#it rly wouldn’t surprise me if someone has already said that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-boca-do-inferno · 1 year

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trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s.

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance.

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done.

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans.

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....”

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.”

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him.

♡♡♡

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies.

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words.

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”

“What are you doing with my...”

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.”

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”

So that’s his name.

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.”

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.

Of course.

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police.

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.”

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.”

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer—

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.”

“No, no, please...”

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.”

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...”

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”

“What now?”

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.

Jesus.

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.

Tony also sits down and shrugs. “But it did. So what?”

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.”

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.

Trouble with a capital “T”.

♡♡♡

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight. She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away.

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that!

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there.

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.

“(y/n).”

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?”

“I...”

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.

No one would dare stop him.

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body.

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?”

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.

♡♡♡

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.”

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.

He looks pleased.

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.”

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.

“Shut up”, he orders.

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start.

Of what exactly, (y/n)?

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.

♡♡♡

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly.

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...”

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...

Her head was going to explode.

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes?

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.”

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface.

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways.

#scarface #tony montana #scarface x reader #tony montana x reader #tony montana imagine #al pacino #al pacino x reader

526 notes · View notes

menalez · 2 years

Note

can you give me hope about finding lesbian love by telling me about how good your relationship is

okay!! sooo my gf and i originally met thru an online dating app and bc i was still living n bahrain n she’s living in germany, we couldn’t meet for the first 7 months that we were talking on. we got to a point where we were calling each other every day and being on call together for 24+ hours and falling asleep on the call too (keep in mind she was already working full-time back then),,, it was nice bc we rly got to know each other n understand each other which also helped build a trust. after 7 months, it was nearing my bday, and so she used the money she earned to buy a ticket and meet me on my bday. she flew all the way to bahrain and when i was walking up to her at the airport to pick her up, her first words were “ur shorter than i thought” (im somewhere around 168/169 cm and she’s 153 cm….) and it was the end of july,, she stayed w me in my room and we kissed not long after bc we were smoking together n i said “we basically just kissed!” and she said “not good enough. i want the real thing” and i said “ok u can have the real thing” so that was our first kiss. anyways like 2 days later we were laying in bed and we were talking n she said sth about wanting us to be official or sth or we were both implying it and so i asked her if she’s saying that she wants to be my gf & she said yes & she asked me the same thing n i said yes. then 4 days later it was my 24th bday and she and my sister were sneaking around so she can wrap the gift she bought for me n then we went out for dinner w my family (found out that night that my homophobic uncle has a crush on her lool and he then found out that she’s with me n was pissed at both of us -_-) anyways she then gives me this present lmao and she tells me she was scared she’d get jailed for it and i was like girl chill… ur not going to jail over silly wrapping paper.

some time later she insisted that we hire a lawyer bc i was being discriminated against by the german immigration people with my visa and she even paid for it at first!! anyways it helped me get my visa in the end bc their delaying and rejection was unlawful lol and i ended up moving to germany & living with her about 2 months after we became officially gfs. fast forward to a year later (together for over a year & living together for almost exactly a year), we’ve travelled around germany & to another european country together, developed a shared hobby in bouldering, seen our bouldering idols, adopted a kitty together, celebrated 4 of our birthdays together, she’s surprised me for my bday, and more. here’s a recent pic of our lil family (she was sleeping n i was a mess hence my face being censored)

idk what else to add but mentioned everything i could think of 🥺 you’ll be able to find someone im sure,,, it just takes time & patience cause the lesbian dating pool is tiny but if i, a lesbian that was living in bahrain (where the hetero dating pool is limited nvm the lesbian one), could somehow find another lesbian n we not only got along n have aligning views n are compatible but also ended up loving each other then i don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible for u. before this relationship i had only ever been in abusive or toxic relationships, i rly felt hopeless n like im gonna die alone but im rly glad i didn’t settle for someone or give up bc otherwise i wouldn’t have found her 🥰❣️

48 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

4K notes · View notes

corpsedaydream · 4 years

Note

I just like the concept of the reader going on and on about something and him with his head in his palms, total heart eyes "listing" to the one sided conversation

i think by some of the things i’ve written before we all know this is a trope i loooooooove lets do it

edit before posting: this has lowkey become one of my favourite things i’ve written on this account! omg i am rly proud of it and i hope u guys like it too 🥺🥺🥺 pls let me know what u think of it!

word count: 1.5k

_______________________________

carrots

so maybe you were a little bit of a picky eater. but you’d never be caught admitting to that, to yourself, or to anyone. when someone happened to bring it up, you would just say something along the lines of that, you were just peculiar about what you ate.

you still remember the first moment corpse had said something about it.

"you’re picky, aren’t you?” he’d asked and your eyes snapped up. he’d been watching and listening to you closely as your eyes scanned the menu. the first time he’d been witness to it. you had been babbling out loud about what sounded best to you, but then you would also mention things you would want to switch out and add in to make it even better. you were moreso talking to yourself, but corpse had been so zoned in on you. things between the both you were still so recent, he was still learning you and he liked to pay attention.

“i’m what?” you sounded offended. and corpse had to try really hard not to crack a smirk.

“you’re a little picky, right?” he also tried keeping his tone from becoming too teasing, yet.

“no.” your response was very quick, you were on the defence. and he couldn’t help but to smile then. he knew he was right.

“there’s nothing wrong if you are, i’m just wondering.”

“well stop wondering and figure out what you’re ordering and not worry about what i’m getting.” you were a little hangry at this point, too. another fact corpse had come to learn about you. if you didn’t eat when you announced you were hungry, it would only be a short amount of time until that hangry monster in you emerged.

“i already know what i’m getting.” he counteracted.

“well, good.”

“because i’m not picky.” he couldn’t help himself but to tease you.

“i’m not picky! i just like what i like.”

ever since then, whenever the two of you had found yourselves in a situation where it involved reading a menu, he loved to watch you do it. you always took a lot longer than corpse to order, but he never minded. each time, you studied it like you were studying for an important exam and you would mumble audibly, lost in a quiet conversation between you and yourself. and how he loved to listen in, like it was exclusive information and corpse was a fly on the wall. he had made a habit of deciding on his food very quickly so he could give you his full attention for these moments.

still to this day, you weren’t aware he did this. you would be so caught up in reading the menu, figuring out how you were going to satisfy your picky eating habits that you’d never looked up to find your boyfriend looking so lovingly at you.

he then, would even love to see how you interacted with the staff when you did finally make up your mind and were ready to order. you always spoke to everyone as if they were a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. you were like no one else, so warm, so bright, so inviting. in world where social interaction could be so awkward, you thrived instead. you’d smile and make jokes, you were a social butterfly. sometimes, though, he’d catch himself feeling slightly jealous if the person working was getting a little too caught up in your words and getting a little too lost in your eyes. your words were for him to get caught up in, a soundtrack he’d play over and over if he could. and your eyes were for him to peer into, for him to wonder if the brain inside your head was made of something different to make you this enchanting.

but then you’d always look back to corpse and you’d give him a smile that was reserved for only him. a smile that no one else was lucky enough to witness. it was a smile that was made out of the genuine love you felt only for him. one that said, it’s okay, i’m with you, i’m yours. and he’d feel better. how could he not when that sunshine you radiated made it’s way into him and made him feel brighter.

"what’d you decide on?” he always asked you this. even though he’d just heard your thoughts leading up to your final decision. but he still liked to hear you answer him at a normal level, when you were actually engaging in conversation with him and he wasn’t just overhearing your spoken thoughts with yourself.

he wasn’t often surprised when you told him of your order, because of how much he already had listened to you. but tonight you did say something that surprised him.

“it comes with cooked carrots, but i just won’t eat them.”

“you love carrots?” he questioned, because he thought he was so sure of this. it was often a snack you had some days during sometime in the mid afternoon to tie you over until dinner. and you wouldn’t just eat one either, you’d eat about three or four. in fact, there’d been multiple times he’d told you if you ate that many carrots you wouldn’t be hungry for dinner.

“i do, but only fresh.” you answered him. “i hate cooked carrots.”

“are they not the same-”

“no!” immediately you cut him off, and instantly he was entertained. he knew right away this was going to turn into you going off on a tangent. you often would get oh so passionate about topics that didn’t require any actual level of passion, but oh how he loved to sit and listen when your words ran off with your fire fuelled personality.

you continued on, “don’t even finish that sentence! they are not the same thing at all.”

corpse remained silent, instead, he moved to place his elbows on the top of the table to rest his head in his hand, to really show he was paying attention. this was for both you and him, he knew your love language was quality time and that meant you wanting undivided attention and for him, he was too excited to learn this new found information about you.

“first of all, i would like to know who was the first person who even decided to cook a carrot.” and so you began. “they’re literally perfect with how they are already.” you took a deep breath in and corpse had to fight off a laugh. “they’re the perfect amount of crunch, the perfect amount of fresh, the perfect shape to hold as you eat it, the perfect size to go in your mouth, it’s always satisfying to chomp through a carrot.” you were talking with your hands, lifting a finger each time you mentioned something you loved about carrots. then you paused, holding your hand up to signal you were going to continue after you took a quick sip of water.

apparently you really meant business about carrots. and as he watched you drink the water, he wondered how on earth could he have missed this breaking update that you didn’t like cooked carrots? he wondered why he hadn’t picked up on it during all of his time of watching you read through menus.

“like, who ate a carrot in its natural and best form and thought, this is so great, i love carrots, now i’m going to try and ruin it!”

“ruin it?”

“yes, ruin it, corpse!”

“i don’t think they intended to ruin it.”

“well they did! and for what?” you questioned out loud, but corpse knew it wasn’t for him to answer, you were questioning the universe. “what was the point of ruining carrots? a food that was already so perfect, it’s so dumb.”

for a second, he thought you might have finished right there, but you didn’t.

“and the fact that it gets cooked in so many different ways? like, stop! no one asked you to do that.” you huffed, and he smiled. you were talking about carrots of all things, but he was going to listen to every word you said. “like, find me one person who prefers cooked carrots over normal carrots? you can’t!”

“i bet i could.” corpse only said this to will you on further.

