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alieinthemorning · 5 months

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Sorry if this goes against the rules (dark nature but idk if this counts) but like, can u write about Leona feeling especially depressed and not being able to even get out of bed, then the reader-insert comes to wake him up (on behalf of Ruggie) and then realised and comforts him? Like angst to comfort! But no rush and no worries if this request is declined! I'll just ask something else then!

Lean on Me [Leona Kingscholar]

Content: Depressed Leona Kingscholar, Blood and Injury, Literal Sleeping Together, Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Strong Language

Pronouns: None

Continuation of: For Thee, Not for Me [Leona Kingscholar || Malleus Draconia]

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

He knew he should have just stayed in bed. Shouldered this shit on Ruggie (he was competent enough), and just not have been fucking bothered.

But he did, and it came with consequences (other than him leaving his bed).

He wasn't paying attention, too stuck in his own head to realize that one of the mutts had fucked up, and the damn disc was headed straight for his noggin.

Shit was flying fast enough that it knocked him clear on his ass. It hurt like hell, the pain in the side of his head and his back, but shit—he'd rather be on the fucking ground than possibly bleeding to death than standing and acting like he wasn't on the fucking cliff's edge.

But then there you were (of course you were), kneeling beside him as you assessed the damages. You gently brushed the sticky brown locks away from the wound, wincing at what you saw. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as you silent contemplated something.

He opened his mouth, ready to stop you from doing something stupid (that stupid thing being saving his life).

But it was too late.

“Worry not, there’s nothing for you to abide by. Leave all your worries to me. For Me, Not Thee.”

And then he was sitting up with just left with a dull headache,

and your unconscious body that fell into his lap.

You'd been asleep for a week now. Vita told him that it was a combination of a White Cold and Rapid Blot Accumulation. She told him that it wasn't his fault, that you were well aware of the consequences of overusing your Signature Spell.

Epel did bother hiding his glare. He was pissed, and rightfully so. He may have looked up to him, but he considered you as family. And here he was sitting at your bedside, as if he had the fucking right.

But regardless of Epel's silent furry, he remained there.

But he knew that wasn't it.

"You fucked up." Ruggie had told him one day as he had delivered his lunch. He didn't tell him to do, but his reasoning had to do with you.

"If you don't feed you, and I don't feed you, guess who's gonna be pissed."

When he asked Ruggie to watch you, he never expected for him to actually befriend you. He even stopped taking the money he had been paying him, calling it dirty money. He shrugged it off, less money out of his pocket.

"You better start learning how to grovel, Prince." Title, no name. "Or else someone else will force you on your knees.

If he had been paying attention to his surroundings, you wouldn't have been laying here. If he had been paying attention to you, he would have realized that you weren't fit to even be at practice that day (because he knows that you'd fight him tooth and nail to heal whoever was hurt).

Zigvolt had given him a good right hook when he appeared in the infirmary. Silver was there as well, he could have stopped him, but he didn't (and he didn't blame him).

"You'd best pray to any and all gods that will listen, Kingscholar." His eyes flashed with something dangerous—a promise. "May my lord forgive me for what I will do to you."

Hell, he should have just stayed in bed and wallowed like a fucking coward.

Draconia appeared late at night before Vita officially kicked him out. He simply looked over your sleeping form with a pitiful look on his face.

That didn't wash away when his eerie Fae gaze found his own muted chartreuse one.

But he didn't, and now you were the one paying the price.

"Oi, Vita." A chair scraping against tile.

Two muffled voices, a door softly shutting, and a sigh.

You give yourself a few more minutes to accumulate to your current setting before slowly opening your eyes.

"Was that Leona, Vita?"

The one frowned as she looked at you over her heart-shaped glasses. "That's really the first thing you ask me?"

You give a dismissive hum, "...I suppose so."

"You are such a—yes, that was him."

"Okay." And then you closed your eyes again.

Close to a week later is when you were discharged, and allowed to return to classes. And that's exactly what you didn't do. Instead, you went on the prowl for a hiding lion. However, you were surprised to find that he wasn't at any of his usual spots, but instead decaying away in his room.

The blinds were fully drawn, shielding him from the sunlight that attempt to penetrate. His room was more a mess than usual, as if he had torn through it himself in a fit of rage, before fizzling out and finding his final resting place.

You pursed your lips, that's probably exactly what he did. Oh well, that didn't really matter, so instead of worrying about that, you set about to clean the room. You heard him shuffle on the bed a bit, but disregarded him until you were finished.

And when you were, you faced him. "..."

"..."

If he wasn't ready to talk, then that was fine. You eyed his body for any external injuries. There didn't seem like there were any, so you turned heel, heading for his en suite bathroom.

"Oi..." It was soft and weak, like he wasn't really addressing you, but just saying it in general confusion. You ignored him in favor of fulling his tub with water and oils (just the way he liked it).

When you were done, you simply gestured to the bath, not waiting to hear any sort of answer because you were already pulling the sheets off the bed before he could protest. So he followed your silent directions and entered the bathroom (leaving the door unlocked).

You made quick work of his bed, then got himself a fresh set of clothes as well as yourself (you knew how he was about outside clothes).

You knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

"...yeah."

He was fully submerged, a layer of bubbles covering what needed to be covered.

"Can I wash your hair?"

Despite his lips twisting into a frown, he nodded. You knew why. Of course you did. He felt guilty for what happened to you. And yes, maybe, he did have some responsibility for what happened—you also shared in that. You knew that you were getting close to blot, you also knew good and well that taking on Leona's injury would push you over the edge (not to the point of blotting, but damn near close).

But you still took it on, and you'd do it again.

Then hours later, after slipping in and out of dreams, you heard him whisper against your chest.

"Thank you."

"Of course, you can always lean on me, you know." You smiled, setting a kiss on the crown of his head.

"Since I am your healer, after all."

I ended combining these two because I wanted to use this title for the depression piece, but couldn't because I didn't know what else to name the For Thee, Not for Me Continuation.

SO! I after having a "WAIT FUCK I CAN WORK WITH THIS!" moment, I decided to combine them!

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie requests #alie requester: anon #alie requested: AO3: SadgeCamp #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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gingerbreadmonsters · 1 year

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bury the hatchet

or: ugh, i’ve got a splitting headache...

gn!reader, big big warnings for violence and blood, some good old-fashioned high society murder to take with tea. one final stab of horror to close out this year’s spooky season!! i… don’t really know how to preface this - something happened in the angst channel, and i guess this is what you get?? you can blame the brilliant, gorgeous minds of the wonderful @sri-rachaa and @zozo-01 for our concept today, which i absolutely did not go completely overboard with. <333 william living up to his reputation in 1700 words or less.

very very big trigger warnings attached to this one: blood, heavy gore, death and dead bodies, graphic descriptions of murder and violence, mutilation, fatal injury. PLEASE don’t feel like you have to read this one, and i strongly encourage you to stop reading at any point if you feel uncomfortable. consider yourself adequately warned.

this fic contains graphic content that may not be suitable or appropriate for readers under the age of 18. reader discretion is heavily advised. dead dove: do not eat. minors dni. thank you.

It takes surprisingly little force to smash a vampire’s skull, when you really think about it.

(Obviously, not for a human, but that’s not really the matter at hand here.)

For example, you could use a weapon - some kind of blunt instrument to really build up some momentum. A bat, or a club, or a stave of some sort. Perhaps something sharper, like a knife or a machete. Something heavier, like an axe or a mace? For a proper shatter, you need something with a bit of weight to it. Or, if you’re in the mood for something a touch more classic, you could always just use your hands. There’s very little you can’t do if you have enough strength.

If there’s one thing that William Solaire does not lack, it’s strength.

He doesn’t remember this particular troublemaker’s name - he must be from one of those god-awful clans that insists on elbowing their way into the social season, despite their eldest ones only being a century old at most. The whole pack of them love parading around like their little name means something, throwing their weight around like children and with the fashion sense to match. Really, does nobody have any taste any more? You’d think being made immortal would give you a reason to look after your reputation - you’ll be holding onto it for a very long time, after all. Unless maybe they want to be known as the spoilt brats of polite vampiric society, in which case they’re doing an excellent job. Honestly. It’s abhorrent. They disgrace the good name of the Old Blood.

Something else they’re determined to disgrace, it seems, is him.

Mumbling, chattering, snickering around the table when they think he’s not listening. Failed impressions in terrible French accents. One of the younger ones - she can’t be more than five or ten years turned, at most - eyes the chain of his pocket watch disdainfully, turning to her companion to mutter disparagingly about overdone aesthetics and a lack of originality. Please. He was there when the pocket watch was invented. If anyone should be concerned about a tired, washed-up design aesthetic, it should be that other couple from this clan of fools standing just behind her. Apparently, they didn’t get the memo that the Summit is formal wear only - he may be old, but that doesn’t mean he can’t spot 100% polyester from a mile away.

Unfortunately, their crimes aren’t limited to the world of fashion. Really, you’d be surprised just how clumsy vampires can be. A glass of blood that just so happens to tip all down the front of Alexis’ dress. What a horrible accident. A carelessly-swung handbag that almost knocks Vincent down the stairs in the foyer. A shocking mistake. It’s all something of a farce, if he’s honest. Pantomime villains, or not even that - a whole clan of half-baked sidekicks, tripping over themselves to trip him up, thinking they’re bigger and badder than they actually are.

(The most amusing thing is that they think they’re winning, the poor dears. If he were feeling slightly more generous, he might even take pity on them. It’s a cutthroat sort of world here at the top - there’s no need to fake it when you’re already the real deal, and glass beads will never pass for diamonds.)

