a bloody shard of glass held in their direction.
The tray of food sliding into the delivery box set into the wall woke you from sleep that morning. The breakfast was the same as it had been every day for the past five years: two slices of buttered toast, a glass of orange juice, and a dish of assorted pills. You downed those first, barely feeling them pass through your throat as the orange juice followed. The toast disappeared quickly – they would get pissed if the tray wasn’t back within ten minutes.
“Another day in paradise.” You sighed to yourself, resting back onto the bed.
A few hours later, the sound of movement outside drew your attention. Drawing the window cover up slightly, you peered out at the guards talking in hushed German. Avengers … fucked … serum … Over your time here you had managed to pick up a surprising amount of the language. One guard left, leaving the other to stand guard at the door to your room.
The Avengers. You may not have followed them closely, but it was impossible to live in the West and not know who the superheroes were. But five years after they had failed, five years after half the world turned to dust, you had no idea what to expect. It’s better than this. That much was true. If they really were Avengers, maybe they were here to rescue you.
You paced your room, unable to hear anything else other than the occasional crackle of the guard's radio. Not knowing what was happening was like having a worm under your skin. Periodically you would check the window, hoping to see something, anything other than the guard.
That didn’t take long. You were peering out just as the group rounded the corner. Suddenly, panic filled you. These men weren’t Avengers. At least not the ones you knew. And if they weren’t Avengers…
You hurried back, almost stumbling on your feet, and grabbed the water glass from the desk just to smash it against the wall. The biggest shard sliced into your skin but you barely felt the pain. Backed into a corner, terrified, you listened as they knocked out the guard and broke the handle.
This was it.
The first man into the room was tall, with dark hair. What was most notable about him though, was the arm made of black and gold metal. He stopped at the sight of you, clearly confused. Behind him stood a slightly shorter man wearing goggles and some kind of armour. They both seemed familiar somehow, but you couldn’t put a name to the faces.
“What the hell is this?” The first man muttered as the other lifted his goggles, revealing warm eyes that narrowed at you. A quiet cough sounded behind them and they moved further into the room to let a third man step in behind them. He was shorter again, but only a little. He narrowed his eyes at you.
“Who are you?” You brandished the makeshift weapon. You didn’t know these men. You didn’t know if you’d be able to take all three of them. But you weren’t going down without a fight. “Why are you here?”
“Sam Wilson.” The second man stretched out a hand, seemingly trying to calm you. “I’m an Avenger.” That’s how you knew him. The Falcon. You vaguely remembered seeing him in the back of photos, never quite taking centre stage. “That answers the first question.” “We’re looking for a serum that’s supposed to be stored here.” You turned towards the man with the metal arm. “The serum…” You’re mind immediately flickered back six months.
There were only six of you left in the dorm. The prison cell you called home. Weak from exhaustion, the countless tests, the years of suffering, it was easy for them to drag you out one by one. To strap you down to a table and inject burning liquid into your veins. You screamed through the gag as your body was set alight.
“Do you know where it is?” “It’s… it’s gone. I…” Could you really tell them where it was? You didn’t know their intentions. They might kill you. It seemed to register that you were afraid, that you weren’t a threat. The men exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.
“Okay. Look, my name’s Bucky. What’s yours?” He took a step forward, not so much to threaten but to test how you would respond. Your shaking hand lowered, but you didn’t drop the glass. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/LN).” “What do you mean gone? Where did they move it?” “Why should I trust you?” “Look, you’re a prisoner here, right?” Sam spoke up. You nodded. “We can help. We’ve got a jet, can take you anywhere you need to go.” “But only if I help you.” “She could be bluffing. We should leave.” The man in the back said this, shifting on his feet and glancing back over his shoulder. “Shut up Zemo.” The other two snapped in unison.
You couldn’t risk being left here. No matter who these men were, they were far better than those who held you prisoner. “I’m not bluffing. The serum is gone. I’ll tell you more, but your friend is right. We need to go.” The man in question, Zemo, was examining you even more closely now. His stare sent chills through your body. It was as if he was inside your mind, pulling it apart, exposing your secrets. “He’s not our friend,” Sam interjected. “Come on.” He stretched his arm out once more, gesturing for you to join them, and you dropped the glass, skirting around the bed. “We’re getting you out of here.”
You followed without question as they lead you through the building. Despite spending so long here, you had never seen more than brief glimpses of the endless corridors. Out through a hangar, the sunlight blinded you. Five years without the sun. No time to take it in. The four of you exited through the main gate – there was no one left to stop you.
A mile or so out a truck sat waiting. It had been hastily covered in branches, which Sam and Bucky pulled away quickly while Zemo stood at your side. You could feel his eyes watching you.
Once it was clear, Sam sat in the driver’s seat and Bucky stepped gracefully into the truck bed which had benches on either side. A hand on your upper back ushered you forward and you obeyed, taking Bucky’s outstretched hand and letting him help you up. You sat beside him as Zemo joined you. He sat opposite, hands on his knees and gazing past you. The engine started with a rumble and Sam took the vehicle back onto the road. You travelled in silence, the only sound the turn of the tires on the gravel and Bucky’s occasional sighs. You kept your eyes fixed on your hands which fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. This didn’t feel real. What if it was all a dream, or, even worse, a trick? A simulation to see what you’d do, and any moment now your rescuers would reveal themselves and send you back to an even worse hell.
Bucky seemed to catch onto your anxiety, resting his warm hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It helped a little.
Soon enough you were arriving at an airport where a plane sat waiting. You followed the men up the stairs, Zemo and Bucky in front and Sam behind you. What you found was nothing like what you were expecting.
You had imagined a military operation, crates and weaponry, nets against the wall, functionality over everything else.
Instead, you had been shown into a luxurious jet. Spacious, with leather seats and dark wooden tables, a plush carpeted floor against your bare feet.
“Wow.” You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping. “Danke,” Zemo smirked at your reaction. “I am rather proud of it.” “This is yours?” He nodded. You chuckled, almost in disbelief. This was it. You were actually free. Once you were in the air they would never be able to touch you again. “Take a seat, (Y/N).” Sam gestured towards the chairs. “It’ll be a few hours before we get to Riga.” You’d never heard of the place, but it didn’t matter. It was far away from here.
Settling into a seat towards the back of the plane, away from the three men who sat together, you closed your eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
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140smashedguitars · 8 months ago
Something that I love about Cherry Magic is the way it ignores a bunch of tired/toxic tropes in stories about queer people. I'm gonna list them under a read more because this is gonna get kinda long.
No homophobia This is the big one, obviously. Every story about queer people involves the main character and/or the love interest fighting homophobia. You have the character(s) dealing with slurs, mockery, being isolated from people who they thought cared about them and potentially violently abused. Instead, the only thing vaguely homophobic thing we hear is episode 7 when Adachi is worried about the fact that they’re both men, but then moves past it and tells Kurosawa that he wants to be with him. The only time anyone is suspected of being homophobic is when Minato thinks Tsuge is being homophobic towards him and Rokkaku, a (presumably) cishet character, stands up for Minato and is ready to throw hands for him, until the mistake is quickly rectified. Homophobia just doesn’t have a place in this story, and I know that homophobia is rampant in the real world, I’m not saying it’s not, it’s just that so many stories are already about that and it’s nice to see a queer story focused on someone learning to love and accept themself and realise and accept that they are allowed to be happy.
No coming out Someone made a post about how mainstream stories about queer people are about coming about because that’s what affects cishet people and mainstream media wants to cater to them. I am so tired of this; cishet people being focused on/pandered to in stories about queer people. Our stories are not about you. The stories don’t need to be for you. You can enjoy them, but you don’t need to be the centre of them for that. Instead of having literally any coming out in this show, whenever anyone is revealed to be queer, it isn’t made to be an emotional, important scene. The revelation happens, and the other character accepts it and doesn’t make a big thing out of it. When Adachi finds out for definite that Kurosawa likes him, he doesn’t think “Wait, Kurosawa likes men?” He thinks “Wait, Kurosawa likes me?” Again, I know in real life that coming out is a big and terrifying thing for queer people, but it’s not the only part of our life.
No one is already in a relationship Films like Imagine Me & You and Free Fall (both of which I like) have one of the characters start the film in an opposite sex relationship which they seem happy in, until the other character of the same sex as them comes along and confuses them and then they either want to or do cheat on their current partner and then they have to choose who they want to be with and it’s just a mess. Queer people aren’t just homewreckers or need a special person to come along and make them realise they were gay all along. Bisexual people do exist and can have happy relationships with people of the opposite sex. Who knew! Instead, all 4 members of the couples are single until they get together. Kurosawa isn’t trying to avoid his feelings by being with someone he doesn’t really like and then breaking their heart. Adachi and Tsuge obviously aren’t in relationships because that’s the point of the plot and Minato is single as well. It all works out nicely. There’s no going behind a partners back or promising to leave the partner, but they don’t want to upset them. Just 4 single people who find each other with some bumps along the way.
No aggression at realising they’re gay Brokeback Mountain, Free Fall and a bunch of other films about queer men will do this and I HATE it. One of the characters will fall in love with the other and accept that part of themself, and the other character will start sleeping with him and then get angry and then potentially physically violent if not just verbally abusive because he can’t deal with being attracted to a man and the other character will just continue to love him and want to be with him despite that. Just. Why? Queer people aren’t just toxic or drawn to toxic relationships. This is an awful narrative, especially when the films are catered towards cishet people. Instead, Kurosawa loves and respect Adachi so much, putting his needs first, going at his pace, letting him make the first moves. In return, Adachi loves and respects Kurosawa even if he is nervous about it. He’s respectful of Kurosawa’s feelings and wants him to be himself around Adachi. They love each other for who they are. We get constant shots of them smiling at/because of each other. After Adachi reveals his magic to Kurosawa, Kurosawa doesn’t get angry or upset and only interupts Adachi after he starts insulting himself. And when they break up, again, Kurosawa isn’t angry (though he’s obviously upset), but doesn’t take that out on Adachi. Instead, he takes him back literally with open arms because he understands that Adachi’s problem is with himself and that he needed time to work on that. Kurosawa wants Adachi to see himself as a good person, and Adachi wants the reverse. And even though we don’t see much of Tsuge and Minato, we know that Tsuge is so happy to be with Minato and Minato is clearly happy with Tsuge even if he has a harder time communicating. They both respect each others boundaries as well and Minato goes slow for Tsuge their first time in case Tsuge wants to stop. The relationships have clearly made all 4 of them happy and it shows the queer audience that they can be in happy, respectful and non toxic realtionships too, as is what we deserve.
No fetishisation The fact that this show is based around the main character and his best friend losing their virginities yet there’s no gratuitous sex scenes or even a kiss from the main couple is quite astonishing. Most films about queer people (especially queer men) will have so much explicit sexual content, which is probably there for the cishet female gaze. All 4 members of the couples are treated with respect within the narractive and when one of them does get overly sexualised (Kurosawa) it’s seen negatively. It forces us to see all the characters as human beings and focus entirely on their stories. What wer get instead of the fetishisation is better as well. The first time Adachi and Kurosawa hold hands makes my heart swell. Kurosawa grabbing Adachi’s hand nervously is an amazing shot and it’s so wonderfully intimate that no kiss or sex scene could’ve beaten that. And when we do get a kiss (from Minato and Tsuge) it’s there to make a point. Like I said before, it shows Minato cares about and respects Tsuge’s feelings. We know they had sex, same with Adachi and Kurosawa in the finale but they don’t show it. They don’t need to. Also, Fujisaki is very intersting this aspect. She’s the only female main character and not only is she not fetishised, she’s aroace and it’s completely accepted by Adachi. She’s treated like a human being, and she doesn’t fetishise Adachi and Kurosawa.
No one dies and both couples get together and stay together Self explanatory, but how many stories about queer people do we know of where after everything, one of the main characters die, or the couple just simply don’t end up together? I’m sick and tired of watching so many stories where queer people fight to be themselves and be with someone they love only for that fight to be futile. What’s the point? So seeing a show with FIVE queer people in the main cast who are happy and 4 of them end up in relationships with someone they love that are not toxic that we know will actually last is so refreshing. The show takes the bury your gays trope and says ‘fuck that, we’re not about that’ and I absolutely love it for it.
This show all in all is quite fascinating. It’s 5 hours long and takes all these tropes and throws them in the bin. It tells a compelling, beautiful story that I and so many other queer people really needed. It gives us hope that maybe one day we can find someone who loves us for who we are, be it a friend or romantic partner. It shows us that there are other people like us and we can find them. We are not alone. It shows us that even if we don’t love ourselves, we are still capable of loving someone else and someone else can still love us.