“no you couldn’t!” how easily you argued against his words and he did laugh that time, but you still weren’t finished talking about carrots. “and if you ever do, you better run for your life because that person would be a serial killer.”

he continued to laugh and you knew you were being overdramatic, but you had accepted a long time ago, that, that was a very definitive part of your personality. it was a part of you that corpse had come to adore when it came out like this.

“carrots are perfect, like, truly an ideal food. and i will never forgive whoever was the first person who ever cooked a carrot.”

“what if it was me?” he couldn’t help but to say, his tone a little teasing.

and there it was that again, that smile of yours. “maybe i’d consider, but it would be a hard battle to win me over.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #writing #mine #request #Anonymous #answered

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nightingale-interactive · 3 years

Note

sorry if you’ve already answered something similar (tumblr’s search function rly sucks) but if you don’t mind: how would the ROs react if MC was obviously trying to get them riled up at a party? Lingering glances while biting her lip, touches that are a little too friendly and last a little too long, that sort of thing

Christian: Would desperately try to reign in his innate desire for you. Especially if it was for an important function. Taking great measures to not be alone with you for too long because he knows he’d do something unseemly in public. If it continues he might have to excuse himself to cool down. Needing just a moment to himself to control himself. If you were to follow him don’t be surprised if you’re suddenly in his arms with his lips on yours. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Alcina: Is very much aware of what you’re doing. Watching you with amused eyes and a slight smirk. Cataloging everything in her mind as the night progresses. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t affecting her, because it was, but she’s really good at hiding the fact. If it progresses she’d excuse herself from the group at large and find some small alcove to slip into. Knowing that you’d follow her, which is where she’d pin you to the wall with a saccharine smile. “Someone’s been a bad girl. What shall I do with you?”

Stephen: Being himself, he wouldn’t notice the signs at first. He’d simply think that you were trying to be closer to him. A bright smile appearing on his face every time you grew near. It’d take a few more intervals of various signals for him to finally catch on. Once he does? He’s a stuttering mess as he tries to figure out a way to politely excuse himself. While also being tormented with thoughts of you. I-I really ha-have to g-go. I have bu-business to at-attend to.

Quinn: Would be confused as to why you chose now of all times to do this. You both were just at their apartment where you could have done anything. They’d be perplexed as they watch your cues grow stronger and stronger as the night goes on. Trying to figure out your endgame; besides the obvious. Finally relenting as they know you’re not going to let up anytime soon. I may not understand you sometimes but I thinks that’s for the best in the long run.

#scandal #christian anderson #alcina anderson #stephen beckett #quinn matthews #anonymous #teasing #that it does dear Anon #that it does #I’m also a dumbass #so that doesn’t help

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

Note

i’m gonna try out my luck for the renji bday thing😭

- renji being a mediator between rukia and ichika(idk why i feel like rukia and ichika would get into rly dumb arguments and just fight like they’re the same age)

- renji and ichika get a tattoo

- jealous rukia(of course)

- anything that takes place in inuzuri, i loved your ‘dumb teens stealing kisses’ snippet so much 😭

- more of the tattoo artist renji falls for a client AU

I hope you’ll forgive me for cheating a bit, but when I saw this, I said, “what if I just gave you more of the dumb teens stealing kisses” fic? because honestly, it’s just sitting here.

For people who don’t obsessively follow my incoherent ramblings about my own WIPs, this is an excerpt for i can’t believe i found you in that town, a story that takes place during Renji and Rukia’s last year in Inuzuri. Two out of their three friends have passed away, their powers are growing steadily stronger, and they are starting to face the fact that they aren’t children anymore. I have two more parts of Heart is a Muscle to get through first, so I never work on it, but it is very close to my heart.

PS: This is not going on ao3 at this time, because I really do intend to finish it eventually, so consider this a Tumblr exclusive.

❄ ❄ ❄

In a strange confluence, all three of them have found gainful employment at the same time.

Renji is guarding crates. He does not ask what is in the crates. He does not want to know what is in the crates. He stands next to the crates and his size deters most people. Occasionally, he is called upon to punch someone in the face. It’s good work.

Fujimaru got him this gig, actually. Mameji was good with numbers and he taught Fujimaru a lot, and now Fujimaru has a gig keeping the books for the guys who own the crates. That seems like pretty good work to Renji, too. Fujimaru says he wishes it involved more punching people. Renji wishes his job involved punching fewer people. Everyone’s got complaints.

Rukia has found work in a shop. This is charming and hilarious to both boys. It’s a pawn shop that paradoxically seems to buy about three times as much junk as it sells. It’s obvious that the only reason the owner hired Rukia is because the clientele likes to come in and look at her, but the fact is, she’s an amazing bargainer, and she’s making him a ton of change.

Renji stops in one late afternoon when his own shift is over, and watches her sell a man a knife that looks like it will break if he looks at it funny. She offers to throw in a shitty ball of twine and the man agrees to pay what is easily four times what the knife is worth, and leaves smiling. Amazing.

The shop owner eyes Renji warily. Renji never starts trouble, and he’s even stopped it once or twice, but at the same time, his presence is cramping the appeal of the pretty shopgirl.

“I’m off,” Rukia tells her boss.

“See y’tomorrow,” the seedy man grumbles.

“You don’t get paid every day?” Renji asks Rukia loudly. “I get paid at the end of every shift.”

“She gets paid at the end of the week,” the shopkeeper grouses.

Renji flexes one arm experimentally, admiring his own bicep. “It’s nice getting paid every day. Makes you want to come back the next day, y’know.”

“She comes back every day so she can get paid at the end of the week.”

Rukia’s eyes dart between them.

“Ah, you must be a great boss, very trustworthy,” Renji comments, stretching his back. “Although gettin’ paid every day is a nice way to show trust, too. Hey, Ru, you wanna stop at Takahashi’s on the way home? I heard they got in some dried mackerel and I,” he winks at Rukia’s boss, “got paid today.”

“Pfft,” Rukia huffs, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s a scam. We need rice, though, and more water.”

“Hey, girl,” Rukia’s boss spits out. “You had a good shift! Here’s your pay for today, as a reward for doing so well. Come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” Rukia agrees, taking the coins with a sly smile.

As they head out of town, she jabs him in the ribs with her elbows. “You’re so obvious.”

“Got you paid, didn’t I?”

“You did, thank you. He hates you, you know.”

Renji sighs dramatically. “How can I live with myself?”

Rukia snorts. “He’s gross, I hate him. I hate that whole job. Smiling at people. Acting kind to horrible people. It’s so fake. I don’t know why you like working so much, I’d rather just steal.”

“I’ve seen you working, what you do is not much different from stealing.” Renji rubs his hands together. It’s getting cold, especially with the sun setting. “I appreciate the effort, though. I mean, we do. Me and Fujimaru. I like this. Having money, that is. It’s nice.”

Rukia regards him out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you? Do you appreciate it?”

Renji frowns. “Yeah, of course I do. I know you don’t like it.”

Rukia stops walking and turns to him. “C’mere.” She gestures toward herself and makes the pointing motion she does when she wants him to bend down to her level. Even though this results in a cuff to the back of his head more often than not, Renji obeys. “If you really appreciate it, I think you should do something nice for me.”

Renji should know by now to be wary of such an ominous statement, but he falls for it anyway. “Sure. Name it.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

Renji tugs at his ponytail. “Again? Really?”

It was probably six years between the first and second time she had wanted to kiss him, but the second time had only been a few months ago, last spring, after he broke his arm saving her from a large, angry man she had attempted to pickpocket.

“You said you were open to the idea,” Rukia scowled.

“I...did,” Renji stammered. To be fair, he had been in immense pain at the time and probably would have agreed to just about anything. He could have used that as an excuse. It seemed like Rukia was thinking the same, he could tell she was already getting herself wound up to be hurt at his rejection. That stung a little, the idea that she expected so little of him. “No problem. Anything for you. Go for it.” He bent his knees a little deeper and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You gotta relax a little, man, it’s not a punch in the nards,” Rukia scolded, grabbing ahold of his ears and laying one on him.

Renji didn’t fantasize about kissing girls. He liked girls well enough, but he liked guys more. There was one exception to that rule, and that was Rukia. He liked her more than anyone. It wasn’t right to fantasize about Rukia, though, in his opinion, because he lived with her and it wasn’t respectful and also… also, if he spent too much time thinking about things like kissing her, he might want to do it. So, he avoided the slippery slope of girls in general, and restricted his spicy kissing fantasies to the lean, knife-eyed Rukongai punks that hung out on street corners and had really sexy ways of saying “heeeeeey.” Renji was perpetually working on his “heeeeeeys.”

But Rukia was kissing him now, and it seemed equally disrespectful to pretend she wasn’t. Her lips were soft against his, and curious. Her fingers relaxed their painful grip on his ears and snuck around to rest on the back of his neck. She must have been keeping her hands in her sleeves, because they were warm, and they felt so good and this was good, this was so, so good and it occurred to Renji that maybe he was meant to kiss her back, she had never mentioned anything about--

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Abarai?” Rukia was saying.

It was over.

Renji blew air out his cheeks. “Naw, it was fine. Ah, did you, uh… was it everything you hoped and dreamed?”

“It was okay,” she shrugged, but her eyes twinkled. She started walking again and Renji had to do a little skip and a jump to catch up. “Fujimaru’s probably home already. How come he didn’t come with you to pick me up?”

“Oh, there were extra crates today, so he’s working late. But we can have the rice ready and surprise him!”

“Mm, yes, that sounds nice,” Rukia agreed. She hummed a little as she walked. “Hey, Renji?”

“Yeah?”

“Back at the shop-- did you call me Ru? What was that?”

Renji made a face. “I dunno. I thought it was cute.” You’re cute, his brain added, and suddenly, he couldn’t unsee it. She was unbearably cute, wrapped up in her shawl, that little piece of hair hanging between her eyes, those beautiful eyes. “If you don’t like it, I’ll--”

“You’ve known me for nine years and you decide, just now, to give me a nickname?”

He shrugged. “Things can change, right? Even out here in the ass end of Rukongai?”

She regarded him for a moment. “It is cute. I will allow it, but only from you, and don’t do it around gross people like my greasy boss.”

