#lanky weirdo who screams at me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ari4nee · 3 months

Text

long ass chapter but i love reading long ones so i’m sorry! i wanted to set up a bit of gojo cuz i wanna do a plot with gojo, sukuna, and reader (get a bit of sukuna jealousy going). i’m gunna post the rest of the chapters i have on ao3 here as well.

also i’m trying to stay true to sukuna being not a great person at first. i love the soft sukuna fics but i just know this man would be an annoyance with a questionable attitude before opening up😭

Curse Me

Chapter 2:

Friday had rolled around faster than you wanted it to. You had dreaded the idea of going to the party suggested by Nobara earlier in the week. It wasn't so much the environment that stressed you as it was the thought of being around a bunch of college upperclassmen. Frankly the college party reputation wasn't a good one.

When lecture had ended, you hurried back to your apartment to stressfully put together an outfit. It had been months since you last had agreed to go out with everyone but you honestly liked your hermit lifestyle. I mean... You didn't know... maybe you were just trying to force yourself to enjoy the solitude. After all, you always did have a lot of fun when Yuji and Nobara managed to drag you out.

Your closet was filled with hoodies, leggings, sweats, and absolutely nothing you could excuse well enough to wear to a house party. The frustration appearing as a bead of sweat came across your forehead. 'This can not be this hard' you scolded yourself, ultimately deciding to leave the outfit as a later issue and begin doing your hair and make up.

Just as you found your focus - "your roommate is so much better than her weirdo twin" - a sudden voice startled you. Dropping your eyeliner pen with a scream, you to whip around to be face to face with Nobara.

"You're too spacey for your own good... someone might kidnap you one of these days", she adds wriggling her fingers and contorting her face into something odd looking. Before you say anything, Nobara reveals a cute black dress from her bag and lays it on your bed. You thank her, appreciating that she always manages to help you with fashion dilemmas.

You catch a glance at the clock behind her, 8pm it says. 'Damn it's getting late' you think looking back to see that Nobara is already heading out of your bedroom to wait for you in the living room.

"I'm going tell Maki to stop letting you in!" you yell, to which she replies, "yeah yeah put the dress on we gotta go."

The car ride took about 25 minutes from your apartment and during the small commute, it had already gotten dark outside. Nobara and Maki sat on either side of you. The girl on the left wore a black dress similar to yours with her brown hair tucked behind one of her ears. The girl on the right opted for black jeans and a cute tank top. Her green hair hung beautifully along her back as opposed to her normal ponytail and glasses combo. The three of you looked good and definitely felt good.

As the car pulled up to the already packed house, Maki put her hand on top of your anxious one as if to ease you. She was confident, and much like Megumi always took note of things that the others might miss.

Your roommate guided you and Nobara to the front door where the three of you were hastily greeted by an overexcited Yuji, an already unamused Megumi, and Satoru looming over the both of them like some lanky string bean. You exchanged greetings with your friends and turned to Satoru who you admittedly had not seen in a while.

Before you have time to react, the tall figure is pulling you in for a hug. "It's been so long since I've seen you" he says muffled while swaying you side to side. His tone screamed that Megumi was most likely mad at him and he was trying to get some sort of positive approval.

You glance to the scowling raven haired boy as he says, "he pretended he was my boyfriend when a girl asked me where the bathroom was". "Don't be so mean Megumiiiii I was trying to help, you seemed so stressed", Satoru slurred, already intoxicated despite everyone in the group agreeing that he should probably quit drinking. Megumi's face turns red, "You called her a HOMEWRECKER and I'm stressed because of you, Gojo". All you can let out is a hearty laugh as Satoru lets you go and cowardly stumbles into the next room. Hopefully with Satoru distracted Megumi can wind down and have some fun.

Peering around you notice that the house is crowded. There are a lot more unfamiliar people than you expected but you push the thought away because tonight was about having fun.

Wasting no time, Yuji and Nobara had dragged you over to the drinks and begun their own competition of sort. Everytime Megumi scowls at Satoru, you have to take a shot. (This will end in someone passed out on the floor). "You know he's not always miserable, you guys are going to give him premature grey hairs". The liquid courage had finally caught up to you as you down another drink.

