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nomimits7 · 2 years

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The Egyptian God’s Prey | Finale

Title: The Egyptian god’s prey

Parings: Jimin x OT6BTS

Warnings: Swearing. Mention of death. Mention of Nazi’s. Inaccurate Egyptian’s history… I improvised. Mention of kidnap, kind of (he ends up stranded). Severe sunburn. Kind of incest ( The Egyptians gods sometimes married their siblings). Talk about death and killing. They open up about their past.

Summary: The boys finally come to the point where they try to find Jimin’s god. With a stroke of luck Khonsu is not exactly what they expected.

Chapter 14

The time has finally come to try and figure out how to unlock Jimin’s own god for good. The rest of the boys had no idea what he would look like or if he would even be happy about being unlocked. Heck, they might even never be able to get Jimin’s true power to come forth. Nun alone knew how much damage Jimins’ mothers schemes did to him.

The hardest part of this whole operation would be telling Jimin about his true nature first, and then failing. There is always the option of just trying and explaining things later, but that has risks of its own. What happens if his god decides to completely overrule Jimin himself? What if Jimin goes on a revenge streak??? How do you stop a powerful newborn god? Easy, you can’t.

Most people know of the mysterious city of Atlantis. Yeah, well let’s just say that one particular newborn deity had a few things to prove. They were there the day Atlantis disappeared. It was horrible to witness. It took more gods than they would ever care to admit to take that deity down. Noone dares to even speak of those events. Its a black spot in history that they would very much like to keep hidden from humans.

Back to the problem at hand. Everyone was gathered in Hoseok's room. It was the most comfortable place to be. Besides, Namjoon has never been in this room for more than a few minutes and everyone agreed that he at least needed to feel how soft the couches are. Jimin has made it his personal mission to assure that Namjoon stays comfortable. He was like a little koala. He refused to let go of Namjoon. That’s how Namjoon found himself almost dozing off. He has never felt this warm.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi decided it was time to get rid of the everlasting tension they all could feel. He briefly made eye contact with the rest of the gods, receiving small encouraging smiles before he turned to the two cuddling on the other couch. Namjoon shifted slightly, forcing Jimin to sit a bit more upright. This also helped get rid of any sleepiness that could be creeping up on them.

“Jimin. There is one final deity we need to introduce you to” Yoongi began. Those words alone were enough to get Jimin's attention. He immediately sat up with excitement as his eyes sparkled with glee.

“Oh really? I thought there were only six of you in this house! Have you been hiding someone from me?” Jimin slightly teased as he looked at all of them for any indication of the answer.

“Well, not exactly. You see this god is someone you know very well. You might even have spoken to them before without even knowing it” Jungkook said as he nervously looked to the rest for support. Jimin was confused. Very confused by the pout he had on his face. “Okay? Um, can you give me a hint, or something?” Jimmin asked as he shifted into a more relaxed position next to Namjoon.

“He is the god of the moon. He is associated with youth and he is also seen as a traveller god. In his human form he looks extremely young. He has fair skin and the eyes of an angel, if they even existed. He is a master of dance. He is at his strongest when it is a full moon out. He is also the son of Mut and Amun” Namjoon answered as he watched Jimin carefully.

“I don’t understand what you are implying,” Jimin said wearily.

“Jimin, you are not who you were told to be,” Seokjin said. His gaze sad as he watched every emotion possible pass over Jimin's face. Jimin was quiet and that made all of them very nervous. There was no telling what was going through his mind at that stage.

Jimin, on the other hand, was stunned. He had a nagging feeling that he knew exactly what they were talking about, but he just could not make a definite connection. Jimin was slowly beginning to lose his mind. Of this he was almost certain. There is no way he could be anything other than a normal human. He would have noticed if he lived for more than an average lifespan of a human. Where were all the past records of him then? How did he forget them? No, they are wrong. They have to be.

“Jimin, we were there. We saw you in every lie of a life you lived. You even said we looked familiar a few weeks back. Hoseok was your history professor, Mr J. Taehyung was your principal, Mr Kim. Yoongi was his secretary, Mr Min. Jungkook was the psychology teacher and the driver, Mr Jeon. Seokjin was the doctor that took care of your mother, Dr Sj. I was Taehyung's brother. We saw you through every single decade you have lived through” Namjoon said with a hint of desperation.

“You- you brought me here?” Jimin said in disbelief. He was suddenly assaulted with a flood of memories that finally made sense. He finally knew why they felt familiar…

…“Ah, sure thing Mr Kim. Go right ahead” Mr J said, as cheerful as ever, only adding to the list of reasons why Jimin could hold his composure so well around the history teacher. This man just never knew how to stop smiling, did he? His blond hair made him resemble the sun itself, which did not help his case. Sometimes when you stare long enough, you can even get a glimpse of red hidden between those beautiful blond locks. He even once denied being close resemblance to the sun. Yet, the students still call him Mr Sunshine in the halls…

…“Jimin. I received some disturbing news this morning and it saddens me to have to be the one to inform you. Your mother has been sick for some time, hasn’t she? Dr Sj Kim called a few minutes ago. He said that when he went to give her a check-up, they could not find a pulse. She never woke up this morning. They tried to get her back, but sadly she was already gone. I am so sorry Jimin” Mr Kim said as he finally looked up from his hands… …“Mr Kim requested for you to go home and rest. He has taken it upon himself to make all the necessary arrangements for your mothers’ burial. She helped this school a lot more than most people know. He also said that he’ll ask his older brother to help sort out any issues that may arise. I have asked Mr Jeon to take you home. Good luck kid and I am sorry for your loss, just know, whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours isn’t true. It’s not your fault. And believe it or not, you aren’t as alone as you think” Mr Min said before leaving Jimin alone…

…On the way home from school, Mr Jeon listened to his rambling and even gave him a tight hug right before he left the teen alone. Mr Jeon was always a good listener, maybe it comes with his job as the school counsellor as well as being the psychology teacher…

…Mr Kim and his brother came by a few times to get all the arrangements in order. According to them they wanted to honour her memory or something…

Tears ran down Jimins cheeks as the memories flew through his very being. He could not believe that these people he had come to trust could have kept this from him. Jimin wasn’t even mad that they never told him that they were there when his mother died. No, Jimin felt betrayed by them. They knew what he could possibly be, yet they chose to remain quiet. Why? He did not know.

“Jimin, I know you think we kept this from you for sinister reasons but trust me that is not why we didn’t say anything until now. He needed you to get use to the idea of deities before we drop a bomb like this one. We knew you would need support if we were to tell you. Someone you could relate to. Would you have believed us if you hadn't seen us in our true forms first?” Seokjin pleaded. They were desperate to let Jimin see their side. Their intentions of not hurting him more than they already have.

Jimin knew he was right. He would never have believed them if they were to tell him that he was an ancient Egyptian god or something. He would have thought they were crazy. Heck he still thinks they are bad shit crazy for living in the fucking desert. He could see why they did things the way they did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I know you don’t trust us any more, but please try to understand. He didn’t mean to keep it from you for any other reason other than making it easier for you to understand” Taehyung said as he leaned forward slightly. The good thing during this whole exchange was that Jimin was still clutching onto Namjoon. He has not made any move to get away, which meant he was hurt, but not to the point of distrust.

“I still trust you” Jimin whispered as he looked up to meet their eyes. They could see the hurt in them, which stung like a bitch.

“We’re so sorry Jimin. We’ll help you regain your lost deity. Even if it's the last thing we do. We are so sorry for all the hurt and pain you have suffered” Yoongi said as he reached out his hand to squeeze Jimin’s knee. Jimin could only nod as he basked in the feeling of being cared for. He never wanted to feel anything other than this ever again. All of the emotions finally caught up to Jimin and before he could even process what was happening, he was full on sobbing. He was crying (again) for everything he had experienced in this life. For every lie he has been told. For everything he could have had if his mother just made the right choice when she could.

“Let us try to help you, please” Namjoon whispered into Jimin's hair as he hugged the sobbing boy. Jimin could only nod as he was held. He was overcome with the feeling of deja vu, but he could care less. Taehyung and Namjoons hugs are more important than reasoning why he kept on crying in serious moments.

“Okay. Jimin we don’t know if this will do anything, but here, take these crystals. Apparently they can take away whatever is keeping your god locked up. I believe his name is Khonsu?” Hoseok said as he reached for the crystals. Jimin had a moment of clarity at that name. He knows that god. This is the same god he kept dreaming about. The one his mother only briefly mentioned.

…Jimin used to dream about Khonsu. Even if his mother never told him what Khonsu looked like, he knew exactly how he would look if Khonsu were to be blessed with Jimin’s looks. If Jimin had to describe his appearance, it would be in the lines of a mighty bull during the new moon. Powerful and fearless. Sometimes he even appeared as a young man with a sidelock, or long braid on the side of his head. Jimin always thought about growing out his hair, but he never actually did it. He would be the embodiment of the crescent moon’s light…

…Khonsu’s name meant ‘decider of lifespan’ linking him to time and sometimes even fertility. A concept Jimin really liked. Imagine being in control of someone’s life span, or even determining if they would have offspring or not. There was one aspect of Khonsu that Jimin kind of related to but hated seeing himself that way, Khonsu was seen as terrifying and violent due to his status of ‘new god’ and his arrogance that came with it. Jimin was arrogant, but he would never admit to it. Jimin often dreamed of Khonsu as a blood-thirsty deity that would help deceased kings find other gods and devour their hearts. He never hesitated to take what he felt he deserved. Much like Jimin himself. Minus all the blood and eating of hearts, Jimin kind of related to Khonsu on a spiritual level. That might explain why he dreamed of the god so often…

“I know this god. Mother used to tell stories about a moon god, but she rarely answered any of my questions. I also used to dream of him. Are you telling me that I have been seeing my deity part without knowing it? Isn’t he like a bloodthirsty god? The one that ate the hearts of deceased kings?” Jimin asked a little hesitant as he reached for the crystals.

“The humans described him like that, yes, but that was only because he was a fairly new god when the invasion happened. I don’t even recall ever meeting your god. That is how briefly he was known before all went to hell” Jungkook said as he watched Jimin take the crystals.

The moment of truth was upon them. Now they would hopefully be able to meet Khonsu. They already knew that they would let Jimin stay with them, regardless if this works or not. He was now theirs. They would teach him everything he needs to know about being a god. They would do what his mother was supposed to do. They would take care of him.

At first nothing happened. They could do nothing else but hold their breaths as they stared at Jimin. Carefully looking for any signs that something was happening. All they could see was a big ball of nothingness. It was kind of disappointing. They really wanted this to work. They all thought that that was it, until Jimin looked up.

Jimin’s eyes were glowing a bright blue. The air around them suddenly felt more charged than before. Jimin didn’t say anything as he kept on staring at seemingly nothing. It was fascinating to see, fascinating yet concerning. Jimin slowly got up and started making his way back to the balcony where he nearly fell to his death. The concern only grew as the rest could only follow. Each one of them were curious to see where this whole ordeal was heading.

Jimin on the other hand, was going into a trance. He felt as if he was locked in a room that played multiple movies at once. Each one was him in a different time and in each one he was dancing under the moonlight. He felt a sense of pride rise up in his chest as he watched in fascination how his previous lives all linked. His mother was also there. All of them had a few things in common. Him dancing and his mother forcing him to forget by taking him to another woman. Moneta.

Jimin could see it all. The deeds his mother did back in ancient egypt when he was an actual little boy. The fall of the entirety of Egyptian gods. The deal she made with Moneta. The lies she told him to keep him docile. The hurt he felt was quickly replaced by anger. How could she do this to him? How could she hurt her son just for her own greed? She deserved to die. Infact her death was a mercy.

Once everything came to an end, Jimin was face to face with Khonsu. His deity. His own reflection. Khonsu was magnificent up close. Jimin could feel how powerful Khonsu was. He had this air around him. If he were given the proper chance back then, he would have been one strong god.

Khonsu just stared back at Jimin. His eyes are just as blue as Jimin’s own. Without a word he began to move to a silent melody. He was dancing before Jimin. Khonsu, a deity, was dancing for Jimin. Jimin felt compelled to match his movements. They soon moved in tangent with each other. It was almost as if they were one. Every move Khonsu made, Jimin's body automatically followed. Every step Jimin took Khonsu followed.

The rest of the boys could also see their little dance. The only difference was that they could only see Jimin. They saw his movements as he moved across the balcony. They also could see the blue in his eyes shine brighter with every step. It was pretty clear that the dance was a duet, a duet that looked complete even with Jimin dancing alone.

Once the dance came to an end, Jimin and Khonsu's foreheads touched and Jimin’s entire body glowed as they truly became one. Jimin became Khonsu and Khonsu became Jimin. Before anyone else could react Khonsu stood before them. The moonlight danced around him as he slowly opened his eyes to look at the rest of the boys. A sense of excitement mixed with a slight pang of fear spread through each of the boys as they gazed at the deity. He was beautiful.

Khonsu observed them for a while before he bowed his head. His eyes held no hatred or anger as he kept on staring at them even with his head bowed. The rest could do nothing but bow their own heads in return. The moment felt strangely intimate but no one was complaining.

“Thank you” Khonsu said as he looked up again. In a blink of an eye Jimin stood before them. He was still slightly glowing as he gasped. He still looked like the same Jimin they picked up in the desert, yet he was different.

“I saw everything,” Jimin said as he reached out for them. Once again he had tears in his eyes. This time though it was tears of joy. He knew he was going to be okay this time. He finally found himself.

“We got you. Welcome home Jimin”

#BTS au #nomimits7 #bts ot7 x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Egyptian AU #egyptian series #member x member #memebers only

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

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yay for the open requests! I really reallyyyyyy love your Harry's older sister hc, could u pretty pls do more? like their brief life as a family with lily and james, then to the dursleys and then at war, so on. I agree with the anon that did the request, harry does needed a bigger sister❤️

aH I LOVED THESE REQUESTS

YOU GUYS CAN READ THE HEADCANONS THIS ANON IS TALKING ABOUT HERE

ok so this is L O N G i need to add a keep reading tab

alright so let's talk about harry's older sister

so lily and james did not plan you

they were straight out of hogwarts

just having fun

and suddenly lily is having morning sickness and james running into a store to buy a pregnancy test (or whatever the wizard equivalent would be 😗)

james would be so nervous the weeks leading up to your birth

he already knows that you aren't even here yet and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you

and when you are born

he swears he'd never love anything as much as he loves you

his little girl

this sweet little lump of baby fat that was born with eyes just like his

he'd put his glasses on your little baby face, and he could laugh for hours at the way they just barely sat on your little nose (a miniature version of his)

your chubby little baby hands are his favorite

when you'd plan your hands on his face or wrap your hand around his finger he'd melt

Lily would joke all the time about how she carried the baby yet James is constantly hogging her

I think james would have some serious separation anxiety

Lily would also have trouble leaving you to go do something but she knew that you getting to see other people would be good

james is NOT a fan

and you were a big daddy's girl

"it's going to be alright, darling, uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony will take care of you."

and you'd respond with sad baby talk, something along the lines of 'daddy' and 'wanna stay with you' and you'd get all teary eyed

it's a whole dramatic scene

youre crying

james is about to cry

Sirius is quite literally trying to sob silently into his hand because you just look so sAD

and remus and lily are just

😐

because you guys do this eVERY TIME

there was one time james got back into the car with lily after dropping you off and he was unusually quiet until he kinda just whispered out

"It just feels like i'll never have enough time with her, like one day i'll wake up and suddenly she's not mine anymore."

his tone gave Lily the worst chills, his tone and the fact that she felt the same though never voiced it

honestly

i don't think harry was planned either

he kinda just happened

and they were like

you know what, yes.