I love this show, and it means more to me than I can explain. I didn’t expect this to get mushy towards the end, but honestly, I want to say thank you for everyone who made Cherry Magic the way it is. It’s a truly amazing show and it’s sad that more people won’t get to see it, but I’m glad I did. ❤️
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souichieatr · 11 months ago
wanna be yours, ch2
suna x freader , foxy boy
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where in which two opposites fall in love
a/n: for everyone who commented on the posts youve been added sorry i cant reply <//3 if you're interested in being in the taglist send me an ask, i was thinking of making a playlist for the au would anyone be interested? lmk !! sorry if there are any mistakes or if its bad this is my first writing <3
ch1. this voice im hearing rn? , hey bestie
word count: 2,090
the first song- The Ghost of You- my chemical romance
second song- I Bet on Losing dogs- mitski
third song- Crybaby- destroy boys
pocketing her phone after reading tendous message, she opens the door waving to a couple friends and offers friendly smile taking her seat. a pair of pale green eyes follow her. after yesterday suna did a little research about her y/n y/l/n the bassist and youngest in the band called 4u, she has quite a big following on twitter, she's really nice and interacts with the fans. looking at her now you can't imagine her on stage suna thought. breaking away from his thoughts as the teacher walks in. spouting for about what feels like hours and the students taking notes, finally lunch approaches. y/n jumps from her seat grabbing her case she walks to the third year hallway. waving to her friends they walk to her, tendou wrapping his arms around her “y/n!!!!!! i missed you” laughing as she hugged him back “tendou!!! i missed you toooo.” she turns to the grey haired male, “semisemi!!” she says giving him a hug, he rolls his eyes and hugs her back “and ushi!!” she turns to the brunette to which he pats her head “good afternoon y/n.” as they go to the lunch room to grab their lunch, they walk to one of the music rooms they usually occupy. a beep from her phone grabs her attention seeing her friend atsumu asking if him his twin and their friend can join for lunch, “hey guys you dont mind if atsumu and his friends come join us?” she says setting down her case against the wall. “nah you can invite them, atsumu is our biggest hype man” tendou says, grabbing his drum sticks from his back pocket. texting him its cool she goes to unzip her bass. “oh ms lady ive missed you” she says hugging the instrument, “i can't believe you two and always wanting to play, dont yall have any other hobby?” semi says, grabbing the schools given guitar setting the speaker up for y/n. tendou gives a scoff “semisemi dont act like you hate hearing us play i see you listening to our covers alllll the timeeeee” he says “yeah semi besides we have a concert soon and it wouldnt be bad to have an audience” y/n says walking to semi to connect her bass to the speaker when the door opens, entering is atsumu in the middle, osamu on his left, and a mystery guy in the back. setting her bass down running up to the blond “tsumu!!” giving him a hug “y/n!!” he hugs her back, she waves to osamu, who shes met on an occasion. looking towards the dark haired guy she walks up to him, noticing shes seen him somewhere. “youre suna right? we're in the same class?” she says giving him a hand and a awkward smile, nodding at her words. “hope its okay im here” he says taking her hand giving a slight shake. “nah dont worry its nice to have a different face, seeing tsumu is getting boring” turning around to the male. “what she means to say is we could use practice in front of new people” the grey haired male says giving a small laugh when tendou scoffs at him, both guys walking towards the small group. “this is semi and this is tendou” she says introducing them. when the introductions are over the two males go back to setting up, y/n walks the newcomers to the sitting area “here you guys can sit, im sure you all know ushijima” on hearing his name he looks up from his name giving a small head bow. they all sit “any recommendations tsumu?” y/n says walking to her bass making sure everything was good, looking towards the small group. “y/n you know my favorites” atsumu says stealing one of his brothers onigiri. y/n laughs and rolls her eyes, turning to tendou “anything you wanna try tori?” tendou looks at her with a smile “y/n lets show semi whatweve been working on” hearing this semi looked at them “what do you guys mean? what did you two do” y/n chuckles at the grey hairs doubtful expression “mr semisemi you know your favorite mcr song” when she sees him nod she continues “me and tori learned it” she says pushing him lightly. semi looked at her with wide eyes then at tendou, looking at semi tendou flicked his drum stick between his fingers with a nod. “wow semi cant believe you, we spent so much hours perfecting a my chemical romance for your sap self and he doesn't believe us y/nie i might
” tendou says fake sniffing. the little group in the back beyond confused, atsumu clearing his throat “have you three forgotten us already, wheres our show” ushijima nodding his head “yeah why are you guys being so vague” tendou snickers “dont worry you three and wakatoshi we have decided to play a new song or well cover i should say” “yeah and its semi’s favorite band you know the one that he wears on his shirts?” ushijima looking towards the girl after hearing her statement he nods. “okay can we play now ive been waiting to show my skills and get our lovely semi's opinion” y/n says removing her pick, both boys giving a ‘yeah’. finally tendou does the countdown. suna looks at all three of them with slight excitement in his stomach, ‘is this a new song im going to hear?’ before he could think of anything else, semi started playing a few chords by himself and y/n starting to add her own strums then tendou adding drums. sunas eyes widen at how well all the sounds blended together, freezing in his spot when semi started singing, when hitting the chorus y/n joins him. suna looking at her, he felt like he had been put in a trance, feeling like theres a spotlight on her when she starts nodding her head seeing her tongue sticking out when stringing the instrument. towards the end you can see y/n lose focus and her eye twitches, ending the song she sighs. “hey sorry about the end” waving to the guys to her left with a frown. hearing applause from the group the frown doesnt last long. “WHOOO!!!!! THAT WAS MY BESTIES GO SEMI! GO TENDOU! GO Y/N!!” atsumu gets up and yells. “that was so good what the hell that was yer first time too?” he says going up to the group, high-fiving y/n. “i mean me and tendou practiced together but semi basically has every song by them memorized but together? yeah our first.” tendou getting up to get his water that was next to ushijima. semi joining the fake blond and the girl, patting her on her back “that was a good first for us i can tell you and tendou worked hard, we're definitely adding it to the set list.” getting a laugh from both of them semi walks to the small group. “hey man that was really good, you have a nice voice” suna says as semi approaches, semi turned to him surprised “oh thank you im glad you enjoyed, do you listen to our stuff?” he says taking a seat next to him. “ive recently just started, i hope that doesnt sound too weird” the dark haired suddenly getting a little embarrassed, chuckling “its not weird i promise, well its good you listen to us or im sure it would've been awkward to just be here” nodding along to what he said. tendou going back to the drums “are you cowards tapping out now?” “COWARDS?!?!” y/n yells back turning around “i am no coward tendou satori i'll make you eat those words semi get over here” she said grabbing semis attention and shooing atsumu back to his seat. chuckling as he sat back down, turning to suna “howd ya like em? theyre good huh?” suna rolling his eyes “im not going to help inflate your ego tsumu” “yeah tsumu yer big ego is not cute” gasping to their remarks “you guys are so mean to me, i introduce you to nice music and even the artists and this is the thanks i get” before any could respond tendou starts clicking his sticks. starting this one is tendou with a slower sound, y/n entering second then semi with vocals. y/n leans down to mess with something by her foot turning a notch noises like static come out adding to the music, coming up fast she starts adding her vocals complimenting semis. pressing on the box she leans down as more noises come out. atsumu leans over to sunas ear “thats a pedal that holds other sounds and can help stretch other sounds” suna giving him a nod. towards the end y/n reaches down to the pedal again adding a distorted sound before adding her last bit of ‘oohs’ before the song ends. everyone clapping as the members stay still for s bit before y/n dramatically bows “youre so welcome lovely audience” she says blowing kisses to them, laughing at her atsumu jumps up and down pretending to be a crazy fan “oh y/n you were so go
od i love you y/n!!!” y/n laughing at him. “hey atsumu what about me!” tendou asks swinging his hand “howd i do?” “oh tendou you were so good, i love you too tendou!!!” he says swinging his arm back. tendou satisfied with his response nods his head, “and with that lets play one more i still want time to actually eat before we play again later.” “yeah lets try ‘crybaby’ we haven't done that in awhile” semi says getting in position.“remember y/n you do the verses” y/n nods clearing her throat “go tori” she says and tendou starts the counting again. starting the counting fast he gets one beat then y/n starts off with singing, swinging her bass back she grabs the mic. suna cracks a smile nodding his head a little as he remembers this song on their youtube, atsumu whistling when y/n dips down her mic as she sings, letting the boys have a solo in between verses she bobs her head. the last few seconds of the song she swings the instrument back as she steps on the pedal creating feedback, as semi goes to vocals she starts getting a solo with tendou playing, y/n leans forward and her and semi sing the rest of the song. after the last note they all look out of breath. clapping for them again letting them catch their breath, y/n starts laughing “i forget how hard that song is towards the end” laughing with her tendou nods “its literally the last 50 seconds that get the hardest” “alright lets clean up” semi says laughing at both of their bored looks they send him. finishing up they all go to the group whove are talking among themselves. sighing as she sits y/n takes the seat next to suna, “so howd you like the songs?” she says with a smile “they were good though i only recognized the last one” he replies, “tsumu told me you started listening to us recently so i thought or well semi thought wed show off a bit with our best song being that” she says with a smile grabbing her bottle. a small smile appears on his face “oh hey tsumu told me youre like really good in your classes and i really need help in history and since we have that group project coming up do you wanna pair up?” she says setting her bottle down grabbing a bag of chips. “yeah i dont mind as long as you actually do something and i can help you study if your grade is that bad” he says. “thatd actually help me out a lot i really appreciate it” she lets a breath out. after that the two spent all lunch just talking, the conversation coming easy for both of them. hearing the bell ring y/n hugs her friends and walks with suna to their class, pairing up in the project the teacher had given them in their period. after class before y/n rushed out she passed him her number with a wink “text me for the deets foxy boy.” ‘foxy boy? suna thought to himself shaking his head texting her with a simple ‘hey its suna’ and heading home.
facts !
during lunch when suna and y/n we're talking the followed each other on twitter
semi was really touched they learned the mcr song
the 4u concert is at a small venue but no one really cares about the other groups going there
osamu and atsumu almost started fighting over the onigiri until suna said something about ushijima being right there
atsumu was watching suna and y/n talking
osamu actually really enjoyed being there during lunch
@applekenm , @xhanjisungiex , @astronomyturtle , @sirachano0dles , @yn-tingz , @killmepls-uwu , @bakugouswh0r3
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waatermelon-sugaar · 11 months ago
Under My Skin: Chapter 1
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Series masterlist
Word count = 4,6 k
Chapter Warnings = swearing, canon-typical violence, bad writing
Summary = You hate Poe Dameron. Simple, right?
Edit = Cross posted to AO3
Part 1 of 4 (I think)
Poe Dameron didn’t like you and you didn’t like Poe Dameron.
“Because!” You grouse to Rose as you make your way to the cantina, “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, no one could ever come close to his skills, and he always gets the best missions, and he’s good, but he’s not that good, he acts like he’s god's gift to women - no scratch that - to the galaxy, and he’s so arrogant!” You’re growling in frustration as you round the corner, suddenly lowering your voice as much as you can because Dameron is right there at the end of the corridor, deep in discussion with General Organa and Finn.
Rose’s only response is to whack you over the head as she walks through the swinging doors in the centre of the corridor. You’ve never been so glad you don’t have to walk past Dameron in your life. “What was that about?” You hiss as you catch up with Rose, grabbing your own tray and helping yourself to dinner. “You didn’t have to hit me in front of General Organa.” Rose snorts. “Yeah the General was the one you were worried about.”
Trays full, the two of you spot an empty booth and hurry towards it, sitting opposite each other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You won’t shut up about Poe.” She jabs her fork at you, causing bits of potato to fall to the table. You can only gape, words escaping you momentarily.
“What! I won’t - Dameron - he - he and I - urgh! - never in my life - he’s annoying!” You settle on finally, fully aware that you’re now whining. “He frustrates me!”
Rose raises an eyebrow, “Well maybe you need to work out those frustrations.” You shake your head, deciding to ignore her for now as you concentrate on eating. “You do need to get laid.”
You yelp, coughing when you try to swallow too quickly in shock. And then- “I can help with that, sweetheart.” You whip round, eyes narrowing when Dameron’s behind you, his flight suit tied around his waist, exposing his dirty vest and irritatingly strong arms. The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Finn - you can no longer count the amount of times he’s beaten you.
You take another scoop of dinner before talking with a full mouth. “Ok, one, I’m not your sweetheart, and two, Rose is wrong, and even if she was right, I definitely don’t need your help with-” you pause, swallow, and gesture vaguely in his general direction. “That.”
This, annoyingly, only seems to make him grin more. “That? You’re not gonna call it what it is?” You lean back, pulling your most unimpressed look onto your face, as he continues, still smirking, even having the audacity to wink at you. “Hot, animal sex.”
Rolling your eyes, you scoff, turning back to your dinner. “Whatever you say, Dameron.”
“Does it make you feel better, being mean to me?” Dameron asks as he squeezes onto the small piece of bench next to you. You huff, moving up so that you’re not touching. You don’t like him, but you’re not rude. 
Ignoring his question, you deflect. “Where’s Finn? Don’t you want to sit with him?” It takes more effort than it should to sound like you’re asking out of interest, and not because you want him to go away. Which you do.
“He’s still talking to Leia.” Your eyes flick to Rose, and she knows what you’re thinking. You twist your body to face Dameron, bringing a leg up under you. “Is this about the mission?” Her voice is low as she leans across the table, forgetting about the rest of her dinner.
The last few days have been hell. Rumours have been flying around base, centered around a box full of Jedi crystals. Kyber crystals, you’d told Rose the other day, not that the name cleared anything up. You’d poked around the base’s library on your datapad when you had the odd chance, but the Jedi were now the stuff of legend, just stories told to children about ‘the good old days’.  
The rumours made things worse - you’re not sure how much of it to believe - there were so few people who were even Force sensitive but as far as you were aware there were no Jedi left. Luke Skywalker was lost, and therefore probably dead. And even if Jedi did still exist, weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Why hadn’t they come to help fight along with the Resistance?
But Dameron decides to play dumb. “What mission?” His eyes are too wide to be innocent and it annoys you. “Finn’s talking to Leia about…” he pauses, eyes desperately searching the cantina as he tries to think of a good excuse. “The quality of the food!” Turning to you, his eyes are intense. “I know you want more chocolate pudding.” You ignore how he knows that, instead focusing on glaring at him. “Dameron do you think I’m a good pilot?”
“Look,” he turns to face you, ignoring his own food even as you continue to eat, “it’s nothing to do with your skills as a pilot.” He pauses, but you interrupt before he can give you some empty platitude. “I think it is - otherwise why am I not being included?”
“Hey, will you listen,” he turns to you, poking his finger at you for emphasis. “This mission is top-secret and the risk of the First Order finding out is high so-” This time you properly interrupt, flicking his finger out of your personal space.
“So you just decide to talk about it in the corridor by the busy cantina, where everyone and their mother will see you?”
This shuts him up.
The two of you are looking into each other's faces, inches apart. And it’s annoying because Dameron is unfortunately handsome. Why? Why is he of all people so good looking? Rose coughs obnoxiously loud, causing the two of you to break eye contact and turn to look at her. You lean back from him, trying your best to look thoroughly unimpressed as he stands, picking up his tray and when he speaks, huffing, his voice is sharper than it was before.
“Look, I only came over to say that we’re going to have a mission briefing tomorrow at 6. Ok? So, just-” He leaves, mumbling the rest of the sentence under his breath as he walks across the cantina towards Rey, leaving you with your mouth hanging open, looking and feeling like an idiot.
“Well,” you say as you turn back to Rose. “That’s why I hate him.”
“You’ve got a mission, aren’t you pleased about that?” You can tell you’re annoying her now, but you roll your eyes. “Yeah, with Dameron. He’s just going to be hanging over my shoulder and passing judgement whenever he can. I’m not getting my hopes up.”
Every time you came back from a mission Dameron was there. Always. Just waiting to tell you what you should have done, how you should have flown, how he would have done it. As though the only reason he hadn’t done it was because he was too important.
You knew you didn’t fly how most people did, it had cost you marks in your final exams at school, and it cost you a place in a higher squadron, but it was hard to find the will to change when the poster boy for the Resistance saw nothing but incompetence when he looked at you. Bastard, you couldn’t help but think as you stabbed the last of your greens, wishing it was his face.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
The mission had been going so well. You’d dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere, bypassing the planet’s security, got inside the compound, obtained the uber-secret box (your briefing hadn’t quite covered what was inside, annoyingly) and you’d been about to sneak out when you’d decided a bit more snooping was necessary.
The box had been in the centre of a library/museum set-up and even you could tell that these were rare books. So you’d told Dameron to inspect the objects while you scanned the books, pulling out a few that caught your eye.
The first warning you had been given was a blaster grazing your arm, causing you to yelp in pain, dropping the books and duck to the floor as another shot had ripped through the shelves - an inch or two above where your head had been. So a crap shot then.
Paper had fluttered down around you as you looked for Dameron. The shelves would provide good cover but unfortunately it also meant you couldn’t see your shooter. Pulling your blaster out from its holder, you aimed a couple of returning shots into the darkness at the edges of the room as you looked for Dameron.
You found him near the exit, standing over a number of droids. He’d been holding the box with one arm, the other bleeding heavily, but you’d managed to escape, tangling with another droid who’d punched you as you left the way you came, avoiding the crap shooter on your way out. You didn’t want the First Order to know who’d been there.
So now you and Dameron were walking back to the ship, cutting through undergrowth as you desperately tried to remember the way, face throbbing in pain. Dameron had fallen quiet very quickly, and you were alarmed to see how much blood he had lost so far. His face was pale and all you could think was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t’ve tried to poke around and look for other useful bits and pieces, you would have got out with no trouble.
Oh shit.
You were definitely lost now. You’d taken a gamble on the last turn and this was wrong. There should be a stream somewhere to your left which led back to the ship. Where was it? This was so wrong. And how were you going to admit this to Dameron? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore under your breath.
“What’s wrong?” Dameron’s voice wasn’t right. He’d lost a lot of his power, and you turned to face him, watching as a small drop of blood fell to the floor. You don’t want to say it, you know he’s going to hold this over your head later, your first truly important mission and you’ve fucked up so bad. “I -” you hesitate, mouth open, so unwilling to say it, especially to Poe, you have to force it out. “We’re lost...I don’t know the way back.”
And...oh god, you’re not going to start crying are you? You can feel the familiar burn on the back of your eyes so you blink, looking away from him. But Dameron starts struggling, using his injured arm to try and reach down, looking for something. You move closer, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop moving, to stop aggravating his injury. “What are you doing?” And your voice is mean and you don’t know why but his skin is cool, cooler than it should be causing your heart to skitter out of control.
Dameron looks up into your face and his eyes are a little unfocused. Shit. “Looking for a tracker - the ship -” His voice doesn’t sound normal. But you have to be the calm one, you have to be the one in charge so you push the panic down, trying to speak normally. “Where is it? You shouldn’t be using that arm.”
“In my pocket, I -” But you’re one step ahead, unceremoniously dropping his wrist and reaching in, pulling the tracker out. A thin disc with a central button, which you press, and a red light spins around the edge before settling a direction to your left, forcing you to turn about 45 degrees.
You set off, pushing through the undergrowth and snapping branches from trees, kicking any debris out of Poe’s path as he stumbles behind you. Panic is still rising in you, you can’t be the reason the Resistance’s best pilot dies. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckin’ motherfucker, please, please, plea-
You pause for a second, trying to get your breathing back under control, even as it skitters away from you. You glance back at Poe, who nods at you.
BB-8 is waiting back at the ship, preliminary checks before take-off having been completed. You help Poe lift into the co-pilot’s chair you’d been occupying earlier and squeezing into the pilot’s chair. You don’t remember the flight back, don’t remember dodging the planet’s security as you took off, all you remember is how pale and quiet Poe is. He watches you the whole way which would normally annoy you, but you don’t think his eyes are fully focused.
You’ve done better landings when you get back to the base, but you don’t really care, Poe’s breathing is different, you can’t stop the panic rising in you, and the second you’ve opened the door you’re yelling, voice already hoarse. “Medic! Medic! I need - I need a medic!” People swirl around you, when did they get here? But you don’t want to let go of Poe, one arm around his back, his uninjured one around your neck while you keep a tight hold of the box.