After a few hours had passed and Nobara had dared Yuji to yet another drinking game, you decided to slip away. "Hey I have to use the washroom I'll be back", you shouted to your three friends and turned to maneuver your way through people towards the bathroom.

The flashing lights and boom of the music was overstimulating for your now slightly intoxicated state, but you were happy to finally be able to let some of your shyness disappear for the night.

Making your way upstairs, you kept your eyes embarrassingly low to the floor. There were couples making out all over the place and you didn't want to accidentally catch something that would make you uncomfortable.

That's when you came to a firm halt against someone's body as they exited the room you intended to head into. "Ow", you said stepping back looking up to make contact with the last person you had expected to see here. "Do you ever watch where your going or do you enjoy making yourself an inconvenience?" Sukuna grumbled, taking his right hand to slick his hair out of his face while gazing at you in disgust.

"You're the one that keeps hurting me you know", you say bolder than you intended. The height difference between you two made it feel like he was burning holes in the top of your skull.

"Oh so you do speak. I was beginning to think you were slow with how you could only speak to my brat of a brother", he growled.

It was weird seeing him outside of their house where he normally sported just sweats and lean muscles. He was dressed in a black hoodie that was just perfectly oversized sporting a logo you had never heard of. His tattoo's peaked through the collar and wrist bands of his hoodie as he moved his arm away from his hair. He wore black jeans with a rip in the knee that only slightly hugged his muscular legs, a silver chain that draped down his right thigh and battered pair of white shoes on his feet. The outfit was simple but screamed of obnoxiousness.

"Why are you here?" you drunkenly blurt out in response to his rude comment but immediately turn red.

You've barely ever spoken to him since you guys got older and this wasn't even your party to be asking him such a daring question. Come to think of it, Yuji did mention Sukuna went to college but you never knew where. This could have been his party for all you knew. Shit.

At this point you couldn't tell if the man before you would kill you for how you spoke to him. You were his bratty little brothers friend but considering how you'd fall into yourself with shyness anytime he so much as gazed in your direction, you thought maybe he'd excuse it. You really didn't want to have your own personal story about Sukuna emotionally terrorizing you too. Yuji was stronger than you in that regard.

Sukuna let his eyes trace your body before scoffing, "God you're fucking annoying". With one swift movement he harshly shoved past you to rejoin his friends. "He's such a fucking asshole", you murmur under your breath before using the bathroom and then going back to scout out your group.

Yuji and Nobara were continuing to drink each other to death. Satoru had himself placed in between a group of people, once again muttering on about 'kfc' and 'why Suguru couldn't just pick him'. Much to your surprise Megumi was sitting on the floor beside Maki and some of her friends. His cheeks as flushed as cherries laughing at Satoru's inability to move on from his ex. You mentally noted that Megumi seemed lighter - happier.

"I just saw your demon of a brother. I never thought he was willing enough to get off his throne and converse with us mere humans", you say approaching Yuji and his eyes widen thinking of whatever poor interaction could have happened with his moody brother and his best friend.

"Ugh yeah, I'm sorry, he comes to these parties a lot. He's friends with some of the older students as well... but I'm surprised he's here while Satoru is. Sukuna despises the fact that he always comes in second to that guy in all of their classes." You don't know why but you were surprised to hear that Sukuna went to the same college as everyone else, and even more so that he was so good at his studies; considering everything about him that seemed so delinquent-like. "Ughhhhh" he groans louder, "he usually brings girls home and I swear he's loud with them on purpose".

From where you're standing in the kitchen, both you and Yuji notice Sukuna in a room parallel to Satoru, with his hands ever so possessively wrapped around a girl.

A weird feeling shot through your body. There was something odd about having a crush on your friends older brother for years, and then when you finally talk to him, he's an asshole. But it's not like you didn't know he was an asshole, just some delusional fantasy of yours hoped he'd at least choke out something nice; but he barely does that even for Yuji anymore.

"I told you it's like he lives in my head and tries to do anything to gross me out. It's so traumatic", Yuji quickly flips him off before his brother notices and goes back to the game of beer pong he's playing with Nobara.