so you were two when harry was born

and you LOVED your baby brother

he was so small

so cute

and he had your mum's green eyes

from the get go you were very protective of your little brother

james thought it was the cutest thing

ok ive been avoiding it

but we need to talk about October 31 1981

you were upstairs with our mum and harry

james was downstairs cleaning up from dinner

that was when there was a knock on the door

assuming it was peter, uncle wormtail, james was quick to go open the door

grabbing his wand for protection was the last thing on his mind

the thud of his body was loud

he was killed before he could even open his mouth to warn Lily

the door to Harry's nursery flew open and it all happened so fast

there was screaming

bargaining

a sudden flash fo green before Voldemort turned to harry

his cold, pale hand pushed you out of his way

the prophecy had said nothing about you, so he didn't care for what happened to you he just needed to kill harry

which obviously backfired

half the house was blown up

he was gone

harry was crying

and you just wanted your dad

you found your way downstairs, just barely making it down the steps

lily and james had never let you go up or down the steps on your own

only to come face to face with your dad just lying on the ground motionless

his eyes were still open

now i want you guys to think of the lion king

you know the scene where simba finds mufasa's dead body and just lays with it because he doesn't know where else to go

you just wanted any kind of comfort you could find

so with tear streaks going down your face you slayed next to your dad, getting as close as you could, hoping he'd just wake up

sirius is the one who finds you, asleep next to james' body

it was rather rough for sirius

and he could hear harry crying somewhere upstairs

you wake up to uncle padfoot trying to keep in his tears as he takes in the scene before him

you're just glad to see a familiar face

you run over to him, tears freshly falling as you wail about how daddy and mommy won't wake up

you also gently pull james' glasses off his face and keeping them in your small hand

keeping them safe for him later

you knew he didn't like to sleep with his glasses on

eventually hagrid shows up

you guys know the story

but i will say

it takes a lot for you to leave uncle pads and go with this big strange man

youre basically heaving as you beg to stay with sirius

and forcing you off his hip and onto the bike with hagrid was the worst thing he's ever had to do

even for a two year old, youre eyes held such a strong emotion of betrayal

sirius would never forget it

the dursley's were not fond of you and harry

you had james temper and stubbornness

harry was just a 6 month old baby

doing 6 month old baby things

for the first month you'd ask for james, lily, uncle moony, uncle padfoot, even uncle wormtail on a daily basis

until one day petunia just snapped

you had asked about sirius, or as you called him uncle padfoot, and petunia lost it

she started to shout, her hand coming out to strike your cheek as she told you that no one was coming

not now

not ever

you never asked after that

over time you forgot about sirius and remus and peter

you forgot about the song your dad would sing every saturday morning when making breakfast

or the way your mom would hum when she brushed your hair

all lily and james had become were familiar scents and the same pair of eyes you'd see in your dreams (though for a long time you just assumed they were your eyes, they looked enough like yours)

and you grew up always feeling like you were on the wrong side of a billowing curtain

you and harry grew up only having each other

you were very protective of him

and dudley hated it

because you had James art for pranks

and his art for rarely getting caught

unfortunately for you petunia and vernon didn't need evidence to incriminate you

you were often on the receiving end of disciplinary swats and missed meals

and you'd often take harry's punishments for him

you and harry were also forced to share a room

or cupboard

you let him decorate it with all his things (he didn't have many)

and you guys shared a bed up until you got your hogwarts letter

which that was kept very quiet

you got the letter

and petunia and vernon were just glad to be able to send you and your pranks away

you weren't allowed to tell harry

but you did anyway

secretly

you didn't tell him all the details but you told him that you were going to a school far away and you'd be back whenever aunt petunia let you back

going to school was interesting

you didn't know anyone

bUT HAGRID WAS ALSO THERE TO HELP YOU AND BUY YOU YOURE STUFF AND HE BOUGHT YOU YOUR FIRST WAND

you still have james' glasses

you put them on when youre nervous

so youre sitting in the train

first day

you don't know anyone

big round glasses sitting on your nose as you look out the window barely able to see what's going on

james was as blind as a bat

on the train you spend your time reading your new books

absorbing all the material

you were not going to just walk into this new school of mAGIC not knowing aNYTHING

by the time you got there you were at leas base level with most subjects

some were easier to catch onto than others

as long as you didn't let the logical side of your brain do too much work

within the first week you'd find out about your parents

curtesy of older gryffindor kids who knew your last name and were just amazed by the story

oH ALSO YOURE IN GRYFFINDOR

AND WHEN MCGONAGALL READS YOUR NAME SHE GASPS TO HERSELF

BECAUSE

Y/N POTTER

she remembers when james had written to her with the news of Lily's pregnancy with you

and how he was nervous you'd come out just like him and he wouldn't be able to handle you as well as she had, he was asking her for advice

and when you walked up to sit on the chair she nearly dropped her scroll of parchment and pulled you into a hug

you looked just like him

dark hair

pale skin

same eyes and eye shape

and same habit of picking at the skin around your thumb nail when nervous

the hat announcing you were a gryffindor was very overwhelming for her

then she realizes you

are e x a c t l y

like james

and merlin is she tiRED OF THIS SHIT

ok so at this point i am going to direct you to the other headcanon (linked above) if you want a more fred x reader approach

continue here if not

so youre on the quidditch team

and youre a natural

let me tell you

you just have the innate ability

much like james

and at first they had you as a seeker

and you were good

but you excelled as a chaser

i also firmly believed that there was a practice broom that james had carved his name into

or maybe just a ‘J.P.’

that was the broom you'd practice on

even use for games before you got your own broom

ok so

let’s talk your relationship with harry

you made sure you were the one to tell him what happened to your parents

as i said it was your first year when you fond out about what happened

the gryffindor student had told you what they knew

and you went to professor mcgonagall pretty distraught

you were near tears as you practically begged her to just tell you what happened, you wanted the truth

because all your life your aunt and uncle had told you that your parents had been killed in a car accident

needless to say

you didn't want harry to find out that way

but you also knew he was noticing the stares

the whispers

so you told him on the first night

he had already been put into gryffindor and was getting ready for bed when you are up to his dorm

bECAUSE IT’S CANON THAT GIRLS CAN GO UP INTO THE BOYS DORMS AND BOYS CANT GO UP INTO THE GIRLS DORMS AND I WILL CITE THE PARAGRAPH IF ANYONE NEEDS

and you kinda push out ron, neville, and dean

but yeah thats how he finds out all the details and such

ok so you and harry are sUPER CLOSE

and you are very

v e r y

protective of harry

you'd do anything for the kid

wHEN YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE WHOLE SORCERER’S STONE FIASCO

YOU ARE LIVID

because harry is your baby brother and you love him so much and don't like seeing him hurt 🥺

as harry grows older he gets a bit more

embarrassed

about having you protective over him

and im pretty sure i mentioned this in the last headcanon post

but yeah he’d be like 14 and you'd be 17 and he'd just

“stOP this is so emBARRASSING”

what a little dweeb

ok leTS TALK ABOUT SIRIUS

BECAUSE YOU AND SIRIUS WERE CLOSE WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER

HE WAS UNCLE PADFOOT

YOU LOVED HIM

until your fifth year (harry’ third) when you were told he betrayed your parents and got them killed

youre in the whomping willow when with harry, hermione, and ron

its a lot for both of you

because sirius is seeing his goddaughter who looks just like james, and his the same fire in her eyes as his bestrfriend

his b r o t h e r

and youre seeing the man who was responsible for your parents murder

again

it was A LOT

i have a feeling you, JAMES POTTERS DAUGHTER, would just lunge at him

and youre crying

trying to hit him

hurt him like he hurt you

just anything to bring pain upon this man

and sirius is having flashbacks of when you had ran to him from next to james’ lifeless body

and how different everything had been just days prior to October 31 1981

upon finding out the truth

scammers is now wormtail

peter ‘little bitch ass’ pettigrew

you and harry are immediately forming this connection

this sort of dependency on sirius

within a few minutes

because he is the only living connection you have to your dad

apart from yourselves of course

but eh was the only reminder that james potter was a real man

and lily potter did exist

and there was a time where your family was complete

it never crossed your mind that any more misfortune could strike

not now

not when you finally got back your uncle pads

and then you guys walk into the moonlight, the full moon light

everything flips instantly

you guys are back to square one

i like to think you have a very big part in getting sirius free

so you guys know what happen in between prisoner of azkaban and order of the phoenix

and this headcanon is already getting very long and we haven't even gotten to the wAR YET

so we are doing a little time jump

order of the phoenix

your last year

you are living with sirius in grimmauld place

petunia and vernon kicked you out once you turned 17 after finding out that was the legal age in the wizarding world

you and sirius are close

super close

i mean he is like a father figure to you

he is uncle pads again

oOO AND OK

AFTER FINDING OUT HIS DAD AND HIS BROS 😤

WERE ALL UNREGISTERED ANIMAGI

OBVIOUSLY YOU WANTED TO BE ONE TOO

youre a gazelle

it just makes sense

father figure sirius is not happy when he finds out

uncle pads, however, couldn't be happier

its finally starting to feel like a family again

you and harry have sirius

aLSO REMUS

icon

anyway

everything is falling into place

you and harry are filling the james sized hole in Sirius’ heart (not completely but it’s better)

and he is doing the same for you two

you and harry love your uncle pads

then the battle in the department of mysteries happens

youre there

you see it

you watch as bellatrix hits sirius with a curse

youre not sure which

nothing too serious you hope, and seeing that he’s still standing he should be fine

but then he stumbles

she's stunned him perhaps

and he makes eye contact with you

there was a look so final, so sad

yet so relieved in his eyes as you watched him fall through the veil

remus grabbed harry

tonks held you

if she hadn’t been you knew you would've thrown yourself into the veil after him

its a whirlwind from then on let me tell you

so we know what happens

all that fun stuff

the war hits

harry, hermione, and ron leave

youre left with the weasley’s

it’s hard being away from harry

not knowing if he was ok

if he was even alive

you guys finally reunite at shell cottage

bill calls you the second he sees harry, hermione, ron, and dobby apparate in front of his house

you were quick to pull harry into a bone crushing hug

keen on never letting go

because after all he is still (and always will be) your baby brother

you guys are all at the battle of hogwarts

oK WAIT

YOU REFUSE TO LET HARRY WALK TO HIS DEATH ALONE

ALSO YOUVE FIGURED WHAT HE PLANS ON DOING BUT NEITHER OF YOU HAVE SAID ANYTHING

NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT THAT THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU GUYS SEE EACH OTHER

AND THE RESURRECTION STONE COMES OUT

BOTH YOU AND HARRY ARE HOLDING ONTO IT

AND SUDDENLY

SIRIUS

REMUS

THERE ALL THERE

EVEN A WOMAN WITH RED HAIR

AND A MAN WHO LOOKS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR

ok so hear me out

i think harry enjoyed looking at pictures of james and lily

but you didnt

you didnt want to see everything that was taken from you

so you weren’t super aware of what your dad actually looked like seeing as you avoided pictures of him and your mom like the plague

but you just knew

and james was standing there

beaming

and he just looked so proud of you and harry

so did lily

she was the first one to say something

“Your father and I are so proud of the both of you”

and you just broke down

james right there with you

he watched as you sobbed, choking on your cries

and he couldn’t do anything about it

he couldn’t hold you or comfort you

he couldn’t be a dad

and it broke him

as much as it could break a dead man

“you’ve grown so beautiful, darling” he'd smile sadly

his voice seemed to bring back all of your memories once lost

“have you always been here, with us?”

“always.”

“typical, your father shows up and everyone forgets about uncle padfoot”

both you and harry laugh at that

but the mood was somber

harry then speaks up

“does it hurt?”

it was the first time either of you had confirmed that you both knew what was going to happen

“dying? not at all, quicker than falling asleep.”

“will you stay with me?”

“until the very end.

james is the one who answers, looking teary eyes at his son

and you know you cant go any further

harry has to do this alone

its quite symbolic actually

the one time you'd let go of the reigns

removed the protective arms you had around your baby brother

he’d die

but you had to do it

so everything goes as planned

harry dies

comes back

we love a resurrecting king

and the war ends

when you got back home from the war

let’s say you are still living at grimmauld place seeing as it was left to you

the first thing you do is go through old photos with harry

any and everything you can get your hands on

you see your mother’s sparkling green eyes

the same eyes your brother had

and your father’s unruly mop of curls

the same wave pattern in your dark hair

everything finally felt right

tags:

@pogueslandia

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@fullofsourgrapes

#harry potter x sister!reader #james potter headcanon #harry potter headcanon #potter!reader

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naranciasimp · 3 years

Note

hey! could i request a prosciutto x female reader scenario where she comes back from a mission clearly hurt and panicked, and is afraid that her crush, prosciutto, is going to scold her so she tries to hide it and fake being well (while not being very good at it)

lots of fluff in the end pros takes care of her.. feel freed to add some things if you want to

I Could Never Be Mad At You

AN: This is probably the longest fanfic I have ever written. This ended up being more of a La Squadra x Reader than just Prosciutto but I hope you like it! Under the cut for length.

You opened the door to La Squadra’s hidden base as quietly as you could. You poked your head around the door to make sure no one was there. Luckily it seemed as though everyone was doing their own thing.

You stumbled through the door while holding your side. You do not know how this happened. You were always so good on missions. You took down enemies left and right. Even Risotto was impressed by your skill.

Sadly, today was the day your winning streak came to an end. You didn’t kill your target, he got away. You felt guilty and nervous. This was going to set the whole team back a pay check, Risotto would have to go out of his way to clean up the mess you made and the other members would probably hate you for at least a month. The one thing you were most scared about was Prosciutto scolding you. You had a feeling he was going to extremely be disappointed and that was the last thing you wanted.

The pain you felt was insane. Everything hurt and you felt like you were on the verge of passing out. You just needed to make it to your room. You kept a secret med kit in there for situations like this.

After stumbling around you finally made it to the door of your room. You reached out to open it when someone appeared behind you. It was Pesci.

“Oh Y/N! You’re back. I didn’t even hear you come in,” he said in a happy tone. From where he was standing he couldn’t see the wounds on your body.

You hummed in response hoping that would be enough for him to leave you alone. You always talked to Pesci. Out of all of La Squadra you were by far the nicest to the boy.

Pesci could tell something was wrong when you didn’t face him with a bright smile like you normally do. “Y/N? Are you ok?”

The room began to go black. You could feel yourself losing consciousness. Before you could respond you felt your head fall back with the rest of your body.

Pesci quickly caught you before you hit the ground. He immediately saw the huge amount of blood covering your stomach. Your arms and legs were covered in gashes. Your head was bleeding and you had a black eye.

Pesci screamed at the sight of your unconscious, bloody, body in his hands. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound.

“Don’t…. tell….. Prosci-” Those were your last words before you passed out again. Of course that didn’t matter now. Pesci screamed and when something happened to him Prosciutto was always the first to show up.

Prosciutto ran to you both. “What happened,” he yelled. He saw Pesci holding what looked to be a girls body.

Pesci face was pale and it looked the most frightened Prosciutto had seen. “Fratello! Help!” Pesci moved so his brother could see what happened.

Prosciutto felt his heart stop. He was a man who stayed calm under pressure, the man who always had a plan, one of the best gang members Passione had ever seen. In this type of situation he would just yell at whoever got hurt to step up their game, patch up their wounds and hand them over to Melone so he could handle the rest. He would later come in to apologize for yelling, tell them he was proud of them and all of that other good stuff.

Now was different. Now it was you. His one weakness. The woman who he would do anything for. The one person he cared about the most.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Pesci stay with her!” Prosciutto ran off to grab one of the medical kits.

“It’s gonna be okay Y/N just stay with us,” Pesci said. He was trying to be brave but the worry in his voice was clear. Prosciutto showed up again. He opened the door to your room and threw the med kit inside.

“Come on Pesci grab her feet, we’re going to put her on her bed.” The two boys easily carried you into your room and gently placed you down.

Prosciutto opened the medical kit and ordered Pesci to go tell Melone what happened. Once the younger boy left Prosciutto began to take off your clothes. He hoped one day he would see you undressed but he did not want it to be like this. Your unconscious body still laid on the bed now in just a bra and underwear.

Now that you were undressed Prosciutto could see all of the wounds you received. The most concerning one was on your stomach. You had been stabbed by something and by the looks of it you opened the wound more by moving.

Prosciutto was not the healer of the team by any means. He knew how to fix simple wounds and he was better at it then others but he didn’t even know where to begin with your wound.

Thankfully Melone was here at base today. He ran to the room with more medical supplies. “Move out of the way,” Melone ordered. Prosciutto did what he asked.

He began to get to work on your wound. Your injury brought a lot more attention to yourself then you would’ve liked. Soon enough the whole entire team was inside the room. There was lots of What happened? Is she ok? And many swear words beginning used.

“Everyone shut up! Risotto and Prosciutto stay here, the rest of you get out now,” Melone shouted. He was never one to lose his temper, that was Ghiaccio’s job. The more La Squadra yelled the more nervous Melone got, he did not want shaky hands while trying to keep you alive.

The whole room went silent and Melone continued his work. Everyone he ordered to leave left. They all sat outside your door waiting until they could come back in. Their “whispering” was incredibly loud but they were really trying their best to behave well.

Melone called Risotto over. “Try to see if you can stop all the iron from leaving her body.” The leader did as he was asked and activated his Stand. Prosciutto stood in the corner of the room waiting for commands from Melone, Risotto used his stand until the purple haired man was finally able to sew up the wound.

After many hours the job was finally completed. Your body was cleaned of dried blood and all the cuts were bandaged up. Risotto slipped off his coat and very gently moved you into it. He had a feeling you would be upset if you woke up and were indecent. Melone cleaned up the room and put away the remaining medical supplies.

Risotto, Melone and Prosciutto left the room. They walked into the hallway and saw all the other men at their feet. They all stood up and faced Melone.

“Y/N is still unconscious. She was badly injured on her mission but we do not know how. Once she wakes we will figure out what happened. For now she just needs to rest. I fixed her up better than any doctor could, I promise you all she’ll be fine.”

The men all let out a sigh in relief. “Can we go see her,” Formaggio asked.

Melone shrugged. “I need to watch over her for the night to make sure nothing bad happens. If you wanted to I suppose you could stay in the room too. But you must be quiet.”

“I’ll spend the night with her too,” Prosciutto said. There was no way he was going to leave you alone in your current state.

“Ok! Does anyone else want to stay with us,” Melone asked.

“I do,” the whole group said in unison. They might be a group of deadly assassins but there was no denying how much they loved and cared for their teammates.

Melone let out a small laugh. “I’m afraid the room is too small for that.” Seems like Melone forget his friends are stubborn as all hell and don’t take no for an answer.

So everyone stuffed themselves into the room. Most of them laid on the floor. Only ones in chairs were Melone, Prosciutto and Risotto. Everyone tried their best to stay awake but it was so late at night and the stress had token a lot out of them. Even the three boys in chairs were beginning to get sleepy. Eventually everyone fell asleep except for Prosciutto. One of the most lovable qualities about Prosciutto is his will power. For a split second he heard a whine that sounded like yours. His eyes snapped open and he jumped out of his chair. He ran to your bedside.

“Y/N? Y/N are you awake,” Prosciutto asked desperately. There was no response. He felt tears prick his eyes. Was he really so in love with you that now he’s hearing your voice in his head?

“Where….. where am I,” you asked in a weak voice. The biggest smile appeared on Prosciutto face. You were alive, you were ok. “Your awake….” he cried loudly.

At the sound of the sudden commotion the whole team woke up. Illuso turned on the lamp next to him. “What the hell is going on?”

“Di Molto she’s ok,” Melone exclaimed. He ran up next to you. The rest of the team sprung up along with him to come see you.

“Don’t scare us like that,” Ghiaccio said. The whole team was very happy to see you awake. They began asking you questions left and right and trying to talk to you.

Prosciutto noticed how confused you looked. “Everyone get out. Y/N needs some time to collect her bearings.”

The whole team grumbled but did as they were told. “Feel better Y/N,” you heard Formaggio yell before he got the door slammed on him.

You tried to sit up but Prosciutto quickly stopped you. “Don’t do that, you could hurt yourself more.”

You hummed and refused to look him in the eyes. This was so embarrassing. You got so hurt you passed out and caused all of your friends to worry about you.

“Y/N, what happened on the mission,” Prosciutto finally asked.

“There was a Stand User and a group of men with him. His Stand nullified all Stand attacks. I just had to fight with my fists. They all had knives...”

Prosciutto sighed. It was no secret that you were the weakest of the group physically. You could handle one person of your size but nothing else. He should’ve been the one to go on that mission. Prosciutto was fairly strong and had perfect aim with his gun, if he was on the mission it would’ve been finished in no time.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know you tried your best. From now on we’ll always send you out with a partner. You can be with me and Pesci, no one will hurt you then. At least those fucking bastards are killed now.”