You fight as someone tries to unfurl your fingers, Poe’s weight disappearing and you’re crying now, hardly able to open your eyes. You don’t feel the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, instead blindly fighting the rising darkness inside you, unable to recognise it for what it is. Voices are all around you, muffled like you’re underwater and lights are appearing in bright spots above your head. You’re floating, falling backwards, further and further, until everything turns black.
The debrief was not fun.
Barely out of the medbay, you’d relayed to General Organa what had happened, how it had been your idea to stay back, how you’d got lost in the forest after, how you made a mess.
Due to your injuries, it had been just you and her, and even now, safely in your bunk, you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than having to tell a whole command room. Sure, you’d been spared public humiliation, but at the cost of having General Organa’s full attention on your failure.
You’d pulled your curtain across your bunk, and you felt as though you might have to stay buried under your covers for at least a week to emotionally recover from the whole ordeal. The worst part of it was that General Organa hadn’t even seemed disappointed, or angry, she expected it.
And Dameron was still in the medbay. It was coming up to 4 days later, but you’d maintained your distance, not sure your fragile heart could stand the pain of knowing his condition was your fault, no matter what anyone said.
You wanted to see him, to apologise, but at the same time the idea of facing him made you feel sick. It was your fault he was in the medbay, you should have prevented it. In fact, the only reason you even knew he was still in the medbay was because you assumed there would be some kind of announcement or celebration when he was better.
A knock on your door made you jump, and then frown, however the door began to open before you could respond which you supposed was kind of your fault, you should have locked it, now you were going to have to talk to someone-
And General Organa walks into the room.
You stand up so fast, you get a rush of blood to the head, your vision going black slightly at the edges. “General, I-” you start talking before you even know what you’re going to say, so shocked to see your hero in your room. Your eyes flick over to the mess of clothes you haven’t bothered to wash in the last week, tissues on the floor, half eaten snack bars and their wrappers littered around as you wished the room was a lot tidier.
“I wanted to check how you were getting on.” Her voice is soft, but still carries that familiar authority as she pulls out the chair from your desk and sits on it.
Your mind goes blank. General Organa...wanted to check...on you?
You manage to pull yourself together, sitting back down on your bed with a suddenly excellent posture. “Good, thank you General.” You can hardly look at her, it’s like she emits light, and it’s too bright, too much.
You’re hyper-aware of your every movement, this is the first time you’ve properly talked to her, you want her to like you, and oh my god she’s in your room? Her eyes never leave you, so you stare at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “Call me Leia.” She pauses, but it’s not enough time for the implications of that to sink in. “It’s understandable if you’re still feeling rough.” Oh stars you’re going to cry.
Your eyes are watery and you know looking down only increases the chances of them falling, but if you look up, she’ll see. “I wish I’d done things differently.” You say, and your voice sounds rough.
The room is swimming when you finally look up, but General Orga - Leia is smiling softly at you. “I think about every second of that mission and for every decision that I made, I wish, I wish I did the opposite thing.”
“Why?” The question is asked so simply, and there are so many answers, they crowd your mind. “You were successful, weren’t you?” Still you can only gape at her. Successful? Dameron is still in the medbay-
“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for a mission going sideways.” Leia continues, “But you retrieved the box, you’re both alive, Poe is healing well, the medics say the bleeding has stopped and his stomach is on the mend now.” His stomach? You frown, his stomach wasn’t injured, it was just his shoulder, but Leia mistakes your frown for further dissent.
“I know you think it was your fault because you said let’s stay behind, but what if you had found something important? And Poe agreed, didn’t he? It’s not just on you. You just have to learn when the risk is worth the reward.” With that, she stands, so you do too. “I’ll formally debrief the two of you together when Poe’s out of the medbay, but I thought you needed to know this.” You nod, unable to speak again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
It’s almost too late before you can speak again, Leia halfway out of the door, but she turns back when she hears your voice. “Thank you.” And you mean it. Leia didn’t say much, and nothing new, but she was right. The mission was technically a success. Things went wrong, but you were both alive.
Sitting back on your bed, you feel lighter, more like normal. And a part of that normality is annoyance towards a certain pilot. He was injured in his stomach? The more you think about it, the more a cold fury rises in you. Why wouldn’t he say? He was carrying that heavy box and - you let out a growl, surprisingly loud in the quiet room.
You make your way to the medbay, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. No wonder he had so much blood loss! How dare he not say anything! How could he not tell you? Did he not trust you?
You ignore the signs that tell you visiting hours are over, and maybe it’s the look in your eyes that stops any medics from reminding you as such when you march up to the front desk. “I need to see Poe Dameron, which room is he in?” You feel a tiny bit bad for being so demanding to an overworked medic, but you can’t think past how Poe Dameron lied to you.
You’re shaking as you walk to Dameron’s room, not bothering with pleasantries as you bang open the door. He’s lying in the bed, BB-8 charging in the corner and had you been calmer you would have noticed how Dameron jerked awake when you slammed his door shut. You ignore how he’s hooked up to various machines and drips, bandages covering his body.
“You were shot in the stomach?” Your voice is mean again.
Dameron just blinks groggily at you, a combination of drugs and tiredness, but you push down any pity, letting righteous anger flood your veins with fire. “What?” His voice is hoarse from misuse and sleep.
“You were shot in the stomach?” You repeat, keeping hold of that cold fury as you look down at his face. This extra minute is all Dameron needs to wake up properly and realise why you’re so upset. “No- just, just stabbed.”
“Just!” - and it’s like you’re watching yourself, no control over your actions and even to your own ears you sound hysterical, the volume of your voice rising.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You demand as he presses a button, lifting the top half of his bed up. Tears are once again pricking your eyes, but this time you will not be crying, so you wipe them away quickly, past caring.
“Because,” Dameron huffs, realising that's not a full sentence. “I don’t know - had enough on your plate, I didn’t want to add to it.”
“You should have told me.” Your voice is dangerous now, your whole body thrumming with an unshakeable anger, even as you stand completely still. A strong undercurrent continues to carry you onwards in the conversation, and you know you’ll need to leave before it runs out. “You carried that box for fuck knows how long, and what? You were just hiding your injury? You just wanted to be a hero, or embarrass me?”
Dameron stays silent, glare heavy in his eyebrows. It’s too much, you want, you need answers.
“ANSWER ME!” You roar, lashing out in defence.
“I had to!” He’s shouting now too, pushing against the bed with his strong arm. “It was hard enough to snap you out of it when we were in the compound - I wasn’t going to add to it - I had to know you could fly us home!”
His words are like they punched you, a heavy exhalation, and it’s as though all the anger was tightly held in your lungs. “I flew us home.” Your voice sounds small as you take a step back. Dameron’s found the one chink in your armour again, just like he did when you first met, the one weak spot of your insecurity and smashed it to smithereens.
There’s silence in the medbay, pushing against your eardrums as though to emphasise just how the loud the two of you were. There’s a brief flicker of curiosity in the back of mind, wondering why the nurses haven’t intervened yet.
You can’t look at Dameron anymore, instead taking in the number of different machines he’s hooked up to, watching the drips, how his heart rate starts to lower as he forces himself to calm down. “So you didn’t trust me?” You don’t want the answer, but you can’t stop the words.
He takes his time answering again, but you still don’t look at him, hands playing behind your back with the hem of your jumper. “If you don’t trust me - you should have asked Leia to switch me out!” Shut up, shut up, shut up, why can’t you stop talking, you stupid-
“Maybe I should’ve!” His voice doesn’t change, there’s no difference in his heart beat, although it’s on the high side of normal, matching yours, but something changed. There’s a split in the room, a chasm separating the two of you that wasn’t there before.
“Well why didn’t you?”
“Because I felt sorry for you!” Your eyes snap up, looking at his face in terror. “I wanted to give you a chance! I didn’t think you’d fuck up like that.” If Dameron’s earlier words were a punch to your gut, these sent you sprawling. Short of an atomic blast inside you, any feeling left inside you was obliterated. Hot embarrassment crawls up your arms and you want Dameron to feel the same pain.
“Fuck you.”
The words hang there, each second an eon. Poe instantly regrets his words, knowing he’s gone too far. He opens his mouth to apologise, but the words don’t come.
Neither of you say anything, glares still spitting red-hot fire, when you suddenly want to leave. You don’t want to see Dameron’s face again, not for a long time. So you clench your jaw, throwing up your middle finger and slamming the door behind you.
Isolating yourself doesn’t seem quite so appealing once you’ve left the medbay, so instead you make your way to Rose’s room, grabbing a bottle of firewater from the cantina as you pass. You need a drink.
When you arrive, you’re not sure you want to talk about the recent shitstorm your life has recently become so the first words out of your mouth when Rose opens the door is- “Do you like Jannah?”
It’s a little mean of a conversation to spring on your friend, but you’re a lot of things, and blind is not one of them. You’ve seen how the two mechanics look at each other. Especially when they think the other won’t see. Holding up the bottle as a peace offering, Rose smirks at you before leaving her door open as an invitation.
Rose denies having a crush on Jannah as you work through the bottle, only conceding on the point that Jannah is very pretty. You’re probably a little too quick to agree, blaming it on the drink that’s currently making you feel like you’re floating a couple of inches above the ground.
Comfortable silence falls on the two of you as you sit there, the floor a little cold under you, leaning against Rose’s bed.
“I’ve been thinking-” Rose starts but you interrupt before she can get any further.
Rose doesn’t dignify this with a response, instead waiting until you wave a hand at her to continue.
“We’ve got a coordinating day off next cycle, if you wanna go to Sanctuary III. They’ll have a festival then, I can’t remember which but it should be good fun.” You can tell she’s keen, so you’ll go with her, but you find it hard to inject any enthusiasm into your voice.
Rose picks up on this, sighing as she refills her glass. “Alright don’t seem too keen on the idea.”
Your shrug, not really wanting to talk about the real reason you can’t find any excitement. “Sorry. I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is gentle, and her hand is on your arm, and it’s so reassuring, so warm, your skin sings under her palm.
You talk to your feet as you tell Rose what Dameron said. “-and he - it was horrible, Rose,” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes again. “And I - we’ve never got on, he’s, y’know, annoying, we’re always bickering, but I just - I never thought that he actually - it’s my fault he’s injured, and maybe he does hate me and-”
You stop your tirade and for the first time, just let yourself cry and breathe for a second. Rose’s arm comes around your shoulder and you lean into it, slightly. “It’s fine - I mean I never liked him anyway, now I can just move straight into the dislike section, maybe even hate I dunno.”
“Ok you should know that that’s not healthy first of all.” Rose’s voice floats out from above your head. “Second, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and anyway, who cares what he thinks? Leia thought you did well. And third, this is all the more reason to do something on our day off!”
You give a weak chuckle and nod. You spent the rest of the night, playing cards and chatting about lighter topics until both of your eyes start to burn and you make your way to bed.  
Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰
Chapter 2
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geordiewrites · 11 months ago
Delicate | George Weasley, Part One
A/N: So my brain birthed this at like two am last night and I finished it off today! It’s going to be a multiple part fic, so here is part one!!! It is based on Delicate by Taylor Swift because I feel like that song and how it describes getting more confident and then questioning yourself fits perfectly with the post war fic! I’m so incredibly excited about this, I think I’m going to really enjoy exploring George’s character after the war as well as how he forms relationships with other people. Grief isn’t totally new to me so I hope I’ve portrayed it well, and that it’s a half decent read. Hope it also isn’t boring at all!
Summary: PART ONE. Y/N is the barrister at a simple coffee shop in a cosy corner of Diagon Alley. Having just moved to London after the turmoil of the second wizarding war, she is fresh faced and quickly captures the attention of a charming redhead who runs a joke shop just down the street.
Warnings: mentions of grief, mentions of loneliness, mentions of death, mentions of blood.
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Quickly tying a tight knot behind her back to secure the burgundy apron from falling, Y/N takes a deep breath and turns back to the coffee machine. With the press of a few simple buttons aided by both magic and muggle mechanics, a dark, steamy liquid pours into a small espresso cup, sending the rich aroma of strong coffee to waft around the quaint little shop.
From the outside, it was barely noticeable if you weren’t already aware of it’s existence, covered with half wilted ivy and wisteria against red brick. The sign had long faded, obscuring the name of the cafe from view. Even Y/N, who had moved halfway across England to work there, wasn’t quite sure what it was named. She supposed it was something short and cute: the shop couldn’t have carried some elegant name at all. It was too homely, decorated in pale wallpaper and beaten sofas of varying deep colours, rich with velvet and tassels. Some may have deemed it tacky and tasteless, but there was something so sweet and unique about the place that made Y/N fall in love with it.
Being a barista was a simple job, but she didn’t mind. Her days were all set to be exactly the same as the last, and for someone who had lived in such a devastating time through war and the inevitable death that followed, that prospect was extremely appealing. Just waking up without turning on the radio to check that no more of her family had been snatched by the war was somewhat of a luxury.
After handing her current customer his coffee, Y/N rushed back to the till, looking up to come face to face with a man she vaguely recognised as a Weasley.
Well, that much was obvious from the signature red hair, but the man was not smiling warmly as most Weasleys she had ever spoken to did. His eyes never stayed looking at one thing for too long, and his coat seemed to hang off his shoulders as if it were too big for him, or perhaps he was cowering into it. Sorrow was held in his chocolate brown eyes, and Y/N chewed her lip as she waited for him to order something, not wanting to rush the man nor stall any other customers.
“What can I get you, sir?” Y/N said after a long period of silence with a beaming smile, snapping the man out of the worried trance he had been lingering in. He looked up at the menu board, then at the till and finally back at the barista.
“I’ll just have a cappuccino please.” The man said, his voice sounding hollow and hoarse as if he had been crying.
Noticing this, Y/N sent him a sympathetic look and tried to meet his eyes with her own. “Rough time?” She asked, knowing full well the tragedy of the Weasley family from stories in the Daily Prophet. The familiar feeling of grief tugged in her own heart for a brief second, a reminder to herself that she knew firsthand some of what the man way have been feeling too.
“You could say that.” He replied soundly. Y/N smiled as she at last managed to catch his eye, holding the gaze for just a moment or so in the hope that the man would recognise her sadness and empathy without it being patronising.
“I’m sorry to hear that, truly.” Y/N mumbled as she continually pressed the wrong button on the coffee machine, still not yet used to her new job. After four perhaps even five attempts, she finally poured an acceptable cappuccino into a mug with cinnamon and heart shaped foam before turning back to the man. “Here’s your cappuccino, on the house.”
Warmed and surprised by her kind gesture, the man felt himself feel happy or at the very least amused for a fleeting moment. But then, as soon as it had appeared, the scrap of joy had disappeared, and he was left feeling cold once more. The man picked up the cup and looked warily around the cafe, trying to find a comfortable, very private place to sit by himself and drink his coffee.
“I would recommend the teal sofa in the corner, over there.” Y/N added bemusedly, seeing how unsure he was. The man went over without another word and sat down by himself, although she didn’t take it personally nor really notice that the conversation had ended before moving on to serve the next customer.
The day dragged on and on, seeming almost endless with how repetitive it was. People always ordered the same drinks with the same cold pastries, but Y/N could never call it boring. It was tedious at times, but she adored the setting and finally felt comfortable in herself again, and wanted to hold onto that for as long as she could. She felt safe and for someone who had lost so much in the war, that was quite enough to make her quite content. After making a final macchiato for a teenage girl with a septum piercing that Y/N almost envied, she took off her apron and turned the sign on the door to say ‘closed’.
She didn’t even notice that the melancholy man was still sat in the teal armchair at the back of the cafe, his coffee now cold and untouched. He was just sitting, feet together in an oddly formal manner, and staring at his hands. Not knowing quite what to do except politely tell him that the cafe was closing now, Y/N softly padded over to where he was.
“Sir, the shop’s at closing time now. Do you need me to ring anyone to get you home like a cab or something?” Y/N blurted as she laid a light hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He jolted in shock but didn’t seem to mind particularly, instead rushing to apologise profusely.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’ll get out of your hair now.” The man stuttered, in his haste spilling the coffee all over the floor. “Shit, I-!”
“Don’t worry about it, I have to clean up anyways.” Y/N said in a relaxed tone, calmly getting the mug and putting it back on the table, internally grateful that it didn’t smash.
“Alright, but let me help you clean up. It’s the least I can do. I’m George Weasley, by the way. I work just down the street in the joke shop.” He continued. Usually she would’ve declined immediately, but there was a hope and a sad sort of kindness in his eyes that made her reconsider.
“I’ve heard about it, never been in though. Too many small children running around for me. But fine, I’ll go get the mop and you can help me wash everything up. If that’s alright with you, of course.” Y/N hastily added, not wanting to seem too bossy as she handed him a dish cloth, leading him towards the sink. “How did you know my name, anyways?”