Your eyes stayed locked on the older Itadori brother as he towered over the smaller girl, eventually leaning in to kiss her. His jawline was sharp and every movement towards her seemed like it was routine. You wondered what it would feel like if you were in her place. If somehow, he walked up to you and confessed that all this time, he had noticed your growing body along with his. Confessed that when you weren't looking, he stole glances of the way your clothes fit you just right. That the reason he never joined you and Yuji in your endeavours was because he was too nervous and couldn't bring himself to confess to you. You let your mind wander, thinking about what Yuji said about the girls being loud and what it would feel like to be devoured by him.

But that was just fantasy.

You grabbed a shot that was waiting patiently on the counter that Yuji had poured for himself and swallowed it fast. 'I can't be thinking about that kind of stuff. He's your best friend that's weird', you thought hoping that the liquid would numb your mind of Sukuna.

Yuji wasn't stupid but he was none the wiser to your on and off crush on his brother. Thankfully, Sukuna's appearances in front of the both of you where he actually interacted saved you most of the time; so Yuji always chalked your awkwardness in front of him to your usual lack of social interest.

You couldn't help turn around to catch one more glance before you joined Megumi and the others. After all, it was weird seeing him in the wild. "He's an asshole-' your thoughts cut off when you notice Sukuna's eyes locked with yours, his hands paused dangerously close to being completely underneath the girls shirt.

'Time to go', you interjected yourself spinning around and rushing into the living room where Satoru held everyone's attention (this was his goal).

Satoru sported a pair of circular sunglasses that he rarely took off, unless of course, when he was purposefully trying to show off his ocean blue eyes and beautifully long white eyelashes. You weren't close enough with him to know if he was fibbing about having sensitive eyes but Megumi never teased him about it, so you settled that it wasn't him just being weird.

His shaggy white hair fell gracefully just above his eyes; Satoru was attractive in his own right.

He stood at 6'3 and his limbs, while lanky, carried firm muscles that you could only assume he'd been carving for years. His face was chiseled but soft at the same time - he never seemed to get angry. If Sukuna was a demon, Satoru was an angel.

The white haired boy cooed your name as you entered the room, shuffling on the couch to make room for you to sit. "What's going on over here?", you asked cutely while taking your spot beside the older boy. Megumi with flushed cheeks began to giggle, surprised as if he had meant to hold it in and keep his calm and cool composure. "Suguru is here" he mouthed at you pointing behind him to a crowd of people. Ahhh that's why Satoru was drunkenly blubbering. You chose not to say anything as to not trigger anymore emotional responses from the boy you sat beside, but instead placed your head on his shoulder as a sign of comfort. He played with your hair in response. Satoru was quite easy to get comfortable with.

Yuji and Nobara had soon followed you into the crowded living room where only your group sat in the midst of the intoxicated dancing. If you were sober you'd realize how silly it all looked but as of right now, you were impressed that everyone was suddenly so good.

"You guys are bumming me out get upppppp", Nobara whined grabbing Maki's hand pulling her upright, followed by Megumi, then Toge, then you, and last Satoru.

You danced for a while until your head grew hot and you couldn't help but wonder if Sukuna had already left with that girl.

Satoru had found himself entangled with some classmate, dumping his emotional constipation into making out with her against a wall. Megumi once told you that despite seeming like a player, Satoru rarely ever had others over. As much as they joked, the breakup left him with a lot of scars that even he struggled to pull from his mentor.

The others seemed distracted enough that you could slip away unnoticed for some fresh air. The back door wasn't far from the living room so you carefully stepped outside to be greeted by two people smoking, one passed out on the ground, and none other than Yuji's older brother sprawled out on a lawn chair like an entitled cat scrolling through his phone.

'He's still here?' you questioned to yourself, contemplating turning back into the house. 'He's usually peacocking around places like he owns it, why is he chilling here?'. Just as you grabbed the sliding door handle, Sukuna called your name without looking up from the device. You didn't move closer to him and you didn't respond. The alcohol in your system had begun to disappear and with that, came the resurgence of your social anxiety.

"Would you fucking come here", he added with a sigh. The couple smoking giving you a concerned look before disappearing into the party once again. You moved towards him and sat down on the lawn chair across from his tall body. You felt awkward to say the least - although you really shouldn't. There was a time where he didn't cause you to lose your words or blush when you saw his bare chest as he exited the shower. There was a time where he was just Yuji's brother.