You gulped. “A-about that….” You felt tears forming in your eyes. “I failed the mission, I couldn’t kill the target.”

Prosciutto eyes went wide. What? How did you fail a mission? That’s never happened and he was sure it never would. “Are you saying that those men who hurt you are still out there alive?”

You sadly nodded. “Prosciutto please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to the team and you.”

He patted your head. “Dolcezza, I’m not mad at you.” He gave you a loving smile and kissed your cheek. “I’ll be right back, stay here.”

The nickname and the kiss left you too flustered to do anything. Your crush just kissed you and acted like it was nothing!

While you flipped out over the kiss Prosciutto was angrily stomping to the main room. He slammed open the door. The boys looked to him and asked what happened.

“Their still alive. Y/N couldn’t finish the mission. The sick assholes who hurt my girl are still out there. Get them.”

The team usually takes their orders from Risotto. Prosciutto has never sent anyone on a mission. Right now though things were different.

Risotto stood up. “I’ll go.” Ghiaccio stood up too. “I’m coming with you. I don’t want any of those mother fuckers to be alive by the end of the night.”

Prosciutto was very happy that those two men were going. He knew they would give the target what they deserved. The blond headed back to your room and the other members waited for their turn to see you.

He saw you crying. “No no, don’t cry Bella. I promise you no one is upset with you.”

You choked on your sobs. “But I heard yelling and doors slamming.”

He grabbed your hand and gently rubbed it. “They were just excited to get their revenge on the people who hurt you, that’s all.”

Prosciutto had never been this gentle with anyone ever. He was treating you like a glass that could be broken at any minute.

You couldn’t fight the blush that was creeping onto your face. Prosciutto noticed it and gave you another kiss. “I’m very proud of you Y/N, as a teammate and as your lover.” For the rest of the night Prosciutto never once left your side. He was going to be there for you no matter what.

#prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #ghiaccio #melone #melone x reader #formaggio #pesci #illuso #risotto nero #jjba x reader #my writing

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transformersheadcanons · 3 years

Text

Decepticons as cats (Part 1)

Adopting them

Megatron

He was surrendered to a shelter after being found in an alleyway with numerous injuries. He was probably used as a bait cat, or was fighting other strays. No one wanted to adopt him, because he was “scary looking”. You eventually came into the shelter to adopt a cat. That’s where Megatron caught your attention. He was staring right at you through his cage, tail swishing back and forth. As you approached him, he let out a warning hiss and backed up into the cage. When you got close enough, he tried to scratch you, but it was pointless because the vets had to put claw caps on his paws to keep him from scratching everyone. So, an idea came to your head. You turned away from him and started checking out the other cats, while also making sure to stay in his line of sight. Sure enough, Megatron was close to the door of his cage, and was watching you curiously. What happened? Why weren’t you paying any attention to him anymore? He started pawing at the cage, meowing loudly to get your attention again. Bingo. You turned back around and saw that he was actively trying to get the door open. After about an hour, you were walking down the street, carrying him in a cat carrier, as he just laid in there contently, happy that he was finally out of that dreaded shelter.

Starscream

He was born with two younger brothers, but despite being the oldest out of the litter, he was also the runt. Which meant that he had to be looked after the most since almost all runts were abandoned by their mothers. Unlike Megatron who was from a shelter, Screamer was from an actual breeder who specialized in Bombay cats. He and his siblings were nothing like their parents, however. Starscream had a coat that was mostly shades of grey with a single natural red streak on his head. Because of this, he wasn’t very sought after due to not being considered a pure-bred. He was the second one to be adopted by you. He was a little nervous at first, mostly due to worrying that he wouldn’t be up to your standards. But his brothers would immediately run away when anyone would come up to them if they weren’t their usual handler. You looked towards Starscream, and started to try and coax him over towards you. Hmm. You didn’t seem to be dangerous.... Starscream slowly approached you, keeping his body as close to the ground as possible in case he needed to flee. He cautiously sniffed at your outstretched hand, before gradually rubbing against it, purring softly. So you knew he was a keeper. Unfortunately, when you brought him home and introduced him to Megatron, he kinda got off the wrong paw with the bigger cat and not a minute later, Megatron grew angry with his antics and bit him on the tail. Starscream was quick to flee, and you found him underneath your bed, shaking and his fur puffed up to maximum fluff-itude in fear.

Knockout

Knockout was bred as a show cat. He's a 100% purebred American Shorthair cat. His breeder told you that once he gets older, he was going to have a luxurious coat like his mother and father. He parades around your house like the little prince he is, which annoys Starscream while Megatron is a little more indifferent. He is very picky with his food, and even more picky when it comes to grooming standards. He will automatically tell you what he hates and what he likes. Also, during the day, his preferred napping spot is by a window, where the sun hits him perfectly.

Breakdown

Okay, so unlike the others, Breakdown was given to you by a family member due to their apartment(or dorm, etc.) not allowing pets. They wanted Breakdown to be taken care of by someone trustworthy, and figured you'd be perfect for the task. Breakdown is speculated to be half Maine Coon and Ragdoll because of how big he is. But he's not as big as Megatron who is a Norwegian forest cat. He warms up to Knockout the fastest, is somewhat intimidated by Megatron, and finds Starscream to be somewhat amusing to look at. You often have to brush him at least three times a day, because of how fluffy he is.

Shockwave and Soundwave

Shockwave and Soundwave were both rescues. Shockwave had suffered from a traumatic eye injury which required for him to get surgery, thus leaving him with one eye. Soundwave...well, the poor kitty has to keep a mask on his face at all times because what his previous owners did to him was far...far worse. His face is so terribly scarred, but luckily he was able to function properly. These two are inseprable and only trust eachother. Soundwave tried to interact with the other Decepticats, but...Starscream would walk away, Knockout would run, and Megatron honestly scares him. So you and Shockwave are the only ones to really keep him company.

#transformers prime #transformers #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #Megatron #Starscream #Shockwave #Soundwave #decepticons x reader #transformers headcanon

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generallybarzy · 3 years

Text

If You'll Have Me Forever.

an: this is the little fic i decided to write based on a dream i had. I wrote it all in one day while I was at my grandparent's house with no internet or computer, so i wrote it all in my notebook and then typed it up on here haha.

warnings: unedited, mentions of past emotional trauma and unhealthy families

word count: 1.7k

You always loved spending time with Mat's family. Whenever there was a break in the season, you two quickly found yourselves on a plane out to Vancouver, holding hands in the airplane and in the car on the way to his parent's house.

It had been like this since your first summer with them. Mat had invited you home with him for part of the offseason, and although you'd only been dating almost a year and were still nervous to meet his family, you couldn't say no. His family had welcomed you warmly, in fact, warm may not even be good enough to describe it. His parents smiled as soon as they saw you- saw you holding their son's hand, saw him smile proudly as he finally introduced you to them as his girlfriend.

Then, they hugged you.

You hadn't come from a loving family, not one where you openly told each other "I love you" or "I'm proud of you", and certainly not one that hugged and had family game nights. After much discussion with Mat and with your therapist, you came to the conclusion that your family had been borderline emotionally neglectful, and you saw how your childhood had scarred you. Mat's family was so openly affectionate and loving towards you right off the bat that it overwhelmed you, to the point of you going upstairs and refusing to come down until Mat had a talk with you. He was understanding, gently told them to be a little more reserved, and helped to slowly ease you into their love. And that just made you love him even more.

Now, it was your first holiday season with them. After spending a good chunk of last summer in Vancouver, you were certainly excited to spend a few days of your winter here with them rather than in your empty little apartment. You and Mat had flown out the night before, and arrived early in the morning, grateful that the team had managed a few extra days off this season- just enough days to make a trip worth it. The whole day had been spent talking and laughing and just catching up with his family about the past year- how things were going with your studies, with your job, how Mat’s season was going, and how your relationship was going. Later in the evening, after a long round of some board game they’d pulled from the closet, the jet lag and overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling of familial love caught up to you. So, in the middle of preparing some snacks to munch on during the next round of the game, you faked a phone call and quickly excused yourself to the snowy back patio, slipping into your coat and snow boots on the way and disappearing out the door.

Mat had been keeping a close eye on you all night.

He knew how you got about affection, you were even still a little shy receiving love from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was let him or his family overwhelm you again. He had gone to talk with his dad for five minutes- about a topic that had him immediately searching for you to go hide away and get some much needed alone time- and when he came back to the living room, you weren’t where he left you with his mom and sister.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” his mom looked up from preparing the food. “She stepped out back to take a phone call.”

“Yeah?” Mat snuck over to the backdoor, squinting out into the snow and spotting your figure, no phone in sight. He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed his jacket from next to the door. “I think the jetlag might be stting in. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out onto the back patio, the snow crunching beneath his fluffy slippers. You didn’t even turn when you heard the door close behind him, and that’s how he knew something was wrong.

“Baby… what are you doing out in the cold?” He came up next to you, curling an arm over your shoulders. “Were they too much? Should I tell them to back off a bit?” Finally, you turned to face him. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a soft little smile on your face. “Aw, baby.”

“I love them so much, Mat.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your cold arms. You curled your arms around his waist, snuggling in under his winter jacket. “Babe, you should be wearing something heavier out here. I don’t want you getting sick.” Still, you stayed where you were, tucked into his jacket with him and hiding away from the snow and the world. “I’m glad you love my family so much. I hope you can tell they love you too. And if they’re too much, I’ll tell them, okay?”

“I know.”

“Just let me know. I know how you get uncomfortable when you receive this much love, but I hope you know you deserve it, okay? You’re absolutely amazing.” At his words, you lifted your face from the comfort of his chest, eyes red and face hot, streaked with tears. Snowflakes melted on impact, and Mat’s thumb brushed away the wetness. “Please don’t cry, baby.”

“I’m just… so overwhelmed. In the best way possible, I promise.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m getting sleepy.”

“Jetlag finally catching up to you?” You nodded, burrowing back into the warmth of his jacket. He smiled, squeezing you against him. “Let’s go to bed, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Nooooo, I just wanna stay like this.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stay out here for a little, but we gotta go in when you get cold.” Mat knew the reason you didn’t want to go back inside yet. One, because you didn’t want to cry in front of his family, but also because after spending the whole day with them, you were starved of sweet, gentle moments like this, alone with Mat. He knew you loved his family, but God, how you loved him. You’d been holding back all your hugs and kisses today, keeping low on the PDA in front of his family, and you’d gotten needy. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his parents, saying the two of you were gonna be done for the night and wanted a little alone time, and he knew they’d understand and head to bed. The snow was picking up now, so Mat put his phone back in his pocket and pulled you with him against the wall of the house, your arms tucked under his fuzzy coat and holding tight around his waist, watching the snow fall and enjoying the comforting silence of the world.

“Do you know how much people love you?”

“Mat…” You smiled and hid your face shyly.

“No, do you know? Everyone who meets you falls a little bit in love with you. Everyone. You just have this… this loveable nature to you/ You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person I know.” You didn’t respond, but Mat saw the smile on your face and felt the way your arms squeezed around his torso. “Remember how earlier, I was talking to my dad? You know what he was saying? He said ‘the way you look at (Y/N), that’s how I looked at your mom’. And how he still does.” That got your attention, and you lifted your face to look at him, at the pretty, genuine love in his dark eyes. “Hey, there’s that pretty face!” Your hands slid further up his back, and you perched up on your tiptoes, reaching up for a soft kiss that Mat gladly met you halfway for. “I’m serious when I say I love you, okay?”

“I know.”

“I get that you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, and they weren’t the healthiest, especially when it came to showing these types of emotions, but I’m gonna make sure you get used to it. Cause you’re gonna be in my life for a long, long time.”

“Forever?”

“If you’ll have me forever.”

Everything went silent, save for the soft falling of snow, at that whispered promise. The tears filled your eyes again, just so, so happy that you had someone like Mat in your life, and that he was so understanding and patient with you.

“If you’ll have me forever, my family would be more than happy to call you one of us. You could spend all your birthdays, holidays, and celebrations here, and they’d love you. I’d love you. I do. You’d never feel unloved again, if you’ll have me forever.”

“Mat are... Are you proposing?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet, not officially. Just take this as a… warning.”

You laughed a little bit. “A warning, Mat?”

“No, ugh… um, how about a promise. Yeah, a promise. A promise that if you’ll have me forever, I’ll do nothing but show you how damn loveable you are. I know I can’t erase the years of pain… God, or the trauma that your family put you through, but I promise you I’m gonna try my hardest. You deserve so much better than what they’d given to you, and I’ll give that to you.” Mat saw the tears in your eyes and swooped down to kiss your cheeks repeatedly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry, baby.” He could say so, so much more, but he wanted to take care of you first. “Enough of my sappy rambling, yeah? My toes are freezing. Can we go in?” He saw you glance down at his feet and immediately started giggling.

“Nice slippers, grandpa.”

“They’re cozy.” He grinned, happy to see you smiling again. He had grabbed his dad’s shoes to come out, knowing you found his silly dad-fashion funny. “Now, let’s get to bed, sleepyhead.” He pulled you back into the warm, quiet house and led the way up to his bedroom, happy to finally have some time to just cuddle up under the blankets along with you. But as you fell asleep, tucked safely in his arms with a content, peaceful smile, he could fall asleep along with you. Instead, he lay there, watching you for hours, his thoughts filled with his dad’s words from earlier and quietly, secretly, he was writing long lines of phrases he wanted to say to you, phrases that would one day become part of his proposal.

I promise I’ll keep you safe, I promise I’ll keep you smiling and loved... if you’ll have me forever.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #op #fic

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat.

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks.

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked.

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it.

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing.

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up. He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be.

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant.

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it.

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is.

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice. He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him.

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t.

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

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castiel-left-his-mark-on-me · 3 years

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Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

#omg #I don't even know if this makes sense #this took way too long to write #j2 #cockles #long post #spn family #so glad you see you back again my dear #welcome to hell #it's hotter now

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starshiningsirius · 3 years

Text

Like old times (Yandere Azul x reader)

@bryzie27 - i like what you did with overblot leona. could you do something similar with overblot azul?

Not sure what you mean like the chase scene? The dynamics of Octanivelle's structure still aren't quite clear to me if they can go out in the water but I'll try!

I FORGOT THE GIF IS FROM @flowerofthemoonworld !

Let's give the octopus some love!

"Hey, your Azul right?"

He lifted his head to look at who had spoken to him. It was a mermaid with a strange speckled tail that added to her beauty. She seemed to be more of the reserved type. Her hair had two streaks of the same color on either side of her face and the rest was all one color. Her eyes shimmered radiantly.

He could feel a rush of heat claim his entire face.

"Here." She handed him his books.

"W -why are you doing this?" The young octopus sniffled.

He wasn't expecting this, not with the way everyone else treated him. It didn't make any sense why you'd treat him kindly. A freakish eight legged merman who couldn't swim correctly.

"It's the right thing to do, Azul. I couldn't just swim away with you like this. It'd be immoral."

From that first encounter on forward they became friends. She helped him walk and swim a bit better considering he found it embarrassing. She didn't even have tentacles yet she instructed him so well.. Maybe he inked once or twice, a few times around her on accident, he swears! It didn't matter she was fine with it. She didn't mind one bit who he was.

Even when they went to the Atlantica Museum she stayed by his side and explored it with him. He was a bit slow considering his physique was on the chubby side so he wasn't fast. It still didn't matter, for some odd reason she stayed with him. In the picture commemorating the trip he held her hand since he was a bit self conscious about his picture being taken.

Y/n couldn't help but find it adorable. Everything about Azul wasn't at all strange to her it only made her more curious to get to know him. He would always apologize for any small thing he did wrong. She would always say, "It's fine." as if he did nothing. Her smile always seemed to brighten Azul's darkest days.

She'd visit him in his family restaurant in which his mother and father always welcomed his first friend. They were overjoyed. She saw him gorging himself on the plate of food in front of him compared to her smaller portion. She couldn't help but to stare, it made her understand why he was on the chubby side. Then he looked at her sauce around his mouth and she couldn't help but smile at him with laughter filling the area. He was embarrassed blushing a shade of red and he felt a bit ashamed.

"Azulie, you're absolutely adorable!" She said through her laughter.

It was one of his most fondest memories he ever had with her, but all good things had to come to an end.

Eventually she had to depart from the northern seas to the far southern ones. She had to leave Azul behind. She had given him a hug it was full of so much warmth of which he had never felt before and it made his heart race twice as fast. Both parents of the children found it endearing their children had found a friend.

. . .

And that was that. Time passed and he eventually became Azul Ashengrotto the dorm leader of Octanivelle who could grant any wish just as the sea witch. He could never ever forget the one person he was so fond of though. It never left him every time he wrote down a contract he could remember a time where he truly did care for someone.

The new year at Night Raven was his second year while a new group of first years came entering the school. He had ordered Jade to get information on each of them and when he went through the long list of students that had been sorted into Octanivelle while in his office. He immediately crossed one oh so familiar.

Y/n L/n.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He put the sheet of paper down and opened one of his drawers in the desk that showed him and her back then. He never altered this photo as he did countless others. She accepted him for who he was and that was well enough a reason for him to admire her.

He automatically called upon Jade as Floyd would have probably scared the poor girl. He told him to fetch her immediately.

When he finally did see her for the first time in years he was astounded at how you changed so little but so much at the same time. You had grown taller and your eyes still sparkled just as they always did. You had the same two streaks on either side of your hair which had grown a few inches he might add.

Jade had left to do other tasks he was assigned but Azul couldn't care less seeing as he had his childhood friend and sweetheart in front of him.

"Azulie, that really is you huh?" Your voice had matured but was more timid just like the very first time they met. Of course it was so long ago that they're more like strangers now. That nickname though, it's been a long time since he's heard it.

"Yes, I've changed quite a bit." He was a little nervous though he'd never admit it his voice slightly betrayed him and his face had a little red tint. He tried pushing up his glasses to shield it from her eyes but it was a futile attempt. He heard her chuckle that made his heart race like never before.

"You haven't changed fully as your still the most adorable by far." She said.

That made his face blossom as red as a rose in the rose maze of Heartsbyul. Heat was exerting itself from his still body that he sat in the chair from.

From that moment on he would keep a watchful eye on her. He would always try his best when she was around and get any info on anything going on pertaining to her.