“We went to school together.” George answered simply without hesitation, and Y/N had to carefully stop herself from snorting with laughter.
Back in their school days, Y/N and George couldn’t have been further apart. She was devoted to her studies: back then she had wanted to become a Healer, but after the war any sight of blood sent her spiralling into fits of uncontrollable crying. She wanted a simple, quiet little life with her small but cosy apartment above the coffee shop, not being busy with learning different diseases. Even if she did still remember almost of the research that she did back at Hogwarts, she had no want nor intention to act upon it. Y/N had been studious, solitary and high achieving, with very little time to socialise with anyone, leaving her a few close friends and nobody else.
George was the polar opposite. He was a social butterfly, someone who knew the names of everyone in every house in every year group, never failing to bring smiles to their faces with harmless pranks and kind gestures. But he was also half of a legacy, half of the Weasley twin duo who ruled the halls of Hogwarts during their time there. He was more lonely than people realised, only known for being part of the magnificent Fred and George. Being the quieter of the two, George had never said anything simply because it didn’t quite matter.
That was until May first dawned, and he watched Fred’s lifeless body get covered over by a linen cloth, soon to be buried beneath green earth and commemorated with an inscribed stone.
George hadn’t been to visit his twin’s grave yet, although his younger sister often tells him of what a green place it is, up in the country by their old house, the Burrow. He can barely acknowledge that Fred’s laugh will never fill their own shop in the mornings now, that their once shared apartment is now solely his. Since that fateful spring day of the Battle Of Hogwarts, George hasn’t even opened the door to Fred’s bedroom. Deep down even though he knows it’s impossible, George thinks that if he walks into that room, Fred will be there and say it was all a lame joke.
Y/N wasn’t even aware that George knew her name from Hogwarts, they had never spoken so why would he? Pondering this for a second, Y/N wracked her brains trying to remember if they had ever spoken. If they had, Y/N decided, she must’ve been drunk at some party for a Quidditch game and forgotten about it. The fact that he may have just heard her name in silly gossip or from a friend never occurred to her.
How George actually knew her name was a different story completely, and one that Y/N had no reason to remember. It was simply that she had let him borrow a quill before his transfiguration OWL, something so meaningless and innocent that George never forgot. He was stressed, more stressed than he let on at least. Transfiguration was important, and if he was going to leave before the NEWTs, the OWLs were more important than ever so he had at least some tangible qualifications. It was just moments before the fifth years entered the Great Hall to sit the exam, and it dawned upon him that he hadn’t got a quill.
And there Y/N was, handing someone she had never once spoken to her spare quill just because it was the kind thing to do, with that smile. That warm, friendly grin with no malice or ulterior motive to it that George would never forget. It was such a small thing but nevertheless something kind. That was the day George vowed to always strive to be as kind as she was, and even then years later in the coffee shop, he still could picture every second of it.
Even though the pair spent another two years in Hogwarts, they never spoke again. Mainly because George was too scared of talking to her again, too pathetically scared that if he did, you wouldn’t like him. But there was also a selfish element to it. George was popular and fawned after by plenty of girls, but you much preferred to be happily unpopular, residing contentedly in the shadows instead of the limelight he was always chasing. Y/N didn’t look for George, and although he did want to find her, his high school ego stopped him from doing so.
As he looked at her now however, George regretted ever putting popularity above her. Y/N wasn’t just beautiful, she radiated kindness and generosity with every smile, every soft expression of empathy she looked at him with. Usually George loathed the simpering, cloying looks people never stop giving him since Fred’s death. But Y/N’s wasn’t a look of ‘I’m so sorry’, it was a look of ‘I understand it takes time’, which spoke to George in a colossal way. It didn’t occur to him in that moment that such a melancholy expression could come from someone who had been through something similar to himself.
“You lent me a quill before the transfiguration exam.” George added with a clumsy glance at the floor before he turned on the tap, inadvertently watching her as she walked to the back of the shop to get a mop.
“Right, I’d completely forgotten that if I’m honest.” Y/N said, secretly questioning why he remembered that so well. It was something so silly that had just faded into vague memory for her, while for George it lived in his mind’s eye as if it were happening in front of him.
“It was years ago.” George commented plainly to show her he didn’t mind that she didn’t remember it.
“It’s funny, really. You were so out there, so brazen and lively. Sometimes I wished I was more like that.” Y/N chuckled without realising that every word sent a flurry of butterflies up inside George.
“What? Why?” He blurted out bashfully before mentally cursing at himself for sounding like an idiot. His eyes widened as she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she mopped the floor.
“I had friends, good friends, but then they got older and got boyfriends and I never really did, and then I was just really quite lonely. Especially in the last year with Umbridge. I just didn’t really have anyone to talk to about everything that had been going on.” Y/N explained, her smile wavering at the final sentence. Her seventh year was difficult, with her friends swept up in teenage romance combined with impending exams, a brewing war and physical torture taking place at Hogwarts at the hands of Umbridge.
George listened intently to every word, waiting a minute or so to come up with the right thing to say. “I get that more than you know.” He whispered, not one hundred percent sure she heard him, but she did. “I was always part of the dynamic Weasley twin duo, so nobody actually cared what I was like without...”
Every cell in Y/N’s body freezes as he choked on the name of his dead twin brother, the person he thought he would never have to part with. Not quite knowing what to say, she leant to mop against the wall and slowly walked over to where he was. The washing up was all done and piled up extremely neatly beside him, and the sink had just finished draining the water. After putting a comforting hand on his arm, she quickly removed it as George flinched, not quite used to being around people again yet.
“I was really sad to hear about him.” Y/N whispered softly, giving him the look again through her eyelashes that made George feel ever so slightly joyous. “He was too young, too kind.” She continued, suspecting he would need some time to grieve until he could speak again. “I know it doesn’t mean anything right now, but it truly will get easier with time. It’ll never leave, but eventually you’ll learn to live with it.”
“Thank you.” George said tightly, now realising how close they had gotten. A part of him that was still a reckless teenager screamed to pull her even closer, but he could barely bring himself to speak, let alone anything along those lines. “I miss him.”
Three little words packed with so much emotion tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. He didn’t quite mean to say them out loud, it sort of just happened, surprising them both equally. Y/N hadn’t expected him to say anything about Fred really, even if it was something so simple, but it was abundantly clear that George had found it difficult to say them. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about Fred, let alone a random girl he briefly spoke to years ago while they were at school, but for an unknown reason it just felt fitting. He felt safe around her, relaxed in a way he didn’t with anybody else in the world.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.” She mumbled awkwardly, not wanting to sound condescending in the slightest. “I’m here if you ever need someone to listen to you, even if you did just meet me again today.”
“Thank you.” George said, but this time it was genuine, and a knot formed in his stomach as he saw shining tears dotting Y/N’s eyelashes. She was truly moved, despite never speaking to Fred. “I’d best be off really, it’s getting late now.”
“Right, yes, of course. Thank you for doing the washing up, you really helped me there.” Y/N stuttered, half wishing he would stay a little longer. George was fun to talk to and she didn’t want him to be lonely if he went home, but she didn’t know him well enough to ask him to stay. Although Y/N had only really met him properly a few hours previous, she liked George and hoped he would visit the cafe again sometime in the near future.
“It’s no problem.” George started as he finally broke their intense shared gaze and walked to the front door, ready to go back to his apartment at home. Before he stepped out however, George stopped in his tracks, an unusual surge out courage coursing through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “The shop is closed at the moment, but you’re welcome to come by at any point. You know, when there aren’t any little children running around everywhere.” He said hopefully, just the trace of a cocky smirk ghosting his face.
George visibly relaxes as Y/N’s face breaks into a smile. “Fab, I’ll see you soon then George.” She grins, feeling oddly lightheaded at his invite.
“Goodbye Y/N, thanks again.”
A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this and tysm for reading!
Nancy xx
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recurring-polynya · a month ago
Writing/Art Update 11/5/2021
Believe it or not, I finished Chapter 10a, on, like Wednesday? Look at her dance, look at her go! Anyway, I knew going in that what I planned for Chapter 10 was not going to fit into Chapter 10 and I accepted it, and it’s fine. So last week, I said I had 3 chapters to go, and I wrote a chapter and I still have 3 chapters to go and that’s just how it is. Chapter 10a came out to 10,329 words, so it’s not like I skimped out. I am fairly confident that there are really, truly only three chapters left. I guess 10a was sort of an emotional hurdle, because all of a suddenly I feel like I can see the end, even though I have very little written of those final chapters. It feels absolutely ridiculous when I say “I feel great, I’m down to the final 25k!!!” but that’s how it is. I am actually just about 2500 words into 10b, it is not out of the question that I could knock that out this week, which would be very cool.
I have never heard anyone talk about this, but I feel like I have whatever the opposite of writer’s block is. Writer’s stride. Note: This is not inspiration. I have had inspiration. When you have inspiration, scenes play out in your head unbidden, words flow from your fingertips. No, writer’s stride is when you just have the feeling in your heart that if you sit down, you can work. When I have writer’s block, I sit down and nothing happens and then I feel like a pile of shit. With writer’s stride, I might have to sit and spend 10 minutes thinking of a sentence, but I can, and every time I work I am moving execrably toward the end. Writer’s stride is not exactly fun. I can’t really do other leisure activities like draw or read peacefully, because I know that if I were writing, I would be getting closer to the end, and also that writer’s block is always lurking at the doorway like a hungry wolf. Or maybe I just have anxiety!! That is also a distinct possibility!!!!
The thing I definitely do have is 87,387 words (+12,852?!?). As I said, I think it’s gonna end up around 110k, which would put it right between Between Tides and Call Me Back in length. That seems good. I guess. My mood definitely oscillates wildly between “I can’t wait to post this so people will love me again” and “Nobody wants to read this weird trash possum fanfic about the vague melancholy of not fitting in with your family and the awkward intermediary period of friendship where you have to start depending on people in ways that are not comfortable.” 87k and no one even kisses in this story. I could have written 5 “only one bed” fanfics in the time it took me to write this and for what????
I have given up on trying to find a better title, it’s just What We Do with Our Hearts now. It’s probably about time to start making a banner anyway.
Enough of my unhinged ramblings. Here’s your except from Chapter 3:
Byakuya wasn’t sure what time he woke up. At some point, the anxiety dreams had just turned into anxieties, and he had no idea how long he had lain in bed, steeping in old, bitter memories. It was an hour before he usually rose, but there was plenty to do, and he felt that it was better to get up and be productive.
He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he was trying to convince himself that he would regret skipping breakfast when he ran into Rukia in the main hallway. She seemed significantly more chipper than usual, especially given the fact that Rukia was not a “morning person.”
Rukia habitually left for work much earlier than he did. The Thirteenth was a greater distance from the house, and furthermore, Byakuya had recently started skewing his hours slightly later. This gave Abarai the office to himself for an hour in the morning, and Byakuya an hour to himself in the evening, which tended to regulate the flow of paperwork. Abarai claimed he liked getting a headstart on the office work before he ran drills, and Byakuya enjoyed ending the day on a quiet note, so it was a very harmonious arrangement for all involved.
But it also meant that Byakuya usually didn’t see his sister before dinnertime.
“Are you feeling alright, Brother?” Rukia asked, wrinkling her nose. “You look less, um, luminous than usual.”
“I am well,” Byakuya reassured her. “I merely woke early.”
“You look tired,” Rukia pressed. “Are you worried about Grandfather’s visit?”
“Of course not,” Byakuya scoffed. “The staff has everything well in hand.”
“I didn’t mean… that…” Rukia frowned. She pressed her lips together and looked off to the side. “Look, I have an idea! Renji’s sort of acting as your winger, right?”
“My… what? Is this a futsal metaphor? I have no idea what that means. And I’ve simply asked him to be around. Grandfather enjoys discussing the affairs of the squad, you see, and Abarai enjoys spewing nonsense out of his mouth, so I felt it was an obvious pairing.”
“Mm-hmm,” Rukia replied, clearly not buying it. “How about I swing by your office after work and we can do a last minute strategy session! Then we’ll all be extra prepared, and it will ease your mind!”
“I assure you, Rukia, my mind is already at ease.”
Rukia appeared not to have heard him. “The only worse thing than dealing with Grandfather is dealing with Grandfather when you haven’t slept for two days.”
“Rukia, do not impose on Abarai’s Leisure Hours!” Byakuya tried desperately.
Rukia responded with the most scathing raised eyebrow Byakuya had ever experienced. “I’ll bring him noodles. He won’t care.” Her face brightened. “I’ll see you tonight! I’ll bring you noodles, too!”
Byakuya watched his sister run out the front door and wondered what had just happened to him. “Rukia!” he called after her. “Rukia, do not bring me noodles!”
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waitimcomingtoo · a year ago
Where We Start Again - 6
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Synopsis: how do you fake date someone you have real feelings for?
Series Masterlist and regular Masterlist
Playlist by @tiny-friggin-human
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Peter woke up the next day with a blank slate. There were about 3 seconds where he had no memory of the night before. Those 3 seconds were cut short by you rolling over and cuddling into Peters side, accidentally getting some hair in his mouth. He freed one of his arms and pulled the hair out of his mouth, then he remembered.
The cookies, the party, the bruises, the sleepover, all of it came rushing back to him and his eyes flung open. He shifted them to the side to get a look at you.
You were the opposite, still sleeping soundly on Peters chest. You had an arm thrown across his torso so he couldn’t get up, not that he wanted to.
He just didn’t want May to catch him with a girl in his bed.
Peter felt you stir in your sleep and could hear your heartbeat quicken as you woke up. You nuzzled into his body as you stretched and slowly sat up, your tired eyes meeting Peters wide open ones.
“Good morning.” He said robotically, earning a sleepy laugh from you. You laid back down and cuddled into his chest, scooting impossibly closer to him in the bed. Your lazy Saturday morning demeanor was the antithesis of Peters. His heart was beating out of his chest and he was pretty sure he was sweating out of every single pore on his body.
“Your sheets are soft.” You sighed in content.
“So I’ve heard.” He squeaked. You laughed against his rib cage and he eased up a little.
“You smell good.” You mumbled. Peter blew out a nervous breath and tried to relax. This may never happen again, and he didn’t want to ruin it by having a heart attack.
“Give it a minute.” He said. “My breath will hit you soon.”
“Shut up. I bet you don’t even have morning breath.” You sat up a little to look at him and he blew air on your face. “Oh my God. I take it back. Did whoever gave you those bruises last night also die in your mouth?”
“Maybe.” He sat up as well and noticed you staring at him. “What?”
“Your bruises are gone.” You delicately touched the side of his face where the bruises were, but they were long gone. Lesser wounds healed quickly, but you didn’t know that.
“What bruises?” Peter panicked and played dumb.
“The ones on your face.” You tilted your head in confusion. “I saw them last night.”
“Must’ve been a dream.” Peter shrugged.
“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped like you actually believed him. Not wanting to gaslight you, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, I’m messing with you. I just heal really fast.” His words came out before he could stop them and you looked even more confused that before.
“What, do you have super powers or something?” You raised an eyebrow as you laughed.
“Ha, yeah right.” Peter forced a laugh. “What’s next, are you gonna ask me if I can stick to walls? You’re crazy.” He shifted his eyes nervously to the closet where his suit was kept
“Right.” You eyed him skeptically. “I’m crazy.”
You ended up walking to a diner to get breakfast before you had to leave for some last minute dance committees.
He didn’t see you much that week since you were busy running around to put the final touches on the dance. But even with your hectic schedule, you made sure you sat with Peter every day at lunch to catch up. You’d hold his hand and listen to every detail about his day until the bell rang, giving him a tight hug before you went off to class. And every night, you were the last person he talked to before he went to bed.
On Thursday at lunch, you sat with Peter and Ned at the outdoor basketball court. You popped skittles in your mouth as Peter and Ned bounced a basketball back and forth.
“What do I get if I make this in?” Peter asked, bouncing the ball from hand to hand.
“I’ll give you half my cookie.” Ned offered and pointed to the cookie on the bleachers.
“Well don’t exert yourself, Ned.” Peter said sarcastically.
“I’ll give you a kiss.”
Peter and Ned instantly snapped their heads to you. Had Ned not be equally as stunned as Peter, he would’ve thought he imagined it. Hand holding and hugs had always been the extent of your displays of affection. There was that one time Peter kissed your forehead, but that was during a celebratory moment. Was a basketball really about to be the ticket to kissing you?