It’s clear that they don’t know who he is. Their first mistake, really. These things can be confusing, but if you’re really so brainless as to not recognise William Solaire on sight, then why are you even here? He and his children aren’t exactly unknown in these circles. There are only a precious few vampiric bloodlines still in existence that are older than his, and the reasons why aren’t exactly secret. Vincent alone is certainly no blushing flower when it comes to these sorts of things, and you’re saying that you’ve never heard of Alexis Solaire? Difficult to believe. Any vampire worth their salt knows the infamous princess of the Solaire Clan, one way or another. Famous faces turn heads for all sorts of reasons, and some families are just more famous than others.

The pointing and laughing is almost entertaining, at least for a short while. It’s like they don’t know any better. Perhaps they don’t. These young ones never seem to want to listen, and surely it falls to their elders to teach them a lesson, doesn’t it? Or, at least, it would if the elders of this array of nuisances had any brains to share amongst themselves. Young and arrogant and foolish, drunk on pretend power and heady on real blood. Fangs on full display, yet somehow all bark and no bite. The display grows tiresome very quickly. Play bloodthirsty-vampire games, win bloodthirsty-vampire prizes. Spoilt children need to learn how to grow up, and fast.

“He’s not even from one of the important clans here. Do they just give out invites to random vamps on the street or something? Apparently, the other two are his kids, but I have no idea who they’re meant to be.”

How fortunate, then, that William Solaire is so very old. There are so many things he can teach them. But where should he start?

Perhaps with a little lesson in vampiric biology.

Some unempowered humans believe that a stake through the heart can kill a vampire. They’re entirely correct. Vampires are not so different to ordinary humans, despite what one might think. It depends, of course, on the specific nature of the injury itself, and the strength of the vampire in question, but for the most part the myth is true. How many people do you know, biologically immortal or otherwise, who have come back from having their heart crushed into pulp? The answer is probably not many. If you stake a vampire through the heart, they are almost always sure to die.

This is something that a little clan of idiots learns very quickly, as they loiter in the foyer, kicking up an ungodly racket and taking up twice as much space as they really ought to. They also learn that an elaborately decorated, evening-appropriate cane is a very good substitute for a stake, when you’re in a pinch.

The Old Bloods know what’s going on. Nobody makes any move to stop him.

The silence is immediate. He pulls it free, that slick, delicious sound echoing through the entryway as blood spatters the delicately-gilded wallpaper, and the limp body falls to the floor from where it was pinned to the plaster. From clear across the hall, too. That really had been an excellent shot. A champagne glass smashes in terrified fingers, a dropped phone clatters against the tile, the beginnings of a horrified scream quickly stifled by a slightly more sensible hand. Deer in the headlights, the lot of them. If you’re going to do it, you may as well do it properly, and you should always make sure the job is finished.

His glove and about a inch or two of his sleeve are wet with blood as he reaches inside, turning the syrupy mess of what used to be a vampiric heart over in his hand. It pulses just a little, tiny involuntary twitches while it cools, but it’s not worth saving - delicately, he drops it back into the cracked mess of the body cavity with a sticky slap, letting the strings and pipes and cords settle as he takes in the scene in front of him. Poor, frightened children. Some try to fight back, to protest, to taunt him. Make him out to be a madman, or perhaps a maniac. Some try to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Honestly, don’t they see it? The writing on the wall is a familiar shade of red, and an upstart clan of brainless bloodsuckers isn’t going to make it out unscathed.

It takes surprisingly little force to break the skull of a vampire. That much, we’ve already established. The difficult part is getting them to stay still long enough to let you.

Perhaps just one more. To make an example. Vincent, bless him, always seems to know exactly what he’s thinking - before anyone can blink, another troublemaker is held captive at his feet, face crushed into the unyielding floor and arms locked immobile behind him. A familiar polyester tie clashes with the muted, tasteful colour of the tile. You cannot bargain with what you do not understand. There is no mercy for those who break the rules, else we all find out if you really are as brainless as you appear. Some things are best seen with your own eyes, and the inside of the human body is not exactly an unfamiliar thing for an audience like this.

Nobody disrespects the name of the clan. Isn’t that what family’s for? William Solaire has taught his young ones well. The wet crunch as a perfectly polished high heel splits a vampiric skull in half, and a young man rolls his eyes as his sister laughs, silently bemoaning the juice and slush and bone fragments that now stain his shirt. It all comes out in the wash. Well, at least we know there was certainly a brain in there somewhere. What a pity it was never used.

The show is magnificent - the other guests gradually wander back to their business, in quiet admiration, as the bodies are discreetly removed by a handful of unobtrusive staff. Oh, he couldn’t be prouder. His wonderful, darling daughter, and his incredible, precious son. No father could ask for more.

(Funnily enough, the guest list is considerably shorter the next time this particular event is held. How curious.)

It seems the lesson sticks. It’s so lovely when things work out the way you want them to, and William has never been afraid of getting his hands dirty when he needs to. Sometimes, reminders are a necessary evil.

The Solaire Clan is old for a reason. After all, vampires have always known to fear the sun. The clan that bears its name ought not to disgrace its reputation.

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this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted william #redacted vincent #redacted alexis #redacted solaire clan #ginger writes #ginger after dark #gingerbreadmonsters

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dreamylittlesugarcube · 2 years

Text

First Bliss

Genre: Chanyeol AU, EXO AU, Fluff

Characters: Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Kissing, a little bit of swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You’ve unfortunately been selected to participate in your class’s kissing booth for the school festival. You aren’t thrilled, but your best friend (and secret crush), Chanyeol, is even less thrilled. But, thankfully he’s got a plan that’ll make your first kiss extra special.

A/N: AAHHH! This is my first Chanyeol fic, so I hope you like it–a request from a frequent anon. Please let me know if you have any feedback 😊. And, as always, please comment, like, and re-blog so that others can find this story and enjoy. Thanks! ✨

*Please note: I do not own the above image(s), so credit should go to the original owner(s).*

~*~

“Come on, Y/N, it’s probably not going to be as bad as you think.” Chanyeol sat beside you, dutifully trying to console you as you drowned your sorrows in banana milk and Choco Pies.

“Yeah–it’s going to be worse than I think,” you whined, burying your head in your hands. “Was I asking the universe for too much?! ‘Let me not be a kisser’, I don’t think that’s reaching for the stars, do you? No! No, it’s not! I have the worst luck in the entire world!

Chanyeol smartly said nothing, but opened another Choco Pie and handed it to you.

Biting into the delicious treat, the sugar momentarily gave you a nice rush of serotonin. You held the pie out to Chanyeol to share, bidding him to take a bite. You jumped when he grasped your wrist, holding the pie in place as he proceeded to devour the cake in one bite.

“Geez, Chanyeol! I thought you were going to swallow my entire hand the way you unhinged your jaw just now.” You gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, waiting for him to finish chewing. You unscrew the cap of your banana milk, offering him a swig to wash everything down.

Chanyeol reached for the cake, but before he could grab it from your hands, you pulled back slightly.

“A sip–you can have a sip! I swear, I’ll kill you if you drink it all,” you warned teasingly.

Chanyeol grinned. “No you won’t, Y/N, you love me too much for that. Plus, you’d miss me and then there’d be no one to buy you snacks.”

He was right–damn it! About the snacks, yes, but about the other part too. You did love him. Not just in the way a friend loves a friend, but as something more. God, you felt like a walking cliche–falling in love with your best friend was a very tween romance thing to do. You couldn’t help it though–not only was he gorgeous, with his tall physique and twinkling eyes–but he was also amazingly kind, respectful, and incredibly thoughtful. He remembered your birthday, waited for you after class, helped you reach tall things.

Beautiful on the inside and out. And unfortunately, you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Chanyeol naturally received female attention wherever he went, but always kept girls at arm’s length. Every Valentine’s Day, at least three girls would confess, hoping to win him over–but every time, he gently turned them down. It had been that way as long as you’d known him, since the first day at school when you’d connected over a shared love of the guitar. Your crush had sprung up from the beginning, like a daisy in springtime, but seeing the way he was with other girls, you’d never said anything. Regrettably, this left you pretending that friendship was enough, too scared to share your feelings for fear of losing your best friend.

Recapturing your milk, you took a swig, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.

“Well, this isn’t exactly how I thought my first kiss would happen–I pictured something a little…romantic,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment.

“This’ll be your first kiss?” Chanyeol questioned, looking surprised at your confession.

“Yeah–I mean not everyone has hoards of love interests just throwing themselves at them,” you teased.

Chanyeol playfully smacked you on the shoulder, before turning serious. “What would you want it to be like–your first kiss, I mean?”

“I don’t know–I guess, just that it would be with someone special,” you answered, wondering how you got to talking about first kisses with the boy you wanted to be yours.

~*~

After the bell rang, Chanyeol watched your retreating figure, a tightness forming in his chest. He wanted so badly to pull you close and give you the type of first kiss that you deserved. But your relationship wasn’t like that, afterall–much to his dismay. You’d hooked him since day one, your shared love of music and easy camaraderie had him following you around like a puppy.

Admittedly, girls confessed to him on a regular basis. However, he found he could never say yes to any of them–because they weren’t you. It wouldn’t be fair to lead a girl on if he had feelings for someone else…so he waited patiently, biding his time for just the right moment. But, that moment never seemed to come. Everytime he got close, you’d pull away, as if placing an invisible wall between you. You never talked about romantic feelings towards anyone else and his heart ached at the thought of you not being able to hold you in his arms.

Stroking his chin, he thought back to the ridiculous kissing booth, knowing he couldn’t–wouldn’t give you to anyone else. He didn’t think he’d make it if he had to watch you lock lips with guy after guy, when that was all he could think about–the softness your lips, the feel of you in his arms (finally), the way you’d moan breathily into his mouth–

He slapped himself back to the present, a reminder to focus on the problem at hand. How can I kill two birds with one stone? There was no way he could stomach seeing you give your first kiss to some random guy, and you hadn’t seemed thrilled with the situation either.

Gears turning in his brain, he smiled as a plan took shape–one that would solve both problems at hand.