She had met Floyd and Jade before who Azul wasn't too fond of at first, but she reccomended he became friends with them back then since it wasn't everyday someone didn't come up to tease him and noticed his accomplishments. Of course it was only because of Azul that they met again at Night Raven. The first time she met Jade was when he first brought her to see Azul in his office. He looked familiar to her and she mentioned it to him, and they both shared their fondest memories on the way. She met Floyd a little later on in the Mostro Lounge as he had taken her order and he noticed she had come in a lot just to see Azul. Jade had to explain the situation that she wasn't required to pay for any food she ate there because of an order Azul had given out.

Azul would spend some time out of the day to just hang out with you if he wasn't always busy with the lounge. It was always a joy to be with you, it reminded him of when you were both younger. He thought back to those days every night and day that you had still never left his mind. The thought of you leaving again made him lose his sense of reason and fall deeper in his sweet obsession.

He had started to act different you noticed. He had become a bit more invasive of your personal space in which you remember that only happened when he was nervous at least you thought he grew out of it.

Jade and Floyd began to direct you to the Lounge like your life was there and no where else. It'd only be a matter of time before Azul was informed by Jade of his sweetheart's newest infatuation.

Vil happened to catch your attention. It led Azul to be green with envy. He knew the dorm leader of Pomeifore had complimented her one day and it was enough to send her falling head over heels. He had so many followers it made no sense why he had to take something else Azul had wanted for the longest time. With Vil's beauty he only began to question his own.

He had to come up with a solution just as he had done for those bullies. He just couldn't lose Y/n again. Not if he had any say in it.

After hours of pondering in his office sinking his nails into his desk the answer happened to be right behind him. The vault that was situated behind his desk held the many contracts he had collected.

Maybe if he could impress her she wouldn't see him as that stupid, clumsy octopus he once was. All these different magic spells that he obtained from those fools from the exams on land in Night Raven and those idiots who swam under the sea.

That's when his plan fell apart. Y/n avoided him all of a sudden. Mainly having spent time with those troublesome first years he sent to the museum to collect one of the last remnants of his past.

He didn't have time to keep thinking about Y/n at the moment which irritated him quite a bit. One thing led to another and now he was out here trying to negotiate with the arrogant and prideful dorm head of Savanclaw. As soon as he destroyed them all hope was lost.

He was taunting him, but his next few words really took him over the top in terms of a sadistic being.

"You know, one of your little sea friends really wanted to believe you were nice. We just had to show her the real Azul Ashengrotto." Leona had smirked turning his head to the side, beyond the corner of the tunnel his darling angelfish had appeared. Disbelief in her eyes, she couldn't even meet his eyes.

That's when everyone else had arrived, but the deed was already done. He had lost everything and his angelfish had seen him as a weak being, the same stupid clumsy octopus he hated being.

They took her from his side. He had her in his grasp and they stole her. He had lost it.

His newborn and unimaginable power were apparent now. He just had to get it all back. Not even Floyd or Jade wanted to help him either.

He reminded himself of you holding your pen ready to fire another offensive attack. His anger swelled inside him where he could tap into more power.

"GIVE HER BACK TO ME! GIVE ME BACK WHAT YOU TOOK! "

A large swarm of harsh black wind had overwhelmed the group. She still managed to stand but when the dust cleared she saw all of them had collapsed unconscious. Even the prefect who was thrown back the farthest had their head hit the tunnel, it didn't look like she was breathing from here though.

She took a look back at Azul and suddenly she felt her feet carrying her away from the scene, having Azul call out to her from behind.

* * *

It's been a while since she had to swim that fast. Her tail fin was starting to hurt from the constant movement. She wanted to take a break, a never ending nightmare she pleaded in her head to be over.

That was until she heard him calling for her.

"Oh Angelfish! You really have nothing to fear! Come out I promise I won't hurt you!" He said in a sing songy voice.

She was hiding behind a large boulder on the sea floor near a small coral reef.

"Am I not enough anymore?! I'LL DO ANYTHING TO PROVE IT! I'M NOT THE SAME AS BEFORE, YOU DON'T HAVE TO LOOK AFTER ME! " The tone of voice he had scared her even more so now that she was alone.

"I'm not, ... I'm not that stupid clumsy little octopus anymore." He sounded as if he were about to cry, it pulled at her heartstrings a bit and she thought she could convince him to calm down in this state.

"Azulie I never-"

"There you are! " He said with glee and delight in his tone, that never would have made you think he was sad in the first place.

He successfully guilt tripped her into coming out of hiding. Using his tentacles he pulled her by the tail toward him careful to avoid giving her any injuries. He grasped her in his arms feeling himself relax a bit, at the fact he had her in his grasp once again. She felt warm just as she did all those years ago for him.

He clasped her hands together with his. A deranged smile on his face as he stared into the soul of his adorable little angelfish who shivered under such an intense gaze radiating his madness.

"We'll be together again! Just like old times! Except this time I'm all powerful and no one will be able to steal what's mine!"

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #floyd leech

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

#whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #blood tw #recovering whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #immortal whumpee #vampire #vampirism #vampire fiction #horror fiction #original fiction #whump writing #chris the strawberry blond romantic #vampire chris au #past torture

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junicai · 3 years

Text

ridin’ n rollin’.

| order no. | 8/21

| summary | When the world is already off kilter, should you not free fall down to meet it?

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | injuries

| era | circa. April 2020

Aria stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her free hand was pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of her trousers.

A pair of hands joined her, unravelling the wires quickly and efficiently. Once the mic pack was removed, it was handed off to someone else - Aria wasn’t sure who - and she was being spun around to face a concerned Renjun.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

Aria didn’t know.

The day had started off on the wrong foot; like god himself had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

Donghyuck had stumbled into the bathroom at six in the morning, and his retching woke up Jisung who was sleeping next door. The maknae had sleepily shuffled into the bathroom to see what was wrong, but when he was greeted with a shivering Donghyuck clutching to the toilet bowl like a lifeline, the tall boy snapped awake.

Aria had been woken up, and then Jeno, and Renjun and Jaemin woke up soon afterwards from all the noise caused by the commotion.

It took them two hours, but by eight, Donghyuck was curled miserably into the corner of the couch, pale cheeks contrasted by a bright red flush sitting high on his cheekbones. A waste bin was placed on the floor in front of him, and two fever reducers were all but force-fed to the boy.

At first, Donghyuck had adamantly refused to take them; saying that he wasn’t sick, he had just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and he was fine now, see?

Aria all but scoffed at that. She held it in, because she knew she’d be doing the exact same thing, would she be in his position. The broadcast performance was scheduled to be filmed that evening, and no one liked stepping down. Not even for a day.

It was only when Aria had fixed him with a pleading look, eyes wide and worried, that Donghyuck caved. The two pills were swallowed, and when he was once again comfortably swaddled in as many blankets as they could salvage from around the dorm did the members return to their own morning routine.

After all; the world doesn’t stop turning for a sick member, although sometimes Aria wished it did. She hated to leave Donghyuck alone; and she knew he’d never admit it to them, but he hated it to.

All of them did, really. It was visible in the way that Jeno had put the back of his hand up to Donghyuck’s forehead three times in the last ten minutes; in the way Jisung was hovering anxiously, waiting for an instruction to go get a glass of water or another pillow; the way that Renjun had only rolled his eyes a tiny bit when Donghyuck insisted he was well enough to perform but stumbled backwards onto the couch when he attempted to stand up. Jaemin had lunged for his arm, catching the sick boy before he could do himself some more damage.

The van had pulled up outside the dorms several hours later; and Donghyuck had waved them a sullen goodbye from his position on the couch. Aria closed the door behind her, but not before reminding him again to take another fever reducer in an hour, and to keep himself hydrated.

Donghyuck had rolled his eyes, and told her to stop worrying. “You’ll turn yourself grey, mom.”

Aria had narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, swinging the door shut. She relished in the bright burst of laughter that echoed through the hall.

The journey to the venue was quiet.

As was the changing room - the only noise coming softly from Chenle’s earbuds that he’d put in the second they’d located their room, and the soft bustling of the stylists as they moved around the members.

Aria was tensed in her chair, anxiety running up and down her spine at the thought of something happening to Donghyuck while they were gone.

What if his fever spiked again?

What if he fell and didn’t have the strength to get up?

What if-

“Noona.” Jisung’s voice dragged Aria out from her own head. His larger hand encircled her smaller one, gently but firmly unravelling the fingers that were digging her nails into her palm.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thanks, Sung.” She whispered, patting his hand lightly.

Jisung made no move to leave, and instead took up the vacant spot beside her on the plastic-covered sofa in the corner of the room. “You’re worried.” He stated.

Aria turned to look at him. Jisung had lost a lot of the baby fat from his cheeks that year - accentuating his jawline. He looked older, more mature. It suited him, she decided. Maturity was something he wore like it belonged on him; settling like the sun sets comfortably without fail.

“We all are.” Aria sighed out eventually, taking a glance around the room. Jaemin was laid back in the chair as a stylist worked on fluffing up his hair, keyboard clicking obnoxiously as he typed on his phone.

Normally the sound would bother Jeno - who was sitting adjacent, in a similar position - was it not for his phone making identical clicks.

Aria couldn’t blame them; she’d turned her phone off silent the second they’d left the dorms in case Donghyuck called one of them.

If the boy knew how frazzled the group was without him there, he’d have a fit. He’d never let them live it down.

“It’s hyung, noona. He’ll be fine.” Jisung said, nodding resolutely.

“He will, Sung. He’ll be fine, and then we can all go back to complaining about his presence.” Renjun made his presence known as he entered the room, directing his attention towards the pair immediately.

“Ari, they’re looking for you for mic check.” He said, jerking his head over his shoulder.

“Right, okay. Thanks, Injunnie.”

The following thirty minutes passed in a smushed blur of costume fittings, foundation brushes and an uncomfortably suffocating amount of hairspray. Aria was coughing by the time the stylist let up, waving a hand to try and disperse the smell.

“Ari? We gotta go.” Jeno called, already halfway out the door.

“C-coming,” She choked out, eyes watering slightly but determined not to wipe at them, less she end up with a streak of black across her cheek.

By the time Aria had met up with the others in the wings, sliding her in-ears in, her breathing had steadied, and a little knot was beginning to form in the bottom of her stomach. She still got nervous before performing - didn’t think it ever really went away completely - but those were normally excited nerves.

This pit that was slowly growing felt foreboding.

It went ignored, sliding under the radar as her in-ears began the steady metronome click that she’d become so accustomed to. She zoned out, and zoned back in, body moving in time with the others in flawless unity.

Dancing without a member always felt off - felt empty, but it was nothing the group hadn’t dealt with previously. They knew the formations, knew who took what lines to fill in, and where their positions changed to keep formations looking slick and clean and not like one of them had been knocked over like a bowling pin; out for the count.

Aria stepped backwards to let Chenle take her place as centre. Her mind was busy, tracking Jaemin’s positioning and making sure she stayed far enough away to give him space; so when a heavy, piercing sound ran through her right ear, she hardly registered it.

It took her a moment, but her gasp of pain was heard over the microphones, a both hands coming to clap over her ear as the in-ear continued to bleed head-scrambling sounds into her brain. Aria tilted sideways, knees crumbling beneath her as she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.

She didn’t hear the gasp that floated up around the room; skimming right over her head that was pounding like a sledgehammer. Her hands scratched at the floor, trying for purchase and finding none.

Jeno, behind her was already half-dancing his way closer to her, and trying to help her back up without completely abandoning the song entirely. Aria’s breath was coming fast; the tech team having enough sense to cut her mic for the time being.

When a half bar of silence sounded instead of Aria’s vocals, Chenle stepped in, ever the professional, singing her lines for her as the girl tried to regain her balance.

Despite Jeno’s insistent push towards the wings, Aria shook her head minutely at the boy, rejoining the second last chorus. She could feel the boys’ eyes on her, burning into her back.

The in-ears bounced around her neck on their chords, having unconsciously tugged them out from her ears.

Per the formation, there was to be a metre and a half gap in between each member, but Jaemin paid no mind to that, coming to stand almost directly beside her in the final few bars of the song; completely prepared to catch her should she take another stumble.

Aria was the first off the stage, stumbling over her own legs.

She stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

Her vision swam like she was sea-sick.

With her free hand pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of the orange trousers, her breath was coming in heavy, shallow gasps.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

“I don’t- I can’t- ringing-” Aria gasped, hands coming to clutch at Renjun’s jacket. “My ear, it’s- it’s ringing, I can’t-”

“Ari, I need you to breath, hold on a second, okay?” Renjun asked, shooting a look at Jaemin, who went to gently pull off Aria’s sweat-soaked jacket.

She sunk to the ground, knees giving out for a second time. Renjun followed her, Jeno’s arms slipping beneath her armpits to stop her hitting the ground too hard.

The only sound in the room was Aria’s uneven breathing, coming in irregular pants and choking her.

The members settled around her, but being mindful to stay a comfortable distance away. Should Aria slip too far into her own mind, too many hands could send her flying into another panic.

“I can’t hear.” Aria whispered eventually, hands still maintaining their tight grip on Renjun’s jacket. He inhaled sharply, turning to face her dead on.

“What? What do you mean you can’t hear?” He questioned, his own hands moving to gently grip the sides of her face.

“Ringing,” Was the only explanation that Aria offered, canting sideways in his grip.

Renjun choked lightly, trying to hold her upright. “No no, Ari, you gotta stay sitting like this, okay? What happened?”

Chenle and Jeno exchanged a glance.

“Did she hit her head?” Chenle asked.

Jeno instantly shook his head. “No, I saw her fall. She was clutching at,” he pointed. “Her right ear though.”

Renjun looked back to him, before returning his focus to Aria. “Hey, Ari? Ari, your ear is ringing, right? Am I right?”

Aria nodded slowly.

“Okay, that’s okay. Was the feed too loud, or something?”

This time, Aria shook her head, lifting a hand to mime an explosion by the ear. “Was like it exploded.”

Jisung looked frantic. “Did her earpiece blow up?!”

Jaemin emerged from the doorway, a mic pack clutched in his hand and a dark look on his face. “Feedback.” He grit out. “Mic pack malfunctioned, sent nearly 120 decibels into her right ear.”

Jaemin held up the offending piece of equipment. “It even fried the voice coils.”

Renjun was trying to keep Aria from slipping sideways. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Ari just got blasted with the sound of a fire cracker right in her eardrum. It’ll be ringing for a while.” Jaemin moved to crouch behind Aria, taking some of the weight from him.

“Permanently?” Jisung asked.

“They don’t know, but probably not. It’s mostly the shock of it, that causes ringing, I think.”

Jeno swiped a hand over Aria’s forehead, swooping the hair back from her face. She whimpered at the act, nosing her way closer to the hand. Leaning down to her left ear, Jeno lowered his voice to let him whisper gently.

“Hey, baby,” He began, keeping his voice level. “You’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Renjun’s arms tightened around Aria’s middle, and it wasn’t long until Jisung and Chenle moved forwards to do the same.

“The in-ear got a little loud, that’s all,” Jeno continued, hand coming to gently flick at her right ear. “No explosions - your ear is still there. Do you want to try standing up with me?”

At Aria’s mild agreement, Jeno shifted into a crouch and the multiple pairs of arms around her waist loosened minutely.

“You’ll be a bit off balance, baby, but that’s fine. That’s normal, and you’re okay. If you feel like you’re going to fall, then I can carry you, okay?”

“So, what I’m hearing is, we’re never using in-ears again?” Donghyuck whisper-yelled from his position on the couch; Aria tucked into his chest.

His fever had broken while they had gone, and their manager suspected it was just a twenty four hour bug.

Aria shifted slightly, whining at the noise, and Donghyuck instantly began crooning at her, whispering soft words of comfort in her left ear to get her to go back to sleep.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Jaemin considered it.”

“Hyung looked like he wanted to murder someone.”

"I still do."

345 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

The Right One - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Prompt 31: “What made you think we were serious?” he spat “did you really think I’d go out with you?”

Requested/About: Fred is in love with his friend Y/N and knows he wants to marry her one day, he makes and move and they are looking forward to going on their first date - but all of that changes when George confesses his feelings for Y/N, to Fred.

A/N: I have a second part to this imagine which is smut based which you can now read: here

Warnings: swearing, mention of food and eating, a cheeky kiss towards the end.

Sitting high up in the stands, you’re watching Fred practice Quidditch, your heart skipping beats each time he flashes you a smirk or a cheeky wink, everything he does make you want him more - whether it be making a pig's ear of a potion, coming up with a new prank, chatting to his brother - hell, he simply breathes and you’re amazed.

Fred is head over heels for you, he already knows he’s going to marry you and whilst everyone is fast asleep at night, he goes over the plan in his head a thousand times making sure that when the day comes, everything will go perfectly to plan.

Unfortunately, the two of you were quite stubborn when it came to making the first move - you were too shy and scared of being rejected, and Fred felt anxious about making you uncomfortable - you were both trapped in the awkward ‘friends but too close to be friends but flirting but not dating’ phase - you not only confused yourselves but those around you who were aware of your chemistry.

The practice came towards an end and you walked down from the stands, your eyes glued on Fred, his veins bursting through his sweaty and dirt-stained hands, his hair standing up in all directions and sticking to his forehead, you smirked and giggled at the sight of him.

“How was it?” you smiled, walking towards him.

Fred paused for a moment, catching his breath and leaning on his broom “not bad” he panted “Slytherin are going to suffer”

You chuckled and brushed the hair out of his eyes, he had a questioning look on his face for a moment.

“Y/N” he said softly “d’you fancy going to Hogsmeade this Saturday, on a date?” he asked you, looking slightly nervous.

You felt as if time slowed down, that everyone else on the pitch had disappeared and you and Fred were the only ones there, instant excitement pooled in your tummy causing butterflies to sprout and take flight.

“I would love to” you smiled widely, blushing and nodding your head “yes!”

Fred smiled just as wide and nodded, pursing his lips and breaking out into another smile “brilliant” he nodded “I’ll meet you outside Zonko’s”

His twin George came rushing over, just as sweaty and dirty, he smiled nervously when your eyes met his, you didn’t think anything of it - George was always more quiet compared to Fred.

“Angelina wants a word” he panted “something about Ron needing extra practice”

Fred sighed and rolled his eyes, “see you later, love” he waved, turning around and following his brother.

“I have a date” you whispered excitedly to yourself “with Freddie!”