“What?” Peter sputtered. Ned took the basketball away from Peter before he could pop it with his iron grip.
“If you can make it in on your first try, I will kiss you.” You shrugged like it wasn’t the biggest deal in the entire world and continued eating your skittles. Peter looked to Ned for help, who was quick with an assist.
“What makes you think he wants a kiss?” Ned replied, making Peter smack him.
“I do!” He exclaimed and before calming down and deepening his voice. “I um, I do.”
“I stand corrected.” Ned claimed and you face flushed at Peters enthusiasm.
“Well it’s better than a cookie.” Peter followed up quickly.
“Go ahead, then.” You sat back in your chair and crossed your legs. “Take a shot.”
“Okay.” Peter said confidently. He didn’t compete in sports at school after he was bitten. If pre spider bite Peter Parker couldn’t make a basket, neither could post spider bite Peter Parker. He did this to keep it fair for the other kids. He knew his powers weren’t a toy and using them to become captain of the basketball team wouldn’t be right.
That being said, he could make an exception if it meant he got to kiss you.
Peter began to dribble up the court, adding in little flourishes he picked up from NBA 2K as he went. You and Ned shared an impresses look as Peter made his way to the basket.
“Buckets buckets bucKETS BUCKETS BUCKETS.” Ned’s cheering gradually got louder as Peter easily made the basket. He caught the rebound and made another one, then another one just for effect. Ned was losing his mind and you were speechless. As the adrenaline left Peters body, he looked to you with an expecting smile. You were slow clapping as you walked over to him, a smirk perched on your pretty face. Peters eyes stayed glued to your lips as the blood caused a roaring in his ears. You got to where he was and took the basketball from him.
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” You laughed. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, daisy.” Peter said snugly and he stole the basketball back.
“Well lucky for you,” you grinned as you repeated his words, “I love to learn.”
Peters wide eyes followed your hands as you took out a tube of lipgloss and applied a generous layer to your lips. You smacked your lips loudly to really scare him and he jumped back a little.
“All right. A deals a deal.” You sighed dramatically as you put the lip gloss away. “Come here, lover boy.”
You started to lean in but Peter quickly stopped you.
“I can’t kiss you.” He blurted. You backed up in confusion as he twisted his fingers nervously.
“This shit gets crazier every day, I swear.” Ned mumbled to himself.
“Why? You got the ball in.” You tried to mask your disappointment by keeping your tone neutral.
“I know, but it wasn’t a fair bet.” He explained. “I had help.”
“Peter, I watched it happen right in front of me.” You laughed awkwardly. “No one helped you.”
Peter looked at you and sighed. If he couldn’t use his powers to make the basketball team, he couldn’t use them to kiss you either. There was no way he wouldn’t have gotten the ball in. He knew that, but you didn’t. If you had, you never would have made the bet. As much as he wanted to kiss you, he couldn’t do it if it meant he had tricked you.
“They did. Or, it did. It just wasn’t a fair bet, okay?” He kept it as vague as he could to provide you with some sort of explanation.
“Who helped you?” You folded your arms to show that you didn’t believe him.
“It’s not really a who exactly.” He squeaked as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Then what helped you?” Your voice dripped in skepticism.
“A…spider.” He looked down in shame.
“A spider?” You repeated, unamused with his excuse.
“Yes.” He said apologetically, wishing he could give you a better excuse.
“Yes what? I need you to say the full thing for me so you can hear how stupid it sounds.” You antagonized him. He sighed in defeat and looked up at the sky.
“Yes, a spider helped me make the basket.” He mumbled.
“Do you have a sense of how ridiculous you sound now?” You questioned him.
“I promise you, I’m telling you the truth.” He pleaded with you to believe him.
“How am I supposed to believe that a spider helped you basket?” You exclaimed. “You’re telling me a bug came to our table all “swish swish bish” ready and helped you get that ball into the net?”
“That is not what I said. You’re taking creative liberties.” He said pointedly.
“Then what are you saying?”
Peter tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and looked around for listeners. Ned threw the basketball at the hoop, only to have it bounce off the rim and hit him in the face. With no one else around to hear, he took a step towards you.
“Can you keep a secret?” He asked quietly.
“I’m gonna be honest.” You began. “No.”
“Can you keep my secret?” He tried again. “For me?”
“I’ll do my best.” You answered honestly.
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” He pointed at you. “Meet me on my rooftop after school.”
“Okay. I came to your weird meeting place.” You called out as you dropped your bag on Peters rooftop. “What’s the secret?”
You put your hands on your hips and looked around for Peter, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello?” You called out, receiving only your echo in return.
“Go to the edge.” Peters voice came from an unknown location.
“That sounds fun. Should I jump off too?” You yelled back sarcastically.
“Just go to the edge.” His laugh sounded in the air. You rolled your eyes at your willingness to do whatever Peter asked and waltzed over to the edge. You peered over and felt your heart beat pick up as you waited for Peter. Just when you thought he wasn’t coming, you heard his voice again.
Before you knew what was happening, you were swept off your feet and flying through the air. A scream ripped through your throat and you clutches whatever force was holding you. The wind whipped through your hair and roared in your ears and suddenly, you were enjoying it.
“Woo!” You let out a happy scream and forced your eyes open. The city you had always lived in looked completely different from above. You swung from building to building before landing on the fire escape of your apartment. You stumbled through your open window and fell on the floor of you bedroom, you on top of Peter.
“Hi.” He laughed breathlessly through the mask. You panted for a moment as you stared at the comically wide eyes of the Spider-Man mask.
“Spider-Man?” You whispered and he nodded. You freed your arm from under him and pulled his mask off, meeting the anxious eyes of your fake boyfriend.
“Peter.” You breathed. You scanned his face as you processed the information you were receiving. “You’re Spiderman?”
“Surprise?” He asked and rolled next to you. You stared at your ceiling for a moment, a million thoughts darting through your brain.
“You’re Spider-Man?” You whispered sharply as you sat up. Peter propped himself up on his elbow and looked up at you.
“Every now and then.” He said quietly. You let out an amused laugh and looked down at the boy who continued to surprise you with a loving smile. Peter held out a hand and helped you up off the floor, the two of you taking a seat on your bed.
“I’ve never had someone swing me around the city in their arms before.” You told him through a smile. You put your hand on his knee and traced daisies with your fingernail.
“Well I’ve never swung someone around the city in my arms before.” He chuckled, feeling goosebumps on his skin under your touch.
“So that’s how the spider helped you make the basket.” You realized.
“Yeah.” He said. “And that’s why I couldn’t kiss you.”
“I still don’t get why.”
“It wouldn’t be right. Ever since I became Spider-Man, I could do all these incredible things. I knew I was gonna make that basket, but you didn’t. It wouldn’t have been right.” He explained shyly. You looked at him fondly and scooted closer to him, taking one of his hands and toting with his fingers.
“Who else knows about this?” You wondered.
“Ned and May, but they found out on accident.“ He told you. “This is the first time I’ve told someone on purpose.”
“Well I appreciate you telling me. On purpose.” You added and nudged him slightly.
“It’s nice time have someone I can trust.” He looked into your eyes with sincerity.
“Me too, Petey.” You rubbed his knuckles your with your thumb. Peter looked down at your hands with a bashful smile.
“Can I ask what happened to your parents?” He asked suddenly, the question having been poking at the back of his mind since the day of the party.
“You can, but I’ve never had much luck with that question.” You laughed humorlessly. “Sometimes, people don’t want you and you never get to know why.”
“Daisy?” Peter asked.
Peter took your chin between his fingers and made you look at him.
“You’re always gonna be wanted by me.” He said decidedly. “You always have a home here.”
You looked at Peter longingly and cracked a smile.
“We’re at my house.” You said sweetly and he let out a groan.
“I meant a home in me.” He pouted and moved away from you. “I guess I’ll never try to be sweet again.”
“No, I love it when you’re sweet.” You pulled him back and hugged him, leaving your head in the crook of his neck. Peter rested his head on top of yours and rubbed your back.
“I can’t believe it all ends tomorrow.” He mumbled against your hair.
“What ends?” You asked curiously.
“Our fake relationship. After Flash sees us at the dance, we’ll have proven our point. Theres no need to continue.” He said. You pulled out of Peters embrace and looked at the floor, disheartened. You shook your head quickly and got off the bed, going over to your desk to get something.
“Here. I made you this to commemorate our time together.” You said as you handed Peter a canvas. On it was a painting of a couple sitting in a field of daises, watching the sunset. Peter could only assume the couple was you and Peter since they had their backs to the viewer, but he knew it im his heart that it was. The girl was in a hoodie with “Parker” printed on the back and the boy had a scrunchie on his wrist.
“Like a parting gift?” Peter smiled at the pairing as he traced a light fingertip over the brushstrokes.
“Like a ‘thank you for being my friend’ gift.” You said as you took a seat next to him.
“Did you paint this all by yourself?” He looked at you expectantly, falling deeper in love with you when you nodded.
“Yeah. It took me two weeks.” You laughed softly and admire the painting beside him. “I started it the day we started going out.”
“Really?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “We had just met.”
“I know, but,” you shrugged, “something told me this was gonna last. That it was worth the scoliosis I gave myself from painting this.”
“This is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Peter said in all sincerity as he gazed at the painting. You had signed the bottom and he was tracing your handwriting with his finger.
“Well you still exist.” He said simply and you laughed. You rested your chin on his shoulder for a moment before piping up.
“I almost forgot. I have another surprise for you.” You got off the bed and grabbed your guitar, tuning it as you walked over to Peter. He had flopped on his back and was hanging upside down, making you smile at the sight. You slid down your bed and sat on the floor as, your heads touching each other’s. Peter watched you upside down as you fingered the melody to his favorite song.
“Hey There Delilah.” He smiled in surprise.
“I learned it for you.” You said timidly as you looked at him. Even upside down, he was cute.
“Thank you.” He said softly. “That was beautiful.”
You set the guitar down and got up on your knees, placing your hands on either sides of Peters head and tracing gentle patterns on his cheeks.
“Peter, I’m glad you didn’t kiss me after you made the basket.” You admitted. “I don’t want our first kiss to have ulterior motives.”
“You also had skittles breath.” He laughed and his breath fanned your face.
“You’re telling me you didn’t want to taste the rainbow?” You asked coyly as you combed your finger through his hair.
“I hate skittles. If we’re gonna continue this fake relationship you have to know this about me.” He pretended to be serious. “I’m so sorry. It’s been weighing on me.”
“This is worse than the sandwich.” You faked a gasp. You both laughed, only quieting down when your eyes locked.
“What did you want our first kiss to be like?” He wondered. Your words unintentionally revealed that you wanted to kiss him, just not at the basketball court. Peter looked at you for an answer, but you had none to give him.
You smiled faded as your eyes trailed down to Peters lips. You hesitated for a moment as his eyebrows drew together, not understanding your sudden change in mood. Your tongue darted between your lips and you sort of smiled. Before Peter could speak, you leaned down and drew his face to yours. His eyes widened in surprise but fluttered shut as he found out what it felt like to kiss a girl. You smiled into the kiss when you felt his eyelashes brush your face and stood a little higher on your knees. He put a hesitant hand on your cheek and you took this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Peter felt an entire field of daises blooming in his tummy all at once as you kissed him. He could only thank his lucky stars Flash has decided to pick on him that day in the hallway.
When you pulled away, you were both breathless and a little star struck.
“That was good practice.” Peter was the first to speak. “If we do that in front of Flash at the dance he’ll never bother me again.”
Your smile instantly fell and you plopped back down on the floor with an angry thud. Peter quickly flipped onto his stomach, mind still reeling from the kiss. His last two weeks with you had made him an expect on telling when a girl was angry.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, fearing he had upset you.
“Nothing.” You said cheerfully and got up off the floor. Peter looked at you skeptically as you faked a yawn. “I’m just exhausted. I have to get up early tomorrow for my hair appointment.”
You clicked your tongue and Peter got the hint.
You wanted him to leave.
He knew your sleeping habits. He knew you stayed up until at least 2 am watching family feud. There was no way you were tired at 4 pm.
“You’re getting it done in the morning?” He tilted his head. “The dance isn’t until 7.”
“They get booked fast.” You lied. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You began to push Peter towards the window he came from but he whipped around to stop you.
“Is everything okay?” He held your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. There was an unfamiliar look in them that made his pulse quicken.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” You said through the biggest smile had ever seen on you. You shoved his mask in his hands and pushed him onto the fire escape. He looked back at you, hoping to catch a glimpse of how you were really feeling. Had his judgement not been clouded from the kiss, he wouldn’t known thta he has just royally messed up. Instead, he chalked it up to stress from the dance and left without a fight.
“Okay. By-“
“Bye!” You slammed the window shut and dropped the curtains. You waited until you heard Peter swinging away until you slid down your window and let out hallow sobs. You cried into your hands for a minute before pulled out your phone.
Elsewhere, Peter was bouncing his leg up and down as he waiting for Ned to pick up.
“Hey.” MJ answered.
“I just had my first kiss.” Peter said excitedly into the phone.
“I kissed Peter.” You told her, triggering your tears to start falling again.
“Dude! That’s awesome!” Ned declared.
“How’d it go?” MJ asked.
“I know. My face actually hurts from smiling so much. I like her so much, Ned.” Peter gushed as he touched his aching face.
“He doesn’t want me back. He’s only doing this for Flash. It was all fake.” Your voice broke and you heard a sympathetic sigh.
“Do you think this means she likes you?” Ned asked him.
“Then he’s an idiot.” MJ stated firmly.
“Am I an idiot for thinking it might? I don’t even care about Flash anymore. It’s become so real between us.” Peters voice cracked with excitement.
“I’m so upset.” You sniffled, wiping your face with the back of your hand.
“You need to let him go. He’s not worth it.” MJ told you.
“You need to go for her. She’s worth it.” Ned told him.
“I’m so happy.” Peter swooned.
“I hate him. He broke my heart.” You cried. “And now I have to go to the dance with him and act like everything’s fine.”
“I love this girl, Ned. She’s the one for me, my heart knows it.” Peter swore. “I can’t wait to dance with her tomorrow.”
“It’ll be okay.” MJ assured you.
“It’s gonna be great.” Ned assured him. Both friends heard a sigh from the other end.
“I hope so.”
Tag List 🏷
@a-villain-vying-for-attention @wendaiii @dorbiksbitch @t-monosapiens-h @badhollandfluff @silteplaittais-toi @thisisthebiplace​ @seasidecrowbar​ @spideygirl2003 @5-seconds-of-mendes @bitchylittleredhead @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @everydaymj @write-from-the-heart @blackpetalsmeandeath @electraheart-3174 @shawni-h @peterparkoure @sleepythighsweat @steebbb @traveleraroundsworld @averyfosterthoughts @bralessandflawless @viwihere @eridanuswave @the-greatt-perhaps @spidey-lillies @kelieah @danicarosaline @xroselights @xoxohollands @jannine00742 @itscaminow @peterisinapickle @starstruckgardenstudentzonk
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btsandvmin · 9 months ago
Sometimes when I'm close to my delulu self I think the reason why they seem to hold back from 'what they say vs what they do' (vacations and stuffs, their whole relationship in general) its cause they are waiting for the E stuff to happen and once they are free without repercussions for their behavior they can do whatever tf they want But I stop the train of thought in case I sound too crazy, even in my head lol Do you think they are waiting for something? Am I going crazy? Maybe...
I mean, honestly if any ship in BTS would be real (or even if we just talk about any of them being LGBT+ at all) I think they would wait until after enlistment with letting the public know yes (if that is what they choose to do at all). Not only because being queer in the military can lead to a lot of problems, but also just for BTS’s career in general. That being said it’s difficult to say if their current behavior (if interpreted by us correctly) would be becuase there is something but they have decided not to act on it at all yes. It could make things a bit ambiguous... But with the way Vmin are, in particular nowadays, they seem pretty certain with what they have since they use strong statements like soulmates and wanting to be together for the rest of their lives.
I don’t think being done with their enlistment means they can do whatever they want though... Being LGBT+ in Korea the way it is now can’t be easy, and definitely not for idols who can’t even date when they are hetero.
I am hoping things will change in Korea and that BTS (with the immense soft power and influence they have) will be able to be who they are freely and proudly if any of them are LGBT+ (which I still think is likely considering things they have said and done).
Stopping thoughts is a good exercise to hold things back, but I do want to say again that speculating and wondering about things is not really bad. It’s all how you do it and if you push it on others, or if you are so convinced a truth opposite of your belief would hurt you. Otherwise theorizing and speculating is natural, and even opens up for healthy discussion and change when done right. So don’t worry, as long as you don’t go too far getting these thoughts is nothing weird or crazy.