“Yeah, no prob,” he agreed, squeezing his hands under his armpits. He had a bad feeling that they were in for a brutal winter this year.

“Hey!” Rukia said, and he realized she was holding out his hand to him. Gingerly, he took it, hoping she wouldn’t mind his own cold fingers. She didn’t seem to.

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #i was strongly tempted to do another chapter of the tattoo artist au on top of this #except that the next chapter doesn't even have renji in it #it has rukia and orihime TALKING ABOUT renji if that counts for anything #and then i ran out of time #i know i have posted an excerpt of this excerpt before i am sorry i just love it TOO MUCH

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raindrops-xrosess · 4 years

Text

I have a secret

Requested: Yes by @maybebanks ! thank you so much for requesting

Hi! I have a request for u! Jj x reader where y/n is a kook and her and jj are dating. None of the pogues know that they’re dating but they see jj has a crush on her. Jj always sneaks into y/n’s house and surprises y/n. One day when she gets back from a shower she sees him and screams because he shocks her. Her parents come in because they think she is in danger and then they see jj and the dad gets mad and the mom thinks it’s cute. Y/n sticks up for jj and it’s rly cute💕💕

Summary: The request (I'm so bad at summaries lol)

Warnings: maybe some cringy writing idk

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.45k

AN: requests are always open unless it says closed in my bio. Enjoy the story <3

~~~

Kooks and pogues. Sworn enemies of the Outer Banks…or at least they should be. However, that wasn’t the case for you and JJ Maybank. You are known all over the Outer Banks as kook royalty, and JJ is as pogue as they come.

You had met when JJ was looking for well-paying jobs off of the cut and your father needed some things done around the outside of your house. He was mowing the lawn right outside your bedroom window on the hottest day of the year at what felt like the crack of dawn.

~~~

It was an early Sunday morning, and you may or may not have been a little bit hungover from partying on the cut with Sarah. That is where you had met the heartthrob that had every female, and some male, pogue, kook, and tour on wrapped around his finger. There was no doubt he was charming, and you tried so hard to hold out, to not give in to those damn eyes, but like everyone else you were trapped in what felt like a trance.

“Hey, do you think you can be a little quieter?!” You yelled as you stepped onto your balcony leading from your bedroom. “God, what year is it?”

“Sure princess let me just find the volume button!” He yelled his snarky comment over the loud noise. Jj quickly turned off the obnoxious machine and made his way over to where you stood. “You’re Sarah’s friend? Right? And Rafe’s girl?” He quizzed you. Any chance he could get to mess with Rafe he would take. And taking his girl? Oh, that would be the sweetest revenge!

No, you technically weren’t “Rafe’s girl” but you and Rafe were kind of something? Maybe? I don’t know you kinda messed around and went to parties together. You tried to stop his drug addiction when you could but he wouldn’t listen. You wanted a real relationship so bad, but not bad enough to fall at the feet of JJ Maybank. He was the fuck and forget type and you were sort of already in that kind of relationship. If JJ wanted anything other than that he would have to work for it.

~~~

And work for it he did. Every Thursday morning he would come by your balcony being extra loud and annoying and you couldn’t help but yell at him. Later the yelling turned into play fighting which turned to feisty flirting. It didn't take long for JJ to want to do something with you but he quickly realizes you wanted something more when he went to ask you out.

“So princess I was thinking we could go to the Party tomorrow at the boneyard like together and shit! What do ya think?” JJ said after climbing a tree to get onto your balcony. This was a common occurrence, him leaping onto your balcony, making his way throughout your room, and toying with your fancy perfumes and fun sunglasses.

“What I think JJ is that once I say yes you are going to drop me like... like yesterday’s newspaper, and I am not a newspaper!” You let out a frustrated sigh. JJ turned around and backed away slightly to give you some space. “I want a real relationship JJ, for once in my life I want something to be real. I don’t want a relationship my parents set up for their damn business gain! I’m tired of all these fake ass kook friends. I want real friends! You and the pogues have such a great friendship, I want that!” You flopped down onto your bed, looking up at the ceiling. JJ stayed silent as he laid down next to you.

“You’re dating Rafe just because your parents are business partners?” You nodded “That’s so messed up!” JJ sighed “Listen, I like you, a lot. Your different than all the other kooks I’ve had the utmost pleasure of meeting.” JJ started to talk in a funny British accent to which you laughed at. “Look as you may have guessed, given by golden reputation I have never been in a real or serious relationship, but I’m willing to change that for you. O-only if that’s what you want of- of course!” He started to stutter nervously. You sat in silence for a moment.

“That would be nice JJ.” You thought for a moment “Do you want to ditch the party tomorrow and do something like just us?” You looked over at him nervously. JJ says up with a smug smile on his face. You followed his actions and sat up.

“You askin me out, princess?” You hit his arm playfully.

“Oh shut up!”

~~~

Flash forward to now where you have been dating JJ for about four months. You had broken up with Rafe and your parents were not happy, but they saw your smile when you would come home from secretly meeting with JJ and they figured there was someone else that gave you butterflies. Your mom was a little more supportive than your dad because, in his eyes, Rafe was the perfect match, but then again he would do anything to make you smile.

Like always JJ would sneak into your room and pick you up for your date or just hang out in your room of your parents weren’t home. This time was no different. You were going out soon so you decided to shower before your date and that is when JJ decided to sneak into your room, knowing your parents were home. As you got out of the shower and walked out in your pajamas and your hair wrapped in a towel, JJ jumped out from around the corner tickling you. “OH DEAR LORD! WHAT THE HELL!” You exclaimed a little too loudly.

”Shhhh baby!” JJ hushed you as he laughed.

“Shit do you think my parents heard that?” That’s when your parents stormed into your room ready to attack.

“What the hell was that?” “Sweetheart are you ok?” your parents voiced their concern. “Maybank? What is this?” Your dad’s eyes stared holes into JJ’s head. You were in front of JJ as he had his arms around you, still holding your sides. He backed away at your father's questions and put his hands up. “You see sir.. uhh funny story really! You know the thing is-” “He’s my boyfriend!” You said before you slapped your hand over your mouth. You let out a chuckle of disbelief. You can’t believe you just said that. “Oh really? So this is the boy you replaced with Rafe?” your father now stared at you, his movements slow and precise.

“Yes, and before you say anything about him being from the cut, he makes me really happy. I don’t feel like an outcast when I’m with him. JJ makes me feel important and loved and when we talk there are so many butterflies in my stomach I might as well open a butterfly farm!” You tried to make your father laugh just a little bit. “He is selfless and kind and gentle, and I hope you can accept him because he really is an amazing person”

“Oh well isn’t this the cutest thing I ever did see! I’m not crying nope not me!” Your mother was always so emotional.

“He makes you happy?”

“Very much.”

“Is he respectful?”“The perfect gentleman.” You said looking back at him smiling and reaching out to grasp his hand.

“Then it is ok with me. Son comes here.” Your father motioned his finger to JJ. JJ quickly stepped up to your father. “You hurt one hair on her head and your dead before nightfall. You understand me?” JJ nervously chucked “Yes sir.” They shook hands and JJ retreated back towards you.

“Do you two have any plans for tonight?” Your mother questioned.

“We were just going to see a movie or something. Why momma?”

“How about JJ stays for dinner? Your father is making baked macaroni!”

“What do you think J?” you looked at him with pleading eyes. Baked macaroni was your favorite. You knew by the look on your mother's face your father had no intension that night to make it but she was trying to get you two to stay in.

“Why not! I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while.” “THANK YOU!” You kissed his cheek as your mom excitedly made her way off to the kitchen.

As your father left your room he shouted: “Next time use the front door kid!” “Yes sir!” J shouted back as he saluted to you with a funny face.

“Well know that you met my family... when do I get to meet the Pogues?”