Hurrying off, you ran towards the castle, breaking inside and pushing through students and stumbling up the stairs to reach your dorm room, your date only two days away - you needed as much time as you could get to plan what you would say and what you could wear.

It was now Friday evening, tomorrow you would be on a date with Fred and just the thought made you giggle and blush, you told your friends who were just as excited, giving you all the advice you needed for one of the best days of your life. Laying in your bed, you stared out of the window, you were so excited you didn’t know if you were able to sleep.

Fred and George were sitting in front of the fire in the quiet and empty common room, coming up with ideas for their dream joke shop, but Fred noticed that George wasn’t being himself - he kept losing concentration and staring off into space, getting lost in his own thoughts.

“You okay Georgie?” Fred asked, staring at his brother.

George sighed, looking more anxious “if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

“I’m your bloody twin” Fred responded, sitting up in his chair and leaning towards George “of course I won’t say anything”

George swallowed hard for a moment and nodded, trying to figure out how to say this without Fred taking the piss out of him.

“You know Y/N?” George spoke up.

Fred’s heart started to pick up in speed, his attention fully on his twin “yeah, what about her?”

Fred didn’t mention you to George at all, George knew the two of you were close friends but he didn’t see the moments between the two of you that everyone said: “screamed chemistry”.

“I’ve got feelings for her, Freddie.” George confessed, looking away from Fred and staring at his shoes “I just didn’t want to say anything because I know she’s your friend.”

Friend

Fred felt the excitement crush inside him, part of him wanted to stop George in his tracks and tell him that you were going on a date with him tomorrow, but the other part of Fred dominated him - Fred would rather choose the happiness of his brother, who was more shy and quiet, than his own - the twin who had everything he ever wanted.

Almost everything.

“That’s great, Georgie” Fred forced a smile whilst his heart wept “she’s a really nice girl, I don’t blame you.”

A really nice girl that Fred would crush instead of letting her down gently. Fred went to bed and for the first time he didn’t bother going through the plans of the future proposal, then wedding, instead he tortured himself over George being the one to put the ring on your finger, making you his wife. He hid his face in his pillow and cried, knowing how bad he was going to mess things up, but as long as George was happy - that’s all that mattered to him, and he felt sure that you would move on and be much happier with the other twin.

“Ready?” your friend Alyssa smiled, looking you over once more.

You nodded and blushed again “I’m ready, just really nervous!”

Alyssa chuckled and handed you your bag “You’re bound to be nervous, but you’ll be okay, this is exciting!”

You took your bag from her and slung it over your shoulder “thank you for everything Alyssa” you pulled her into a tight hug, making sure you didn’t ruin your makeup or hair.

“Tell me all about it when you get back!” he ordered excitedly, pulling away from the hug and sending you on your way.

Arriving in Hogsmeade, you hurried over to Zonko’s Joke Shop, because you arrived early you had enough time to sneak into the shop and buy Fred some Hiccough sweets and Sugar Quills. Carrying the bag of Fred’s goodies, you waited outside for him.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then you reached one hour.

You felt your heart sink, worries and ‘what if’ scenarios filled your head and drowned out the noise of laughing students that passed by. Reaching three hours, it became clear to you that Fred wasn’t going to show up, tears filled your eyes and made your vision glassy, overflowing and running down your cold cheeks.

Storming back to the castle you stared at the ground, refusing to look up at anyone or anything, you sobbed and clutched onto the Zonko's bag so hard your hand started to cramp and your knuckles went white.

‘How could I be so stupid?’ you thought to yourself ‘I got myself dressed up in my best dress for nothing, waited outside looking like a fool while he’s probably laughing himself silly.’

But Fred wasn’t laughing himself silly at all, he didn’t get out of bed unless he needed to brush his teeth or go to the toilet, he refused to speak to George, Lee and Angelina. He curled up under his covers with tears falling down his face, his wand emitting light whilst he watched your footsteps on the Marauders Map, guilt surging through his body like poison when your footsteps stayed still and finally took off after hours of waiting.

Bursting into your dorm room Alyssa’s smile dropped and concern plastered on her face - your mascara and eyeliner streaked down your face from crying, your lips red and puffy like your eyes.

“Y/N! what's wrong? what happened?” she panicked, hurrying over to you.

You threw your shoulder bag on the floor, turning around you bumped into Alyssa and pushed the Zonko’s bag into her chest.

“He never showed up!” you wailed, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

You dragged the warm wet rag over your face, wiping off your make up with so much force your skin got irritated and red, you stared at yourself in the mirror, hating your reflection, hating the dress you were so excited to put on hours before.

Alyssa knocked on the door, she didn’t want to pry and press you for answers, instead, she handed you your clean pyjamas and took your dress to put away, she walked into the bathroom when you opened the door, pulling you into a comforting hug whilst you sobbed in her arms.

Like Fred, you refused to leave your bed all weekend, you refused to speak about what happened. Perhaps you waited in the wrong place, perhaps he meant another week, you tried to convince yourself that this was your fault, that you got things wrong - but deep down you knew this wasn’t your doing, but Fred’s.

Sunday evening rolled around and Alyssa walked back into the dorm with a bag full of food, she sat on the side of your bed and opened up the bag full of your favourite puddings and drinks.

“The house-elves encouraged me to take as much as I could fit in this bag” she laughed lightly “please eat something sweetheart, it doesn’t have to be much”

You nodded and sat up in your bed, giving in you drank your pumpkin juice and had a few slices of Apple Pie.

Monday morning you were up early and out of bed, trying to be as fresh as a daisy as you could - everything was going well until you had double potions with Fred. You planned to ignore him, play it as if you didn’t care and that the loss was his, but your thoughts and needs for answers clawed at you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Have a good weekend, then?” you asked Fred bravely, watching your cauldron simmer.

“No comment” he replied, refusing to look at you, trimming his ingredients.

“Why did you stand me up?” you asked again, gaining more courage “think it would be funny?”

“No comment” Fred answered again, adding the ingredients to his cauldron, causing it to hiss and change from dark green to bright red.

You began to lose your patience but you didn’t give up, opening your mouth and asking Fred once more why he didn’t show up on Saturday made his guilt surge through his heart so painfully he didn’t know how to handle himself except lash out at you.

“What made you think we were serious?” he spat “did you really think I’d go out with you?”

Hearing his brothers outburst, George looked over to you and Fred, he had no idea what was going on but he had to do something - seeing you so hurt and upset made George feel sick.

You weren’t prepared for such a hard blow, you felt as if you had been slapped in the face and punched in the chest, you didn’t reply - you just stared at Fred with your jaw hanging, the tears you were controlling so well broke through and filled your eyes.

Fred’s heart broke even more at your reaction, he had broken the person he loved more than anything in the world and it would be too late now to make things right, to have you give him a chance to explain - but at least now he had given George a chance to play hero and pick up those broken pieces of your own heart to fix them the best he could.

You quickly took a sample of your potion and handed it to Snape, storming back to your desk, you picked up your bag and hurried out of the dungeons, breaking out into a sob - your wails so loud the class could still hear you.

George left his cauldron to overflow, running after you and calling out your name down the halls before he finally caught up to you. He pulled you into a comforting hug and you cried into his chest, gripping onto his warm woolly jumper.

“I wish it was you George” you cried “I really do, if it was I wouldn’t be in this bloody awful situation”

It dawned on George that this definitely had something to do with Fred and when he told him about his feeling for you. Sitting back in the same chairs in front of the fire in the empty common room before bed, George turned to Fred and searched his dull eyes.

“Do you like Y/N?” George asked quietly.

Fred shook his head “no”

George sighed and continued to stare at his brother “look at me, Freddie”

George knew that his brother couldn’t lie to his face and he knew by doing this he would get the right answers he needed.

“Are you in love with her?”

Fred paused and tried to lie but he couldn’t do it - he looked towards the dancing flames.

George finally understood and stood up “that’s what I thought” he stood behind his chair, wanting to know one more thing before he went off to bed “what happened between you and Y/N, you being grumpy all weekend and her being upset - does that have anything to do with what I told you last week?”

Fred put his head in his hands and nodded, George shook his head and sighed “that's what I thought, you should’ve bloody told me.”

George left the common room and went upstairs to bed, leaving his brother alone in his thoughts. Climbing in his bed, George knew exactly what to do in the morning.

George looked for you everywhere, you weren’t in the great hall for breakfast and you didn’t show up to any of your classes either, passing Alyssa he pulled her aside, asking where you were.

“the second floor, girls bathroom” she replied “and here” she rooted in her bag, pulling out the Zonko’s bag “give this to your brother when you see him, she got it him before he stood her up.”

George took the bag and thanked Alyssa, hurrying as fast as he could to reach you.

Sitting on the floor of the dingy toilets, you continued to sob in your hands, pressing them against your eyes that you could see confetti in your vision. Hearing footsteps coming closer to you, you removed your hands away from your face and opened your eyes, looking up at George standing over you.

George crouched beside you and began to rub your back, comforting you; he sighed deeply and knew it was time to tell you everything, the truth.

“I’ve got feelings for you, Y/N” he confessed softly.

This only made you feel worse, you lost Fred - someone you actually want to be with, and his brother who you care for is in love with you, you would rather sit your O.W.Ls all over again with your N.E.W.T.s at the same time than go through this.

You turned to face George, a look of shock and horror all over your face “George! You know this isn't the right time to tell me and if Fred-” you paused for a moment, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Does Fred know?” you asked quietly, looking at George.

George nodded “I told him on Friday after that Fred just went into a foul mood and you’ve been upset. He’s in love with you, Y/N, and I know you love him too.”

You stared at George, your mouth wide open, unable to process what you heard.

“He put my own happiness before his” George laughed and shook his head, pulling you into a tight hug, he smirks at you “He’s in his dorm room, go to your man” he encouraged you, handing you the Zonko’s Bag.

Feeling those same butterflies form and take flight inside of you once more, you hurried to Fred’s room, the biggest smile plastered on your face, which caught everyone’s attention, causing them to feel happy and talk amongst one another about you and Fred finally being on the same page.

Storming into Fred’s room, he walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel loosely covering his lower half at the hips, stopping in your tracks you stared at him, taking in the beauty of his body; the water droplets across his abs and the steam rising off his chest and shoulders, his damp hair and the sun beaming through the window highlighting your favourite parts of him.

Fred went into shock and gripped onto his towel harder, you flash him a small, nervous smile and place the Zonko’s bag on his bedside table.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked shyly as you walked over to him.

Placing your hands gently against Fred’s cheeks, you leaned in slowly and pressed your lips against his. Kissing back, Fred deepened the kiss and dragged his tongue against your lower lip, both of his hands took you by the waist, completely forgetting about his towel, it fell to the floor.

Tags: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @escapingrealitybyreading @lucymfer @freddiemylovelg

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

275 notes · View notes

flightfoot · 3 years

Text

Friendship and Uncertainty

AO3 Thanks to @oblivionhold for betaing!

Marinette really didn't have a lot of great options in Prime Queen. She couldn't tell Nadja and her parents "Oh yeah, sorry, I double-booked myself as Ladybug, my bad! Guess my parents are gonna have to babysit instead!" And if she'd tried to make up an excuse about being busy, with how last-minute it was and how urgently Nadja needed childcare, I don't think her parents would've accepted it.

Her only viable alternative option would've been to cancel her interview with Nadja at the last-minute, citing some last-minute conflict with her civilian schedule. She could've transformed during a bathroom break, texted Chat, and told him as much, leaving him to interview with Nadja alone. I'd argue that this would've been the most responsible option, but not necessarily the best one. With how much the network was pressuring her, Nadja may have landed in hot water if she couldn't get one of her guests on, and Chat would've been disappointed as well.

The plan Marinette came up with in canon was her best shot at fulfilling all her responsibilities without anyone being mad or disappointed or hung out to dry. Manon got looked after by someone Marinette knew was a good babysitter, she got to go to the interview, and no one would have any clue things were remiss... at least, that was her plan. In canon, things got dicey for a bit with Alya calling into the show, but ultimately no one discovered Marinette had left the premises, and everyone was mostly happy.

But it was risky, and things could easily have gone wrong. Hence, this story.

It gives me a good reason to explore Alya feeling hurt and exploring her emotions while sticking closely to canon. There aren't a lot of fics that do that.

--------

“Where is she?”

Alya looked down at Manon. Nadja was worried about Marinette not being in the picture when she called, and she couldn’t blame her. Bringing over a friend to help babysit as well, or taking over babysitting momentarily while the hired babysitter was busy was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.

Marinette had seemed weirdly anxious about talking to her parents. She’d chalked it up to Marinette being nervous about whatever she’d needed to tell them, but…

She let out a frustrated sigh. Marinette hadn’t even told her why she needed to talk to them so urgently. It almost felt like she was making up an excuse to ditch her with Manon.

“Marinette wouldn’t do that,” Alya murmured to herself. “She’d tell me if she needed me to cover for her, right?”

But the thought wouldn’t leave her brain.

Manon yawned.

Gears turned in Alya’s head. “Hey Manon, before you fall asleep, how about we go downstairs so you can use the bathroom?”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep!” Manon said, yawning again. But she stood up shakily and headed for the stairs, following Alya.

-----

As Alya waited for Manon to finish in the bathroom near the kitchen, she heard a soft humming coming from the kitchen. Seizing on the opportunity, she hurried over (while keeping near enough that she could still hear when Manon opened the bathroom door).

“Ah, Alya!” Tom greeted her. “Did you kids need some snacks?”

“No, but-” Oh what the hell, why not? “Actually, that sounds great.”

“Anything for my daughter! And her friends of course,” he said, cheerily grabbing a few of hers and Marinette’s favorite cookies.

“Speaking of Marinette, what’d she want to talk to you about?” she said, as casually as she could manage.

“She wanted to talk to me about something?” Tom asked, sounding perplexed.

“Maybe I just misheard her,” Alya said hastily. “I was playing with Manon and things got a little loud.”

Tom looked troubled. “Well, just let her know that if she needs to talk to me about anything, her papa is always willing to lend an ear.” She could almost see a lightbulb turn on above Tom’s head. “Oh! I’ve got a batch of Marinette’s favorite cookies in the oven right now! They should be ready in about twenty minutes. If you can send her down then, we can talk this out, see what’s troubling her! And if it was a mistake, well, I’ll never say no to watching her face when she bites into a strawberry macaron.”

Alya slapped on a smile. “Will do!”

The toilet flushed.

“That’s my cue to leave. Thanks, Mr. Dupain!”

“Anytime!”

She walked to the bathroom on autopilot.

Marinette had lied.

------

“I’m so sorry Alya! I had no idea it would take so long to talk to my parents!”

Alya didn’t look at her. “What did you guys talk about?” she asked tonelessly.

“Uh, you know… family stuff,” Marinette sounded nervous.

Alya turned to her. “Marinette, I know you weren’t with your parents.”

“I- uh-”

“I went downstairs earlier and asked your dad what you two talked about, but he said he didn’t talk to you at all. Your dad wanted me to tell you that if you need to talk with him about anything, he’s willing to lend an ear. The batch of strawberry macarons he was making should be ready by now.” Her voice sounded dead, even to her own ears.

“Alya, I’m- I’m really sorry-”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk with you about it right now,” she said evenly. “If I do, I might raise my voice, and I don’t want Manon to see us fighting.”

Marinette winced, glancing at the sleeping girl.

“Um… could we talk tomorrow…?” Marinette asked, sounding small.

Alya nodded stiffly. Not like she could avoid it, tomorrow was a school day.

As she headed down the ladder, she paused and looked up, “Oh, and Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t let anyone know you left. I’m still not happy you ditched me, but I didn’t rat you out.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she started to stammer something. Alya shut the hatch.

Alya squeezed her eyes tight, letting out a small sob.

At that last moment, she’d been tempted to stay. To hear Marinette out. To see whether maybe, maybe, she had a good explanation. Some sort of excuse.

But she couldn’t.

If she stayed, with Marinette looking at her like that, clearly hurting… she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her. Not when she felt worse than Alya herself did.

Alya wasn’t ready to let go of her anger and hurt yet. Not so soon.

Pausing only to text Nora that she was heading home, she hurried out the door.

------

“Little sis?”

Alya quickly wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself before Nora saw her.

It didn’t work.

“What happened? Who hurt you?” Nora asked, grabbing her shoulders.

“No one!”

Even to her own ears, it sounded false.

Nora frowned. “Really? Your eyes are red, and I can see the tear streaks on your cheeks. You really expect me to believe that?”

She looked away.

“Hey, look, little sis-” Nora said softly.

“Don’t call me that.” She couldn’t muster up the energy to put any heat behind her words.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Promise not to go after her?”

Nora blinked. “Her? ...wait, you were just at Baguette’s place- did something happen with Marinette?”

“Promise me,” she insisted.

Nora grimaced, before sighing. “Fiiiiine. Can I at least yell at her?”

“No. I want to handle this myself.”

“If you’re sure, little sis.”

Alya made a face, but explained what’d happened. How Marinette had called her over, ditched her with an excuse about her parents, how she’d learned Marinette was lying, everything.

“-and I just. I don’t understand why,” she finished. “I help her out all the time! Heck, I’ve even helped babysit Manon before! Why’d she lie to me?” She looked down at her lap, her fists tightening as she squeezed her pants legs, needing to get energy out. “I just- I feel used.”

Nora pulled her into a tight hug. She leaned into the pressure, listening to her sister’s heartbeat.

“Remember back in Martinique, with Maya?” Alya murmured.

“The neighbor girl?”

Alya nodded. “We played together a lot when I was a little. But sometimes… sometimes she’d get demanding, saying that if I didn’t do what she wanted - play some game she wanted, pick a role she wanted me to, whatever - she’d say that if I didn’t do it, she wouldn’t be friends with me anymore. There weren’t a lot of other kids my age in the area, so I agreed.” She gave a small smile. “Until one time she went too far. I stormed home in tears, scared that she wouldn’t play with me anymore, but not able to take it anymore.” Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she continued. “You know what Mom did when she heard? When I told her how afraid I was that Maya wouldn’t want to play with me anymore? She told me to just wait. Less than an hour later Maya was knocking at the door, asking if I would come out to play. I stopped being afraid of her threat after that, and she stopped using it. I could say no.”

“I’m guessing this feels similar?” Nora said.