~*~

It was loud. Your classroom, usually a place of quiet learning, had quickly descended into boisterous insanity once word of the kissing booth got out. Peeking out from behind the curtain, you surveyed the long line of enthusiastic young men, all clamoring for a smooch from a comely co-ed. All of the girls had been popular so far, especially the current volunteer, Eun-sae, who was easily the prettiest girl in your year. At this point, you just wanted to get this over with and go home to ramen and a bubble bath.

Usually, at this point, Chanyeol would’ve tried telling you a joke to take your mind off things, but he had been noticeably absent tonight–and for the last week really–at least mentally. The usual easy-going smile on his face had been replaced with a serious, pensive look, as though he was constantly thinking about something really important. He’d shrugged noncommittally when you’d asked him about it, so you figured he was clearly going through something and wanted to figure it out on his own.

Besides, you had much more important things to worry about.

As the line dwindled down, the MC called for a short break over the loudspeaker–your cue to get ready. You guzzled some water for good measure and popped a mint, because, at the very least, bad breath wouldn’t be the thing to take you down. Schooling your features, you put on your best “happy to be here” smile and made your entrance, the MC doing his best to hype you up.

Seated behind the gaudy pink counter, you looked out to find a decent-sized line already forming. The male interest was flattering, sure, but a bit disappointing when it wasn’t from the one you wanted. Honestly, you were kind of thankful Chanyeol wasn’t here to see you like this.

Without warning, a familiar face made–or rather–pushed his way through to the front of the line, a wad of bills clutched in his hand. Ignoring the chorus of “heys” and “come on, mans”, Chanyeol came to a stop in front of you and dropped a won bill on the counter.

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?”, you whispered, voice mixed with concern and relief.

~*~

Chanyeol frantically pushed his way up to the front of the line, not wanting to miss the right moment to intervene. He saw you sitting alone, awaiting your “audience” and relief filled his body that he wasn’t too late. Ignoring their annoyed comments, he marched up to you, plopping bills on the counter.

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?” He recognized the relief in your voice, blended with surprise.

“I’m helping you, Y/N. You said you wanted your first kiss to be with someone special–and I know I’m not that type of special to you, but I figured–he paused, lowering his voice to a whisper, “–that a first kiss with me would be better than with one of them.” He gestured to the ever-growing throng of onlookers gathering around the booth.

You nodded stiffly, making it hard for him to tell how you felt about the situation.

Before he could give himself time to second guess, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a brief peck. Pulling back, he noted your dazed expression, trying not to red too much into the attractive flush blooming on your cheeks.

Without a word, he turned, taking about three steps before pivoting around and laying another bill on the table, the look of surprise on your face making the entire plan so worth it. He wished he could have made this special for you–whisked you away somewhere private, with candles and flowers. He wished this could have been different–but he had a plan–and it was imperative that he stick to it.

~*~

You stumbled offstage, a bewildered look on your face. You’d always said you wanted Chanyeol to be your first kiss, but you never imagined that your wish would come true–15 times over. Chanyeol had paid for kiss after kiss, effectively blocking out any of the other boys who might’ve wanted a chance with you. There’d been “oohs” and “aahs” (from the girls) and plenty of “boos” and “get a rooms” (from the guys), with your teacher finally stepping in to tell you to “take this elsewhere.”

“Y/N?”

You blushed at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice, awkward and unsure of what to say after what had just occurred. You were thankful that the dark lighting backstage hid the color in your cheeks. You turned around to find him staring at the ground–almost nervous in the aftermath.

“Roof?”, you suggested, raising an eyebrow in question. You knew you’d have to have this conversation sooner or later, something better done in private than the backstage of the kissing booth.

“Roof,” Chanyeol quickly agreed.

The walk to the fourth floor was as familiar as the back of your hand, but today it felt different. With the earlier mirth long gone, you walked together in silence, questions stuck on your lips…what was this? Was it really all in the name of ‘helping a friend?” The cynical part of you said: He was just being a good friend–nothing more nothing less! However, the unsure, hopeful side of you wondered: Might he like me too?

Chanyeol came to a stop, leaning against the wall, the sunset casting an orange hue over him. He stood with his eyes closed, almost as though he was sleeping.

“I’m sorry I ruined it for you.”

Startled, you looked up to find he hadn’t moved an inch, save for his lips. The lips he’d kissed you with.

“Ruined wha–”

“Your first kiss, Y/N. You told me you wanted it to be with someone special and I’m sorry it had to be with me. But, it had to be me–I couldn’t just let one of those boys downstairs be the one to–”. Chanyeol cut off, seeming to stop himself from saying something he might regret.

His response surprised you–sure, you appreciated the gesture. It was just the sort of thing your friend, Chanyeol, would do. The thing was, you didn’t want friend Chanyeol anymore. How could you go back when you’d had a taste of what could be?

So you pushed.

“Why? Why does it matter who I kiss?”

Chanyeol scowled and ran his hands through his hair, still not looking in your direction.

You waited in silence for him to say something. When nothing came, you pushed again.

“Chanyeol–look at me–you said, ‘it had to be me’. Why did it have to be you?”

Chanyeol met your gaze, the corners of his eyes looking suspiciously red.

“It had to be me because–because–I love you and I wanted to be your first kiss more than anything.”

You were shocked at his response. A kiss and a love confession from the boy you’d pined after for years? You mentally pinched yourself to make sure all of this was real.

Chanyeol spoke again, obviously taking your silence as a rejection of his feelings, when it was anything but. He assured you it was okay– that it wouldn’t affect your friendship–that he’d never bring up what happened tonight again.

Put your hand over his lips in a shushing manner, before interjecting: “Chanyeol–I’ve liked you for years. YEARS.”

Chanyeol blinked in surprise. “Years? You’ve liked me for years?”

You nodded. “Since the very first day we met.”

Chanyeol flashed a wide, gummy grin. “So, if we both liked each other from the very beginning…what the heck have we been doing all this time, Y/N?”

“Looks like we’ve been dummies,” you responded, pulling his face down for the 16th, most special kiss of the night.

Breathing in the scent of Chanyeol’s cologne and feeling the softness of his lips against yours, you felt incredibly lucky.

Maybe you didn’t have the worst luck in the world afterall.

~*~

Thank you so much for reading First Bliss, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to send me an ask and let me know what you think. If you liked what you read, please comment, like, and re-blog so it’s easier for others to find. Love you all! 🌸

#chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fic #chanyeol x reader #exo chanyeol #chanyeol #chanyeol x you #chanyeol fluff #exo #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo story #exo fiction #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics

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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Note

AU of the Archives finding out Jon is being held by the Circus (while he’s still being held captive there?)

anon, thank you for giving me an excuse to write something like this; i am always looking for 101 h/c lol. warning for discussions/depictions of the kidnapping scenario in 101.

1. They only really find out by accident. More specifically, they find out because Melanie is snooping around the Institute (already searching for solutions to her being trapped there), and finds the tape, somehow, the one where Nikola talks to Elias. She only needs to listen through once before they put the pieces together: Georgie told her Jon left. They haven't seen Jon since—and sure, he wasn't in much before, but—this long? And that is Jon's voice on the tape: muffled and panicked and indecipherable, but still pretty obviously him.

Melanie shows it to the others, and the tape isn't even finished before Martin is demanding they have to find him, they have to find him now, panic flashing visibly in his eyes—he's been gone for WEEKS, and why didn't I notice, why didn't any of YOU notice, and don't fucking try to argue with me, Tim, Jon has been KIDNAPPED and they're going to KILL HIM— And Tim looks hurt, at this insinuation, is snapping back before Martin can even finish, I wasn't going to ARGUE, Martin, Christ, and he hasn't told them about his brother yet, but he immediately went pale when he heard Nikola's voice, heard her going on about skinning Jon, and they all saw it, and Melanie and Basira are putting it together before Martin is: Tim's in, too.

Basira's the one who says We need to find him in the end, but Martin and Tim have already decided by then.

2. In the end, Elias is the one who tells them where Jon is. (After some persuasion.) He hadn't intended to originally, but obviously they already know, and obviously no one is going to be focused on finding the ritual site, and sloppy work won't benefit anyone, much less the whole world. (And if the rescue goes messy, and it ends up benefitting the whole of his plan, well—)

They take a car and ride up there, the four of them. (There's some brief argument as to whether or not they all should go, but Martin's obviously going, and Tim doesn't back down, and Basira insists she can get them in and out, and Melanie isn't saying no…) It's a long, tense car ride, hours of mostly silence broken up by panic on Martin's behalf. (He's still berating himself, even if he won't berate the others—how could they not have known, how could he not have noticed, how has Jon been held prisoner somewhere for weeks and Elias didn't goddamn tell them, and it's been so long, and what if it's too late, what if they're too late, what if he's already dead—) And then, eventually, Tim breaks the silence. By telling them what happened to his brother. (It's NOT a statement, he says, but it feels like one anyway, and no one speaks until he's done. He sounds choked up by the end, furious and fearful and grieving all at once—I didn't think they would come for—I-I didn't think Jon would…)

The images from Tim's story loom over well enough, along with the half-remembered sounds of the tape sent to Elias. We're going to use every piece of you. I thought you'd make a lovely frock. The imagery is grotesque and Martin is sick with it, leaning against the car window, hoping with a fierce desperation that they aren't too late.

3. They aren't too late. And they get in without being detected, somehow. (Afterwards, Basira will keep saying that it was too easy, the whole thing felt too easy, and Tim will say tiredly, "Who the fuck cares? We got out.")

Jon's woken up by someone whispering his name—quiet, with a gentle subtlety that the Stranger more than lacks. It's Martin—this becomes clear as soon as he opens his eyes, although it takes a moment for everything to slot into place, the reality of Martin leaning over him, eyes wide with concern. "Oh, Christ, you're all right," Martin says, his voice shaking. "Thank God. I-I thought…" He stops then, and goes to work on getting Jon free.