“Soon princess”

~~~

A/N Yay I am so happy I finally got this out! If you want to be tagged in any future fics just sent me a message. My asks are always open if you want to leave a request just know that I take my time when writing so it may be a while before your request is published.

Taglist: @drewswannabegirl @obx-direction-sos @maybebanks @shawnssongs @spilledtee

Some moots:

@tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @obxmxybxnk @roxa-sos @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @poguesrforlife @baby-bearie @surferkie @katie-avery @poguesgold @poguestyleskye @mrsmaybankhere @diverdcwn @rudyypankow @midnightmagicmusings @collecting-stories @overly-b @cognacdelights @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @maybanksmalfoy @socialwriter

#new fic #new post #new blog #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank obx #jj maybank fanfiction #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks cast x reader #outer banks fics #fluff #cute #masterlist #i have a secret

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

Difficult day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: (based on a prompt) Spencer and Reader give up coffee and help each other by trying to find ways to keep each other awake.

Warnings: Mentions of murder (not real, just ironically, don’t worry, nothing dangerous there.)

Word count: 2.3 k

A/N: Hi there- so uh, this fic is rly meant to be a silly little one, so it's a bit whack,(and not rly written well to me) I just wrote it bc the idea was there and I felt like writing it at 1am……………...so hope u enjoy a bit lmao (also i never drank coffee once, so I just researched stuff online and wrote it)

Deciding to start the day without coffee probably was a bad idea to think about, it just hit them while they were talking, and Spencer sort of announced the idea.

“Hey, why don’t we try to give up coffee, and see if we can survive without it, you know.”

What a...excellent idea.

She’s now looking like a zombie, wandering around, and can’t resist the idea of closing her eyes.

Y/N has been up since 6AM, and it’s about...11 now. Which felt more like a whole day.

The worst of all, is that she couldn’t even bug Spencer about it either, he decided to do it as well, but at least, she has a coffee-deprived friend to support her.

The real problem, is that, Hotch might not be happy with the consequences, which are...sleeping at work, so, not working.

What a great day ahead of them, yay.

She’s probably making a fuss about it, as after a bit of searching, it only lasts about a few days or so, but right now, she just wishes it could stop right now.

She already knows that as soon as Spencer is going to walk in the room and launch the subject, a mountain of facts is going to fall, and she wouldn’t even be aware of how long it’s, and when it’s ever going to stop.

Because, even if there’s four facts (which isn’t about to happen), he develops each of them in the form of essays, which seems like a whole conference.

Y/N doesn’t mind, it’s not annoying, she likes to hear about it, it gives more knowledge and stuff, but when it ends to be an essay long, especially when she doesn’t happen to have drunk coffee, things get complicated, in terms of focus.

Such as, being slightly, just a little, really not much irritated, but mostly tired as hell.

Working is not in her plans at all. Sleeping is.

Taking a day long nap, as much as possible, but, fucking work, has decided to annoy her, as much as it could, with a wonderful surprise: a pile of papers, that you have to read, think about, write about- as you think about it, make sure it’s well described, filled out, so your boss doesn’t bug you with it, causing you to re-write it, which...makes you lose motivation, as you have to go through the whole process, which makes you...even more tired.

She seriously has no idea how she’s going to make it through the whole day, and strangely feels like the coffee machine has been mocking her since she arrived.

All she wants is to hide it with whatever is in the room, or smash it against a wall, but that isn’t...possible, as not everyone is doing ‘their challenge’, if that can be seen as one, because to y/n, it’s more of a torture.

If Spencer didn’t have that pretty face to protect, she would punch him in the nose as soon as he’d appear in front of her.

That wasn’t even her idea, she didn’t think that when she mentioned it, he’d take it seriously, resume the subject and make it real.

She really regrets talking about it, because he didn’t just skip it or talk normally, no, Spencer doesn’t do that.

He really had to take it as far as he could.

Now she possibly wants to kill him, but unfortunately remembered that he’s going through the same thing, and will probably want to either kill her, or attempt something less violent, such as making her talk about a subject that interests him on purpose and make an essay out of it.

And, of course, steal all ways of distraction, and make sure she can’t go, because he also ‘tortures’ her by asking questions, and when she can’t answer, he develops it even more which makes the rest of the essay late, and last longer.

Again, it isn’t in a mean way, just annoying her as well.

They often do that, find ways to annoy each other, it’s kind of a habit they picked up throughout the years, they both find it distracting and can be a nice way to distract each other when work happens to be quite annoying.

But, never has she thought that he’d take the joke to the point of what keeps her awake.

That sneaky bastard even left a box of tea on her desk, and she would have probably thrown it out if it wasn’t so expensive.

If only he wasn’t doing it as well, oh, how she would have grabbed a knife from the kitchen to throw it at him.

Also, also, as if it couldn’t get any better, one of them had to stay awake, in case one happens to fall asleep.

Double the dose of fun.

She can’t wait to see him cross...the door.

Strangely, as soon as she told it, Y/N saw a well known face make his way through the bureau.

She even had to keep her from standing up and possibly strangle him.

He didn’t even stop to talk to other people, just said ‘hi’, and basic stuff you say when you arrive at work, and arrived at the conference room.

It happened to be empty, so she took the occasion and settled there.

“Oh, you’re already there? Thought you’d come in later.”

“I came early, because I knew that I’d ignore my alarm and possibly arrive an hour later than you...or not at all.”

“Okay. How are-”

“Dead. What about you?”

“The same.” Spencer said, as he sat up. “So, about it-”

“...knew it.”

“...why don’t we discuss so, you know, we distract ourselves from...the fatigue, and...all of the other effects that come with a coffee withdrawal?”

“Do I look like I have the energy to do that?”

“...no.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“To distract ourselves, as said.”

“My head hurts, I want to sleep, I’m pissed off, how do I even do that?”

“By trying to avoid bright lights...oh, yeah, that doesn’t work.”

“As figured.”

“So...if I understood well, we’re screwed for the rest of the week?”

“Exactly, genius.”

“Great plan.”

“It was your idea.”

“Can’t deny.”

“You could have chosen something else than fucking coffee Spencer.”

“I didn’t have any idea but that.”

“Come on. You always have a ton of stuff in that brain, and just on that day: nothing.”

“My brain lagged.”

“Oh, I forgot your brain is a computer now apparently.”

“It is one, I am my own computer, I just have a system that can fail, like a regular computer.”

“Which OS are you on? Genius OS? Because your ‘intelligent’ system sucks right now. I prefer Windows.”

“Hey, when we agreed to do that, insulting each other wasn’t part of the thing.”

“It’s the only thing I have in mind, because if I don’t do it, I’m either killing you, or sleeping to try to calm down. I could also do both. Murder, then sleep, and I just pretend someone walked in and killed you while I was sleeping.”

“...that’s not very nice.”

“It’s the nicest thing I’ll probably be saying today, so, enjoy.”

“I didn’t know that included you being rude. I’m also tired, but I don’t act meanly.”

“Oh, sorry, did I hurt your feelings?”

“...yes.”

“Too bad.”

“Rude.”

“ ‘s not.”

“If you continue like that, you’re going to be the one keeping watch.”

“We agreed on the other one doing it if one of us falls asleep. None of us are, we’ll see when one of us sleeps.”

"Is this a contest or what? You know that the minute one of us puts his head down on the table, they'll be out if nothing wakes them up?"

"Yeah, I know. But if that's a contest of who can stay awake longer, you're going to lose, you've been on coffee much longer, prepare to suffer."

"You look dead, you're the one that's going to sleep first. I almost caught you dozing off when I walked in."

"No you didn't."

"I did."

"...no."

"You're lying. That small "no" gave it all away."

"I talk like that in general. It's nothing."

"You talk like that just today. The only thing that hasn't changed is your squeaky voice."

"I don't have a squeaky- I have one."

"Told it."

"Oh, shut it."

"You'd be too sad.without my knowledge."

"No...I wouldn't."

"You're smart because of me."

"Mhm. 'f you tell so." She says, propping up her chin on her hands.

"You're already giving up five minutes in. You're very strong."

"Am not. I'm just...putting my hand on my hands, just that."

"Just that."

"Exactly."

"You don't know...how to lie properly." He said, stretching up a bit.

"You're going to be sleeping in a bit too."

"Don't you know me by now? I'm stronger than you."

"Hm. Elevator accident."

"That doesn't count."

"You had a small voice."

"I was just scared, okay? I- I don't like being in small spaces for too long."

"Says the 'strong man'."

"Okay, I'm not as strong as I said, but just a bit more, because being at your level equals being weak."

"Hm. Okay." Y/N lazily responds, as a pair of heels begins clacking onto the floor, the sound growing closer, until a familiar face comes in.

"Is there a meeting I wasn't informed of or what?" Garcia asks.

"No, we just sat here. Trying to stay awake, and y/n is that close to sleeping."

"Shut up, you were about to as well."

"And you're just here like that? Imagine if Hotch even found you guys."

"Yeah that'd- y/n. Y/N." Spencer raised his voice, trying to get her attention.

"Let me." Garcia interrupted, walking to her as she shook her. "Y/N, wake up and stand up, you two are going to follow me."

"Hm…? Where?"

"You're going to stay in my office for a bit, but just for today. I'm taking a risk by doing that."

"Do we get to sleep there?" Spencer asked.

"Just for a bit. Not all day, I'm doing you guys a favor here, you're going to have to find a big way to thank me if Hotch finds out and yells at me."

"Deal." Y/N answers, quickly stretching as she stands up, lazily walking to the exit along with the two.

It's been just half an hour until Hotch begins to wander around, wondering why he can't find either of them anywhere.

He just saw them walking in, and now, they're nowhere to be found.

No one else saw them since, and the only person left to ask would be Garcia, she's been in her office all day.

Just when she begins to make her way back, a stern voice calling her name interrupts her.

"Garcia. Did you see Reid and y/l/n?"

"No, I haven't seen them all day..must be doing work." She answers.

"They're in there, aren't they? They're nowhere else."

"...maybe?"

"They're supposed to be working, and I doubt that's what they're doing right now."

"But Hotch, leave them; this is how true love starts in fanfiction. Don't you see it?"

"Fan what…? I really have to get you drug tested some day."

"Fanfiction you know, it's stories that people write, it's all cute, in some they fall in love and all, so, that's why you have to leave them, they fell asleep on each other, and it's so cute."

"Garcia, I thought you agreed to stop reading that stuff at work, didn't you?"

"...I read them on breaks."

“Fanfiction or not, love or not, they’re not supposed to be sleeping, so, please don’t force me to break that door to come in.”

“Don’t yell, they were really tired, so I...offered them to stay. Mostly because I wanted to help, but also because they’re so cute, I couldn’t resist seeing them sleeping together.”

“That depends on how quick they can wake up.” Hotch announces, stepping to the entrance of the room.

When they both step in, you’re both sitting on chairs and Spencer is sleeping against y/n’s shoulder, while her head is on his.

As soon as Garcia wishes for Hotch not to wake them up, he steps further in the room, clearing his throat as his foot tapped against the tiles.

It didn’t take much for them to wake up, everyone knew that when Hotch’s voice was to be heard, you definitely had to be awake if you wanted to avoid a sermon.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Y/N stated, as if it could make the situation somehow better.

"Reid." Hotch said.

"I'm there, I- oh, did I...fall asleep on your shoulder? Sorry for that."

"As much as I'd like to reassure you, Hotch is behind, so that'll have to wait."

"Oh...sir."

"Care to explain?"

"Well uh...I don't think I actually have one."

"...we didn't have coffee for a day or two because we decided to stop so, yeah."

"Does this even look like a valuable reason?"

"No." They both admit.

"If I see this happen again, you're aware of the consequences."

"Yes sir." Spencer responds.

"Absolutely." Y/N answers, as the eyes of the group follow Hotch leaving the room, a sigh exiting their lips. "That was...the worst moment of my life."

"You two are disappointing, I was so excited to see a real life fanfiction, but you had to get caught."

"Garcia it doesn't exist, stop reading these. It's not like we're in love."

"It's because you don't know how to recognize true love y/n. You're a newbie."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Fairy tale stuff, you know. The couple falls in love, eventually gets married, has kids , and everything ends well."

"I think we should talk to Hotch about getting you to take a drug test or other." Spencer pointed out.

"We should."

#cm #cbs cm #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #criminal minds fluff #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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seoafin · 3 years