As for Vmin in particular I find it very interesting that they both have made it sound like they are waiting for something at different times/in different context. Not together, but even so it’s something that does stand out to me in the whole Vmin possibly being real perspective.
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Jimin’s letter to himself in Malta: 
“What I wanted to say. Be next to people I want to be with. Do things I want to do for a long time. Do everything I want to do later. It will happen at some point. Stop being a kid.”
There is a lot of things that could imply waiting for or hoping for something in the future in some of their songs as well. I mean, I’ll raise you one on the delulu scale if their songs really are connected and about each other.
Sharing my fragile truth That I still hope the door is open' Cause the window Opened one time with you and me Now my forever's falling down Wondering if you'd want me now
And would it be alright if I Pulled you closer
I still wonder wonder beautiful story Still wonder wonder best part I still wander wander next story I want to make you mine 
As if we were waiting We bloom until we ache
Come to my side now So we can become one I don't want to let go- no
Happy Christmas, at the end of this Winter There’s Christmas meant for you and me
It's coming today What else should I prepare? I’m ready to greet you, ok (Ok)
May the flowers land on your smile Below the streetlamp frozen in time (Yeah-e)
Oh I been waitin' for this Christmas Day My heart is already on this white street It snowed in my dream last night You've been waiting all day under the covers
If anyone is listening to me Will you let the time stop now?
I've been waiting for you all this time Can you stay with me a little bit longer? 
Wanna get to the other side of the earth, holding your hand Wanna put an end to this winter How much longing should we see snowing down To have the days of spring, Friend
One day when this cheer dies down, stay You are my soulmate For eternity, keep staying here, stay
Sorry for the mess.. I just wanted all of the lyrics mixed together like this for effect. I will make a proper analysis at some point because by now almost all my song analyses are outdated. I will also talk a lot about this theme in my Spring Day analysis I am currently working on. But yeah... You aren’t really alone in thinking about how Vmin might be waiting for something. 
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I know time and waiting and all of these things and statements are too general to really be applied to specifically Vmin waiting to be able to be together “properly” but it’s not like it’s impossible for that to be partly what it is either. There is just a lot we don’t know, and a lot of things BTS says that can be vague enough to mean many things. So I am sure all shippers will pick and apply these things in whatever way fits their own narrative. Still, they work with Vmin in many ways.
Let’s just say to me it seems Vmin are currently stuck in winter, and they have decided to enjoy it for now while they wait for their spring to come.
What we do know is that Vmin want to be together even after BTS, and that is wonderful. If they are also waiting to be together in a way they can’t fully be at the moment, well we are all free to speculate there. Just keep it civil and enjoyable. :) Thanks for the ask, hope you enjoyed the mess. This is just what happens when I answer asks instead of making full posts. Sorry. ^^’’’
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mdemontespan1667 · a year ago
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SYNOPSIS: This is a Medieval AU series set during the Norman invasion of England. My intention is a sort of homage to the historical romance “bodice rippers” of the late 70′s and early to mid 80′s. In particular The Wolf and the Dove by Kathleen Woodiwiss and Defy Not the Heart by Joanna Lindsey. If you enjoy this I highly recommend giving both a read.
AUTHORS NOTE: I normal try very hard to keep my reader’s features vague. However, I will be describing this reader as having long hair to her waist because it will be an important part of the story later one.
AUTHORS NOTE TWO: I apologize if I have made mistakes concerning clothing types, food, furnishings etc.
This was written for @sherrybaby14 birthday challenge and for @ironlady1993 who requested a Dark Geralt. I hope you enjoy!
This Chapter is just a short one. I know it’s been months since I updated but I was stuck on how to get from point A (the ending here) to point C. So instead of messing around anymore I just decided to post what I had. Hopefully it’s not disappointing. 
At Maida’s words your spine tightened. Fear fell away, resolution to protect your people taking its place.
“How many. Are they armed for battle.”
Maida recognized your tone.
It was that of the warrior your father had raised you to be. No doubt if your armor was available still you would be donning it now instead of your gown. 
“Only two have entered. They carry no weapons.”
“Only two,” you questioned.
‘Yes, M’lady, just the two.”
You noticed the slight tremor in Maida’s voice. 
“Do not be afraid. If they meant harm they would have done so already. They are probably lackeys of William, too cowardly to fight if they carry no weapons.”
Silently praying you were right you squared your shoulders. 
Squeezing Maida’s hand for courage the two of you left the bedchamber and descended the staircase. 
Every step was a reminder of Geralt’s brutal use of your body. 
There were not enough vile epitaphs for the bastard. If only….
“Lady Y/N, I presume.”
A man’s voice cut your thoughts short. 
Two men stood in the middle of the hall. 
Both were tall and well muscled, though not as wide of shoulder as Geralt. 
Their hair was clipped close in the Norman fashion, one blonde, the other brunette.
The blonde’s eyes were a clear, dark blue, his nose narrow, slightly crooked, perhaps from some well landed fist. His lips were full, sinfully formed.
The brunette was the opposite with dark brown eyes flecked with black, their tone changing in the light. His lips were thin and curved producing a slight sardonic effect. He was the shorter of the two but only by an inch or so. 
While not dressed for battle it was still clear they were knights of William.
“I am she,” your voice rang out true.
The blonde one spoke.
“I am called Vachel. This is my cousin Louis. We asked to speak with Earl Walend. Instead we were informed of his passing.”
Despite your best effort tears began to form in your eyes.
“My father died defending King Harold at Hastings.”
Vachel shook his head.
“You have my deepest sympathies, Lady Walend. War is a burden that oftimes falls hardest on the shoulders of innocents.”
Momentarily taken aback by the unexpected kindness your next words were unguarded.
“What business would a Norman knight have with my Father besides death.”
“After landing at Pevensey William sent myself and other Knights of good standing to negotiate terms of surrender with the smaller Keeps on the way to London.”
“What,” your voice cracked, “what terms.”
“William desperately wants to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. It is his most Christian wish to fulfill his destiny with as little damage to the populace as possible. I was to offer a peaceful transition of power if the Saxon leaders laid down their arms and pledged fealty to William. They, their families and those attached to the Keeps would be allowed to continue as before.”
Vachel paused.
“There would, of course, have been need for a small permanent garrison of Normans stationed at each Keep to ensure both sides of the surrender were honored. It is the hope that Saxon and Norman will come together for the greater good.”
Glancing around the Hall Vachel sighed.
“Judging from what I have witnessed it appears, however, that I have arrived too late.”
Your face fell in shock.
“Geralt offered no terms. He offered nothing except murder and rape.”
Your voice rose steadily in anger.
“I would have accepted those terms to protect my people.”
Vachel grasped your hand in his. 
“M’Lady I take the blame for what has happened here. Geralt’s depravity is well known, even to William, though he still favors the bastard Knight. My men and I were delayed by a storm. It would appear in my absence Geralt took what he wanted.”
Hope sparked inside you.
“Then you can make him leave, can you not. I will pledge fealty to William if he leaves.”
“Nay, I can not.”
“But there must be a way Sir Vachel.”
Desperation bled through your words.
“Geralt and his men will destroy us all if he stays. There will never be peace between us.”
“As much as I despise Geralt and his ways he is a Norman. I can not fight against a fellow Knight.”
Vachel reached out, lifting your chin.
“But all hope may not be lost yet. Let me think on this. There may still be a solution.”
Before you could reply the Knight spoke again.
“If possible could me and my men find refreshment here. We have ridden hard for two days with little rest or food. They are waiting just outside the forest. I found no need to frighten your people further. You have my word my men will leave all unmolested.”
Trying to hide your frustration you motioned the two men towards the large, scarred trestle table. 
“Please make yourself comfortable. I will see you and your men are served food and drink.”
Louis watched the soft sway of your hips as you walked away.
“What game do you play at Cousin. Your deepest sympathies. It was you who dealt the death blow to the old Earl. I saw it with my own eyes. And what is this nonsense of surrender and delay. We both know Walend Keep was long promised to Geralt.”
“Lower your voice,” Vachel hissed.
“The stupid wench knows no difference from what I told her. William chooses that bastard over me, a Knight of good family. It makes my blood boil to think I have nothing to show for my service to the King. This Keep should be mine.”
“Geralt is well ensconced here. William would frown upon his knights fighting amongst themselves.”
“Tis true Louis. However, William seeks a smooth transition. What better way to ensure that than through a marriage.”
“Geralt will never marry the woman. He leaves them almost as broken and battered as you.”
“Not him, you imbecile. A marriage with me. The wench goes with the Keep, the Keep goes with the wench.”
“But how….”
“Never you mind the details Louis. Just stand ready. I will have this Keep and the wench before the New Year.”
@alexakeyloveloki @firebirdsalvatore @deceitfuldevout @deepobservationcherryblossom @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @cynic-spirit @sobbingmess @mccanntheking @imaginesforallkindoflove @valancy88 @salomewrites @secretlypleasantlover @handmade-shell @cleodormer @wild-woman-wake-up @radaofrivia @albinotigerpython @ironlady1993 @threeminutesoflife @saiyanprincessswanie @atthediscowithoutpanic @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @titty-teetee @xoxabs88xox @the-soulofdevil @marvelfansworld @dylisbae @imanuglywombat @p8tn0lish @donnaintx @littlefreya @the-winter-witcher @shewritesinthethirdperson @danceswithapathy @misplacedorphan @peeyewpeeyew @primavera19 @ladyhubris @decaffeinatedwerewolftraveler @navybrat817 @readermia @imdarkinme @lulasdaughter @fortheloveofallthatsholy @denisemarieangelina @notyourtypicalrose @sherrybaby14 @tari-reblogs @pleasantathletepersonabakery @vinylbabe​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @sinceimetyou​ @persephone-is-here-omg​ @jamlally​ @jennmurawski13​ @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ @shadowcatsworld​ @xoxabs88xox​ @siancore​ @honeyloverogers​ @honeyhan-123​ @ransoms-sweater-holes​ @miri-est-fou​
@nsfwsebbie​ @caffiend-queen​ @collette04​ @kellyn1604​
(I know I’m probably missing people who wanted to be tagged. If you’re one of them I’m so sorry. Leave a comment and I’ll make absolute sure I add you. Vice versa if you’re on here and you don’t want to be let me know too. Thanks so much for reading!) 
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gallyl · 10 months ago
Alluka’s artificial world [HxH meta 3]
Personal notes about Killua & Alluka reunion in the Election arc.
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The Zoldyck family’s attitude to their children has always been clear and reaches its climax in Volume 31. The cover portrays Killua and Alluka as plushy toys. Dehumanization and objectification are what Killua is going to fight against. By protecting his sister, Killua protects their human dignity and right to independence. To show the difficulty of this fight, Togashi rewrites the “creepy girl” trope for Alluka like he rewrote “a killer kid” trope for Killua.
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Alluka’s pre-introduction on the photo is vague. She looks creepy… but not quite. Later it becomes evident that during that moment she was already excluded from the family. She’s not allowed to stand with Killua. Killua doesn’t object, at this point he must have been “tamed” - he is unnaturally docile in his mother’s arms and has a blank stare. Later Alluka’s introduction is done by Illumi, who shares the Zoldyck’s mentality. As an unreliable narrator, Illumi is blind to Alluka’s humanity and the pain she and Killua experienced due to their family’s actions.
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In the Election arc Killua returns home as a changed person. This is manifested by a harsh dialogue with his father, where Killua is one step away from threatening him. He is the opposite of the shy, humble son he used to be in this same room. The paradox is that he refused to be the heir but now he behaves like one. He takes full control of the family, tricks them and forces them to do what he wants. Killua tames the dog - a symbol of the Zoldyck’s heartless, bloodthirsty spirit.
However, Killua goes completely still, when he sees another rescue mission ahead. A curious detail: isn’t it weird that Alluka was kept alive? She is “too dangerous”, not considered a family ( = can be killed), and she risks the Zoldycks’s safety and reputation. Why keep her and to bother so much with security locks and doors? My only guess is that Killua asked not to kill her. Maybe he defended her right to life with ultimate despair; it became clear that if the family got rid of Alluka, their heir would undoubtedly join her in death (shinjuu includes family too).
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This would explain, why Killua tolerated her imprisonment for so long in the back of his head. He had accepted the cruel compromise as long as she was alive, not forced to kill, and left in peace. It would also explain why Illumi ended up training Killua in self-preservation and even used a needle to stay on the safe side. And why Silva personally sent his son into exile to the Heaven’s arena for 2 years. Fancy locks and doors keep Alluka away from unwanted strangers, but first of all, from, well, Killua.
I’ll use both manga and anime images further, because they complement each other.
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Alluka’s prison cell was converted into a girl’s room, but in a special way. The walls are painted in light blue with clouds and stars (“sky”), sunflowers and palm trees (“sun”, “summer”, “warmth”). The lights are bright. It’s an attempt to recreate outdoors, an open, warm and friendly space. Abundance of toys is a “creepy girl” feature, but not quite. It’s also an imitation of life - plushy animals and dolls keep lonely Alluka company. To fill the void, she asked for toys, just like she asked for a dress, a princess bed with curtains and a girl’s dressing table (without her/Killua’s asking she would have a boy’s room).
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But all her asks were met out of fear, not out of love. In the manga (NOT anime), the ceiling and cheerful wall drawings are spoiled with moist. Small toys are scattered under Killua’s feet. These bunnies and glass balls had probably been lying around, untouched, for a long time. It is hard for a child to clean up alone all the time and an unclean room is a sign of depression. Also, she’s quite a grown-up to have the same interest in toys or treat them as substitutes for real people. Nobody dares to help Alluka clean the room, and nobody renovates the room to make it proper again. This place is a worn-out, outdated, fake decoration. The hypocrisy of family care is what truly makes this place horrible.
It is an artistic choice in both manga and anime, that Alluka is sitting still. She was dehumanized by her family and became invisible among other discarded and abandoned toys.
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She looks like she’s drowsy, but she’s really not, it’s a subtle portrayal of tiredness and sadness. The animators make her sit head down with eyes closed. When she looks up, her bright blue eyes are darkened. Because Alluka did her best to stay strong all these years, she holds back her emotions. She is strong and persistent.
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Unlike Killua, she never had the comfortable amnesia. The audience is afraid that she might kill her brother, but in reality the happy shock she is feeling is unimaginable. She had waited for Killua in prison, for years, with undying hope, with Nanika as her only real companion.
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A sinister black background suddenly turns into a cheerful white one, and she looks as innocent as she can possibly be. Surprise! From now on Togashi is deconstructing Alluka’s negative image even more effectively by using Killua as her defender. Killua is alone against the world, including us, the audience. We know nothing good about her and stand more or less on the same side as the Zoldyck family, biting our nails.
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“Onii-chan, die” - good one, Togashi! What an amazing way to troll the audience and release a bit of tension from the start!
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Alluka doesn’t ask for things like new toys or furniture. She doesn’t even ask for a liver or a spine like we expected. She needs only time with her brother. To show feelings of love, Togashi uses the imagery of flowers (“natural beauty”, “love”, “sincerity”, “innocence”), which opposes the materialistic mentality of the Zoldycks. White frames are sandwiched between darker frames: two children within the grim family doman.
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Alluka doesn’t ask to free her. Either she accepted her fate, or maybe she hopes he’ll free her anyway. From his side, Killua has no doubt. No more compromises. Now he knows what life and love is, and this existence is neither. He doesn’t stop the “last hug” and stands up, still holding Alluka in his embrace. Now he must save TWO dearest people, but instead of feeling stressed, he is serene like never before. He found his missing piece. The big smiling cat to the right resembles him at this moment (although this might be a sweet coincidence).
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He’s taking her out from this untidy, moisty, lonely place. On the wall there is a painting of the Kukuroo mountain: it turns out, that the walls depict idealistic surroundings of the Zoldyck mansion.
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Last time, in the best traditions of the Greek lore, Killua was asked by his father to keep an “impossible” condition to never betray his friends. This time he’s the one who makes conditions that ensure a return to “the world of the living”. When they escape, his sweet “Eurydice” gives him a kiss.
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Killua didn’t forget Alluka. If that was the case, he would experience a huge surprise upon remembering his sister. Killua’s forgetfullness is similar to how Meleoron described his ability “God’s Accomplice”. Killua didn’t forget but rather overlooked Alluka’s existence. But he never stopped loving her.
Those who consider her confinement humane because she had basic needs served like food and bed: no, she didn’t. She didn’t have the right to go out, communicate with the family, travel, buy things, work, create, fall in love, get married, have children, own home, pets and a garden. Human needs are useless without human rights. She was not living but kept alive. It’s not the same at all.