"Martin?" Jon hisses as soon as the gag is gone, and then—Tim, working at the ropes on his legs, Melanie and Basira towards the door. "What—wh-what are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about?" Melanie says, her voice as muted as the others. "We found you, that's what we're doing here."

"Y-you can't be here," says Jon, still stuck in the panic of the past few weeks. "They'll kill you, you can't be here…"

"We're already here," says Tim. "We're not leaving you behind."

Jon's eyes jerk between the four of them frantically before landing back on Martin—Martin, who looks like he's nearly on the verge of tears, who says, "We're getting you out of here, Jon," and helps him to his feet. Jon grips at his hand as he's pulled to his feet, the relief washing through him in waves—he hadn't realized until then how much he'd expected never to be rescued or found—how much he'd thought he would die here.

4. They get hotel rooms rather than driving back—it's a long drive, and Jon looks nearly dead on his feet, and it makes sense. Jon sleeps for nearly sixteen hours straight after a long-running shower, and the others mostly alternate between sleeping and watching for agents of the Circus. (No one ever comes.)

Melanie calls Georgie to let her know. Tim leaves Elias a nasty voicemail. Martin goes to get breakfast from a store nearby, and take-out tea, and when Jon wakes up, they eat clustered in the hotel room to mostly silence.

Jon says, at one point, I didn't think anyone would come. He says it mostly to the floor, when the others are out of the room, and it's just him and Martin drinking tea that isn't nearly as good as the homemade stuff. He clears his throat and adds, Thank you for… for coming, Martin, I…

Martin tenses beside him immediately in immediate horror, says, Of course we came; of course we came, Jon, I don't know why—I-I am so sorry, I'm SO sorry we didn't come sooner, we didn't know… We didn't know, I'm so sorry.

It doesn't matter, says Jon. It doesn't matter, just… thank you. Thank you for coming, I… i-if anything had happened to you, I wouldn't have…

They're leaning together, almost unconsciously, their arms pressed together, and Martin says, I'll always come. If… I-I hope this never happens again, Jon, b-but I… I'll always come.

Sitting in the dim-lit hotel room, Jon believes him. He knows immediately that he's telling the truth, and he says, I will, too, and he means it just as much.

5. The whole experience is a catalyst to everyone talking more, because how could it not be? There's a difference between someone saying they were kidnapped and actually hearing about it—actually seeing it. The drive back leaves plenty of time to make peace, or something like it.

Jon starts spending more time in the Archives, in the weeks before he has to leave again. He and Martin have lunch almost every day; sometimes the others join them. Melanie calls and tells Georgie what's happened, and Georgie immediately reaches out to make sure Jon is okay. And Jon and Tim make their peace, more or less, gradually—not all at once, but gradually. (Tim hugs Jon when they get back and says he's glad he's okay. Jon offers an apology a few days later, for everything they haven't had the chance to talk about, and the recorders come on, and neither of them mention it. And nearly a week later, Tim tells Jon about what happened to his brother.) And it's something, some step in the right direction, towards healing.

#\ (ツ) /#tma au #tma fic #sort of #i wrote this

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

love story. [ scaramouche ]

prompt: "god who is playing that godawful music outside my house and throwing rocks at my window. oh. it’s you, with a love confession. cringe but also i accept." w/ scaramouche pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader warnings: modern!au, death threat except it's the equivalent of scaramouche threatening to punt someone across a football field words: ~1.3k words

a/n: lofksdlaslkal i cant wait for canon scaramouche to get revealed and refute all the fanfics where i make him angry AKAKSKJSDJ. first prompt done for the new follower event, number chosen by random.org

it's three am and there's someone blaring taylor swift outside your window. you just want to sleep, yet taylor won't stop singing about how she wants romeo to save her and how she feels so alone. you can relate only partially -- you want romeo to save you from this hell of having to listen to this song interrupt your sleep, but you certainly do not feel alone with the song piercing through the silence of the street you live on, likely waking your neighbors up as well.

deciding you've had enough after about a minute of it, you trudge over to your window and get ready to peek through the blinds to see what idiot was interrupting your well-deserved rest. being a fatui agent was backbreaking labor and the only reprieve you had from it were the few hours you were allowed to sleep in your own residence each night. whoever decided that being a swiftie applied to their little three am rendezvous was about to meet the wrath of your vision and weapon.

however, before you can inspect whatever the hell was occurring outside, a soft plink of something hitting your window causes you to take a step back, startled. you immediately materialize your weapon and step to the side of the window pane, ready to beat up any possible intruder, but nobody enters. another plink resonates through the air, followed by another, which is then followed by another. it creates a steady pattern that is horribly off-sync with the music outside.

what the hell? you taking a deep breath, you use two fingers to pry open the blinds just barely enough to see what's happening outside. was it the safest decision? probably not. outside stands a rather short man holding up a paper sign and, behind him, a car stalls with its headlights on. the car is certainly the origin of miss swift's melodies, yet you have no idea who the short window is.

"(y/n)!" the man yells upon spotting you looking through the blinds. "open the window!"

wait. wait a damn minute. without his traditional uniform, you hardly recognized him (nor did you realize how awful his haircut actually is, but that was an argument for another time). scaramouche. while he often was a headache at work, you never thought that your fellow harbinger would also be a nuisance outside of work as well. was it an emergency? was this some type of secret code for help that you hadn't been informed about?

yet, as you yank on the cord of the blinds, sending them flying up, you realize this is far different from a cry for help. rather, it's a cry for your love, as dictated by the writing on the sign he holds as it glints in the moonlight. immediately, you unlatch the window and push it open, glaring at your coworker in your full half-asleep, pajama-clad glory.

the music dies down rapidly and you feel a sense of bewilderment wash over you. he brought someone with him? you question, but your thoughts are disrupted as scaramouche begins yelling.

"(y/n)! i wish to court you!" the harbinger yells and you quickly come to a few conclusions. one: this man has never asked anyone out in his life. two: he asked someone for advice on how to ask you out. three: that person who gave him said advice led him horribly, horribly astray. you quickly run through a mental checklist of who it could possibly be. la signora wouldn't care enough to give him any other advice than "just ask them out", dottore would probably suggest for scaramouche to kill someone to prove his love and childe... yeah. it was definitely childe.

"um," you yell back, not entirely sure what to say. "hold on!"

you back away from the window and hastily shove your feet into the closest pair of shoes. you yank a robe from your closet and wrap it around your figure, securing it by tying it around you as you exit your house and make your way over to scaramouche, who stands on your front lawn still. as you approach, the harbinger sets the sign down next to him and picks something else off the ground, thrusting it in your direction.

in a t-shirt and jeans, scaramouche looks completely... different as he was missing the attire that made him normal in your eyes. you blink at him before glancing down to the object he's presenting you and your heart melts at the gesture. in his hand rests a bouquet of roses.

"well? are you going to take them or not?" scaramouche questions, waving them at you slightly. you let out a light laugh at his indignant behavior and take the bouquet from him, making sure to brush your hand against his as you do so. in the light provided by both the moon and the streetlight, you notice a blush creep across his features as he feels the touch of your hand against his.

"yes," you respond, causing his indigo eyes to look at you with confusion. "to your proposition from earlier. i will let you court me."

"of course. i expected nothing less," scaramouche responds, but you notice his relief in the way he stands up a little straighter and his expression relaxes. "i have brought a poem of my affections as i was instructed to do s-"

"scaramouche," you begin, tone soft. his arrogance lessens as he visibly perks up upon hearing you say his name. "if i may ask, who told you to do all of this?"

"i... sought advice from tartaglia," he confesses and you let out a long sigh.

"i... appreciate the gesture," you reassure him. "but... next time, just ask a person out casually. this kind of stuff is only ever really done in movies."

scaramouche looks at you blankly. "so he lied to me?" his voice is deadpan and, you decide, that scaramouche has finally transcended the typical realm of his anger and entered into sheer fury.

"yes, but uh. the flowers were nice!" you hold up the bouquet to prove your point. "very nice. i liked them."

scaramouche seemingly forgets about his hatred of the eleventh harbinger for a brief moment as you hold the flowers up to your nose, sniffing the roses slightly. a gentle smile crosses his face and he takes a step closer to you, carefully placing one of his hands on the forearm that holds up the bouquet. as scaramouche begins to gently push it down, leaning in close to close the distance between the two of you, a honk from the stalled car has the both of you jumping away from each other, startled.

"did they say yes?!" you hear the familiar voice of tartaglia yell from the car. you and scaramouche exchange glances before looking over at the car.

"start driving, tartaglia," scaramouche orders as electricity begins to crackle in his palms. "because i am going to kill you."

a brief moment of silence occurs before taylor swift returns at full volume. before scaramouche can sprint over and give childe a piece of his mind, the car switches into drive and speeds off, not wanting to incur the wrath of scaramouche upon it. for once, childe has a brain, yet you can only thank him for everything upon seeing the adoration in scaramouche's eyes as he finally turns back to you.

you move your hands out of the way as scaramouche steps closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek to stabilize the connection between of you.

"now that he's gone, where were we?" scaramouche asks, but before you can answer, scaramouche closes the distance between the two of you, placing his lips on yours.

#thriving with the headcanon that scaramouche knows absolutely nothing abt romance #scaramouche: childe how do u ask someone out #childe upon realizing what opportunity scaramouche has just given him: well u see-#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #axia's writing #axia's 3.5k follower event

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twilights-posts · 3 years

Text

Tutoring (Smut)

I've found this on my laptop and wanted to share this with y'all. Please remember, it was originally written in German and translated. Contact me if something doesn't make sense. Thanks!

Summary: You have a history test coming up and Jared decided to help you study. Tough, the only thing on your mind has nothing to do with history.

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, fem!reader, Jared

We were sitting in my kitchen trying to focus on my upcoming history test. Jared had told me in school that he would help me because history is the most boring thing ever for me. Being in the kitchen together now, though, with his hand on my thigh and his breath on my skin, history was much more exciting.