Alya nodded. “But it’s also weird! With Maya I understood what she was after. With Marinette, I don’t. Did she just really not want to babysit? Where’d she even go? And why-” Alya hesitated. “Why did she risk this? What was so important? Marinette, she- she doesn’t always think through other people’s feelings, but she DOES care about people! She doesn’t like hurting others! So why-”

Nora shook her head. “It’s no use speculating, you’ll just get your head turning ‘round and ‘round in circles ‘til you don’t know up from down. Just ask her tomorrow.”

Biting her lip, Alya sighed. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I just don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight after all this.”

Nora smiled, pulling out a DVD from… okay she really wanted to know when Nora had hollowed out a copy of the Lord of the Rings trilogy collection, because on the one hand that was SUPER cool, and on the other hand it physically hurt her to see a book damaged like that.

“I was saving this for your birthday,” Nora said, oblivious to Alya’s crisis, “But I think you need it now.”

She looked at the movie, letting out an inhumanly high-pitched squeal. “Majestia’s Early Days - Collector’s Edition?! How’d you even get this? I camped out on the website all day trying to snag a copy! They sold out in seconds,” she scowled, “Damn scalpers.”

Nora laughed. “Having fans can really come in handy. After one of my matches, I mentioned how bummed out my little sis was about not being able to get her hands on a copy. The next day one of my regular fans handed this to me, said he hoped you’d enjoy it.”

“If you see him again, tell him that he’s a wonderful person with excellent taste in boxers!”

Nora laughed, grinning from ear-to-ear. Alya bet her own grin dwarfed even Nora’s.

“Let’s watch Majestia kick some ass.”

-----

“Alya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Nino lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring down at the floor for the past minute, looking like your dogs just got kidnapped by subterranean monsters and you’re trying to figure out how to get them back and why they’d want them in the first place.”

She stifled a laugh. “You come up with that for one of your movie scripts?”

He adjusted his cap, grinning proudly. “No, but now that you mention it…”

“Do you even know anyone with a dog?”

“Maybe a shelter would help out? They’re always looking for more exposure. We could put a note during the credits that the pups are available for adoption!”

Hm… she could advertise their film on her blog too, maybe ask whether any of her readers worked at a local dog shelter…

“We could talk to Marinette, see whether she’d be up for making a monster costume! Or if she’s too busy, Halloween’s coming up and- Alya?”

She blinked, only just now noticing how tightly she’d been squeezing her shirt in her hands. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Nino frowned. “No, you’re not.”

She looked away.

Nino slid into the seat next to her. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clearly hurting you. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. If you just want to go back to talking about something unrelated to it, something fun, to keep your mind off it, I’m happy to oblige. But I’m always here to lend an ear if you need it.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Marinette called me over last night, wanted me to watch the Ladybug and Chat Noir interview with her. She also happened to be babysitting Manon, and thought it’d be more fun if we were all there together. Everything was fine at first,” she said, fidgeting. “I played around with Manon for a bit, Marinette got some pillows to lay on, and we got set up to watch the interview. Then Marinette said she needed to talk to her parents and that she might be gone for a while.”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “I waited for a while, but… no Marinette. Finally, I went downstairs and checked with her dad. He didn’t know anything about it. As far as he knew, she’d been upstairs in her room with me the entire time. Marinette came back a little while later, pretending that her talk with her parents had gone super long and I just… I couldn’t deal with it. I left. I said I’d talk with her about it today, but…”

“But you don’t feel ready now either?” Nino guessed.

She nodded. “I just keep on turning it around and around in my head. It doesn’t make sense. Sure, Marinette makes up excuses and disappears sometimes, but…” Something niggled in the back of her brain. “Hey Nino,” she asked carefully, trying to catch the strand of thought. “Has Marinette always been like this? Running off at a moment’s notice with fake-sounding reasons?”

Nino scratched his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We’ve been in classes before, but we weren’t exactly close. I don’t think so? I think I would’ve noticed that. Not like we had akuma attacks distracting us last year.”

“Akuma attacks...” she murmured to herself.

There it was again. That niggling sensation, but even stronger this time.

*Slam*

Marinette threw the classroom door open, pinwheeling her arms as she struggled to regain her balance.

“AAAAAAH-”

At the last second as she fell backwards, Adrien seemed to almost teleport through the door, catching her.

Nino smiled. “I swear Adrien has a ‘Marinette falling’ sense. He always arrives just in time to catch her.”

Alya snorted. “Now if only he had a ‘Marinette feeling’ sense.”

Frowning, Alya tried to grasp onto the threads of thought from before, but they’d scampered with the distraction.

“...Can I sit here?” a soft voice asked.

Alya jumped a little, then scolded herself. She’d just seen Marinette arrive, she shouldn’t be able to startle her less than a minute later.

Nino got up slowly, giving Marinette a hard look, but moving to his regular seat without comment.

Marinette didn’t move.

Oh. Marinette was waiting for her permission, not just for Nino to leave.

“Sure. I mean, you sat here first,” Alya said. “I’m not the Queen of Seats.”

Marinette snorted at the reference, the edges of her mouth twitching upwards.

Alya narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t noticed before, but from this close, she could see the bags under eyes, along with a slight puffiness.

Guilt settled in her stomach. She was pretty sure she knew why Marinette wouldn’t have gotten enough sleep, why she would’ve been crying.

“But she broke my trust!” part of her screamed. “She lied to me, used me!”

She still didn’t like seeing her friend hurt.

“So?” She asked as Marinette slid into her seat.

“So what?” Marinette asked nervously.

Alya narrowed her eyes.

Marinette bit her lip. “I- I’m not sure what to say. I- I lied to you. You’re right. I called you over because I’d accidentally double-booked myself, but I couldn’t just TELL Nadja that and I couldn’t cancel on no notice, so I just… came up with what I thought was the best solution. Manon would get taken care of, Nadja, Mom, and Dad wouldn’t know anything unusual had happened, and I’d be back before you noticed anything was wrong. Everyone would be happy! At least, that’s what I planned…” she petered off, looking away.

She could get what Marinette was thinking now, when she called her over. Sometimes you couldn’t do the things you wanted without disappointing someone, without someone being upset with you. But if you lined things up just right, you might not need to upset anyone - so long as they never found out what you’d done.

It still stung that Alya had been the tool she used to solve her problem, but at least she understood Marinette’s thought process.

“What was so important?” she asked. “What was so vital that you had to sneak out, even if it meant lying to your friends and family?”

Marinette flinched. “I- I have to,” she whispered. “I don’t have a choice.”

Alarm bells rang in Alya’s head. “What do you mean?” she said urgently. “Is someone threatening you? Marinette, are you in danger?”

“No!” She thought for a moment. “Yes? Kind of? Not- not the way you’re thinking of!” she added hastily.

She didn’t know what she was thinking. Drugs? Gangs? A cult that’d ensnared Marinette in its clutches?

“Can I have your attention please?” Ms. Bustier said.

Alya turned to the front of the class, head still spinning. She still wasn’t totally sure how she felt about what Marinette had done, but she had bigger worries.

Something was wrong with Marinette.

-----

That girl could be slippery when she wanted to be.

She managed to avoid talking to Alya for the rest of Bustier’s class, not responding to any note-passing and hurrying out of the classroom the second the bell rang. With Marinette going home for lunch she had little opportunity to talk to her then, and as for their next period… Alya may be brave, but she wasn’t stupid. No talking in Ms. Mendeleiv’s class.

With a sigh, she watched Marinette run out of Francois-Dupont, somehow managing to take the stairs two at a time without falling. Clearly whatever it was, Marinette didn’t want to talk about it.

But if it was hurting her…

She shook her head. She’d been thinking about this all day. It was time to get her mind off it, do something else.

Nodding, she turned towards the park. Maybe some time climbing trees would help take her mind off things. And if it didn’t, it’d at least give her practice catching her siblings when they inevitably got themselves stuck in some high-up area. She could swear they had teleportation skills that they’d been hiding their whole lives just to prank the rest of the family with.

Chuckling to herself, she almost missed the flash of red out of the corner of her eye.

She whipped around. “Ladybug?!”

The superhero froze, looking caught out. “Alya!” she said, sounding strangled. “What’re you doing here?”

She shrugged. “Just enjoying the weather,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Would you be up for another interview?”

Ladybug started shaking her head before she even finished the sentence. “No, NOPE, nada, absolutely not!” she said, making an “X” with her arms for emphasis. “Not after yesterday. Not happening.”

She stashed her phone. “You just want to talk off the record then?”

The superheroine’s eyes widened a fraction. She nodded. “There’s… there’s something I could use your advice on.”

Something fluttered in Alya’s chest. Her idol needed her help? “I’ll do what I can,” she said, more confidently than she felt.

After going to a secluded part of the park, Ladybug turned to her. “You know a lot about superheroes right? About how we have to maintain a double life?”

Alya nodded. “It’s a comic book staple. Often causes a lot of trouble for the hero, but not as much as having their identity leaked to the world.”

“Yeah, I know what that trouble’s like,” Ladybug muttered to herself. Speaking more loudly, she looked at Alya. “I- I messed up. Badly. I forgot that I’d-” She paused. “Sorry, I need to be careful about this. I don’t want to expose myself.”

Alya nodded.

After a minute, Ladybug tried again. “I needed to do something as Ladybug, but as a civilian, I’d already agreed to another responsibility at the same time,” she said carefully. “I couldn’t tell anyone that I needed to do something Ladybug-related without spilling my secret identity, but I also couldn’t get out of my civilian responsibility so I- I tricked someone into doing it instead. And they found out and they’re mad at me and I can’t BLAME them but I can’t tell them everything and I just don’t know what to do!” She looked at Alya pleadingly.

Her stomach twisted. “Seems to be a lot of deception going on lately,” she muttered, surprising even herself with how bitter she sounded. She blinked as Ladybug winced.

Stop projecting your feelings about the sleepover onto Ladybug’s situation, they’re not the same! She scolded herself.

What would she do in Ladybug’s shoes? She couldn’t tell anyone her identity. She’d still want to be friends with this person. Just heaping on lies would make it worse when those came to light, alienating the friend (or former friend) even further.

“Have you explained as much as you could why you did it without giving away your secret identity?” Alya asked slowly. “Just… let them know that you do care about them, that you didn’t lie to them lightly, that you care about your feelings and you didn’t have a lot of options.” Ah, screw it. Maybe it was just because it’d been recent and she was still hurting and worried, but perhaps hearing it would help Ladybug with her own friend problems. “One of my friends recently tricked me into covering for her,” she said. “I’m still not sure why.”

“O-oh, really?” Ladybug said… nervously? Probably because it reminded her of her own friend.

“She vaguely explained to me why,” she continued. “What she was thinking and feeling at the time. She had another commitment too, but she didn’t tell me what it was.” She let out a deep sigh. “At least she didn’t lie about it - I think. I’d rather she not tell me, than lie about it.” A pebble sat near her shoe. Absentmindedly, she kicked it. “With how distraught she was when she explained it... I think she was sincere. That she doesn’t view me as a tool. That she was just in a tough spot,” she said. “That helps a lot.”

“I- I did explain,” Ladybug said, hope lifting her voice. “I think she believed me.”

Alya nodded. “In that case… I don’t think there’s much more you can do. Give her space, and try to avoid doing it again if you can.” She bit her lip. “Which might not be totally under your control considering Hawkbutt.”

Ladybug stifled a giggle.

She gave a small smile, snorting at her own joke. “Anyway, could I ask you a favor? So long as you don’t have any other commitments already, I don’t want to land you in hot water with anyone else,” she added hastily.

“Nothing to do with the Ladyblog, right?” Ladybug asked suspiciously.

As much as she’d like that… “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Actually, it has to do with a friend of mine. You know Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Uh- NOPE never heard that name in my life! Who’s Marinette?” Ladybug said hastily, gesticulating wildly.

Huh. Weird. She could’ve sworn that Marinette had mentioned meeting Ladybug before, but come to think of it, she couldn’t remember a single instance of Marinette and Ladybug being in the same place at the same time-

Never mind, there was that time with Alix’s race. But if that was the only time, no wonder Ladybug didn’t remember her. She wasn’t even sure that anyone had said Marinette’s name while Ladybug was within earshot.

Aaaaaand there was that niggling sensation again. She wished it’d either divulge what it was getting at or leave her alone.

She whipped out her phone, pulling up a picture she and Marinette had taken together a couple months ago. “Marinette’s my best friend,” she said, surprising herself with how sure she sounded. “We’re going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but… well, I’m still worried about her. She was the one who lied to me yesterday, and when I confronted her about it, she said something about not having a choice. It sounds like she’s in danger but she won’t tell me from what, and I’m not sure what could be the problem and… I’m just worried.” Looking up from her phone, she locked eyes with the superhero. “Could you check up on her, please? Maybe she’d talk to you even if she wouldn’t talk to me. And- and even if she doesn’t, I’d feel better if a superhero was looking out for her.”

“You really care about her, huh?,” Ladybug said, giving her a soft smile. “Even though you’re fighting.”

She nodded. “I’m not happy with her, and there are some things we still need to work out, but- yeah. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“You’re a good friend, Alya. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll look after her as best I can.”

“Buginette?” a boy’s voice called. A black figure landed next to Ladybug, crouched in the classic superhero landing pose, one knee bent, one hand punching the ground.

Oooh, new Ladyblog idea! Top ten Chat Noir poses! Seriously, that cat could be a model with the way he effortlessly mugged for the camera.

Ladybug groaned. “Did I forget the time already?”

“It’s fine,” Chat said, resting his stick on his shoulders. “Waiting made seeing you all the sweeter.”

The spotted heroine groaned again, for a different reason this time. Alya saw the corners of her lips quirk upwards ever-so-slightly, belying her annoyance. “Come on, you alley cat. Race you to the Tower!”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Alya watched them run off. Well, pole vault and swing off, but you know. Semantics.

Turning around, she headed back home.

She had an article to write.

-----

Alya hummed as she walked into class, glancing at her phone. The Chat article had been a major hit, garnering several dozen comments within a few hours of posting, including from a user called “TheCatsMeow” who seemed weirdly invested in convincing everyone that Chat definitely had no experience modeling and his on-point posing was entirely due to natural talent and charisma. People picked the weirdest hills to die on. She’d been joking when she proposed that he was secretly a supermodel, but after having defended the possibility in a ten-commment-long exchange, she was starting to seriously consider it. Hm, maybe Adrien would have an idea of a possible identity lead…

“Oooof!”

“Augh!”

Note to self: Don’t walk while looking at your phone. Sure she never listened when Mom told her that, but maybe this time she’d have the self-control to hold off! Optimism!

“Sorry,” she said instinctively. And blinked. “Marinette? You’re EARLY?!”

She should text her mom to buy a lottery ticket.

“Yeah,” Marinette said, chuckling nervously. She seemed to be in much better shape this time. A little down, but it looked like she’d gotten some decent sleep. “I- I just thought- if you wanted to talk- never mind. You need space.”

Suspicions percolated in her mind. “I should go to the restroom before class starts. How about you?”

Marinette’s head whipped up. “Yeah, sure, better to be safe than sorry. You know me, always needing to race to the toilet!” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Every other akuma attack it seems like,” Alya said, walking down the hallway with her friend. “I swear, something about it being an inconvenient time makes you need to go even more.”

“Yep, that’s totally the reason!” Marinette agreed.

They walked for a moment in silence while she tried to gather her thoughts. “You know about my advice to Ladybug, don’t you?” she said at last.

“Ack-!” Marinette tripped on air, but managed to save herself at the last second. “Uh, no, that’s ridiculous, how could I know about that? It’s not like I was there or anything.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. And it’s pure coincidence that you concluded I needed space the day after I gave that advice to Ladybug to help with her own friend problem?”

“Uuuuuh…” Marinette looked off to the side, before releasing a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Ladybug talked to me last night, and well… your conversation came up. I figured our problems were similar enough, and you were the one giving the advice, so… maybe if I followed it, we could make up?”

Marinette wanted to go back to normal, to laugh and joke and just.. enjoy each other’s company again. And Alya… she wanted that too.

She knew Marinette hadn’t meant to hurt her. And she understood why Marinette had done what she’d done.

Well, except for what prompted Marinette to need to lie in the first place. She just had a gut feeling it was a cult, some sort of secret society. She was sure Miraculous had been around for awhile, that several historical figures had used them, and she could just bet that there was some sort of secret group watching over them from the shadows. She just needed a thread to follow, something that could lead her back to the guardians-

NOT THE TIME, BRAIN.

Abruptly, she stopped. “I- I want that too,” she said softly. “I don’t like fighting. I want my friend back.” She gave Marinette a hard look. “If Ladybug told you my advice, then you already know what I’m about to say. I don’t like being lied to - not like that. Not as part of a manipulation. You had your reasons, I get that, but I don’t think I could take that a second time. Unless someone’s in danger if you don’t, please, don’t lie to me. If you can’t tell me something or why you’re asking me to do a thing, just tell me that. I can’t promise to like it, but it’s better than being tricked.”

Marinette bit her lip and nodded. “I think- yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” she said, gaining confidence.

Alya smiled. “In that case…” she took off. “Race you to the bathrooms!”

“Hey, no running in the halls!” Marinette said, but her laughter undercut her words. As did her immediately overtaking Alya.

Girl could move fast when she wanted to.

------

(Several months later)

“And I… I’m Ladybug”

“This makes everything make so much more sense.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #prime queen

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Chapter 8

Spencer checked his phone one last time as he brushed his teeth before bed. He saw one notification from you.

Hey, could you watch Jo Friday night by any chance? If not, I can ask my sitter.

The BAU had just wrapped a long case and Hotch sent everyone home Thursday night saying paperwork could wait until Monday morning so Spencer was free.

Of course.

Great! You could just stay at the house if you would like because I don’t know if I’ll be back before her bedtime. Is 6 okay?

Perfect. See you then.

Spencer plugged his phone into its charger and set it down on his night side, turning off the lamp and letting the exhaustion take over.

Spencer headed over to Y/N’s at around 5:30, picking up some strawberry ice cream and rainbow sprinkles on the way for Jo.

When you opened the front door, Spencer’s jaw went slack. You were in a tight dark purple dress that showed off your figure beautifully. Most of the time, you had your hair pulled back but tonight you wore it down. Spencer was gawking at you for so long that you cleared your throat to snap him out of his trance.