Note

tbh,, i havent read the raws of the interview yet, only the translated ver from fan-translator and b4 i start, i think that this will be just me talking in circle and in no particular order AND a real mess (my brain does weird things after exams) but uhh here we go

gojou collects talented people, and by doing so he finds the people he can most probably relate to, except that he can't, not really, because something in the universe shifted when he was born. and it makes me think of how he's always known it, that he is special, and he's proven it, time and time again— he wants to take in talented ppl and he does, but there rly isn't much he can do for them. for they are talented, more talented than the world can understand,,

but they aren't gojou satoru

gojou took in megumi, bc he knew megumi was strong, and would grow up to be someone even stronger, but gojou can't facilitate or encourage his growth, bc for all they're similar, they are so fundamentally different. ALSO,, while geto was in his life, gojou rly judged everything according to his understanding of geto’s moral compass. gojou wears a human suit and geto is how he learnt to wear it well 🏃

the dragonfly analogy regarding to geto’s response to gojo, who was shown wearing a dragonfly patterned yukata in HI arc,, i’m trying to not think abt the fact that dragonfly symbolized victory in jpn....pain. i quoted from a web here for more explanation : In Japan the dragonfly is known as the "victory insect", or kachimushi, because of its hunting prowess and also because it is known to never retreat. Dragonflies are agile and fast fliers and can even hover, but never fly backwards

and bringing this up again, matricide and patricide are 2 of the 5 worst act to commit in buddhism, and it was said that if u commit one of those act u’re going to spend a real long time in the deepest pit of hell before continuing the samsaric cycle (higher chances to be born as an animal after that probs)— this might be geto’s divine retribution. held no power over his own body and could be considered that he’s the same as those “monkeys” 💀

ALSO the fact that sukuna's interest is "eating" rly drives home his hedonistic philosophy of seeking pleasure for himself. and he’s a cannibal...makes me think if he’ll just chomp on ppl with the mouth on his stomach

randomly, to date i think he hasn't really called himself a human, shaman, or a curse, and has held himself apart from all 3, and we've also the intro of the cursed wombs so i wonder if he’s trying to become, or is, a different entity altogether

so onmyoji got mentioned in the interview and what they practice is called onmyodo and abe no seimei and kano no yasunori were the notable practitioners,, and the kamo in jjk is the same as irl who served the imperial court back then

maybe i was right when i said that the relation between the govt. and jujutsu elders are similar to how the shogunate and imperial court work (ie, the former holds the actual power) but... lets see later,,

and i cant believe that i actually nailed it on the analogy of jujutsu practices by religion,,, so mahayana buddhism, shintoism, and taoism is present in jjk along with their respective jujutsu practices...but between the 3, it shld (?) be taoism > shintoism > mahayana buddhism (which could took a path to pure land buddhism)

it’s weird that the number of curses are supposedly higher in jpn comparable to other countries when taoism was brought from china....tengen sus

so the zenin family tree is sth like :

brothers: [toji's dad] ; naobito ; ougi

so toji, naoya, and maki & mai are cousins of the same generation

[toji's dad] → jinichi (probs) ; toji → megumi

naobito → other brothers, naoya

ougi → maki, mai

but yea i’d call anyone who’s within/close or below my age range as cousins and others above 30 as uncles/ aunts LMFAO,, i dont rly memorize my own family tree 😭😭 especially since most call the other by honorifics instead of names : aunt, uncles etc or attaching said honorifics at the end of a name for an older sibling figure/ older cousins [but like ppl in my country also call the other who are older with sibling honorific even if we’re strangers,,, rly similar to korea’s hyung/oppa—eonnie(unnie)/noona but some uses more genderless honorific] (1)

tw // topic of incest, mentions of abuse

if anyone got the wrong idea when reading this : i am not glorifying/ romanticising incest(uous themes),, i’m looking at this with absolutely no lenses of bias even tho im rly against it

初恋 = literally : first love, or puppy love

恋 = romantic love/ deep longing

i literally don't know how else to put this...🧍and with language barrier...using a western interpretation of the eng word "love" to explain a jpnese term is not quite that simple, unfortunately

that thread omg,, i rly do understand how exactly someone could associated kindness with love bc of my upbringing, it was when i was slightly older that i was just...oh so its not like that orz,,, so the most plausible explanation would be that

but the problem is that,, akutami never specify when exactly she had a crush on them,, and when megumi answered todo’s question she had a “♡” reaction 😶,, uhmmm there’s rly no way to look past this if its this way or be in denial

i’ve seen some of "why wouldn't mai react that way after hearing megumi say he'd like someone who's compassionate when she's surrounded by men like naoya",, well I MEAN,,, that, but also mai probs admires that megumi grew up so well out of the clan, regardless of the fact that he had the foundation (10 shadows) to do so. imo she seems happy for him the way she can't be for maki, bc maki ultimately had to leave her behind

hate to say it but yea,, the 3 clans most likely still practice inbreeding in order to preserve their power and presumably their wealth too 😀

i had an idle thought abt it at first but i filed it deep in the back of my mind asap,, bc i ont wanna jump to conclusion abt this out of all things too early. it’s probably not even in jjk, but all those elite clans in other ani/mangas that produce powerful heirs and whatnot also do the same,,, but this way of (my personal) thinking was influenced when i first got into tsukihime (type-moon),,, i read abt the nanaya family background and found out that they practice that in order to keep their bloodline “pure” (to keep it short : they have an optical power),, and i had this kind of assumption ever since so there’s that

i’m,, convinced the zenins' inbreeding made it more difficult for them to get powerful shamans bc they got 2 jujutsu technique-less children with heavenly restrictions in the same generation: toji & maki

even more convinced that maki might be a bit stronger than toji bc toji could see curses without aid while maki can't so the pay-off must be higher,,, SJJASN IDK ,,, plus naoya sort of implies his older brothers are nothing compared to him, and idk if we should take that as his arrogance or that his older brothers rly are weak/powerless. it would make sense as to why naobito had a lot of sons, ig, as head of clan

i feel so bad that if one of the factors that can caused heavenly restriction is inbreeding,, toji and maki and mai had no say in how they wanted to be born but are scorned for it,, typical asian families projecting their traumas and ideals onto their kids but get mad when they realize that those ideals are ugly...😁😁😁

since the zenin are conservative,, i wonder if they still hold onto old jpnese dining traditions. where in ancient jpn, hierarchical relationships were made readily apparent even within families. a dining table where everybody sat down and ate as equals would be unheard of. rather, each individual is given their own table that indicates their status,,, someone who is not considered “strong” according to the zenin’s views most likely have no place at the table, and probs eat when those who are “strong” finished/ serve them when they are eating

if toji was tossed into a swarm of curses,, i dont think abuse during said time is below them,,,

the zenin clan was already great, but they further amassed power and strength by, what i assume to be, marrying and adopting powerful individuals into the clan 🤔 ,,, i imagine they're like the hiiragi but without doing what they did to shinya (ons reference)

BUT after all that, i like to think that since akutami’s a big horror fan, jjk might be an outlet to explore said topics or even darker ones, so i wouldnt be that surpised abt it. given that there’s more than enough “red flags” before this was dropped : a reference to “tale of hikaru genji” when a grown woman asked for gojou’s number in HI arc (out of all things); granny who transformed into the man’s daughter, sat on his lap and man just touched her waist; mei mei and ui ui ; and...this (incestous theme is in the novel btw)

lets not start with whatever the fuck in kubo’s head in the interview otherwise i’m writing paragraphs with every curse words possible,, those big 3 mangakas are so— UGH,, a planet w out (cis) men like him sounds real good rn 😌 if one of yall out there decide to do it,, pls hmu rly cant do this shit anymore

akutami said i like my men pretty and i like women who will step on my neck and spit in my face (I REMEMBERED TATSUKI FUJIMOTO’S INTERVIEW WHEN HE WAS ASKED ABT MAKIMA AND IT WAS SO 😭😭😭😭) but ykw,, love that for both of them <3

when i said 3 : one piece, bleach, naruto. aside from the blatant depiction/ characterize of women in those 3,, idk if some ppl arent aware yet but oda is friends with two (2) convicted pedos,, man...the major disappointment and disgust when i first find out abt it

anyways this is just my 2 cents (which i think rightfully belong to the trash can) so pls just take this w a lil to no grain of salt - 🐱

YEAH THE ♡ LMFAO I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A “good answer ♡“ heart BUT NOW IM RE-EXAMINING?????

honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if the three clans practiced inbreeding. but ik people are going to be 😡😡😡😡😡 about it when the queen of fucking england is literally married to her (something) cousin. i’m not justifying it but like....love the double standards, just as always with the west 😍

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING PED* LIST THEY SHOULD ALL BE IN JAIL. JAILLLLL. it’s all so gross. that’s why i fucking hate when people look towards manga for positive representation because the chances of that are super slim to zero, especially since the industry is saturated with misogyny and ped******* and a lot of other gross stuff.

i think ppl forget jjk is a horror manga LOL so obviously it’s going to confront darker themes. the question is whether it’s going to be done tastefully or not......

#honestly I don't have high hopes unfortunately 😭#but who knows I might be...pleasantly surprised #idk I don't have high hopes in manga nowadays so hmmm #anyway as always I enjoy ur thoughts <3 ❤️❤️#hope ur doing well!!!#and getting all those genshin impact goodies #🐱 anon #long post

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

choices (draco malfoy x slytherin!reader)

Draco had been watching you, more than normal, over the past few weeks. He had always kept an eye out for you, not because he liked you or anything, obviously. He just felt protective, especially as you began spending even more time with that Potter. Draco loathed him, and his blood boiled whenever he or Weasley even dared to look at you. You were a pure-blood and a Slytherin, just like Draco. They shouldn’t even be allowed to talk to you, you were too good for them. But despite sharing his views with you, you continued to speak to them, and spend more and more time with them; more than you were spending with Draco. And he didn’t like it.

It was quite late in the afternoon and you and Draco were sat in the library, researching something for one of your shared classes. Humming, you flicked through books as he sat beside you, head rested on his hand as usual. You glanced at him and chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You could actually help, you know, Draco?” He scoffed while turning his head the opposite way. Hermione, who was sat near you, used this opportunity to slip a note into your hand before putting her books away. The note read ‘18:00′.

“What is that?” You turned to see Draco reaching for your hand. Quickly, you stepped back so you were out of his grasp.

“It’s nothing, just blank parchment.” He frowned as you showed him the opposite side. You smiled innocently.

“Why would you be carrying a random piece of parchment?” He lunged for your hand again, to which you grabbed his with your free hand.

“Draco, stop it. It was just in my pocket, and I felt it so I took it out.” A dissatisfied look crossed his face. “What? You don’t trust me?” Your question had earned a huff from the blond boy, crossing his arms and looking away once again.

You checked the clock and as it read five-thirty, you hastily put all of your books away. Walking through the castle, you heard Draco’s footsteps trudging behind, echoing around the empty halls. You hurried when you arrived at the dungeons, running up the stairs into your dorm so you could change. Draco scowled at your actions, before he walked into his dorm himself and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

After you had changed into a suitable sparring outfit; consisting of a dark green jumper, black jeans and boots, you waited until the last person in the common room had gone to bed, and proceeded to make your way to the room of requirement.

Draco had no intention of following you, after all, he knew exactly where you were going. It completely irked him that even after telling you how much it bothered him, you continued to go. He knew that at some point you were going to have to confess about your little club, either of your own free will to him, or to Umbridge. Draco knew she had been using Veritaserum on the children and he didn’t entirely agree with it, but he had been told it was for the good of the school, which he believed. The situation was going to end out one of two ways. Umbridge using the truth potion on you and the others knowing you ratted them out but not knowing why. Or someone else being a victim of the pink lady and you being in a lot of danger. He hated the way you were on opposite sides. You should be together, but you hadn’t been more divided in your lives.