"The first half of the 19th century saw important social and economic changes that fostered the later industrial boom. One of the most important factors in this was the railroad ..." he told me, and you could see the passion written all over his face. But I switched off at some point and pictured in my mind how his big hand wandered up my thigh, under my skirt and then-

"Are you listening to me?" asked Jared a little louder. With big innocent eyes, I looked at him nodding.

"Of course, industrialization came about because of the railroad," I announced confidently.

"And who invented the railroad?"

"You didn't say."

With furrowed brows I looked at the worksheet, maybe that would give me answers, but all I got were questions.

"Yes, I did," he laughed. I looked up at him smiling, even sitting down he was taller than me. My eyes swept over his face and lingered on his full lips. Images of his lips kissing my neck, my breasts, my nipples and moving lower and lower, um....

"You're so absent today, what's going on?" he snapped me out of my fantasies again. Smiling, I shook my head, not letting on that he had a lot less clothes on in my head.

"Nothing, it's all good. It's just history," I said lightheartedly, contorting my face to let him know how averse I was to the subject. He nodded slowly, not seeming to believe me.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I'd love to help you or even just listen. Just tell me what you need," Jared expressed lovingly, stroking my thigh with his hand. My skirt pushed up slightly as a result. He's so sweet, if only he knew that the only thing I needed right now was his tongue on my clit.

I smiled broadly at the thought, leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"I'm fine, I just need a break," I whispered to him. Light-footed, I jumped off the stool and walked over to the fridge. That's when I got the idea to heaten him up a bit so we could get away from studying.

I looked over my shoulder at him and asked if he wanted a drink. There was no need to grab the soda from the last compartment, but it gave him a chance to peek under my skirt. Since I was wearing shorts underneath anyway, he wouldn't see too much, but he wouldn't need to for now.

When I turned back to him, he looked up shamefully. I pretended not to notice and held the can out to him.

"Do you need a glass?"

"No, I'm good."

I tried to jump casually on the counter, but I had overestimated my weak arms and was struggling badly. Jared chuckled as he watched me do it.

"Need a hand?" he finally offered.

"Please."

He stood up, took the few steps to me, and grasped my waist. With ease, he lifted me up and set me down. Jared continued to stand in front of me, looking at me with amusement. I recognized the affection in his eyes, could only smile because of it.

"Maybe you should work out more," he suggested after a few seconds.

"If you help me with that," I said absently. Right now my hormones were going crazy and I just wanted to kiss him. My legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer to me. If only there were less clothes ...

Jared swallowed nervously. My hands stroked through his hair, finding their place on his neck. I moved closer to his face, anticipation flooding me. His dark eyes looked at me expectantly. A mischievous smile was on his face.

Just before our lips touched, he pulled back slightly.

"You know I've been dreaming about this."

I smirked at this confession. I hadn't been expecting that.

"Oh yeah, about what exactly?", I probed.

Jared leaned forward, past my face, and ran his nose up the curve of my neck.

"I dreamed about your legs wrapped around my waist."

"What else were you dreaming about?"

"how I' m pushing up that stupid skirt of

yours," he murmured against my ear, pressing his lips behind it.

I exhaled shakily, the throbbing inside me making itself known, and I could feel myself getting wet at the idea.

"It's my favorite skirt," I still tried to answer casually. He chuckled lightly.

"You can leave it on while we do it."

My eyes closed and I imagined how he would take me while I had only the skirt on. At this point I didn't need any foreplay, but he was about to suck on the delicate spot on my neck, so I didn't stop him.

His hands went under my skirt and stroked through the shorts over my most sensitive spot. He took his time, doing everything gently and carefully, but I had no patience for it and certainly no time. My parents would be home in thirty-four minutes.

I pulled his face up and pressed my lips to his. Greedily our lips moved together, soon I felt his tongue and sighed pleasantly. Jared slowed down the kiss, but not the intensity. It was as if we hadn't seen each other in days. He was visibly enjoying the moment. The hand that wasn't fridging me through my pants cupped my breast. His thumb circled around my nipple. Sometimes he pinched them through the shirt, then stroked them apologetically.

Jared never struck me as the ladies' man, but he obviously had experience.

As the pressure on my shorts increased, I moaned softly. After I released his lips, he stepped back a bit. Both hands went into the waistband of my shorts and pulled it down along with the briefs. I lifted my hips to help him. As promised, he left my skirt on.

His fingers stroked up my calves, snaked up the inside of my thighs, and paused at the hollow between my leg and hip.

I pulled back briefly to look him in the eye.

"Would you wash your hands first?" apologetically, I stroked his shoulders. I was afraid of ruining the mood or having to explain myself. He just nodded and went to the sink. Relieved, I leaned back on my arms. When Jared turned back to me, I opened my legs a little wider. He stopped and eyed me.

Challenging 'em, I spread them open wider, his view blocked by the skirt, but not diminishing the effect. I noticed the bulge in his pants and felt bad for not giving him any attention so far.

"Come here.", I said softly and extended a hand to him. Without further hesitation, he was back within my reach. I pressed my lips to his neck now and ran my hand down to his penis. Stroking over the shorts, I lightly nibbled at his skin. In turn, he stroked the inside of my thighs. He was damn close to my private parts. Unlike him, I wasn't as patient and was about to pull his pants off.

Surprised, I looked up at him as he put his hands on mine to stop me.

"Not yet:" was all he said. His voice was unfamiliar smoky, but led to more tingling sensations in my bottom.

Jared furrowed two fingers over my labia and distracted me with a gentle kiss. Agonizingly slowly, he ran his fingers once around and past my pleasure spot.

"God, you're so wet," he gasped. I resisted the urge to grimace.

"I don't like that kind of dirty talking," I explained to him carefully.

"Oh, okay. What kind then?" He looked at me intently, but the movements of his fingers distracted me somewhat. It seemed like he was looking for something-

"How about we focus on one thing first."

I kissed him again, because we were good at that. Along the way, my hand wrapped around his and guided him firmly to the point where I needed him. Almost immediately, his finger began to gently draw circles.

"Right there.", I sighed against his mouth and dropped my head onto his shoulders. Jared's other hand continued up and down my thigh. I now had my arms around his neck, so he could work undisturbed.

He was consistent and patient. I had already noticed this in the last few weeks of our relationship, but now I really realized the importance of these qualities. As if on their own, my legs spread out, so he could have better access. I exhaled shakily, my body yearning for more. Without further thought, my hand settled over my chest and took attention to it.

"You like that?",

I heard Jared ask hesitantly. I just nodded, too caught up in the pleasure to answer. Slowly, Jared increased the pace and his grip on my leg tightened. My moans were muffled by his shoulders. I felt like my body was burning up, and I longed to cool down. The grip around my chest became rougher, and I left my other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to me.

"Faster.", I mumbled before eagerly capturing his lips. This kiss was not patient and gentle, but dirty and greedy. At one point, I felt his teeth. Jared was no longer drawing circles, but making frantic and choppy movements. I quickly corrected him and groaned loudly as he found the right pace.

"Fuck, yes," I gasped. My hips had taken control and were meeting his movements. I took turns massaging my breasts, getting closer and closer to my climax. My legs tightened, my hand dug into his hair, and I was no longer able to concentrate on kissing him. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"Open your eyes, look at me," I heard his voice through the rapidly rushing blood.

It wasn't easy for me, but I looked up at him with half-open eyes.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He slowly increased his speed, causing my eyelids to fall shut. Groaning, I submitted to the feeling.

"No, open your eyes and look at me while you come," Jared murmured. I bit my lips as I looked into his eyes. He nodded and smiled proudly.

"Yeah, just like that. Now you can come."

As if my body had just been waiting for it, my muscles contracted internally, and I let out a long-drawn-out moan. My hand had tightened around my breast; it was painful, but a good kind of pain. Jared's gaze held me captive the whole time he was doing this.

After I came down from my climax, I dropped my head to his shoulder and leaned against him.

"We should go upstairs."

#twilight smut #twilight saga #jared cameron smut #jared cameron #smut #twilight wolf pack #wolf pack

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x-infernhoes-x · 3 years

Text

She’s My Collar- Basilio x Reader

Title: She’s My Collar

Genre: Romance, Smut, Porn with Plot

Warning(s): Mentions of Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Consent, Basilio nearly murdering someone because they spoke badly about you

Description: KAI IF YOU’RE READING THIS, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU AND ALL OF YOU BASILIO SIMPS

NOTE SOMETIME AROUND 3:00 AM YESTERDAY NAWALA YUNG ORIGINAL PUTANG INA I WAS THIS CLOSE ON FINISHING IT SHDJGFHJBDKJBSEDVGSJHGBKHGSFKJBGBKJGBJGLJBGWL AN HOUR’S WORTH OF WRITING G O N E AND I HAD TO REWRITE EVERYTHING I AM STRESSED AND DSBJKGBKJFSDGNB SO ENJOY.

4:31 AM NOTE UPDATE YESTERDAY: langya ayoko na. matutulog na nga ako, sakit na ng likod ko.

6:50 PM NOTE TODAY: I’M GOING TO FINISH THIS BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES. ALSO, DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE KIDS!!

12:10 AM NOTE TODAY: The note above this one is a lie. I managed to continue this after family night lmao but enjoy still. Tried my best to make it gender-neutral as possible but yeah :’) I kinda failed successfully I think???

You and Basilio have been dating for quite some time now. Although he was a messy guy you made sure that you had his back and helped him out to work on how to keep his sloppy tendencies at bay and in turn he would shower you with love and affection that you would usually get from the demi-god of war. Basilio was the perfect guy, he was a sweet lad who made your lonely days better, he made sure that you were cared for in any shape or form and he always had your back in everything and he would give you anything you would ask for in the world. The two of you barely even fought and if you were to fight, it would be more of a joke one than an all-out screaming match. He was the best thing that has ever happened to you and you constantly thank Bathala for it and Basilio thought the same. The two of you were a match made in heaven.