“Jo’s already had dinner and all the emergency numbers are on the fridge,” you said, walking back into the kitchen, clipping your earrings in.

“I brought dessert,” Spencer lifted the bag up slightly.

“Bribing Jo to be the favorite parent already, I see,” you joked.

Spencer chuckled, still not taking his eyes off you.

“Big plans?” he asked tentatively.

“Um yeah sorta. Do you know Professor Stevens from the math department? He asked me on a date and I agreed. I’m kind of nervous though, I haven’t been on a date in a while,” you fidgeted nervously with your hands, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You look beautiful,” Spencer spoke softly.

“Daddy!” Jo came running into the kitchen.

“Hey Jo!” he lifted her up, “Are you ready to have some fun?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, “I want to play Twister!”

“Is that a board game?” he questioned.

You laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “Have fun with that one. I’m afraid I will not be able to join because I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Jo. Love you,” you kissed her forehead while she was still being held in Spencer’s arms.

“Love you too, Mommy,” she replied.

You grabbed your purse and keys and gave Spencer a quick wave.

“Alright, you’re going to need to explain to me how Twister works, Jo,” he said after the front door closed.

“Right hand, green,” Spence spoke after spinning.

Jo easily placed her right hand on the green dot closest to her. Spencer, however, was already all tangled up. His left foot and hand were on yellow and his right foot was on red, meaning he had to stick his right hand under his legs to get to the green dot. He was barely keeping his balance. This game was not made for the uncoordinated.

“Left hand, also green,” Jo giggled, knowing there was no way Spencer could make this move without falling.

Spencer attempted to move his left hand but soon toppled over on to the white mat. Jo burst out laughing.

“Alright, alright, Jo is clearly the big winner of the night and to celebrate, she gets two whole scoops of ice cream and Daddy only gets one,” he smiled.

“Daddy, you can have two too!” she said.

“That is very generous of you, Jo,” Spencer scooped their ice cream into bowls.

After the dessert was gone, Jo’s eyes fought to remain open.

Spencer noticed this and let out a fake yawn, stretching his arms wide in the air.

“I’m so tired. How about we brush our teeth, get into our pjs, and go to bed?” he suggested.

Jo replicated his yawn in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled, picking Jo up.

Spencer helped Jo get all ready for bed before finally tucking her in.

“Caltechia,” she mumbled.

Spencer nodded, surprised she remembered that story.

“One day, the clumsy knight was asked to guard the pretty princess of Caltechia. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse, she was so much fun and a delight to be around. They played for hours and hours. The Queen of Caltechia was busy with other important matters that day. She was visiting the prince of another kingdom nearby. The knight did not like the prince very much and was very jealous that he got to be graced with the Queen’s presence for the evening. The prince seemed very full of himself and the knight also had a PhD in mathematics and it was his easiest one to get so it’s not that hard-” Spencer’s eyes widened when he realized his story was turning into a jealous rant.

Luckily, Jo was already asleep. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you, my princess,” before slowly exiting the room.

Spencer was reading his second novel of the night on the couch when he heard the door unlock.

You didn’t turn to face him.

“H-Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer cringed at his awkwardness.

“Good!” you tried to say cheerfully but your voice cracked and you sniffled a little.

As you made your way up the stairs without another word, Spencer noticed your puffy red eyes and streaks of smudged mascara dripping down your face.

He heard Jo’s bedroom door open quietly and then close again seconds later and then your bedroom door opened and was immediately shut.

Spencer sat on the couch for ten more minutes, debating his options. He didn’t know whether it was best to leave you alone or try to comfort you.

He slowly walked up the staircase and knocked softly on your door.

“Y/N? Do you want to talk about it?” he spoke softly.

Moments later, Spencer heard a meek “come in”.

You were lying face flat on your pillow with your dress still on, your heels had been discarded at the foot of the bed.

“What did he do?” Spencer asked, looking at you sympathetically and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

You sat up, “I thought he already knew about Jo but apparently he just wasn’t listening. When he saw my phone wallpaper of her, he freaked out and said he ‘didn’t want to be a step-dad’. We were on a first date getting dinner, it wasn’t like I was proposing marriage to him,” you sniffled.

“He’s an asshole, I’m sorry,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug, “he doesn’t deserve you, Y/N”.

You pulled back slightly after a few seconds, looking Spencer in the eyes. You both started leaning forward ever so slowly until your lips were on his. You allowed yourself to enjoy it for a brief moment before pulling away completely.

“See you Monday” is all you said, getting off the bed and walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

Spencer was left on your bed in utter shock. His lips still tingling and his heart still fluttering. He cleared his throat to compose himself and left your room, checking on Jo one more time before heading back to his apartment.

Spencer had only seen you for a brief amount of time since your kiss. He wanted to talk about it but it seemed like you were always purposely near Jo when he came over in the morning to pick her up for school, using her as a buffer to avoid the conversation with him.

Spencer was in the Georgetown faculty lounge, refilling his coffee mug when he heard the obnoxious voice of Professor Stevens. His festering anger began to boil.

“I was just looking to get laid. She’s hot but I didn’t know she came with all this extra baggage. I don’t want to be stuck raising some other dude’s kid,” Professor Stevens said to a group of men.

Spencer calmly set his mug down and walked over to Professor Stevens, tapping him on the shoulder. As soon as he turned around, Spencer punched him square in the jaw.

Spencer had asked you to pick up Jo from school for him which was weird because he hardly missed his days unless a case came up. He didn’t give a reason this time though, just saying he would explain later.

There was a knock on the door after dinner and you answered it with Jo right behind you.

“Daddy!” she lifted her arms upwards towards Spencer but he didn’t immediately pick her up like usual.

He looked at the hand shoved in his pocket before pulling it out, revealing bandaged knuckles, and picking Jo up.

“Daddy got a boo-boo,” Jo pointed to the injured hand, kissing it three times.

“Thank you, princess,” Spencer kissed the top of her head, “That helped.”

“Jo, want to watch TV for a little? Daddy is going to help Mommy in the kitchen,” you eyed Spencer suspiciously.

Jo nodded and Spencer set her down on the couch, turning on Looney Tunes before following you into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, follow-up question, who deserved to be punched that bad at nine in the morning?” you asked.

“Professor Stevens,” Spencer mumbled.

“I see,” your lips turned up slightly at the corners as you took out a pack of frozen peas from the freezer, placing them over Spencer’s bruised knuckles.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader

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hxneekyuu · 3 years

Text

falling in love || a playlist

>> because falling and realizing he’s fallen are two very different things.

genres : haikyuu x f!reader, fluff, angst, slightly suggestive

a/n : i got this idea after seeing the n/sfw version called “songs they would fuck you to” or something??? i literally cant find the post anymore so pls someone tag me or send me an ask if you know what im talking about so i can give that writer credit for their post -- just wanted to do a kind of slice of life version of that idea!! idk why but this really took me 2 weeks to finish for absolutely no reason, so i hope you like it!!

daichi -- you got something x rochelle

you got a something, making me weak // you got a something, i’m on my knees

“what are the odds daichi’s girlfriend is completely made up, and he just doesn’t want to tell us?” asahi laughs at suga’s comment, but daichi only picks up a handful of sand and chucks it at them, a scowl set deep on his features. he had told you a few days ago that he and the guys were going to be spending their saturday at the beach, the first nice day in a while -- he had been trying to tell you that he wanted you to finally meet his friends, and you had seemed really excited at the prospect. but you’re late, and while daichi knows his friends are just teasing, he can’t help but feel anxious.

“are you sure she’s coming?” asahi doesn’t mean it as a quip -- he genuinely is asking because he can tell this is important. but daichi isn’t listening. he’s staring down the stretch of beach at the person that’s stumbling in the sand, trying to cross the distance to him almost frantically. you look stressed, and he knows you’re probably freaking out about how late you are, but when you look up and finally make eye contact, the smile you give him is so bright and genuine that he feels like he’s the only one there.

“i’m sure.”

suga -- freakin’ out on the interstate x briston maroney

you got a lot on your mind // and your heart, it looks just like mine

he’s not sure when he falls asleep, but when he comes to, he knows the ink from his homework has probably copy-pasted itself onto his right cheek. it’s been week after week of deadlines and assignments, the stress of third year finally catching up to him. an unplanned nap was bound to happen at some point with the way he was staying up later and later each night, barely getting 4 hours if he was lucky. he’s ready to lift his head and get back to work, but when he opens his eyes, all he sees is you. you’re sitting next to him, headphones in as you work on your own assignments, completely unaware that he’s awake. as he studies you closely, feeling calm for the first time in weeks, he decides that maybe another few minutes won’t kill him.

asahi -- apocalypse x cigarettes after sex

when you’re all alone, i will reach for you // when you’re feeling low, i will be there too

he’d had a hard practice -- he’d messed up so many serves and missed enough spikes to make him feel like going home and forgetting this whole day had happened. he can’t meet anyone’s eyes because he knows they know how he’s feeling, and that’s just embarrassing. he even waits until everyone’s left the club room for the night, having told daichi and suga to go ahead of him, that he’d walk home alone. sitting in the club room all alone, he can’t help but sigh in frustration.

finally pulling himself to his feet, he grabs his bag and heads for the door, locking it behind him once he’s outside. turning toward the door, he almost yells when he sees you standing there, staring down at your shoes as you wait. when you had become karasuno’s manager, you’d made a point to tell them that they could rely on you for anything, but he really hadn’t thought you’d meant this. looking up and meeting his eyes with a smile, you gesture toward the stairs and don’t say a word about practice. he won’t realize for a long time just how much he appreciates you in this moment.

“come on, slowpoke, i’ve been waiting to walk home with you.”

kageyama -- the less i know the better x tame impala

then i heard they slept together // oh, the less i know the better

“you need to tell her before i tell her for you.” it’s an empty threat, but he aims a punch at the side of hinata’s head for good measure. they’re standing at the door to his classroom, pretending to be busy talking about something so he can have an excuse to look at you. you’re standing in the hall not too far away, laughing about something with your friends, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to confess right then and there. you don’t even know who he is, and he’s just about ready to risk public humiliation for you. he doesn’t know what’s happened to him in the weeks since he’d first laid eyes on you, but he’s not sure how much longer he can deal with this torture.

“dude, she is right there. seriously, you need to just tell her. so what if she says no and you’re embarrassed for a few days? at least you’ll be getting it over with. there’s nothing that could be worse than that -- oh.” almost as if the universe is playing some kind of cruel game, both kageyama and hinata watch as the door to the next classroom slides open, making way for a certain 6’2” blond middle blocker to step into the hall and call out to you. when you smile and wrap your arms around his waist, silently asking him to bend down so you can plant a small kiss on his cheek, kageyama grits his teeth and looks away, locking eyes with a flustered hinata.

“that. that’s worse.”

hinata -- i’m so tired… x lauv, troye sivan

hurts like heaven, lost in the sound // Buzzcut Season, like you’re still around // can’t unmiss you, but i need you now

he can feel you next to him, curled up into his chest, your breathing even. he can feel your loving gaze on the side of his face as he helps you cook dinner and even more so when you two are on the couch watching netflix -- you’d always had a habit of watching him more than the show. he can feel your skin on his in the shower as you drag your nails through his hair, scrubbing the shampoo through his locks and laughing when he starts to splutter under the rush of hot water. he can feel your lips on his, your embrace warm and safe after a bad day. he can feel it all like it’s still happening.

but when he opens his eyes, nothing is there to greet him but the empty spot in his bed to match the equally empty apartment. you’re still abroad, just as you have been for months now. and no matter how many good morning texts and late night facetime calls he has to look forward to, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still not here with him. you’re still gone. and he’s starting to realize he can’t feel much of anything anymore.

nishinoya -- ego x milky chance

and i guess that she’s the strongest // that i’ve ever seen yet, ever seen yet

“come quick, yuu! there’s a girl outside standing up to those bullies in the year above us!” nishinoya rushes to the window, taking his place among his classmates as they all watch you, standing your ground out in front of the school. you’re hovering over a boy who’s been pushed to the ground, his hand and knee already bleeding lightly. your arms are crossed, eyes squinted in determination as you stare down two boys that are older and much bigger than you. he finds his chest tightening with worry -- how can a ten-year-old girl take down two bullies? why isn’t anyone helping? shouldn’t someone get a teach--

“well come on, then, you jerks! i thought you guys were supposed to be scary, but you look like a couple of wimps to me, picking on someone smaller than you!” his classmates start snickering, the bullies noticing that they’ve got an audience, but nishinoya’s breath has caught in his throat, and all he can see is you and that look in your eye -- he needs to know you.

tanaka -- perfect places x lorde

all the nights spent off our faces // trying to find these perfect places // what the fuck are perfect places anyway?

he pushes the nameless girl up against the wall, lips finding hers in a rush of alcohol and adrenaline. he doesn’t care about her, and he knows damn well that she doesn’t care about him either. you don’t go to a frat party looking for love. that’s why, when he pulls away and opens his eyes to look at her, the guilt he feels isn’t for her or that fact that she’d likely be going home alone tonight. it’s for you, completely unaware of his feelings or his fantasies. because it’s not her face staring back at him. it’s yours.

ennoshita -- cigarette daydreams x cage the elephant

so sweet, with a mean streak // nearly brought me to my knees

“dude, seriously! we’ve come to this coffee shop every day for like the last two weeks -- the chocolate croissants cannot be that good!” he shushes tanaka angrily, shoving him through the door and to the far end of the room, forcing him into the booth by the window and dropping his bag on the other side. he tells himself, and anyone that asks to be honest, that he needs to focus because finals are coming up. he tells himself that the ambiance at this cafe is calming, that he can always get work done here without a problem. he tells himself this as if he doesn’t have a mountain of work that most definitely has not been getting done in the last two weeks, the deadlines piling up to the point where he’s sure he’s going to be suffering very soon. but none of that matters -- ‘none of it matters’, he tells himself as he approaches the counter, meeting your playful eyes with a nervous smile.

“ennoshita-san, you’re back! should i get you the usual?”

tsukishima -- know your worth x khalid, disclosure

find someone you know will put you first // find someone who loves you at your worst

he’s at your door not even ten minutes after you’d texted him. it had been easy enough to get past the security guard in front of your dorm -- he’s spent more nights here than at his own dorm, which he’s sure his party animal roommate is thankful for. but tonight, tsukishima’s not here to avoid a 2am rager, the “he left me for her” text settling like poison in his veins the longer he thinks about it. he’s angry -- beyond angry -- but he knows to store it away for later. later, he can find that piece of shit and release the worst of tsukishima kei’s sharp tongue. right now, he can hear you crying on the other side of the wall, and it’s all he can do not to bust the door down.

as he’s bringing his hand up to knock, the tissue box and pack of oreos shifting in the bag around his wrist, the door swings open, revealing your roommate. she barely spares him a glance as she shuffles past him into the hall, patting his shoulder as she goes.

“she’s all yours, tsukki.”

yamaguchi -- are you bored yet x wallows (feat. clairo)

’cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset // but i can’t help from asking “are you bored yet?”

it’s just past 5pm, the soft glow of the afternoon really tempting his inner desire to take a nap, but there’s something eating away at him. when he looks down at you, head in his lap as you read a manga, the part of his heart that used to be filled with nothing but love feels now like it’s being drowned in doubt. is he still enough for you? are you getting tired of having him in your life? should he change to match your idea of the perfect boyfriend?

“hey.” he’s snapped out of his thoughts, eyes focusing in on your face and realizing that you’re peeking over the top of your manga to look at him. he tilts his head to one side, the ghost of a smile forming on his face when you mimic his movement playfully. you pull down the manga just a little bit more, revealing the rest of your face, and reach for the hand he has tangled in your hair. bringing it down to your lips, and that ghost of a smile becomes a full, genuine one when you whisper a kiss into his knuckles.

“i love you.”

kuroo -- one dance x drake

strength and guidance // all that i’m wishing for my friends

you’re throwing back another shot, setting the glass down on his coffee table when you’re done. he knows you’ve had a bad week at work, if the “i’m coming over, let’s drink” text had been anything to go by. this is the way you two had bonded in college, meeting up whenever one of you was having a bad time and drinking until your livers would cry. of course, you would follow it up with healthier coping mechanisms the next day, often spending all day together talking things through properly and eating greasy food for the hangovers.

it had been years since you’d started this little tradition, but as you turn up the volume on his speaker and sway to the music by yourself in the middle of his living room, he starts to imagine that maybe this could turn into something more.

kenma -- sunflower x post malone, swae lee

you’re the sunflower // i think your love would be too much

he’s not sure how he’d actually managed to convince you to pretend to be with him. it hadn’t even taken that long -- he’d barely let out that he was starting to feel overwhelmed with the amount of viewers that would hit on him during his streams when you were agreeing to his idea. as he sits in front of his computer, explaining in a low voice that the roommate he’d talked about before was actually his girlfriend, he wonders how the hell you could possibly be okay with this. but more than that, when you “interrupt” and walk into the room with a glass of water for him as an excuse to place your lips gingerly on his, the chat going absolutely crazy at the display, he wonders why it can’t be real.

lev -- death is in the air x sakima

is my heart breaking // or do i have one at all

he’s sitting across from you in a diner that’s otherwise empty, watching you stir the coffee in front of you. he knows you will never bring the cup to your lips in the span of this conversation -- it’s just a nervous habit, a need to keep your hands busy while you talk. he can hear your words, but they sound muffled, as if he’s underwater. this entire moment feels like it’s happening to someone else, but when he pinches the inside of his thigh, you’re still there, telling him what he never thought he’d hear. that things aren’t working out between you -- that you’re tired of him being a player and coming close enough to cheating that it almost hurts more than if he would just do it already. he hears all the ways he’s been the kind of person he’d always hated, but he doesn’t say a word. he hasn’t said a word since he sat down, not even five minutes prior. is five minutes really all you need to end things?

he doesn’t move, not even when he hears the bell above the door ring, your footsteps fading as the door closes behind you.

yaku -- sucker x jonas brothers

i’m a sucker for all the subliminal things // no one knows about you (about you), about you (about you)

it’s 3:37am on a tuesday night -- or is it wednesday? -- and he should be in bed or at least in the comfort of his own home. but he’s not. he’s not home, and he knows he’s really pushing his luck because his father wakes up for work every day at 4am, but he just can’t bring himself to be responsible. he knows he’s going to be so screwed when his 6:30 alarm goes off, but at this rate he thinks he might be watching the sun rise with you. you’re in the exact same situation, so who is he to cut the night short if you haven’t yet? even if you do look as exhausted as he feels, there’s a happiness on your face that he feels partially responsible for, and he’s not ready to give that up yet.

so he lets himself be dragged around the empty streets of tokyo, feeling like nothing else matters but this moment with you, at 3:37am on a tuesday night.

oikawa -- pristine x mantaraybryn

and that all this time i was trying to be // james dean, pristine, suntanned, underwater // living an american dream

glass shatters against the far wall, and he’s not quite sure when he’d picked up the bowl from the coffee table. he’s alone in the main room of the apartment, almost vibrating with rage. there are tears falling from his eyes, but he’s not sure when that happened either. all he can think about is the humiliation he’d felt, the bitter pain that had filled him when his father had expressed his disappointment at the way his son’s life had turned out.