"Caught you staring at me earlier" he said deadpan. You sat silently watching his hands enter his pocket and pull out a cigarette. His long, slender fingers held the smoke in front of his mouth as he slowly ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them.

"I was just surprised to see you here, nothing else", quietly implying that you had no interest in the conversation at hand, or his antics with the girl. He smirked and lit the cigarette drawing in a long inhale of smoke.

You couldn't help but notice how attractive he was in the moonlight. Something always seemed so dangerously off limits about him but your anxiety and the fact that your best friend would kill you, always halted you in your tracks whenever you thought about him like this.

"This is my school and my friends party, why wouldn't I be here, sweetheart?", his words were kinder than before yet he still spoke to you like you were a bother to him. Like the great King Sukuna had better things to be doing even though he was the one to call you over after you ran into him. He took another long drag of the cigarette before it had run out completely.

Little to your knowledge, he had always known you to be like this - never saying more than you needed to him and blushing whenever he looked at you to say hi. He had caught you multiple times staring at his body like an excited school girl when he strutted out of the shower knowing you were watching. As you got older, he took note of how skittish you were around him. Partially because of his own carelessness with his reputation and also because he knew you had begun to notice him.

He didn't care too much to do anything because he knew he wasn't secretly in love with you or something stupid like that, but seeing that bastard Gojo with his hand in your hair angered him. You had been coming around his house for the longest time and were friends with his brother. Therefore by extension, you were his, even if he had no intention of ever caring about you.

"Like what you saw?", he teased referencing to what he was doing when you were eyeing him earlier that night. You felt your cheeks burn but you didn't reply and a sly grin tugged at his lips, "how cute".

His pink hair seemed softer in this lighting but his facial features remained hard as ever. He licked his plump lips again as he grabbed your jaw harshly, "you really do look good tonight". His eyes watched for your reaction to the sudden display that was so out of character for his usual mean self. However, he was still being mean, just in a way you weren't used to.

You just wanted to go back inside, maybe take some more shots with the others, and sink into the couch to disappear from his gaze. You always much preferred when you were able to admire him from afar or where his attention wasn't solely directed onto you. Your frustration built up in your face as the person you had grown up with humiliated you so easily.

"What's got you acting so kind? Weren't you just giving me shit upstairs you ass", you asked with a rather snarky tone.

"Watch yourself", he squeezed your jaw a little harder eyeing you as if he was studying your face for the first time ever. Something in his eyes gave away that he was pleased. A ding erupted from his phone and his gaze lowered to see that the girl from earlier had been rapidly texting him that she was ready to leave.

Sukuna stood up and walked to the door of the house, "don't stutter yourself to death trying to act like you can have an attitude with me just because you know me". He brushed his shaggy pink hair hair out of his face with a scowl and then left.

You joined your friends once again, checking the clock to see that it was only 1:30am and sighing because these parties usually lasted a lot longer.

Plopping yourself down on the couch, you took note of how the cushions hugged around your body. The few shots you had just taken warmed you up from being outside in a dress but the goosebumps on your legs persisted.

Gritting your teeth, you wanted to tell Yuji his brother was a freak and that you hated him so much; but at the same time you had been so drawn to him that the way he gripped your jaw made you feel good.

It didn't take long for Nobara to pull you off the cushions drunkenly mumbling about how it was a party and you couldn't just sit on the couch all night. Yuji was dancing so horrendously bad it made Megumi laugh the most genuine laugh you had heard from him in a while. Grabbing Nobara's hand, you joined in on the dancing and allowed your mind to be free of whatever the hell that was.

At some point while you were gone, Satoru had pried himself away from the girl he was with and stumbled back over to Megumi. His cheeks flushed vibrantly contrasting his pale skin and white hair. Sunglasses laying a top his head, occasionally having to pick them back up whenever they'd fall because of the aggressiveness of his dancing.

You searched for more familiar faces but deduced that Maki had probably went home with Toge. Those two never had a desire to stick around late the way the others did. This was confirmed when you noticed a text 30 minutes ago from Maki that said "see you later. get home safe xo".

When it was objectively late enough, the group left the party and made their way back to Yuji's as he was the closest to your current location. The walk was filled with laughter, stupid attempts to trip one another, and horrible outbursts of their favourite songs. You were sure the neighbours would complain.