Although despite your busy schedules keeping the two of you apart, you both made sure that you and your loving boyfriend would get the chance to hang out together. Often, you and Basilio would frequent the Diabolical together, just basking in each other's presence, tucked away in some booth Hank had reserved for the two of you, or sitting by the bar just chatting about each other’s day. You could recall Hank telling you that whenever you were around or that when someone ever mentions your name, Basilio seemed to calm down and would eagerly listen into whatever conversation had said your name. There was a time where Basilio nearly knocked someone’s teeth out because they were talking badly of you and it took Crispin, Maliksi, Hannah, Amie, Alex, and Hank himself to hold back the younger twin and prevent him from punching someone’s lights or teeth out or even prevent a murder from ever happening.

“Alam mo, (Y/N) pag naririnig ni Basilio na dadaan ka rito, parang siyang aso na di mapakali. Kulang nalang na magkaroon siya ng buntot e.” Hank joked as he was cleaning the freshly washed glass, watching Basilio flush red, face buried into his forearm as he groaned in response while you let out a small chuckle.

Now looking back, that memory seemed to be far away from you. Tonight happened to be your anniversary with Basilio and instead of a cozy night in, he wanted to do something different. Basilio wanted to take you out dancing and bar hopping around Bonifacio Global City’s luxurious bars (sometimes you wondered to yourself how the hell can Basilio afford this.) and maybe take you sight seeing around the place when you got the time. Pacing around your living room in your apartment, you were about to shoot him a text message when a knock at your door had interrupted you from doing so, nearly dropping your phone in the process. “Sandali lang!” you yelled to whoever was outside the door. If there was one thing you learned from dating Basilio, it was being vigilant. You had to make sure that the person on the other side of your door was your boyfriend and not some kind of Aswang or any malicious person who had a personal grudge against the twins and Alex. Taking a peek at the pee hole your door had, you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, Basilio grinning up at you as he waved. Instead of wearing his suit, Basilio was in his casual clothing for tonight, his long silken locks pulled back in a half-up, half-down man-bun.

Opening the door, you then welcomed him with open arms before proceeding to smack him playfully on his arm, an amused smirk on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak, your tone light and teasing, “Took you long enough! Siguro na-traffic ka no?” Basilio could only roll his dark eyes at you as he placed a loving kiss upon your head. “Hindi a, si Kuya Crispin kasi e, sobrang tagal niya sa banyo kaya ayun.” Pulling himself away from you, he then offered his arm for you to take with a grin, his head tilting towards the direction of the door as he spoke, “So ano? Tara na?” “Siyempre naman.”

After making sure your apartment was locked, the two of you went down towards the direction of the parking lot and took a couple few selfies inside the elevator, you and Basilio were off. While in the car, the both of you would scream along to the lyrics of Ang Huling El Bimbo by Eraserheads while in traffic. On your way to BGC, both of you were surprised to see Maliksi and his significant by the stoplight, taking the advantage of the long-ass stop to chat with the Prince of the Tikbalangs and his fiancé. Your conversation was cut short when the stoplight had changed from red to green, saying your goodbyes to each other as Basilio drove away to your very first destination, which was none other than XYLO at The Palace.

In all honesty, you’ve heard about this bar but it was the first time you got to enter the place itself. The both of you got lucky that the place wasn’t as packed and that you got there early before the actual party had started. Both you and Basilio then made your way over to the bar to grab your first drinks of the night. The two of you chatted for a while, occasionally nodding your heads to the beat of the song. After a while, the night seemed to kick in and both of you were already at what seemed to be your 3rd or 4th bar of the night, this time you and Basilio were jumping up and down to DJ Khalid’s song ‘All I Do Is Win’ before the both of you screamed along with the rest of the patrons, “Putang Ina, Alak Pa!” and time seemed to flow faster than ever as you and your loving boyfriend went in and about around BGC’s classiest bars, downing every single drink you two could manage and take or even dance along to the songs the bars provided while occasionally sharing a kiss here and there, not minding the reek of alcohol and sweat clinging on each other’s bodies as the two of you laughed.

Sometime around 10:30, you and Basilio were shitfaced to oblivion but both of you were used to it. You had lost count on how many drinks you’ve managed to down yet you and Basilio couldn’t care less, you were certain that you heard your phones ring but you two never got the chance to answer them because Basilio was busy doing body shots on you or you making out with your boyfriend in some hidden corner of the bar. You were starting to get the hint that after your little make-out session at Club Haze, he was focused on one thing and you knew what that meant, despite being inebriated out of your wits. So what do you do? Put on a show for him of course.

You knew Basilio was sitting by the bar because you told him you were going to use the bathroom to freshen up a little bit since the club felt a little bit humid. What he didn’t expect was you sashaying over to where the dance floor, the last notes of Nelly Furtado’s Maneater fading away only to be replaced by Doja Cat’s Streets. To you, the sound seemed to have slowed down and you weren’t sure because it was the alcohol’s effects taking over, nobody else in the club mattered but your boyfriend alone. The figures around you seemed to blur and Basilio was the only one you had your eyes on as your body moved to the beat, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted, and even from afar, you could see your demi-god of a boyfriend shuffle in his seat, his cheeks brightly flushed even under the lights of the dark club (yes, Basilio even tried to hide his raging boner from everyone but he was failing miserably). You knew that he was watching you closely like a predator ready to strike and even from afar you can tell that he was getting impatient with your games and that made you smirk. You knew that Basilio had a thing for Semi-Public sex and your several other experiences with him were proof of that, hell the two of you almost got caught one time and you were internally thankful that you weren’t. But tonight, Basilio’s going to abide by the rules of your own game and not his.

The opening bass beat from Beyonce’s Yonce/Partition was your cue to take things up a notch by making your way over to the bar where you had stood upon the counter (you had asked the bartender and the rest of the patrons who hung around the bar save for Basilio in advance and they seemed to agree with it just as long as you were careful) and made your way down the counter, hips sashaying and your body with every beat and drop before stopping to where he was, a smirk on your face, your hands running up from your thighs and right past your chest in a sensual manner, leaning in just so you could ghost your lips over Basilio’s eagerly waiting ones before pulling away with a wink. Once your little show was done and you had gone down from your counter with the help of the bartender you had just spoken to before making your way over to the dance floor once more to dance just as your song, She’s My Collar by Gorillaz began to play only to be caught short when you felt a hand grab you by the wrist.

Despite being drunk you were still smart and quick to retaliate towards whoever had grabbed you only to be surprised to be looking right directly at your boyfriend’s dark obsidian gaze, his breath slow and ragged and you knew you were in it for real this time the moment he said, “We’re leaving.” In a tone, you’ve never heard from him before and that seemed to send shivers and chills up your spine as he dragged you away from the bar to head right outside.

Honestly, the whole trip back to the car seemed to pass you by like a blur, you would occasionally stumble on your own feet, which prompted Basilio to sling you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of potatoes (at least it gave you a perfect view of his ass). The moment you arrived at your car, however, you were thrown haphazardly into the backseat after Basilio had unlocked the door with ease and then entered the vehicle as well, quickly pulling you up on his lap where he locked his lips with you in a heated kiss, hands roaming around your body with such need and you could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his dark jeans. You were surprised at first but once the initial shock and surprise had worn off, you kissed him back as well with the same passion and need that he emulated from his kiss, your fingers and hands made a quick undo of his man-bun and top, hastily unbuttoning them, eager to touch the skin underneath it and leave marks on it. Basilio could only groan in response to your touches, his tongue exploring your mouth like uncharted territory, his hands groping your behind with such force that made you moan out his name, a quiet hiss of “Tangina.” Soon followed your surprise.

In your mayhem of desire and lust, you didn’t notice Basilio play Chase Atlantic’s song Devilish on the radio.

Clothes were thrown around and about in the space of the car and in that blur of clothing being discarded around, you were honestly surprised when Basilio had lifted up your lower half towards him, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and thighs before his head disappeared in between your legs, bestowing you the best oral you’ve ever had received from him in your years of dating. You couldn’t thrash around with him holding you so tightly against his face as he went down on you but your hands were free to roam and tug at his long silken locks, his name spoken like a prayer and just as you were about to reach your peak, he had pulled away from you, a sadistic yet innocent smirk placed upon his now glistening chin and lips coated in your slick as he spoke, “Not yet, babe.” Winking at you, he gingerly set you down before he leaned over to where his now discarded jeans were as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and a small pack of lube for him to use. Once the foil was open and the rubber was on his already hard dick, he then proceeded to open the pack of lube, rubbing it on his length before instructing you to get on your hands and your ass up for him.

And by Bathala you began to see stars the moment he had entered you. Your nails seemed to dig on the dark leather surface of the car’s upholstery, your back arched to the extreme and you were certain that you could feel Basilio trailing kisses along the expanse of your neck, shoulders, and back, his hands guiding you on his length while yours snaked around to reach for him, tilting your head sidewards to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, his manhood still relentless at fucking you senseless and in between the thrusts and moans, you were thankful that the windows were tinted from the outside or else the two of you would’ve been caught. Throughout the whole night, you two spent it by doing it on every single surface inside the car, doing every single position the two of you could think of, taking each other to new heights with every pose the two of you did, and yes, let’s just say you were sore the morning after that.

Once the morning came around, the two of you were still naked and you were sure that after your last round with your loving boyfriend, you felt the waves of your hang-over wash over you like a wave, making you groan out in pain. Everything was sore with you and your body was littered with hickies, bruises, and scratch marks while Basilio, who had his healing factor with him thanks to his demi-god status, was relatively unscathed but he did have some hickies of his own to present to the world. Shuffling, you gently nudged Basilio awake as you spoke, “Babe, anong oras na??”