“... should have stayed in Japan… real job....” oikawa stares at the shelf above the TV, lined with every award he’d spent his entire life earning. before he can think properly about it, he’s across the room, swinging his arm toward the shelf, ready to destroy everything he’d ever worked for --

“tooru?” spinning around to face you, panic fills his teary eyes as he realizes he really wasn’t alone in the apartment this whole time. you’d been there, probably just doing work in your own room with your headphones in. the sound of the bowl breaking against the wall had probably caught your attention, and now he feels bad for ruining the space you two share. but you’re not looking at the mess. you’re only looking at him, concern lacing your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he feels safe.

iwaizumi -- eastside x benny blanco (with halsey & khalid)

we can do anything if we put our minds to it // take your whole life, then you put a line through it

“what are you doing here?” he says it without looking back, having heard you scaling the side of his house as soon as you’d gotten there. when you settle down next to him, legs hanging off the roof, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, a sense of calm falling over him for the first time all day. he feels you scoot closer, leaning your head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your temple. you two sit on top of his house like this, staring out at the city together just as you’d been doing since you were kids and needed to escape, even if just for a few minutes.

“your mom called me -- said she hadn’t seen you in hours. i told her i’d take care of it.” he smiles to himself. he should have known you’d find him. you always do.

matsukawa -- you get me so high x the neighbourhood

we should stick together // you’re my best friend, i’ll love you forever

he can see you across the party, looking annoyed and a little impatient as a guy steps into your path, trying to chat you up. whatever’s on your mind has you peering around the frat boy, and you wave him off without a second glance as you search for something -- or someone. he’s persistent, though, and matsukawa has half a mind to save you, knowing that having a best friend with a frame as large as his has gotten you out of trouble with guys before. but before he can pass his drink off to makki, your eyes are locking onto his own, and it feels like the world has stopped. you’ve never smiled at him like that before.

hanamaki -- on melancholy hill x gorillaz

’cause you are my medicine // when you’re close to me

“you know, hanamaki, you visit my office hours every week, but it never really feels like you need help.” he pulls his eyes away from the whiteboard littered with your handwriting, meeting your eyes just long enough to feel exposed. you’re giving him a sweet smile, but the look in your eye is anything but innocent. you see right through him, he knows that much, but he’s never going to admit that he knowingly ditches party plans with his roommates every friday just so he can see you for an hour. he’d never tell you that -- just like he’d never tell you that he knows you’re pretending to be worried about his progress just like he is, that he knows you can see how good his are grades, too. instead of mentioning any of that, he shoots you a quick smirk, cocking his head to the side in mock-confusion.

“i’m not sure i know what you’re getting at, y/n.”

kyoutani -- chill x rayana jay

baby, can i be real? can i be real with you? // it means the world to me, i just wanna chill with you

rounding the corner of the aisle, he doesn’t even realize he’s bumped into someone until there are groceries rolling around at his feet and you’re apologizing softly. the glare that settles on his face is one of pure habit, an expression that had become his only one over the course of his life. he’s guarded by nature, and he knows it pushes people away, but that’s how he prefers things. so when you glance up from where you’re crouched, putting your items back into your basket, he’s shocked that you aren’t matching his glare or even that you don’t seem the slightest bit intimidated. you’re just asking him to hand you something by his feet.

realizing that you’ve dropped quite a bit of stuff because of him, he bends down, grabbing items before they roll away and handing them to you without a word. he then realizes that he’s made you spill your drink on your shirt, something you only notice when you catch him staring at the stain. when he sees the smirk on your face, his guarded glare makes a comeback, but you still don’t seem to notice it.

“are you going to tell me your name, or are you just going to keep staring at my chest?” well this is certainly new.

kunimi -- sweater weather x the neighbourhood

just us, you find out // nothing that i wouldn’t want to tell you about

“so you met this girl on twitter? what if she’s like some 40 year old dude?” he rolls his eyes at kindaichi’s comment, pulling up your account and showing him the selfies you’d posted not too long ago. his best friend nods appreciatively before shrugging. “i don’t know, man, those could be fake.” understanding kindaichi’s concern but unable to stop the annoyance that flares up in him, he shoves his phone back into his pocket and starts to walk away.

“whatever, dude, what’s the harm in making a friend?” there’s a scoff from behind him at the word ‘friend’, but he ignores it, just like he ignores the blush rising on his cheeks.

“i’m just saying, you’ve never exactly been one to put yourself out there and make friends, so why her?” he shrugs, deciding that even starting this conversation with kindaichi had been a huge mistake and that he just wants it to be over. he’s well aware that it’s not the best idea to get close to someone he hasn’t physically met and that kindaichi’s just looking out for him, but he feels oddly protective of you and doesn’t like where the conversation is headed.

besides, his attention is no longer on what’s happening around him. he can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he just knows it’s you.

kindaichi -- that’s just how it goes x role model

you’ll sleep with friends of mine // i’ll sleep with people i don’t like

he waves at you when you enter the gym, remembering that you’d promised to come watch him practice. they haven’t quite started yet, so he jogs over to you to ask how your day was. he knows why you’re really here. he can see the way you try to glance around him without being obvious about it, but he knows exactly who you’re here for. it’s so obvious it almost feels like a joke. because when kunimi wanders over to say hi, he can see the way you look at him, your ears tinted red as you smile nervously. he can see it, and he hates it, so he looks away. he always looks away. that’s why he never sees the moment when you turn your loving gaze to him or the way kunimi smiles knowingly, shaking his head at the fact that kindaichi can be so oblivious sometimes.

bokuto -- magic in the hamptons x social house, lil yachty

you know where i go when we’re dancing // handshakes in the hamptons and getting drunk in the mansions with you

“akaashi... who is that?” he’s standing in one of the aisles of the library, eyes locked on the table where akaashi can usually be found studying. he’d come to this spot specifically to find his best friend, ready to drag the younger boy off to lunch, but he’d found you instead. he’s not exactly sure how long he’s been standing there, probably in everyone’s way, but eventually akaashi does pass the aisle on his way to check out a book, stopping short at the sight of a familiar large frame.

at akaashi’s noise of confusion from his question, bokuto does nothing more than repeat himself, swallowing hard as he watches you study. glancing past bokuto to see what he’s looking at, akaashi finally spots you, lifting his gaze and smiling almost evilly when he sees the telltale expression of awe on bokuto’s face.

“that’s y/n, bokuto-san. she’s a good friend of mine -- should i introduce you?”

akaashi -- fuck, i’m lonely x lauv, anne-marie

and all my friends are way too drunk to save me from my phone // so sorry if I say some things I mean

when akaashi steps out of the convenience store, well past midnight, the last person he’s expecting to see is you, sitting at one of the little tables outside. there’s a bottle of sake and a small disposable cup in front of you, but you’ve got your head on the table, looking out at nothing in particular. he checks his phone quickly and realizes that he does, in fact, have two texts from bokuto, the first letting him know that the two of you had gotten into a disagreement of sorts and you’d stormed out of the house to clear your head. the second is a request, friend to friend, that akaashi find her because, as annoyed he is with her, bokuto knows that his baby sister trusts akaashi more than anyone else in the world and he wants her to come home safely.

he sets his bag on the table and sits down across from you, letting you know that someone’s there. when you lift your head and see that it’s him, you give him a smile so warm that his breath catches in his throat and he has to find something to distract himself. picking the bottle of sake up from the table, he judges that you’re probably pretty tipsy, as it’s almost empty. he knows you’re pretty tipsy when you hum quietly and grab for his hand, whispering to him words that he figures you wouldn’t say if you were sober.

“I missed you, ‘kaashi.”

ushijima -- loving someone x the 1975

and i think i should be… // … loving someone

“i do not know how to tell her that she is overbearing. she even becomes angry when i try to explain that my career will not allow me the amount of time she demands of me.” he can hear you humming sleepily on the other side of the phone, and he wonders momentarily if he should have checked to see if you were sleeping before calling, but you’d told him long ago that you’d always pick up. he supposes 1am is never a good time to call, but he’s always had trouble talking to anyone who isn’t you. no one else has ever put in the effort to understand what he’s saying and especially what he isn’t saying. no one else has ever tried. not even his own girlfriend.

tendou -- blueberry faygo x lil mosey

one bad bitch, and she do what i say so

when his phone dings quietly from where he’s left it in the passenger’s seat of his car, tendou knows you’re almost ready. he rounds the corner onto your street and kills the headlights, rolling up to the front of your house as carefully as possible. he can see your parents sitting in the main room, the sofa positioned so that their backs are to the window, the TV glaring brightly in front of them. it’s a lucky setup for a certain redhead, as it’s granted him several opportunities over the years, both to sneak in and for you to sneak out. the latter is what he’s currently witnessing.

he watches as you slip out of your window and almost roll right off the roof, but you catch yourself and maneuver very carefully to the edge of the roof. he can’t help but grab his phone to film you as your legs hang precariously off the edge, your body wiggling cutely as you try not to make noise. at some point you’re dangling in the air right in front of the window, but you drop to the ground before either of your parents can notice, and then you’re bolting down the driveway to tendou’s car in uncontained excitement.

he watches the whole ordeal with nothing but love in his eyes, knowing there’s no one else in the world that would risk the true wrath of their parents for a 2am mcdonald’s run with him.

semi -- dangerous x big data (feat. joywave)

you understand, i got a plan for us // i bet you didn’t know that i was dangerous

he thinks he recognizes you, but he can’t quite place your familiarity. it’s a standard interview, one that the band has had scheduled for weeks now. when they get there, you’re already seated in the interviewer’s chair, a camera set up just behind you. you greet them kindly, smiling and bowing to each of the members. when you get to him, however, he has to ask.

“sorry if this comes off as a little weird, but… do we know each other?” your kind smile morphs into a smirk, so he knows he’s right. the response you give has the rest of the band howling with laughter, but he’s too busy noticing how stunning you look in that moment, your eyes dancing with mirth as you tilt your head to the side to look at him.

“you mean you don’t remember rejecting me in high school?”

goshiki -- adore you x harry styles

i’d walk through fire for you // just let me adore you

“...so what i’m trying to say, tsutomu… is that i like you. a lot…” he can hear the words leaving your mouth, but all he can see is you -- the way you refuse to meet his eyes, the deep red that’s filling your cheeks the longer you go on. he barely registers that this is a confession because all his mind can focus on is the fact that it’s taken this long for him to realize his own feelings. almost 2 years of inviting you to his games, begging your teachers to make you two seatmates at the beginning of each term, asking you to wait for him to finish practice so he could walk you home -- it had all been some selfish attempt to make you his, and he didn’t even realize it until you were trying to make him yours, too. he doesn’t let you finish your rambling confession, unable to stop himself from speaking.

“what are you doing this weekend?”

shirabu -- toothbrush x dnce

baby, you don’t have to rush // you can leave a toothbrush at my place, at my place

when the two of you had started dating, you’d both agreed that keeping things private for a little while would be best -- the shiratorizawa VBC is a lot of things, but subtle is not one of them. he’d been well aware that if anyone were to find out, he would suffer endless teasing and constant questions, and since you’re friends with all the boys, you would not be spared the torture. but “a little while” had become months, and he’s starting to feel like he’s made a mistake trying to keep you a secret. when you visit the team’s practice, he feels trapped, like he’s not even free to look at you or give you the soft smile he knows you love. he just has to sit there, blending in with the rest of the boys as they greet you, as a few of them even flirt with you. they have no idea that you’re his, and he’s really starting to hate it.

terushima -- blinding lights x the weekend

i’m drowning in the night // when i’m like this, you’re the one i trust

“yuuji, you shouldn’t be calling me…” he’s drunk -- more than drunk, really. if he’d been any less intoxicated than he currently is in this exact moment, he never would have looked for your name in his contacts. he knows you’re trying to have a clean break, that after years of back and forth and mistakes that were masked as late nights and one too many drinks, you had finally had enough. he’s trying to respect your decision because he wants nothing more than to give you everything you want. but there must be some piece of him that’s hoping you’re willing to make just one more mistake. one more mistake with you is all he needs, and then he’ll let you go.

atsumu -- love$ick x mura masa (feat. a$ap rocky)

i need you // i’m a lovesick fuck // i want you // i’m a lovesick fuck

“rin, you left this at my place last night -- my mom filled it with leftovers in case you didn’t have lunch for today.” watching as you place suna’s lunch sack beside him and nod at his quiet mumble of gratitude, atsumu considers it both a blessing and a curse that the universe made you suna’s best friend. but today he feels especially cursed, since he’s now finding himself choking half to death on his lunch when suna lets out a quick --

“by the way, this piss head’s been crushing on you for weeks -- can you please go on a date with him so i can get some peace and quiet during lunch?” snatching osamu’s water bottle right as his brother’s raising it to his own lips, atsumu quiets his lungs and glances up at you, beet red, just as you’re turning to walk away, a smirk forming on your lips.

“i’ll think about it.”

osamu -- paradise x bazzi

don’t know if it’s the drink i poured // but i swear i’ve never loved you more

“stop touchin’ my rice! it’s for the fuckin’ onigiri!” if any of his customers could see the way he’s acting right now, he’d definitely be out of business. he’s known for providing quality service with charm to match, but right now he’s acting like nothing short of… well, his brother. you’d stopped by just as the shop was closing, part of your friday night routine that consisted of nothing but your favorite miya twin and a heinous amount of food for two people. atsumu always complains that you’d shown osamu favoritism since high school, something that osamu was always secretly happy about. even now, as you stand in the kitchen of his restaurant asking him to show you how to make onigiri and then proceeding to wreak absolute havoc on his poor ingredients, he’s pleased that you’d always chosen him over anyone else. he does need you to stop touching his inventory, though.

“but what’s the difference between this rice and this ri-- okay, okay, i’m sorry!” you run around the island in the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding him as he swipes at you and yells for you to get out of his shop. he can tell you’re about to do something else to rile him up, so he tries to reach for you again but ends up tripping over his own foot and falling to the ground, taking you down with him. he only realizes just how close you are when you’re whispering his name, your breath fanning over his lips.

‘oh... shit’

suna -- notice me x role model (feat. benee)

let’s dance when we’re not supposed to be // can’t stand when you’re not close to me // damn, can’t believe you notice me, notice me

caging you against his bedroom wall with his arms, he presses his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. he can feel your pulse jumping in your throat, and he feels a kind of guilty pride that he’s the one that makes you feel this way. when you grasp at his shirt almost desperately and pull him flush against you, he wants to forget about the fact that this means nothing to you. he wants to forget about the way you sneak out of his room when you think he’s asleep, as if he could ever sleep peacefully knowing you’re so close. he wants to forget about how stupid he’d been, losing his courage and asking you to just be fuck buddies instead of what he really wants.

sakusa -- 505 x arctic monkeys

but i crumble completely when you cry // it seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with “goodbye”

as you storm toward the front door, his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pulling you back to him. when you whip around to look at him, your eyes, burning with anger and wet with tears, have his heart breaking clean in half, but he doesn’t let go.

“i’m not letting you leave. you’re the one who said leaving wouldn’t fix anything. we have to fix this.” the look you give him is resigned, almost as if you think there’s no point in fixing what had slowly been breaking between you. if you had been anyone else -- if he could live without you -- he would have let you go a long time ago. but you’re not someone else, you’re you. and he’s not ready to live without you, so he doesn’t let go. he can’t let go.

aone -- firebird x milky chance

you’re like a firebird in the sky // shining for a challenger in the night

there’s a hand wrapping around his bicep as he stands in front of the chinese food takeout place on his street, waiting for futakuchi to finish ordering for them. when he looks down, you’re looking right back up at him, a complete stranger.

“babe, i thought you said you’d meet me at the corner!” he blinks inquisitively, tilting his head to the side, but he can see that there’s thinly veiled panic in your eyes. glancing quickly over your shoulder, he catches sight of two guys not too far away, watching closely. acting on the only conclusion that makes sense to him in that moment, he removes his arm from your grasp, but just as that panic in your eyes starts to grow, he’s wrapping it around you, pulling you into his chest comfortably.

“i’m sorry, i must have forgotten.” he wants to cringe at his own stiff language, hoping he doesn’t blow your cover and make things worse, but you’re relaxing into him as the guys finally decide you aren’t worth the trouble. once they’re gone, he drops his arm but keeps you close just in case. he wants to offer to walk you home, but he doesn’t like the idea that those guys are still wandering the streets and could find out where you live if they spot you again any time soon. you start to apologize for catching him so off guard, but his voice, firm yet polite, stops you.

“do you like chinese food?”

futakuchi -- 7 rings x ariana grande

happiness is the same price as red-bottoms

he doesn’t see you at first, the lighting in the room so dark that he can barely see his drink in his own hand. the club is beyond crowded, and the sweat that starting to roll down his spine is making him really uncomfortable. he pulls out his phone to text you, but then he remembers that he’d upset you earlier -- a remark that had come out automatically, his quick, unfiltered comments a product of his sharp tongue -- and you had cancelled your plans with him and told him you would text him in a few days. he has no right to be upset, he knows he shouldn’t have been rude to you. but then he spots a dress not too far away -- a dress he very clearly remembers paying for.

you’re hanging off of some other guy, and it looks like you two know each other because you aren’t tense around him like you were when you’d first met him all those years ago. you’re not his, he has to remind himself. this arrangement had been built on nothing but sex and money, as all things tend to be. you keep him company, and he gives you anything you could ever want -- the perfect sugar daddy.

then why is he so goddamn irritated?

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