Gon invaded the Zoldyck mansion to rescue Killua. Killua followed his light, grew strong and rescued his sister in the same manner. His journey was a circle, and he rediscovered himself as a changed person, furious at his younger self: “How could I have left my sister here to get treated this way?!” Following Gon’s example once more, Killua took his sister on a journey to show her the world, heal together and make up for the lost time. Just like Gon was the light for Killua, Killua learned to be the light for Alluka (and others, too). Killua thanked Gon for this in the end: “She was able to come out of this because of you. Now I am ready to protect her for the rest of my life. We are the ones who should be thankful”.
PART 2: Alluka’s character portrait (so far)
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Alluka is Killua’s first friend. Together with Nanika they gave Killua unconditional love, family love, friendship and kindness. They showed that one can not only kill, but do the reverse - heal - and it’s a wonderful thing to do! They made Killua human and secretly changed his future. He left home to find freedom and prove his worth, but above all he searched for happiness that he lost.
Alluka is wise. She understands her heavy influence within the Zoldycks. But, unlike Killua, she holds no grudge against her family, even considering herself a burden: “Do you think I shouldn’t be here? Would the family be better off without me? Would you all get along better?” She knows only Killua loves her in the whole world. She smiles broadly when he tells her so, because it’s no news, she’s just happy.
Alluka and Killua are similar in their natural kindness and utmost devotion. Alluka always believed in her brother’s return and calmly entrusted her life to him during the whole dangerous adventure. She’s brave and persistent - she goes all out to defend her brother and her sister. Even if it means to defend the sister from the brother. Alluka can knock sense into him. She’s Killua’s saving grace.
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Alluka is unselfish. She sees through Gon. In addition to both being sweet and brave cinnamon rolls, they have one more thing in common: Killua. She likes Gon for liking her brother, and she understands Gon’s sadness and insecurity. There is no jealousy from her side - she promises “to return Killua back”. Alluka supports Killua’s friendship with Gon because she sees that it’s genuine.
Alluka’s story is not over. She and Nanika coexist in harmony. But Togashi’s skepticism about codependence suggests that at some point “siamese twins” might have to be separated. Nanika will leave Alluka’s body (under happy or tragic circumstances), or they will find a way to become two detached physical persons who can finally touch, play and live together.
INTERLUDE: Alluka behind the scenes
Five Zoldyck kids were named by using a shiritori game (IlluMilluKilluAlluKalluto). That’s why a mysterious missing child named “Alluka” was identified by Japanese fans as early as in 1999, before her first manga appearance in 2005 (photo). Some people doubt if Alluka was initially designed the way she is today. That said, a slightly similar story about a brother saving a sister from prison was in Togashi’s earlier work Yu Yu Hakusho (Hiei and Yukina).
The old HxH anime took many liberties with the original, but there is one scene that stands out for me like an eyesore. Because Togashi was involved in the production (to an unknown extent), I’d like to guess that Alluka could be foreshadowed as early as in 2001 (Episode 59). This doll with familiar thick locks appears in Killua’s PTSD flashback:
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In this scene, Killua and Gon are detained by Nobunaga (the Yorkshin arc). Frustrated by his inability to protect Gon, he experiences a PTSD memory with Illumi’s notorious mantra about his worthlessness. Interestingly, the mantra is now spoken in Killua’s voice, because he mistakes Illumi’s hypnosis for his own opinion of himself. This memory consists of 6 frames (the 7th frame with Illumi’s face is detached from the flashback and may not be a part of it, so i omitted it).
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I’ll try to recreate the story. The ominous figure on Frame 1 is Illumi, who watches Killua from afar, by the graveyard. Mountains imply that they are still close to the Zoldyck estate. Killua is clinging to a pile under the ruins that cannot hide him. One shoe is missing (“running away”, “prey”, “vulnerability”). Then we see a black raven eating a worm in front of the fishing net (“predator”, “ill omen”). The graveyard, empty terrain, ruins, a pole forming a cross, a ragged rope, a raven - all symbolize death. Next… this doll, destroyed (“victim”, “violence”). This doll is important to Killua, because, as the hypnotic mantra continues, her image is replaced by Gon, blackened by a shadow and disappearing out of sight (“same fate as the doll”, “death”). After this Killua loses one’s nerve and braces himself for the attack. He no longer wants to run away and be weak. He doesn’t want to lose Gon. It’s an attempt to break the cycle.
So, the flashback is about experiencing a loss: Killua ran away to protect a doll, but Illumi caught him and destroyed it. The value of Gon is not compared with the value of the toy, no! On the contrary, the doll is treated as a precious, vulnerable human. This is what makes this memory traumatic. But one question remains: why not a toy soldier, or a plushy animal, or a live stray puppy / kitten? This doll with similar thick black locks, big button eyes a kind smile sort of resembles Alluka. If it’s true, Killua kept the doll as a memento of Alluka. This explains why Illumi had to chase after the kid for miles and do what he did.
This flashback is one of the earliest moments when toys and people intertwine in Togashi’s work. The flashback is most likely an original anime idea, but the imagery of death and objectification truly reflect the Zoldyck family dynamics. This flashback matches Killua’s struggle for human dignity, and Togashi’s use of toy symbolism for Alluka. It’s also consistent with Illumi’s repeated predatory behaviour, and his role as a puppeteer. Illumi is himself designed from a voodoo doll.
All in all, history doesn’t really matter. But I like to think that Alluka always existed behind the scenes the way we know her today - a beautiful, important, wise and strong sister, and a future proof of Killua’s character growth.
PART 3: Alluka’s self-identity
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Alluka’s outfit is based on Miko’s dress. Miko is a Japanese shrine maiden. But in the past she also served as a shaman maiden. Miko performed spirit possession and served as a medium to communicate the divine will or message of that kami or spirit. Alluka wears this dress because she identifies herself AS the girl and AS a shaman, who communicates Nanika’s will. Kanji is also interesting. Wikipedia article says:
The Japanese words miko and fujo (“female shaman” and “shrine maiden” respectively) are usually written 巫女 as a compound of the kanji 巫 (“shaman”), and 女 (“woman”). Miko was archaically written 神子 (literally “kami” or “god” + “child”) and 巫子 (“shaman child”). 
Thank you for reading and endless attention span, and feel free to share your own thoughts and ideas! I’d like to thank @telehxhtrash​ for inspiring me to write this months ago, and to @buzzykrueger​ for priceless observations. In case you’d like more:
 A nuclear proof article on Alluka’s transgender identity
 Love as a whole - Alluka, Nanika and unconditional love
 The cost of Nanika’s nen - She probably pays for Killua’s wishes herself
 How Killua lost Alluka - about Killua’s “memory loss”
 Reconciliation meta - the middle section is about Nanika’s healing power and reconciliation with Killua
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damienthepious · 8 months ago
tuesday vibes are Cuddle Sleepily
To Be Inside Your Arms
Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast
Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla
Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla
Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Post-Episode: s02e36-41 Second Citadel - The Battle at World's End, (literally directly post. so like. yeah), Early Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Awkwardness, (they're trying), Literal Sleeping Together
Summary: They went somewhere to talk, but that talk is honestly going to have to wait until they aren't so completely drained.
Notes: I've had this idea for a while, to the point where I tried to start it like... five different times. I literally have like Five different half-paragraph openings for this exact pseudo-conversation, and this one FINALLY stuck. They're all... very new at this. Also? Yes, I know we just finished s3 and here I am writing DIRECTLY post s2 content, but consider: I Want To.Title from the song Parallels by Big Thief.
Lord Arum brings them somewhere safe, after their duel, after their song. It is a small structure, nearly impossible to distinguish from the plants surrounding it until Arum points it out, pressing on one particular knot in the wall of thick, woven-together vines and prompting a hidden door to swing open for them and reveal a small, cozy sort of space.
Rilla helps Damien out of his armor after they close the door of the little bark-walled hut behind them, and they clean off the worst of the grime, the tears, the mud, the blood. Rilla sets Damien's arm properly, and the lizard pretends not to keep a concerned eye on them as he starts a fire in the clay hearth, putting water to boil for tea. Rilla splints her poor ankle as well, batting Damien's hands away when he tries to help, and when she finishes she sighs with such weariness that it cuts through to Damien's heart.
Arum frowns, then, watching Rilla's face, the purpling shadows beneath her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, and then the monster extinguishes the fire before the water comes to a proper boil.
There is a pause before Rilla notices, which is even more damning evidence of her exhaustion than anything else.
"What, change your mind?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I did, in fact," Arum rumbles, looking away. "We won't be needing the tea to accompany our conversation. There is no productive conversation to be had while the both of you are in such sorry states."
"S-sorry?" Damien manages, his voice going high, and the monster's frown deepens, the frill at his neck raising just slightly, in anger or whatever else Damien does not know.
"You are both injured, and you are both clearly well past exhausted. I would rather hold a conversation with creatures more lucid than the both of you will currently be."
Damien blinks, entirely uncertain what Arum's sharp, uncomfortable tone and his deeply deliberate avoidance of eye contact indicate, but Rilla folds her arms over her chest with something like a smile ghosting across her lips.
"If that's your way of saying that you're worried about us, that's very sweet of you."
Arum growls, still looking away as he pokes at the hearth to ensure that the logs aren't going to reignite. "Don't be absurd," he says quickly, and something in Damien's chest skips at the transparency of the denial.
"Okay," Rilla says soothingly, smiling a little wider. "Right. Entirely selfish reasons, then."
"Entirely," the monster says, still looking away.
"I imagine that you are rather exhausted yourself, Lord Arum," Damien offers.
"Yes, well," Arum straightens, huffing in a way that reminds Damien of a bird ruffling its feathers. "Any day during which one nearly dies or averts an extinction event is bound to be somewhat draining, and each of us have experienced at least one of those two since the sun rose today."
Rilla snorts a laugh, and then- another expression crosses her face, far more serious.
"Thank you, by the way," she says, and Arum immediately winces. "I don't… I don't know that we would've made it out of there, if you didn't tell me... just, thank you." He turns towards her with a rising snarl, but Rilla's smile is awkward and uncertain, and the sight of it makes the angry rattle in Arum's throat stutter off.
He swallows, and then looks away again, his tail flicking. "Don't... don't thank me for- for giving you a chance to clean up the mess that I made, Amaryllis," he mutters, and then he shakes his head as she opens her mouth to retort. "And this is- precisely what I meant. We can argue over culpability and injury and morality in the morning, if you have not changed your minds by then, takatakataka."
Rilla scowls more deeply as Damien considers Arum's phrasing, noting that the lizard only suggested that they might change their minds. Apparently, Arum does not imagine that his own feelings are in danger of any such shift.
"Fine," Rilla relents, "fine, fine. Okay. Sleep, then. Is there a bedroom tucked in here or are we just gonna pile up on the floor?"
Arum turns with a grumble, presses a hand against a wide leaf that Damien assumed was simply part of the wall, and the flora swings aside, showing another smaller room.
Rilla grabs Damien's uninjured arm as she passes him, pulling them both along together to follow the lizard.
"Okay?" she murmurs, her eyes cautious, and Damien's heart aches again with fondness, with appreciation, and he squeezes her hand in return.
Arum pretends not to hear them, reaching to light a small lantern with a flick of the wrist (Damien is unsure, precisely, if the monster is using some magic, or if he is simply deft with some small tool Damien cannot see) and then turning to frown in the vague direction of their clasped hands.
"I suppose this will have to do, for the moment," he says, and Damien struggles to bury a smile.
The bed is- not exactly a bed. It appears to be as much grown as the rest of the structure, low to the ground, woven from soft living leaves, with a silk sheet puddled unceremoniously across the bottom half. Damien sags at the sight regardless, his body preemptively relieved at the mere idea of rest, and beside him Rilla exhales an entire lungful of exhaustion herself.
Arum's lip twitches, almost a smile, and then he gestures towards the bed. "I suppose I should... leave you to it, then." He pauses, flicks his tongue in the air as two of his hands brush at his cape and the other two fold stiffly behind his back. "Sleep... sleep well."
Damien's heart twists, sinks, and when Arum glances back towards him again he realizes that he must have made some small, unhappy noise. Rilla squeezes his hand again, more gently.
"Unless you would prefer I stay," the monster says quickly, and then he glances away. "This part of the swamp is not particularly dangerous, but of course I would understand if you should require a- a show of good faith, or-"
"I'd just rather have you here," Rilla says, and the monster snaps his mouth shut.
"I... yes," Damien agrees, his voice feeling small. "I know it has been rather too full a day to finish with a... a negotiation of our positions, together, but- but at the very least, I think, we have agreed that we- we would like to try. To try to- to be, together. If it would not trouble you to-"
"I did not wish to press past your own comfort." Arum winces, makes a rumbling noise in his chest with his frill fluttering, and then he takes another step closer. "That's all. If this... if you do not mind my presence-"
"Oh for Saints' sake," Rilla mutters, and then she simply turns and tips herself over like a falling tree, bouncing to land on the bed with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, already," she says, her eyes already closed as she scrabbles with a hand to snatch the sheet and pull it closer. "Whole point is that we're fucking exhausted, and I'm too tired to pretend that I don't want the both of you where I can reach you, even if we haven't put words on it yet."
Damien's heart swells, Rilla's breathy, lazy, slipping-towards-sleep voice so familiar and safe, even in such a strange place. Arum takes another step closer with a small laugh, his frill settling and his own eyes full of something that Damien recognizes after a moment as fondness. Damien bites his lip, as if that will do anything at all to stifle the size of his emotions, and then he reaches a hand out to help Rilla untangle the sheet.
She grabs his wrist and pulls, though, and Damien doesn't have the presence of mind (or the inclination, truly) to resist, and he stumbles sideways to collapse beside Rilla, yelping as he goes. Rilla mutters wordlessly, tugging Damien closer with one hand and pressing her head into his shoulder, and Damien could not suppress his smile for the whole of the world as he curls his arms around her, settling helplessly against the softness of the bed.
He glances up, over Rilla's shoulder, and Arum-
The amount of desire in Arum's vivid, violet eyes knocks the breath from Damien's lungs. He stares down at them, his hands still fisted tight in the fabric of his cape, his frame held so carefully still, and then as Damien catches his gaze he exhales a breath, his tongue flicking in the air.
Rilla makes another grumbling noise, stretching her other arm - the one not clinging to Damien's back - out across the bed, in the vague direction of Lord Arum, though her eyes do not open again. Damien laughs lightly, and then he meets Arum's eyes again.
Arum hesitates, frill fluttering again, but then Rilla makes another, slightly angrier noise, and Damien draws his hands soothingly down her back with another breath of laughter.
"I very much doubt she will let either of us rest, Lord Arum, unless you come join us," he says, keeping his tone teasing and light, and Arum laughs as well.
"She is... rather stubborn," the monster mutters, fond again, and Rilla finally cracks an eye open to glare at him. "Alright," he shakes his head, "alright."
He follows the grasping direction of Rilla's other hand, slipping onto the bed on the side opposite Damien and letting her draw her palm down his bicep, down his forearm before she grips his scaled hand and squeezes with a contented sigh, finally settling against the softness beneath them.
"Better?" Damien murmurs, his lips close beside Rilla's temple, and she sighs again, nodding slightly.
"Stubborn," Arum murmurs again, draping himself out on the bed beside Rilla, but when he leaves a careful degree of space between them, Rilla rolls closer. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, then tugs his hand to settle over her heart with an impatient huff. "Amaryllis-"
"Shush. We're sleeping. Want you closer. Manage feelings in the morning."
Arum glances over her head with a raised eyebrow, and Damien smiles helplessly, and then he- he decides that Rilla is right. He shifts closer as well, folding himself along Rilla's back and wrapping an arm around her so he may do as he wishes, and curl his hand around Rilla and Arum's own, clasped by her collarbone.
Arum exhales, shaky with a hint of a rattle at the back of his throat. "Ridiculous," he mutters unconvincingly, and then with his free hand he reaches and tugs up the sheet, arranging it to rest properly over all three of them before he settles.
It feels... easy, Damien realizes with some surprise. The complication, the tangled web woven between all of them, the friction and lack of understanding and the fear (or worry, at the very least); it will all return with the morning, Damien suspects.
Right now, though. Right now, in this moment, in the haze of exhaustion but with the assurance that they are all three of them together, whole, and safe, finally safe- that they are willing to look each other in the eye and speak their hearts, that they may rest upon each other, may tangle their hands between them-
It feels easy, to brush his thumb across Rilla and Arum's knuckles, twined together. It feels easy to let the weariness carry him deeper, closer to slumber, tucked warm beside his forever-flower and Lord Arum.