At your action, your boyfriend, still groggy from sleep, could only groan at this, his hand reaching out to search for his mobile phone to check the time. Squinting, he then saw the time on his phone but the color on his face seemed to drain the moment he saw several missed calls and messages from his twin brother and the Babaylan-Mandirigma herself. “SHIT!” Basilio managed to cry out of sheer panic, his head accidentally hitting against the roof of the car, making him hiss even more, hands holding the spot where he had hit his head. “Lagot tayo kay Bossing, (Y/N), kagabi pa niya tayo tinatwagan kasama ni Kuya Crispin.” At the mere mention of Alex and Crispin’s name, you seemed to understand the sense of urgency before the two of you began to clean up the car, dressing up as you did so, attempting to make yourselves look more presentable and cover the tracks from yesterday’s events. Once done, Basilio was driving like a speeding madman in a rush to head back where his brother and Alex were at.

It took him at least an hour to arrive at their destination with Alex taking the role as today’s designated driver while Basilio sat in the back with his brother. “San ba kayo galing? Kagabi pa namin kayo tinatawagan ni Crispin, (Y/N), Basilio. Ano ba nangyare, ha?” Alex spoke, her eyes flickering over to where Basilio was, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he spoke, “Sensya na ho, Bossing. Nag-sight seeing kasi kami ni (Y/N) kagabi tas nag-bar hoping kami tas pagkatapos nakatulog kami dito sa kotse.” A little doubtful of this, Alex could only glance at you from the corner of her eye, expecting for you to react but you held your emotions close to your heart as you spoke, “Totoo po yung sinasabi ni Basilio, bossing. Di po naming sadya na di kayo replyan ni Crispin. Di na po mauulit.” Nodding, Alex then excused the both of you and the car ride was silent, save for the fact that the radio was playing Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. You did feel a little bit cold however and you couldn’t help the fact that something was missing until Crispin screamed out in surprise, horror, and disgust, finally noticing the thing you were missing. Ah shit. “TANGINA BASILIO, ANO TO!?!?!” Crispin managed to yell out, holding up your lace underwear for everyone in the car to see with Basilio quickly snatching the piece of clothing away from his brother, tucking it in his pocket before he responded, “ANONG-ANO KA DIYAN KUYA!?! WALA KANG NAKITA!!”

You silently prayed to Bathala for him to forgive you but you were sure as hell Alex won’t. You made a mental note to not ever do it in the car you guys use for missions ever again.

#trese #trese netflix #trese x reader #trese fanfic #basilio #basilio x reader #basilio trese #alexandra trese #crispin #crispin trese #maliksi trese #maliksi #smut #AWIT I CANT BELIEVE I'VE MANAGED TO FINISH THIS UP AT 3:24 AM #SAKIT NG LIKOD KO #GOOD LUCK TO YOU BASILIO SIMPS

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in-the-name-of-styles · 3 years

Text

Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos.

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys!

504 notes · View notes

luvdsc · 4 years

Text

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven��in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

hualianff · 3 years

Text

Distant Faces

The Lonely (Instrumental) – Christina Perri

After much deliberation, HC finally decides what to give XL on his birthday: a painted portrait of XL and his parents during Xianle’s most prosperous days. Even though HC tries his best not to remember his life during those times, he knows XL loved his parents despite how everything turned out.

It’s been over 800 years, after all.

XL had offhandedly mentioned he can’t even remember the details of his parents’ faces anymore. The way his mother’s eyes shone chocolate brown in the sunlight; the way his father scowled in disapproval but never in a malicious manner. The way his mother held him when he felt sad, let him cry on her shoulder. The way his father looked proudly upon XL as his son.

Admittedly, XL had a complex relationship with his father. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye, especially towards Xianle’s inevitable deterioration. XL can cry because he misses his mother, but with his father, it’s more than that.

It’s regret.

It’s shame.

It’s anguish for the tension that kept his father at a distance that now seems insignificant.

But being the kind of person XL is, he’d rather remember the positive aspects of his relationship with his parents than the hardships.

Especially because he feels like he failed them in the end.

HC cannot relate to XL’s experience of having loving parents who genuinely cared for him, much less the loss of such parents. An abandoned child like himself had to bear the burden of living from a young age. HC did not grow up nurtured or fawned over; HC endured his cruel existence by looking after himself.

After meeting XL again after his third ascension, HC now knows what it’s like to be loved–fiercely and unconditionally. To imagine losing XL gives HC a palpable semblance of what XL felt when he woke up completely alone on the day his parents passed. Over the decades, XL has briefly talked about that day, though never in full detail. Partially because XL’s mind has blocked out the trauma, but it is also simply too painful to remember.

Originally, HC heavily debated whether gifting his husband the portrait was even a good idea. The last thing he would want to do is upset or offend XL. HC wasn’t even sure he could properly replicate the king and queen’s faces.

Ultimately, HC decided to go through with his plan. He hopes that if anything, this painting can help XL recall his parents’ faces and the fond memories he had with them. Perhaps it could serve as an outlet for healing from the years XL suffered on his own. Everything HC does is for the happiness of his husband.

After going through one of his earliest memories via his butterflies, HC spent days sketching, outlining, and painting the portrait. He miraculously managed to portray the details as accurately as possible—MQ and FX themselves confirmed. The two heavenly officials failed to hide their teary eyes, MQ abruptly turning away while FX furiously rubbed at his cheeks. It’s one of the few instances HC holds his tongue when around the two martial gods.

There is no shortage of people who celebrate XL’s birthday when it arrives—heavenly officials, Ghost City, and worshippers alike. HC spends the entire day by his husband’s side, visiting as many festivals to witness the joyous ceremonies. Worshippers place extra lavish offerings on their altars while XL’s friends personally deliver their gifts at Puqi Shrine. (The designated location for heavenly officials.)

Once it’s evening and the festivities have calmed down, only two remain inside Puqi Shrine. HC has taken the liberty to cook a quick meal for them to share. He ladles soup into XL’s bowl, then scoops rice topped with fried fish onto his plate.

“Thank you for making us dinner, San Lang. It looks delicious,” XL says, eyes sparkling. HC smiles warmly.

“I would be a fool to not spoil Gege with wonderful food, regardless if it’s his birthday or not,” HC solemnly says. “Though I do hope he enjoys the fish and soup.”

“There are no doubts about that,” XL replies before eagerly spooning some broth into his mouth. His eyes visibly widen as he sputters a bit, spoon lowering back into the bowl. “Oh, that’s hot!”

“Careful, gege. Allow this dutiful husband to blow on it.”

They finish eating with satisfied slurps and chewing, keeping casual conversation between bites. Before XL can get up to clear off the table, HC snaps his fingers, every dish already washed and placed back in the cabinets.

They are finally alone, energy spent and stomachs no longer empty. HC’s eyes shift to the corner of the room where a covered, flat object is propped against the wall.

“Gege, I have one last present for you.”

“That’s been here this whole time? Wow, it’s so big!”

HC doubts himself even as he hands over the wrapped gift. He watches with bated breath as XL carefully works open the covering with nimble fingers to reveal what’s inside.

Once XL sees the entire painting in all its glory, his hand flies over his mouth. His initial excited smile upon tearing away the wrapping paper is replaced with a tense frown, the type when someone is trying their best not to cry.

A ragged sob escapes his lips.

XL can’t stop staring at their faces—his parents’ faces—who he hasn’t seen in centuries. Who he never got to say goodbye to. He touches the canvas, paints dried and glossed over with a finishing product that gives the image a sleek sheen. He touches their familiar faces, pleasant smiles etched onto their lips, and then his own, placed between his father and mother, smiling widely: happy.

XL hugs the canvas to his body, closing his eyes, and cries his heart out.

HC’s heart shatters at the sight of XL breaking down, though it was almost a guaranteed reaction. He doesn’t hesitate to rush forward to embrace his beloved from behind, nuzzling against XL’s temple as his smaller body trembles uncontrollably. But before HC can express his pitiful apology, he hears quiet, repetitive mumbling among XL’s broken sobs.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Gege-”

“Thank you.”

“-breathe, my love.”

“Thank you.”

Over and over again. Nearly nonsensical through ragged chokes and desperate gasps for air. HC shakes his head as tears wet his own cheeks, as if to say a thank you was not needed. He rubs up and down XL’s arm, occasionally pausing to massage his neck, anything to comfort him in his sorrow. XL suddenly grasps onto HC’s wrist, an anchor from the barrage of overwhelming emotions washed over him over the last few minutes.

HC eventually rasps out a remorseful, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what for exactly. For triggering XL’s tears. For the death of XL’s parents. For the loneliness and grief XL has experienced and never had the proper closure to.

XL continues weeping without a sound. For the fear of ruining the portrait with his tears, XL carefully places the painting on the table. He gives the painting one last lookover, lower lip wobbling. XL bites his lip to suppress the whimper threatening to erupt from his throat.

How could he ever forgive himself?

“Me too,” a son whispers to his parents.

Half an hour later, XL and HC are situated in their bed at Paradise Manor. Per XL’s request, HC skillfully hung the painting up next to their wedding portrait. Two pieces juxtapose two different eras; one, a window to the past; the other, a relic that will remain timeless.

Someday in the future, XL will have the strength to commemorate his parents with more than just a fleeting prayer. He will describe them with words and stories that do them justice. He will honor their legacy not by following in their footsteps (for they have long disappeared against the force of time), but by practicing the values they bestowed upon him while simultaneously learning from their faults and mistakes.

However, for tonight, HC wraps XL in a snug blanket burrito, holding XL from behind as the former prince mourns in silence. HC doesn’t push his beloved. He merely squeezes XL’s hand to remind him he has someone to listen to him. The last thing XL requests before falling asleep is another portrait of his parents, this time with both him and HC sat in the middle.

“Father...Mother...if you could see me now...see how happy I am,” XL tiredly thinks, sleep beckoning him to surrender to the darkness. “You guys really...would have loved him.”

(Special thanks to @no-one-says-hi and @iaintnosidekick for listening/helping)

(Inspiration)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #cerdrabbles #happy birthday Xie Lian !