~~~

You slipped back into the Slytherin Common Room after practice with Dumbledore’s Army, as quietly as you could. You couldn’t see much, as it had already turned midnight. You muttered a quiet ‘Lumos’ to find none other than your tall, blond friend stood in front of you.

“Merlin, Draco!” You whispered harshly, jumping at the sight of him. “What are you doing?”

“No, Y/N. What are you doing? Going out every night and trying to sneak back in. Did you really think no one would notice?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“What is going on with you? Whatever it is, it has to be serious. You wouldn’t keep something so big from me.”

“Actually, I would. You’re part of the Inquisitorial Squad now, Draco.” You stepped the side to move past him, but were surprised when he mirrored your movements.

“I am, and I could easily go to Umbridge and tell her you and your little friends are up to something.” In an attempt to get past him, you pushed his chest, grunting when he didn’t budge.

“I would die before I told her anything.”

“Y/N, you won’t have a choice!” He grabbed your wrists. “Neither will anyone else, she...”

“What? What is it?”

“I.. I can’t say.”

“Goddamn it, Draco! Where do your loyalties lie?” He snorted.

“Rich of you to say, don’t you think? Bouncing around with that Potter.” He seethed, only speaking his name. “It doesn’t take one to think too hard to see that you like him.”

“Are you joking? Draco, you are completely, positively dim-witted.” Draco chuckled to himself, immediately ignoring what you had said.

“Well, you’re spending an awful lot of time with him.”

“He teaches us! He teaches us defense spells, that is it!” You gasped, covering your mouth instantly. Your eyes became misty as you blinked.

“Hey, hey, Y/N. It’s okay.” his eyes were concerned as he looked into your sad ones. He pulled you into a comforting hug while you sniffled against his chest.

“Y-You.. You’re going to tell them, aren’t you?” Draco wiped your tears away with his thumbs as he looked at you. You were crying, but you had never been so beautiful to him. The vulnerability was something he didn’t see in you often, and he liked it. He liked you.

“I don’t have to.” You looked up at him in hope. “If...”

“I’ll do anything, Draco! Please, I’ll do anything so you don’t tell them.”

“Really?” He smirked slightly as you nodded. “Kiss me.”

You were hesitant, and nervous. You hadn’t kissed anyone before and didn’t want your first to be because of a deal. But, you liked Draco, and you always had. When you met him, you thought he was attractive, and he acted as if he knew it too. He was a cocky, pompous git, who you really had no time for. It wasn’t until you had found him crying, in a lonely area of the castle, that you decided to give him a chance. You saw everything. All of the pain, the anger, the sadness; it clouded his beautifully blue eyes, and turned them somber.

“Well?” He persisted, grinning over-confidently. You inhaled slowly.

“Fine. But I’m only doing this because I actually like you. Not because of this stupid deal.” Watching his arrogance quickly turn to anxiety, you grabbed his collar and pulled him to you, pressing your lips against his. Slowly, but surely, his hands made their way to your waist, pulling you in closer. You felt his body heat and smiled against his lips, pulling away gently, earning a pout from the boy.

“Did..” Clearing his throat, he continued. “Did you really mean that, Y/N?”

“Of course I did. Why would you ever doubt me?”

“I just thought.. You and Potter..”

“Draco. It’s never been Potter. It’s always been you.” The blushing boy smiled.

“I won’t tell Umbridge.”

“I bloody know you won’t!” Draco let out a quiet laugh. This was not how he had expected tonight to go, but he was glad it turned out like this. He had been denying his feelings or you for far too long, afraid that he might get rejected because he wasn’t good enough. Because he wasn’t the Chosen One.

“I think I love you, Y/N.”

“I think I might love you too, pretty boy.” Draco’s cheeks turned pink at the new nickname, but he smiled at you, leaning in once again. You pecked his lips and smiled back at him. “Now, come on, you. Time for bed”

my masterlist (requests open!)

A/N : hi this is my first harry potter imagine and i think its pretty bad lol but i rly hope u guys like it and i hope u all have a wonderful day xo p

#harry potter #draco malfoy #imagine #imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #ron weasly x reader #malfoy #hogwarts #slytherin #slytherin reader #draco malfoy x slytherin

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frillshark-fr · 4 years

Note

How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

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2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

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3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

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4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

-----

okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous

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stray-tori · 3 years

Text

TPN S2E01 Thoughts (anime-only)

Watching with friends:

youtube

Opening thoughts so far

of course this parallel which i already cried about in its own post. I just. my emotions. AHHHH-

I’m not sure what it means but the cut from two hands forming a grid to the chains being aligned similarly and creating a chainlink fence. The hands covering someone's vision could be the deception of the farms or something of the like, especially since it comes after the shot with all the moms lined up. But those illusions are a prison, therefore the chains. I'm just not sure how it correlates to the post-escape. I guess the system/society overall

I rly just wanted to appreciate the smooth transition work haha

Another TPN server member pointed out its not two hands covering someone’s vision, it’s a demon and human hand, making a deal. I’m blind. Match cut still cool.

I also can't believe my prayer for empty space composition got real. I JUST LOVE IT BECAUSE I WAS SAYING IT THE WHOLE TIME I was like "I hope they do a thing on the poster or something, where its framed like the three of them are there but norman's is just empty space" AND THEY DID IT!! ONCE AGAIN MY FEELINGS. IM SO HAPPY THEY DID IT BUT ALSO OUCH

The episode

A lot happened but it didn't feel rushed particularly for me personally, excluding the few shots it didn't stay on long enough to really make out anything (and you can pause on those so). They reference they've only recently entered this type of forest (implying they've been on the way for a while), and the forest before that wasn't as... "fantasy", they also referenced being up on a high point of view (likely the cliff they stand on at the end of ep12 or another high point they've been at) where they've seen the river.

The only thing that I feel could have used some time is Ray. Having him have that sort of resolution like 5 minutes in (when before he was sure he'd be dead and therefore didn't plan to take any responsibility for what happens after the escape) feels kind of weird, especially if we haven't seen Emma burdening that much by herself except emotionally and implied also for other activities (I feel that there's some setup missing for her leaving Ray to do the bait thing later in the episode).

I also think having a bit more time between the "oath" and him breaking down being like "I can't give up, I promised" (which was amazing angst, I approve) wouldn't have hurt, but it's also kind of a nice circle within the episode I guess.

Overall, they seem to be moving fast (although I'm not really bothered by it personally), but unless they directly contradict something from the manga, I think if someone wants more details, they can read the manga and add those informations into their experience! Not everything needs to be reiterated, sometimes. And so the anime can move forward faster, both for better and worse.

Haven't read the manga though so I don't know if that works the way I think it does.

But yeah. I feel like an earlier point would have been a good cliffhanger too, maybe around the time Emma faints?

[About the carving in the tree]

What I assumed was that Ray gave them the clear signal, but if he didn’t returne, they'd gone looking for him and get hold up. So he carved that, i assume, to tell them what happened and make them go the other way instead of looking for him. Not that they'd listen probably but YKNOW.

I'm not entirely sure.

My friends and I had this whole tangent about “it'd be funny if the demons saw it and just showed up at Minerva's base. Minerva dead”

though I also assume that the coordinates are minerva internal stuff but then again the one scientist did just randomly lose the pen for krone to find so. yknow. idk if their system is the most competent in being secretive and not having a demon pick one up at some point haha-

“ what do you feel about the general vibe of this new direction? ”

tainted anime-only but I'll try to give thoughts udsihsdj

Hmm I don't really have any particular feelings I suppose? I'm definitely excited though, I feel like even though the setting and feel has changed from kind of subtle thriller to like, out-right scary monsters and survival, the underlying kind of angst and sincerity stayed the same? I guess it could also be argued that since the anime put less focus on the internal planning and more focus on the character expression and stuff, it's not as extreme of a shift for the anime in a bubble.

I guess I initially thought TPN was kind of "grounded" - ..... aside from the yknow, big children eating demons - if that makes sense? But I think it's also interesting from a meta perspective that the outside or at least segments of the outside (since they said that the previous forest didn't have all those fish bugs and plants) are so fantasy based because in the bubble of GF house its kind of easy to assume the world is just kinda ours but slapped demons on top of it (so in a twist of events, the trapped children who grew up in a lie knew a lot more about their world than we did).*

So I think the fantasy direction is kind of interesting (i also find it interesting that it's only segments of the world, apparently, so I wonder if that has any implications for why the fish bugs and plants are limited to those regions aside from... I guess just natural territory).