About halfway there, Satoru slipped away to go home but insisted Megumi not worry about him and go have fun with the rest of us. He waved his phone implying that if anyone needed anything, you could always call. Normally, Megumi would protest at Satoru's clumsiness or likeliness to get himself into trouble and head home as well. But this time, Megumi caught a familiar sad glimpse in Satoru's face that meant he wanted to be alone and that he was ok. You caught this as well but decided not to ask about the relationship that seemed to damage this otherwise carefree person so badly.

Emotionally and academically, he was the strongest of all of you, but something behind his angel complexion and gentle eyes screamed that he was hurting. You chuckled to yourself thinking about how everyone in this little group of yours had some pain they couldn't escape from. Maybe that's why we all found it so easy to be around each other? In a morbid way, you all understood how truly fucked up life was.

The silence of Yuji's house was broken by four drunk college students laughing and whispering in a way that was actually yelling. You were the first to make yourself a snack, screaming at Yuji to make his own when he took the food from you. Nobara laughed and punched his arm as he followed in pursuit of Megumi who was busy setting up a sleeping spot for you all in the basement. Leaving you and Nobara smiling to each other in the kitchen while you made another meal.

You hugged her and smiled, "I'm glad I came out". She gave you a few thanks for joining them and complimented how 'stunning you looked in that dress all night'. After exchanging a few words and changing into some clothes Yuji set out, Nobara tiredly joined the boys in the basement to crash.

You stayed sitting at the kitchen island for a moment thinking about everything that had happened until the voices from downstairs faded into nothing but an occasional snore.

The house was dark enough that you didn't notice Sukuna creep up behind you, let alone even leave his room. His tall figure was leaned up against the kitchen island staring at you intently until you noticed his presence. As you turned around, you let out a yelp, heart pounding out of your chest from being startled, "will I ever run into you in a peaceful way?".

His hair fell over his forehead still damp from the shower he had taken. Even with no shirt on, he smelled strongly of clean laundry, soap, and spice. His sweats complimented the way his waist tapered inwards just to expand again at the muscle of his legs. 'He definitely developed more muscles this year', you thought to yourself keeping your gaze from meeting his firm chest and the slightly protruding abs on his stomach. He tapped the counter with his index finger chucking to himself at the way you avoided looking at his body.

"Are you allergic to shirts?", you ask while he looks down at himself, satisfied with the work he had put into looking like this. “I have nothing to hide why would I care?"

‘God he's so cocky it's obnoxious.’

You didn't reply. You already knew how he thought of himself as some Greek God waiting to be worshipped. How he genuinely felt no shame in the way he thought he was better than everyone else. A comment from you would just stroke his already enormous ego. While a part of it irked you, it would be a lie to say you didn't find his unapologetic narcissism attractive. He never had a second thought about doing whatever he wanted to.

Sukuna’s glowing red eyes travelled up and down your body; eyeing the curves emphasized by the dress you had on. You could tell he shamelessly enjoyed this image in comparison to the overly large clothes you normally wear when coming over.

"Don't you have that girl to go bother?" Your voice was quiet. You wanted to collapse into yourself because he was blocking the exit to the kitchen and your only escape back to the comfort of your friends. You thought maybe you screwed up somehow? This amount of attention from Yuji's older brother was unheard of, especially regarding you. What did you do to get so high on his radar? Why was he all of the sudden looking at you with an unfamiliar hunger?

"Kicked her out hours ago", he shrugged glancing to his room where a soft light was glowing from underneath the door, taunting you. He turned back to you with a stupid smirk, "wanna see?". Sukuna didn’t move for a moment while watching you mentally squirm under his words.

"I'm okay", you said while trying to hide the faint shade of pink creep along your cheeks. Unsure of how to navigate these new interactions, you aired on the side of caution while talking to him. He seemed more menacing than usual tonight, which said a lot, and your thoughts consistently bounced between intimidated and the crush you once had. (Maybe still had). The eery glow coming from his room and the way his large body casted a shadow on the ground unsettled you, yet the silence continued. His eyes watched you carefully, possibly offended by your refusal but too proud to let it show.