With time, Damien thinks, and with patience, perhaps they might make all of the troubles between them feel easy, as well.
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tumblepounce · 9 months ago
Munkustrap tries to escape from his "Bedtime Protection Squad" that wants him to go to bed and sleep for once
This is hysterical and I am 100% here for it. Poor Munk just needs some sleep but he is his own worst enemy. Thankfully the “Bedtime Protection Squad” is here to help.
Fic under the cut. Thank you for the prompt!
They were waiting for him. Like coiled vipers in the night they silently skulked in the shadows, circling him at every turn and waiting for the moment when he dropped his guard. They were a highly skilled group, well versed in the arts of deception, subterfuge, camouflage and pursuit of their prey. A lesser cat would break out into a cold sweat at the very thought of being the target of such a powerful foe.
Munkustrap knew this better than anyone. After all, he had trained most of them.
The Jellicle Protector ducked down behind the rusted hubcap he was currently using as a shield. The evening had started innocently enough. Alonzo had joined him up on the tire for the beginnings of the nightly watch, his presence warm and comforting, and it looked like it was going to be a peaceful night under the beautiful starry sky.
Then Munk had yawned. It had crept up on him. As soon as he had done it he knew it would be his downfall.
“Tired?” Alonzo had asked, face carefully composed.
“I’m fine. Just relaxed.” He had replied.
“Mmm. You know, I can keep watch for the night. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I’m fine.” Munk had repeated, a little more forcefully this time.
“When was the last time you slept?” There it was. The tom was looking at him suspiciously.
“It is irrelevant to our current conversation and our present situation.” This statement only made Alonzo narrow his eyes more. He should have known that using the big words would only make the tom more suspicious.
“I see.” Never had two words been so sinister.
Instead of replying Munk had simply left, hoping that if he moved fast enough he could put some distance between himself and Alonzo, who looked like he was about to do something drastic. Whatever Alonzo had in mind was not something he was interested in sticking around for.
Apparently what Alonzo had in mind involved several other cats because before Munk knew it he was being hunted by the very cats he considered his friends. It was a very unsettling feeling mixed with a bit of pride because, well, Alonzo had organized a search party and they were all working together in harmony to achieve their goal. Seeing such teamwork brought a tear to his eye.
Of course, they were all searching for him so that kind of dampened the mood but Munk still made a mental note to ask Alonzo later how he managed to assemble the cats in such a sort amount of time. If there was some sort of secret summoning phrase he wanted to know about it so he could make use of it in the future.
“How long has it been this time?” Plato’s voice interrupted his thoughts. The tom was standing in the clearing and doing a poor job of remaining concealed. Mentally Munk made a note to train him on the arts of concealment once they stopped hunting him.
“Too long.” Alonzo replied, also standing out in the open with his white fur glowing under the moonlight. “Jenny’s got the stopwatch, we’ll have to check with her.”
Munk ducked down again as their gaze drifted around the clearing. Plato, while still inexperienced, had a lot of potential. Underneath that gentle exterior was a tom made of solid muscle capable of lifting a full grown tom over his head and throwing them a considerable distance. Once he got a hold on someone it was nearly impossible to escape. Munk had found that out the hard way when he first underestimated him in training.
“Is Munk going to be okay?” Plato asked.
“Yes, he’ll be fine once we get him situated.” Alonzo huffed. “I can’t believe that this is what we have to resort to. You’d think our leader would set a better example.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“Found him!” Munk felt his heart leap into his throat as a pair of golden arms wrapped around his chest.
“Well done Demeter!” Alonzo cried as both himself and Plato ran over.
Munk struggled against Demeter’s hold. Now she was a tricky one. Years of evading Macavity had given her a silent tread, allowing her to sneak up on many an unsuspecting cat. Unsuspecting cats like Munk who had been distracted by an inane conversation that was now obviously a plot to keep his attention elsewhere while Demeter snuck up on him. Once more he would have been impressed if he wasn’t currently a prisoner.
With as much delicacy as he could muster Munk twisted around and broke out of Demeter’s hold, picking her up and throwing her at Alonzo and Plato before running off in the opposite direction. It hurt him to do so but he had no choice. Hopefully she would understand.
“Argh!” Plato and Alonzo grunted as Demeter knocked them both over.
“He threw me, he actually threw me-” Demeter’s cry of indignation was lost as Munk hightailed it out of there.
Eventually he found solitude at the edge of the junkyard. Wearily he eyed a ratty yet inviting armchair. Regretfully he continued past it. If he sat still for too long they would find him and… and… why was he being chased again? It was difficult to arrange his thoughts, especially since most of his focus had to be spent on keeping his uncooperative legs moving.
“Oh, right, they’re after me.” He said aloud. “They want me to sit down. Or something.”
Eventually his pursuers would all go to sleep and he could continue his work. Whatever that was.
What was he doing again? Munk tread the familiar path around the perimeter of the junkyard as he tried to remember what he had been working on. The escape had left him tired and feeling vaguely fuzzy. Maybe he just needed to sit down for a moment.
“Maybe I need to sit down for a moment.” He said to an owl perched on a post. It blinked at him but did not reply. “Well I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
Suddenly an ear piercing, yet very on key, cry of alarm echoed through the skies. Munk looked up to see Jemima perched on top of a lookout post acting as a legitimate siren to call the others to their location.
“Jemima, I thought you were on my side.” He lamented once his hearing returned.
“I am!” She said brightly.
“Then why-”
“There he is!”
“Get him!”
“Aim for his knees!” The last voice was Alonzo’s, clear and commanding and strong. If Munk wasn’t about to kill him he would have congratulated him for his newfound confidence.
Something akin to a freight train hit him at the knees, sending him crashing into the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Again, an impressive effort and certainly one worth praising if Munk hadn’t been on the receiving end of it.
“Sorry Munk, but it’s for your own good.” Plato apologetically held on to his legs with an incredibly strong grip. Yes, unfortunately his Jellicle Protector training had paid off.
Munk looked up at his captors.
“Why?” He asked.
“You know why.” Alonzo crossed his arms and started down at him. Next to him Jemima stifled a giggle.
“You’ve been awake for, oh, let’s see, how long has it been?” Demeter turned to Jennyanydots, who had joined the crusade.
“Fifty three hours, seventeen minutes and thirty two seconds.” Jenny had the audacity to hold up a stopwatch.
“That’s not too bad.” Munk mused. He had gone longer without sleep. Of course, he couldn’t remember when or exactly why but it surely had to have been important. Maybe. It was hard to remember much at the moment now that he was horizontal. When was the last time he had laid down?
“Fifty three hours, eighteen minutes and twelve seconds ago.” Jenny informed him.
Must have spoken that last question out loud.
“You did.” Alonzo replied.
Munk frowned. Was he just randomly voicing every thought now?
“Yes.” Plato said helpfully from around his knees.
“Okay, this is a little much.” Munk said. “Why can’t I do my job in peace?”
“Because you don’t ever take a break.” Alonzo replied.
“You’re running yourself ragged.” Demeter answered.
“It’s very bad for your health.” Jenny admonished.
“You get kind of funny when you’re really tired, but not in a good way.” Plato observed.
“You spent ten minutes staring at that owl.” Jemima added.
“Ten minutes?” Munk blinked.
“Right. We’re wasting time.” Alonzo firmly grabbed Munk’s shoulders. “Bedtime Protection Squad, on to phase two.”
“Excuse me, Bedtime what- hey!” Munk was suddenly hauled into the air by Plato and Alonzo, who had no trouble at all carrying him back into the junkyard. Demeter, Jemima and Jenny formed a three point perimeter around the toms in case Munk managed to get away. Not that he could struggle much at this point. Vaguely he felt like an offering being carried to a sacrificial altar.
“That’s a little dramatic, dear.” Jenny said.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“You did.” Plato said. “You’ve been saying a lot of stuff out loud.”
“What does ‘sacrificial’ mean?” Jemima asked.
“Well, here we are!” Alonzo declared a little too loudly. “Home sweet home. On to phase three everyone.”
Phase three involved bodily throwing Munk down on his bed and having everyone pile on top of him. Again the team effort was admirable, especially since everyone had a designated limb to hold on to. Jemima ended up curled on his torso, which was nice, except that now he was officially pinned and couldn’t move a muscle.
“Good job.” Alonzo said from his position on Munk’s left leg. “Now for phase four.”
“What in the-” Demeter gently shushed him.
Jemima cleared her throat and, with her most clear and soothing voice she could achieve, began to sing a lullaby. Everyone around her relaxed at her sweet song.
Munk tried to resist, he really did, but the combination of being horizontal and surrounded by those that loved him was too much. With a soft sigh his eyes drifted shut, the lullaby carrying him away into an unwilling, yet incredibly comfortable sleep. Maybe next time he wouldn’t fight so much.
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hotchscotchh · 11 months ago
Are We On a Date Right Now?
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Hi! This is my first time writing anything that’s not for a grade hehe That being said, I would really appreciate any and all feedback :) I wasn’t exactly sure where to start with this so I took a prompt that I found in a post by @wishiwasanavenger-archive​ . I think I might write a few more oneshots with these prompts.
Prompt: “Are We On a Date Right Now?”
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid
Warnings: Mentions of child abduction, fluff
Word count: 1.7k
Read on AO3
It had been a long case. Four children had been abducted from the same street, leaving the team to deal with four extremely emotional sets of parents who meant well, but got in the way of the investigation.
They got lucky this time, though. Well, lucky may not be the right word. The kids were alive, families reunited, but the lasting damage on those kids… It was too much for Spencer to think about. These cases always got to him, more so after finding the truth about Riley Jenkins.
Hotch looked up from his work to check on his teammates. He always felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for them, no matter where they were. Especially Reid. He noticed Spencer staring into space out the jet window, looking as if a light breeze might push the tears from his eyes. Hotch knew that Spencer often retreated into himself after a difficult case such as this, and it would result in Spencer refusing to reach out to anyone and him harboring his emotions. This meant someone would have to reach out to him.
Hotch slid out of his seat and into the one opposite Spencer. Looking at the man in front of him, he couldn’t believe that this is what had come of the kid Gideon had brought him. “Reid,” he whispered, trying to get his attention without waking any of his sleeping teammates. Reid startled and made eye contact before looking away and wiping the tears from his eyes. Hotch had every intention of starting a conversation with Reid and working through this issue on the spot, but when he went to speak, all that came out of his mouth was “come to dinner with me tonight.” Spencer looked up at his boss with wide eyes, surprised at the request, and nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t break if he spoke. Hotch smiled at him and relaxed back into his seat.
The jet landed at 3 am, but Aaron had every intention of holding true on his plans with Spencer. Once they were both settled in the front of Hotch’s SUV, heat all the way up because December in Virginia is cold, Aaron asked Spencer where he wanted to go for dinner. “There’s this super good Indian restaurant. It’s a little ways away, but it’s open 24 hours and they have amazing chicken tandoori. If that’s ok with you, of course,” he had replied, blushing. Aaron knew of the place Spencer was talking about, he had heard him talking to Seaver and Morgan about it a few weeks before, and immediately looked it up. Hotch decided tonight sounded like a wonderful night to be eating Indian at 3 am and smiled and put the car in reverse in lieu of responding.
Reid rambled about who knows what the whole way to the restaurant, and Hotch just smiled. He loved hearing Spencer ramble happily, it always seemed like the man was completely in his element. When they stopped at a stoplight Hotch finally looked over at Spencer and decided that maybe watching was better than just listening. It was in that moment that Hotch realized that this little crush he had on his subordinate may be getting out of hand.
Entering the restaurant, Hotch held the door open for Reid, telling him to find them a seat, he would order for them. Reid smiled back at him shyly, looking please that Hotch knew him well enough to be able to place their order without asking what he wanted. Hotch stepped up to the counter and placed an order for two servings of chicken tandoori, assuming that if it was good enough for Spencer, it was good enough for him. He looked around to find Reid, deciding that if he didn’t start their conversation about the case now, he probably wouldn’t.
Sitting down, he looked at Reid and said, “talk to me.” “About what,” Spencer replied attempting to appear as if he had no idea what his boss was talking about. Aaron gave him a look that said that Spencer should know exactly what he meant, and he did. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about it. Spencer finally heaved a sigh and broke their eye contact, having lost the intense stare down that had begun between them. “I’m not exactly sure what bothers me so much about these cases,” he began. “It’s not like I’ve been through anything that allows me to relate to the victims, nor do I have any children of my own to imagine in their place. I don’t know what the reason is Hotch, but I do know that these cases take so much out of me that I can’t let myself feel right now or I’m going to break down.” Hotch vaguely heard their order number being called in the background. He waited until Spencer made eye contact with him again and silently stood, motioning for Spencer to follow him. He grabbed their order and walked out. After securing their food in the back seat of the car, he rounded the front of it coming around to stand in front of Spencer. Spencer was beginning to worry that he had said something wrong when Hotch pulled him into a bone crushing hug, placing his hand on the back of Spencer’s neck. “Let go, Spencer. You can feel. I’m not going to judge you for breaking down. It’s okay to be upset, you don’t always need to have a reason. These cases get to all of us, whether we are able to relate to them or not. Children are so innocent, they do no wrong, but these monsters still do unthinkable things to them. Remember that we are the ones that have the privilege of hunting the bastards and putting them in jail. It’s okay to be upset.” It was then that Spencer finally hugged Hotch back, holding onto him as if he were the only thing anchoring him to this reality, succumbing to his tears.
After that night, Aaron realized that Spencer rarely let himself feel like that. He didn’t allow himself to let out the pent-up feelings of anger, grief, and sorrow for the victims of these cases. He decided that he had to be the one to help him let them go. Shared meals became a regular thing for them. They made a habit of going out for lunch together at least once a week and going to dinner to talk things through after particularly rough cases. Hotch even made an effort to invite Spencer to do things with him and Jack, like going to the museum, or the zoo. Aaron could tell that Reid appreciated having an excuse to not be locked up by himself in his apartment, and Jack loved having a walking encyclopedia and his own personal magician.
Once Saturday evening, Aaron decided that he was going to attempt to let Spencer know his feelings. He sent a text saying, “Dinner tonight? Just you and me. No work talk.” Spencer had replied, “That sounds absolutely wonderful. Pick me up at 7?” “I’ll be there.”
Spencer was buttoning his dress shirt when he heard a knock at the door. He had decided that for tonight he wanted to dress more casually than he usually did. Even on his outings with both Aaron and Jack he had opted to wear his usual work clothes. But tonight was different. Aaron had said no work talk. So that meant casual. Spencer had spent a long time thinking about what he was going to wear. He even considered calling Penelope or JJ for advice, but he knew they would demand to know where he was going and with who. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell them about this yet. He wasn’t even sure he knew what “this” really was. In the end, he settled on a lavender dress shirt with the top few buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of pressed black slacks. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time before taking a deep breath and going to open the door. When the door was fully opened and he got a good look at his superior, they were both breathless. Hotch was dressed in a similar fashion, his usual work getup without the tie and suit jacket. Aaron caught himself staring and looked up to catch Spencer’s eye. “Good evening,” he greeted with a smile. “Ever the gentleman,” Spencer replied, stepping out of the doorway and allowing Aaron to lead him outside. “Where are we going tonight?” “That’s for me to know, and you to inevitably guess five minutes into the drive there,” Aaron answered, feigning annoyance.
Aaron was right, Spencer did guess. And he was right, of course. Aaron had decided to take him to a small intimate Italian place that Rossi had recommended. When they got there, they talked about anything and everything, except work of course, ranging from JJ’s pregnancy to the topic of the newest paper Spencer was working on. After their meal, they ordered desert. There was a moment after they ordered where the two of them sat in a comfortable silence, contentedly making eye contact, when Aaron rested his hand on top of Spencer’s. Spencer began to move his hand under Aaron’s, and for a brief moment, Aaron had begun to think he made the wrong move. However, Spencer was merely moving his hand to lace his fingers with Aaron’s. “Aaron,” Spencer started. “Spencer,” Aaron replied when Spencer didn’t say anything else. Spencer looked up from their joined hands and said, “Are we on a date right now?” “I sure hope so,” was Aaron’s reply.
When Aaron walked Spencer up to his apartment that night, they stood before the door holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes (which they obviously knew was a very cheesy cliché). Aaron brought his hand up to cup Spencer’s cheek and glanced down at his lips before looking back into his eyes and saying, “can I kiss you?” And the only answer Spencer could manage was “please.”
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