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window.

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair.

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time.

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.”

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you.

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.”

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins.

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum.

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu.

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?”

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave.

“Thank you, Wonwoo.”

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved.

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out.

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow.

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister.

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed.

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home.

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment.

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile.

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either.

#yandere!wonwoo #yandere!svt #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #yandere!seventeen #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #monstermash!svt

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later)

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

#My story #Mirror's Edge #Original Work #original story

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sarahjtv · 3 years

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BNHA Chapter 327 Spoiler Analysis: Home Sweet Home

OH MY GOD, GUYS!!! DEKU GETS A BATH!!!! 🎉🛁 🧼 My broccoli boy finally gets squeaky clean, gets some sleep, and we finally get some R&R time with the Class 1-A kids. It’s not close to the happy-go-lucky days of old, but it’s some time with the kids nonetheless. I’m glad Horikoshi put some heart and humor in this chapter because god knows we needed it. But, let’s be real, this is the calm before the storm:

The chapter starts off with what everyone and Horikoshi has been wanting for Deku since he went on his mission: A motherfuckin’ bath 🛀 🧼🛁! Kaminiari and Kirishima lead the Class 1-A boys to carry Deku into their side of the UA Alliance bathhouse (looks real nice btw) and give him a good power-wash. The whole sequence is very comical! The boys are rushing in and poor Deku has this O_O face on him like “what is happening?” 😂 We also see some of the boys butt naked 😳 It’s clear that Horikoshi had fun drawing this thing and it was fun to read 💚

Bakugo is with them of course and you can actually see his scars from when Shigaraki stabbed him. He’s not bleeding, but you can see those scar patches on his skin. I’m curious of how fan artist are going to draw him from now on. I would like to see that fan art 👀

There’s also some bubble sfx coving Bakugo’s crotch and a translator said it might say dick or penis. I’m curious what the officials will say.

But, Bakugo being Bakugo is still aggressive towards his classmates. More playfully than before, but still. He reminds everyone that he still intends on being the best there is and that everyone is still his rivals (also friends, Bakugo). HE EVEN MAKES AN ATTEMPT TO CALL DEKU IZUKU! LIKE HE ALMOST SAID “DEKU” BUT HE CHANGED IT TO IZUKU AT THE LAST MINUTE! AND DEKU SAYS THAT CALLING HIM DEKU IS JUST FINE LIKE THAT ANGER THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE NICKNAME ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND IT’S A FREINDLY NICKNAME BKDK FRIENDSHIP GROWTH YOU LOVE TO SEE IT 🧡💚

After Deku’s bath, he’s sitting in the commons talking to the rest of Class 1-A. Well, most of them. Mina tells Deku that Ochako and a few other students went to bed after everything became ok again. So, I definitely didn’t see Tsuyu, and it looks like Shoji, Aoyama, and Hagakare weren’t in this chapter either. Ochako I understand; her speech must’ve been emotionally taxing. Aoyama and Hagakare are the top suspects for being the traitor in the fandom and this isn’t helping their cases. I don’t know about Tsuyu and Shoji though. They’re both mutant-types, but characters like Ojiro or mutant-like people like Jiro, Mina or Tokoyami didn’t get outcasted. Horikoshi did hint that Shoji would be getting something soon. But, I really am just speculating here.

Now that Deku’s back, everyone has questions for him. Though I understand why, this has gotta be overwhelming for Deku. At least they’re not mad at him for hiding OFA. They seem very understanding actually.

Then my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto Todoroki, comes in all handsome right out of the baths 💙 He’s drying his right side while you can see a steam cloud on his left. So, it is canon that Shoto drys himself naturally with his heat. His entrance is so pretty that even Mineta’s questioning it (shut up, Mineta, you’ll never be as beautiful as him). And yes, I might be a Shoto simp, don’t judge me I see y’all too 👀

Anyway, Shoto asks everyone to let Deku sleep since that was pretty much the whole reason they brought him back. Problem is, Deku can’t because he really needs to apologize to All Might for abandoning him. AND AFTER HE SAYS THAT THERE’S A DETAILED PANEL OF SHOTO POINTING TO ALL MIGHT LIKE “UH, MIDORIYA? HE’S RIGHT THERE” AND ALL MIGHT LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW LIKE A HORROR VILLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE 😭

All Might comes in and apologizes to Deku for not being able to support him when he needed it, but Deku says that All Might support him more than enough. Mina also scolds All Might for not saying anything when he left. She wants All Might to apologize to everyone for that. Though I’m glad Deku and All Might have reconciled (I honestly thought that last convo between them was going to be THE LAST for a hot minute), Mina has a point. All Might did bail on all of them without any warning. Kinda messed up in general.

All Might apologizes and he is going to fight with everyone regardless of his physical state so that he can see that flame continue to shine. However, he warns the kids that they got info on the villains and that the final decisive battle is coming soon. If the whole “Final Arc” thing hasn’t been hammered into your head, there you go. I’m also glad that Stain’s speech did end up motivating All Might further. Who knew?

So, All Might is off to help Endeavor since he’s got unfinished business to take care of. But, the kids are wondering why Endeavor (and probably Hawks) isn’t entering UA entirely yet. Shot reminds them that Endeavor is still connected to Dabi and that his presence alone would cause more discourse. People’s minds can’t change that easily. Shoto of all people would know.

As Deku FINALLY SLEEPS 💤 and Shoto puts a blanket over him (possibly warmed by his left side 🔥) 💙💚 Shoto acknowledges how his presence might be making people anxious too even though it’s not his fault at all (thank you, Kirishima for doubling down on this btw ❤️🪨). But, things are different and Shoto’s going to show that so that everyone can be at ease like he wants as a hero. There’s even this sweet small smile on his beautiful face as he says this. He’s grown so much and he’s pretty to boot I love him so much *HANDS IN FACE* 💙❄️🔥

EVEN KIRISHIMA’S CRYING FROM HOW MANLY SHOTO IS I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!!

And now Jiro steps up and says her piece. That she knows how hard it is to convince everyone to change their minds for the better. Like with those two critics from the Culture Fest. Even so, they accomplished this before, so she thinks they can do it again. She even gathers all the band members to emphasize on this. I love how Jiro uses her earphone jacks to rally the band and how she literally drags Bakugo by the shirt for a cute group shot. None of these kids are afraid of Bakugo anymore LOL 😂! Also, Momo is the tallest out of all of them in this line up shot (except for Bakugo who’s still being dragged on the ground). I think she’s roughly 5ft 6-7 inches? She’s the tallest of the girls I know that, but damn. She towers all of them. Even me... She’s also very pretty in this shot and it’s her birthday as I’m posting this, so happy b-day Momo ❤️

And we get a beautiful panel of Jiro leading everyone to make sure that they’ll go beyond with making everything better than it was before. We get a nice group shot of the rest of the class agreeing with her with a smile including Shoto with a small one (did I mention that I love him?) 💙💙💙 And Deku’s in the center still sleeping away. I hope he has good dreams *kisses forehead*💚 And go Jiro for stepping up to the plate too 💜! All these kids have grown so much. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, the last pages show Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist going somewhere, maybe Tartarus. They got info out of Dr. Ujiko via polygraph and the Nomu Research Group at Central Hospital. They predict that they have 2 months until Shigaraki’s ready to go again, so they’ll need 1 month of preparation. But, the info Stain gave All Might gave them more info. His letter ended up being a personal letter to All Might (Stain really is that nuts...), but there was a microchip in the blade Stain left containing the security records from Tartarus. It’s not stated how this info affected the mission at hand, but it sounds like it has to do something with the time frame. So, I’m curious if they have less time to prepare or more? Given how this is the Final Arc, Imma say less.

Finally, the teaser asks “How are the villains moving?” I wonder if that means we’re switching to the villain’s next week. I would love to hang out with the kids more, but I would also like to know what our villains are up to. Like, where the hell is Himiko Toga? Is Spinner still questioning shit? What happened to Mr. Compress after he mauled himself to help Shigaraki and the others escape? Also I think we need more info on this dude’s backstory given he’s the grandson of the famous Robin Hood villain who’s name definitely didn’t escape me... 😐 Is Dabi laughing his ass off from the utter chaos he started? Is AFO still smiling like the evil mastermind he is? Is Shigaraki as crispy as he was earlier? I was going to ask about Twice but... 😭

So, yeah! Love this chapter. Really good transition chapter into whatever happens next. I’m kinda sad we didn’t see Deku fight off more past villains during his vigilante days. We got Muscular and Overhaul and I think that’s it? Didn’t see any of Overhaul’s minions or that teeth-blade villain (Fish-something?; he broke out, but we haven’t seen him since) or Re-Destro or his goons. I don’t count as Gentle or LaBrava as villains anymore and they were never truly evil to begin with. Regardless, it was a really cool arc to see a more dark side of Deku. I’m really glad Horikoshi made great use of his bunny hood and metal mask finally. Deku really did look demonic for some time. Also, seeing Deku badass is always a plus. And seeing the deconstruction of hero society and the possible reconstruction of it was really good too. Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, unfortunately, but we can do our best to make it that way.

I’m also glad that we finally got our kids back in top form. Not just being heroes, but being teenagers too. They all had great moments especially Iida, Ochako, and now Shoto as they should. But, Bakugo’s apology was peak for me. Over 320 chapters of development and build-up lead to that moment and it really is one of the best in the series. It lives in my head rent free.

So, we got 1-2 months in-manga-time until what is probably the final battle of the series. God, I can’t believe we’re actually nearing the end of this series. I started reading it back in 2018 when shit was rough for me. I found this series after listening to the music and reading the hype around it. I watched the show then I read the manga and it really helped me. Saved me from a dark place actually. I will miss this series when it’s done and I will be greatly for the joy Horikoshi has gifted us. I’ll try to save the farewells for later. I’d say this series has at least 1-1 1/2 years to go.

Me @ the kids and All Might:

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