With most girls, if Sukuna had sensed any sort of hesitation in their ‘no’, or saw their eyes sheepishly dart to his bedroom, he would have already pushed himself against them and begun to take what he knew was already his. He’d usually make those girls regret trying to suppress the fleeting look of desire for him that left their face as quickly as it appeared; the same look you had just given him. All consensual, just some needed a little reassurance that he wouldn’t break their heart, which he’d eventually do anyway just from getting bored.

He contemplated what would happen if he did it now. Not giving you enough to pleasure you but enough to tease you until you were hot and gave into his request. Following him into his room like a drooling puppy all too willing to get her treat. But he wanted to savour this one, it was more fun to watch them crumble over time anyways. And you being a family friend made his usual playboy manners towards women more difficult.

Sukuna scoffed and turned around to head back towards his room, leaving you confused at his sudden displays of attention. You watched him open the door and his frame become engulfed in a soft red LED light. You couldn’t see inside but you wondered how much his space had changed since you last saw it as children? He didn’t face you again before closing the door and muttering, "call me if you can't sleep, sweetheart”.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #big brother sukuna #jjk x reader

6 notes · View notes

yacoka · 3 years

Text

the journey back

i. a life half-lived

character(s) — tsukishima kei, matsukawa issei

pairing — tsukishima kei x reader

genre — royalty!au, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

warning(s) — death, PTSD, loss, car accident

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever

masterlist

The funeral is something you barely remember, white noise buzzing loudly in your ears as you move around almost mechanically. In front of all these people, you aren’t quite sure how to act, and the subdued pride in you refuses to break down so publicly.

You’re ushered around by warm hands, seated in chairs, drinks pushed into your still hands. Hushed whispers are exchanged above your head, but you can’t be bothered to figure out what it's about. All that runs through your mind is the scene of the accident playing on repeat. You watch it with a morbid fascination, eyes distant as you recall the burning heat on your skin, the stinging in your eyes, the aches on your body. The blood that trickles into your eyes as you scream yourself hoarse at the mangled bodies of your parents, how broken they were, how dull their eyes were.

You blink once. Twice. Thrice.

Cool beige walls greet you as you begin to take in your surroundings. A grey couch, an askew photo frame on the wall, a familiar shirt and worn sweatpants.

“Issei?” Your voice is small, and your breathing begins to quicken. “Issei!”

He comes darting through a door, a towel hanging around his neck. You jump to your feet and dash into his arms, gripping the soft material of his shirt tightly. His arms flail around in surprise for a second before coming to wrap around you tightly. He smooths your hair down, and the familiar action has you calming down.

“You’re at my apartment, it’s okay.” His deep voice grounds you, and you look around to see that, yes, this is Issei’s apartment. One that you’ve been to too many times to count. It is a place you’ve spent many days lounging in, and many nights sleeping over at.

Issei guides you back to the couch gently and you cling to him, refusing to let go of the one thing that was holding you back from tipping over the edge. There are so many words you’d like to say right now, but the only thing that comes out are strangled cries.

Everything that you’ve been holding back since the accident, everything that has been pushing against the flimsy door you’ve hidden it behind comes pouring out in the sobs that wrack through your body. Issei doesn’t bother with words; he knows they aren’t what you need right now.

What you need is family, and he’s all you got left.

“Issei!”

Sweat drips down your neck, soaking the flimsy shirt you wore to bed. All you could focus on was the screeching of car tires and the horrid, wrenching twist of metal twisting as your parents flew out of the car, their broken bodies strewn across the street. And all the blood, god, there was so much bloo-

Your door slams open, and Issei flies in, his hair sticking up in all directions as his sleep-clouded eyes are filled with worry. He slips into bed, kneeling in front of you. The heat of his knees brushing against your legs through the sheets has you shifting uncomfortably, though his presence soothes your panicked mind.

He doesn’t say a word, too accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to your nightmares. He just sits and waits for your breathing to even out, eyes trained upon your twisting fingers. A familiar silence sits between you as you match your breaths to Issei’s steady breathing.

“I-I had the dream again.” Your voice is soft, trembling ever so slightly. You hate the weakness showing through, and you would give anything to put the usual mask of indifference. But this was Issei. Issei who had been there for you since you were kids, who had watched you skin your knees the first time you tried rollerblading, who had helped you sneak out of the house when your parents were fighting. He was the one who took you in after you lost your parents, and the only one you trusted enough to be vulnerable around.