* which i also find interesting, because apparently they had a book on it in GF. Which heavily implies that either those things existed before the demons or the demons didn't "take over" fast enough to stop the making of books that depict those things. So I guess really the fantasy elements for them in-universe aren't really surprising. It was kind of surreal, watching them talk about them so normally when so much of the setting up until now was very non-fantasy (again, demons aside of course)

I wrongly assumed the last book being from 2015 implies that the demons took over then, but that contradicts another observation I made before and I totally forgot about but I like it more. So I’m going to redirect you there: Year Count based on demons thoughts

It’s probably gonna go more into demon stuff and all that so that's cool and I'm curious. I'm still not sure if the two new demons designs imply that they're lesser or not, because they have those masks that essentially "fake" what other demons seem to have naturally (the multiple eyes, the horns) but I'm not sure if that means they use that to substitute or if it's the other way around. It kind of feels like paying tribute to those characteristics but I can't really... explain it well haha

#tpn s2 #tpn s2e01 #tpn #tpn anime #tpn anime-only #tpn s2 spoilers #tpn s2 ep1 spoilers #tori talks #tori has opinions #long post

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dykeceit · 4 years

Text

janus' playlist not-really-analysis just me screaming

so first of all this whole playlist absolutely SLAPS, its the first side playlist that's just my taste and it doesnt surprise me that it's janus' bc of course it is i am absolutely 100% more attracted to him now somehow,

im absolutely not okay and this isn't gonna be articulate in any way but i. have to.

1. black hole sun

???hes sad?? apparently its about depression with some sexy snake metaphors....maybe hes just sad in general or he misses virgil. also postmodern jukebox hell yeah

2. it seemed the better way

this feels like it could be about patton or like thinking one thing and then realizing its not true ig could be that w society in general or people...him developing his trust issues possibly "i better hold my tongue, i better take my place" or like oh the other sides hate me ig ill be a villain then...

3. anywhere

janus sanders says fuck capitalism!

4. talking at the same time

eat the rich,,,virgil left me:(

5. all the good girls go to hell

he's needed and the others are starting to realize it. hes quite smug abt it "my turn to ignore ya, don't say i didn't warn ya" damn right boy

6. denial

he blasted this song after svs while crying "please don't turn the light out, i don't think the conversation's over" he had to wait almost a year but he finally got to continue that conversation,, "i know where you'd wanna go, oh i do, but do you?"

7. trust in me

i mean yeah sexxy snake moment right here

8. razzle dazzle

so obviously its just his aesthetic tm but the lyrics...are the jabs at roman or himself, perhaps both? i never took him to be very insecure but that's a possibility

9. when the chips are down

basically his speech about society in svs and how he doesn't want thomas to be disadvantaged in it

10. mandy goes to med school

uhhh yeah who knows there's a bit of a i know what im doing jk vibe going on and Doing Harm but the thing itself is necessary to Have yknow right to abortions its just theyre not legal so hes doing them illegally and apparently two ppl died from them so not great,,"my partner brian" at the end made me think of remus tbh "hes a nice man, thoroughly reliable, he's in a rock band" kinda gives off the vibe of eh yeah hes totally reliable lmao dw tho, so basically what im taking from this is dukeceit is canon thanks for coming to my ted talk

11. i put a spell on you

i mean its definetely his Vibes but idk if its @ anyone specifically...could be virgil, could be roman, maybe thomas himself...its a vengeful kinda song, hes like fuck you you're listening to me now im done you treating me like shit

12. evil night together

so aside from this being an extremely hot song its def dukeceit vibes as in they'd both like it but the hero part as others have pointed out is giving out major roceit vibes and thomas and co know this those bastards

13. cabaret: don't tell mama

im assuming this is more of a..this is what he likes to listen to plus its about secrecy which is his thing but i guess "mama" could be someone in particular as well, and/or he could be singing it to someone in particular...

14. you're a cad

bruh. first of i loved this song already secondly iM SORRY THOMAS WHAT ARE YOY IMPLYING HERE like first i was like this isn't abt Him right that wouldn't make sense so is it about...virgil...well ofc it is bruh what the fuck bro....im loving this bc its casting virgil in an unsympathetic light and i love that shit but also its revealing janus still Feels quite a lot for him and idk how to feel abt this i. the part of me that still loves anxceit is screaming and the part of me that hates virgil is also screaming they haven't stopped for a minute-

15. as far as i can see

so dukeceit vibes possibly virgil reference since he "went down the staircase" to his spot,,so basically he and remus maybe virgil and orange too like pushing ppl down the stairs bc they feel unheard

16. criminal

this is where the angst train rly starts choo choo....so. who is he singing about here. my god i want it to be roman so bad but it Could be virgil...which would imply he thinks he's wronged him somehow which would mean virgil has a more valid reason to dislike him and I Don't Like That. but whoever hes singing about is clearly important to him... "he's all i knew of love" bro....that's just screaming virgil right i dont like it op...basically he feels guilty for smth and to be "redeemed". he clearly doesn't need redemption from his canon actions so far, and he hasn't acted like he regrets any of them, which is making me think its abt smth in his past buut maybe he does feel bad for manipulating roman now bc he realized how hurt roman was and thats what i wanna believe it's about ok roceit rights except roman youre a bitch apologise

17. change

this made me fucking lose it bro im still losing it ive lost it. he's not okay and neither am i....bro i didnt think he'd be so....insecure but....i mean all of them seem to be so...but yeah this song is very,,,i have trust issues and im learning to love again vibes and i am crying while my wig is being ripped cruelly from my head....i choose to interpret this as less like ive been bad uwu i can change and be good now and more as ive been too afraid to care bc im so aware of the harm it can do to me but i realized its worth it so im trying now....and i think that's beautiful

18. devil in the details

hes telling thomas to Just Do It. he "made amends in the general sense" but "the devil's in the details" and he "knows the cause" and "wants to stop" but he "just can't do it". this seems kinda like more virgil angsty times for me or maybe the cause is just him being...him and just being well i cant stop being my function so...but he sees it as The Reason theres still animosity even if hes "made amends".

19. come little children

first i was like bruh its a bop but y is it here. but the lyrics are basically repeating how horrible the world is, "murdering beauty and passion", and the singer doesnt have to be killing or kidnapping the kids maybe its just a friendly fae helping some abused kids yknow you never know...basically fae!janus confirmed i know you have connections with them thomas i know you do

20. into the unknown

i like that this is short it kinda feels like hes coming to say okay im done bye after this whole musical that is his playlist. i am ashamed to say im not familiar w the plot of over the garden wall but someone said smth abt killing kids. well yknow how it is sometimes...but yeah very sexy, very fae, i will stan forever etc.

#janus sanders #deceit sanders #roceit #dukeceit #sanders sides #idk bro im losing it #i love him and his music taste #basically all the songs are hot

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rokutouxei · 3 years

Text

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 9 OF 22

You will let my tender hook Catch the folded darkness inside you, let me occupy The dented place at the base of your throat. - "One Life", Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

She wakes up late.

Comically late.

No hangover, thank god—but it’s 11am and she’s dressed in lent pajamas in a bed that isn’t her own. She shoots up to sitting position in a second, and standing in a minute, trudging out the room to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

By the time she’s up and out of the room, a little more awake, Dazai and Arthur have already long gone, the only remnants of their presence the bit of glitter that they had wiped onto the sofa they nestled in.

And text messages.

She squints when she reads it, not because she had a hard time reading what it said, but—because she couldn’t believe what it said.

A series of text messages from Dazai:

[ 7:23 | Dazai ] ur still asleep but ur friend kinda hot

[ 7:24 | Dazai ] ofc I woke up first but his eyelashes tho???

[ 8:32 | Dazai ] pls tell me he’s not a douche bc im rly gonna jump him

[ 9:03 | Dazai ] mgonna jump him

[ 10:19 | Dazai ] abt to find out if he’s got the magnum sized dong u promised

Oh, god, what has she done.

With a groan, she heads down the hallway, phone securely in the pocket of the sweatpants, to see Vincent and Theo preparing a meal in the kitchen; Theo preparing some sort of fillet (fish? Chicken?) and Vincent frying some onions and garlic on the stove, filling the kitchen with a nice aroma.

“Good morning,” she says softly, as she shuffles onto one of the dining table chairs.

“Thought you died,” Theo says with a snort; but once he turns around to face her, all derision goes away in his face and is replaced by a quiet surprise.

Vincent beams as he turns to get the fillets from Theo. (It’s chicken.) “Good morning. Did you sleep well? No headache?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night and for the clothes.”

“Of course, no problem at all,” Vincent answers, turning back to the pan. The chicken makes a sizzle as it meets the oil.

Theo is still staring at her with an odd look on his face.

“Earth to Theo?” she calls out, waving her hand in front of her. “Something wrong?”

“Broer. Why did you lend her my clothes.”

Oh.

“You know how most my shirts are, paint-stained in all the weird places.”

She feels the cling of the cotton around her skin so differently, so suddenly. Oh.

“She wouldn’t have minded, she was drunk.”

That’s correct, but—

Vincent smiles at Theo, the kind of smile one makes when they can see through someone; she’s filled with a kind of relief at knowing that Vincent can do that to Theo. Maybe the man isn’t an impenetrable a character after all. “No need to be shy, Theo.”

“I am not,” he insists, finally tearing his gaze away from her and heading to the sink to wash the used chopping board and the knife. “I just don’t want her wearing my stuff.”

She smirks. He is shy. True, she didn’t get the opportunity to think about what she was putting on last night because she was so tired and knocked out by the alcohol, but…if that was the price she had to pay to see this side of Theo she doesn’t have the opportunity to witness often, then it was worth it. Oh, the ever put-together Theo, brought to his knees by only one person in the world, the one he trusts the most: his brother. “Is it because your personality is contagious?” she teases, “wouldn’t want to catch that.”

He answers her with a glare. “Reverse. It’s your stupidity that’s contagious.”

“Oh, we’re pretty much equally as stupid, Theo. No need to worry.”

“We are not,” he says, and then Vincent elbows him carefully.

“You really should be a little gentler to your friends,” Vincent comments, as he turns the fillet onto its other side.

Theo grumbles something unintelligible and it makes her laugh. Sitting in the kitchen, watching the two brothers side by side with their back to her as they prepare—she checks the clock—lunch for the three of them, she hums, content. She’s lived alone for all her life here in the campus, and it was one she looked forward to after living in a house crammed with people for most of her life. But sitting here, watching them share the chores and maybe have a little banter with each other—makes her reconsider that maybe, maybe settling down in even the worst of places isn’t that horrible when you’re in good company.

Theo opens the plate cupboard and hands her a set of it with some cutlery. “Set the table at least, freeloader?” He says, though his voice lacks all the venom his words otherwise had.

Okay, she’ll have to reconsider if Theo counts as “good company.”

Theo barely survives lunch with her and his brother because of how much he gets teased by the two. He might argue that this is worse than being stuck with her and Arthur because since it is Vincent, he does not get the leeway to have a comeback, only able to grumble in displeasure at being see-through. They stuff their bellies not only with Vincent’s famed chicken with herbs but also with a hefty amount of laughter.

She slides back (slightly disgusted) into her costume to walk back home in, confident that many other students will be trudging along the streets suffering the same fate. (“Not everyone wakes up as late as you.” “There’s bound to be at least one, right?”) When she comes out of the bathroom, there’s a book on top of his neatly-folded clothes.

They speak at the same time.

“I could wash these first before giving it back if you—” “You had that with you all this time?”

Silence.

She breaks it with a laugh. “Yeah, it was a Saturday. I didn’t want to break the schedule.”

“You get so thorough about the weirdest things,” he comments, but he takes the bundle in her arms anyway. “It’s alright, I’ll have them. Let me get you a book, too.”

She follows Theo into the studio, where he crouches in front of some bookshelves. Vincent peeps from behind his easel. “You should walk her home,” he offers, as Theo pulls a few books out of the shelf.

“No, it’s alright, I’ll be fine! I’m not drunk or dizzy. The walk will help clear my head.”

“It’s twenty minutes out,” Theo points out, getting up.

“Just promise that if you find me asleep on the street you’ll pick me up?”

Handing Murakami’s Dance, Dance, Dance to her, Theo grins. “I can’t promise that.”

“Oh, Theo, you know you will.”

Even when she is long out of his sight, the smile on his face does not go away. Even as the day shifts into mundanity. Even as he’s carting a bagful of clothes to the launderette. Even as he picks up some groceries on the way home. Even as he prepares dinner for Vincent, who is a few hours deep into painting.

Maybe for a moment, it goes away, but—

He thinks of her and the smile comes back full force.

She spends the rest of Sunday recovering and hiding away in her room after the very socially draining party, but by Monday she’s hopped onto her bike and headed for the literature club’s little gazebo. She’s left a message for Dazai, asking for company. Sure, they spent quite a lot of time together in the past week, after having jumped through thrift stores and boutiques for the perfect Night Circus costume (and yes, she made him read the book beforehand too, for good measure) but Saturday was quite a day. She’s brought a couple of cookies for sharing with him, sitting at their usual spot, looking out at the quadrangle next to it.

“Toshiko-san! Sorry we kept you waiting!”

The plural takes her off guard, and she turns to find that Dazai has brought a rather distracted-looking Isaac along, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Isaac is always dressed so well—she supposes it’s part of the uniform or something of being seen as a respectable professor—but she sure does want to see him dress down once. T-shirt, shorts, that kind—Isaac seems to take everything too seriously.

The pleasant feeling of seeing a friend she hasn’t met up with in a long time is quickly replaced by confusion, as the science complex is nowhere near the Arts building. “Nice to see you here, Isaac,” she says, but also with the lilt of a question.

Dazai answers said question. “He’s here because he has nothing better to do, so I asked him to come.”

Isaac makes a face that’s both resignation and panic. “He passed by my office.” –and dragged me out because he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she finishes in her head.

“I see,” she answers, even though that’s not really an explanation in itself.

She knows Isaac through Dazai, and Dazai knows Isaac through a very peculiar class: Occultism 101.

A class team-taught by three major colleges in the university—the College of Arts, the College of Science, and the College of Social Sciences—Occultism 101 is one of the more controversial classes on campus because of its nature. It goes through a long history of the evolution and persistence of supernatural beliefs and practices among nations in the world, in that nice gray area between religion and science. There are only two kinds of students in Occultism 101: those who believe and who are genuinely interested, and those who do not believe and would like to spend an entire semester saying “bah! That’s not true!” to themselves all the time.

Occultism 101 is typically taught by professors from the College of Social Sciences and College of Arts with backgrounds in religious practices and other mystical behavior (whether in history or art), and then occasionally, in the middle of the semester, guest lecturers from the College of Science come in to give lectures on how these “supernatural events” may be explainable through scientific means. Say, how the piping system in a building can cause haunted “cold spots”, or how floating dust particles can come up in a photograph as “orbs”, or the likes.

And she doesn’t want to be very stereotypical about it, but a lot of people in the College of Science are pretty… well, square, and so no one really wants to teach Occultism 101, even if it’s only a few meetings in a semester. This is how this job ends up to unwilling, no-choice Ph.D. students such as Isaac.

It was just his luck that Dazai was in the section he taught.

“So, Osamu, care to tell us about your little date last Sunday?” she asks, as the other two have taken their seats across her. Dazai swoons a little at the mention of Sunday. Isaac looks at him with unsureness.

(Isaac has had the miserable experience of being the victim of Dazai’s flirtation at some point in time. One can see how that has instead simmer into a rather tentative friendship. All is well.)

Dazai rests his elbows on the table and places his chin on the palms of his hands. “He’s so dreamy.”

“No he isn’t,” she swiftly replies, without thought.

But Dazai pretends not to have heard it. “He’s not looking for a serious relationship though,” he adds. “Not that I am, either.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, sweetie,” Dazai explains. “But he’s my type and I’m his type and we couldn’t just leave it at that so I have his number now, and a little… arrangement.”

The word hangs in between them, swaying.

Oh no, that’s not any good. “What arrangement.”

“You don’t need to sound so concerned.”

“This is Arthur we’re talking about,” she insists, and the name makes Isaac flinch a little.

“Doyle, the med student?” Isaac asks, and she turns to him, blinking.

“You know him?” Remembering Arthur during the party, her mouth falls into a small o. “He knows you too, doesn’t he?”

Isaac scoffs. “Who in this university doesn’t?” Arthur’s pretty well-known to be a flirt. Something like having a checklist of bedding at least one person in every department—a rumor that would have been a little more shameful if the rumors also didn’t say how he was so good at it.

She nods. “Well, fair enough.”

“No, no, he’s an absolute sweetheart to me, so it’s definitely a you problem,” Dazai insists. “It’s just a friendship with benefits, yanno?” He emphasizes every of the following syllables with his tone and his hands: “Nice, big, hefty benefits.”

And even Isaac, who usually refrains from commenting no matter how much he has to say, has to quip with “Terrible choice, really.”

And she has to agree. “I respect you, but not your taste, Osamu.”

Dazai grins. “Understandable.” He picks up one of the sandwiches she’s prepared. “You make it sound like I’m the only one making bad decisions though.”

“Excuse me?”

He turns to Isaac. “You should have gone to the Halloween party. She brought her little boy toy.”

She scoffs. “He is not my boy toy.”

“You sure do have him around your finger though, getting in matching costumes and all that,” Dazai says. “Spends Saturdates with him all the time.”

The only strategy that will work in times like these is straight-up ignoring him. “Anyway—” she begins, about to steer the conversation away when Isaac speaks up.

“It’s nice to hear you’re getting close to other people,” he says softly. Isaac has a way of speaking that makes it always seem like he’s spent so much time thinking about what he said before he actually said it; so sometimes it’s hard to gauge if he’s saying it casually or entirely seriously.

So she blinks. “You make it seem like I have no friends, Isaac.”

“I-It’s not that!” he suddenly blurts. Ah, there. There’s the usual Isaac. “You’ve spent so much time focusing on your work lately, it’s nice to know you’re relaxing with other people sometimes.”

And he doesn’t say it, but she sure does hear it: the you haven’t been to the astronomy club in a while and it’s made me worried about you.

She doesn’t go religiously, but she used to attend fairly often to hang out with the other members and just look up at the stars. Isaac tries to organize at least two sessions in a month, one to look at the moon, and another to point at the stars. She hasn’t been able to catch them in a bit.

But then, slowly, as the image of the view outside the astronomy club’s hangout is refreshed in her mind, the way the physics building rooftop is just high enough to provide a good view of the rest of the campus below, the city downtown, just at the right place on campus that at night, the rest of the sprawling town’s streetlights trickle out like golden LED veins through the threes—an idea begins to implant itself into her head.

Taking root immediately.

She likes to go up here to think. She really shouldn’t have had permission to go up there on her own, in her free time, since they have rules about club hours and the likes, but Isaac is a close friend and gave her a spare key, so she can come and go as she pleases. And sure, the Grove is a nice, quiet place for book clubs and maybe doing homework if one doesn’t need an electric socket, but up here in the astronomy club’s “the Rooftop”, she feels like she can float away into the vast ocean of her thoughts and get lost in them for a moment.

She feels small up there. And that’s a good feeling.

She won’t tell it to Isaac’s face but it’s one of the primary reasons why she applied for the astronomy club in the first place. The stars are great no matter how dumb she is at physics, but the view—it’s really something else.

What does the world look like from the point of view of a star? How tiny are human lives in the vast expanse of the universe? How long have these stars been out there, how long will they stay out there, how much longer will they stay in this universe more than we will?

…This is why Theo teases her for being a literature major: all these goddamn metaphors.

And for a split second, she thinks…

Maybe it isn’t that bad to share that same quiet space with him?

…You know, to talk books.

“About that…”

Isaac and Dazai turn to her.

“Mind if I sneak in an outsider to the Roof?” she asks, facing Isaac with genuine hope in her voice.

Isaac only shrugs. “Do as you please,” he says casually, taking a cookie from her little box on the table.

And she grins like he’d just given her the light of the world. “Thank you, Isaac.”

Dazai shakes his head, because he knows she’s got no denying herself out of this one the next time.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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