“Do you wanna go walk?” Issei, ever the reliable best friend. He knows what you need before you even say anything. You nodded, letting him pull you off the bed. It is only with years of familiarity that you allow him to dress you in warm clothes without any shame. He’s seen all of you before, so what was the point in hiding?

You’re out of the house and walking down the dimly lit streets before you even realize, and the creeping shadows in the corner of your eyes has you shifting closer to Issei. He wraps a warm arm around you, pressing you into his side. He’s the only safety you’ve ever known, and that stays true tonight as your raised heartbeat steadies out.

The night is quiet, punctuated only by the distant sounds of cars, the soft rustle of leaves dancing along to a gentle melody playing in the back of your mind. You hum along to it, and Issei merely squeezes your shoulders in response. It’s a song you’ve sung a million times since childhood, and neither of you have bothered to acknowledge that it’s a song you’ve never heard.

You aren’t sure for how long you’ve looped the blocks, and when you’ve arrived back home. All you know is that your mind is no longer a panicked mess, and Issei is by your side, as he used to do, as he’s always done. You owe everything to him, and you would give everything up in the world for him.

“Do you have everything you need?” Issei fusses over you as you give him a tired smile. He had taken it upon himself to take care for you since the accident, and while you appreciated him for it, you didn’t adore the mothering he occasionally did.

“Yes, Issei. I have everything.” Your dry response has him raising his brows and backing away.

“Alright, alright. I get it. No more fussing.” He grins at you, hands raised. “Can you blame me though? You’re heading into college at last.”

A frown slips onto your face. “You’re only a year older than me dipshit. Stop making me sound like your child or whatever.”

“Ah, but you are now. My adoptive child,” he sniffs and pretends to wipe a tear away. “How they grow up so fa-”

The fist you send flying into his stomach is enough to knock the breath out of him, and he groans, dropping to the floor in his usual show of dramatics. You ignore him, stepping over his prone figure and head towards the door. But before your hand lands on the door handle, Issei yells at you to wait.

“What Issei? I’m going to be late at this rate.” He isn’t deterred by your sharp tone and gestures for you to wait as he disappears into his room. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

He comes running back out, brandishing a long, thin thing. Was that a stick?

A vision flashes through your mind's eye, only for a second, but the details are vivid - Issei looking as sleepy as always, but somehow different. His clothes were of olden style, his face littered with scars. And those hands, ones that you were so familiar with, large and calloused were holding a stick too.

You blink rapidly, washing away the lingering after images as Issei, your Issei, waves a lazy hand in front of you, the stick narrowly missing your eyes.

“Oi, earth to Princess.” You scowl at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t zone out when I’m giving you presents.” He pulls a face at you. You mirror his expression, go as far as to stick your tongue out. Issei makes to poke it with the stick, and you lunge back with a shriek.

“Why are you even giving me a stick anyways?” You grumble. Honestly, nineteen years with this guy and you still have no idea how his brain works.

“Because it reminds me of you!” He grins.

Your face falls into a deadpan. “It what?”

“You know, stick, sticky? Like how you dropped your ice cream the other day?”

“You know, I worry for you sometimes,” you drawl, dead eyes boring into his smiling ones. “Besides, didn’t you bring me that already?”

His smile drops. “No? This is the first time I’ve brought you a stick?” Issei narrows his eyes at you. “Who else has been giving you sticks? Was it Makki? I’ll fight his ass!”

“No, it wasn’t Makki. You’re the only weirdo who gives me stupid things like this,” you snicker. “Can I go to school now?”

“Wait! Bring the stick with you.”

You gape at him, brows raising so high it was a wonder they didn’t jump off your face. “No.”

Issei pouts, though you could see the amusement shining through. “Why not? I got it for you as your first day of uni gift.” He shoves the stick closer into your face, and you bat it away.

“Because it’s a stick? And it’s too long for me to fit in my bag?” This doesn’t deter him, instead prompting him to break off a piece of the twig, shoving it into your hand before darting off to your room.

“Okay, here, now you can have a tiny piece of it to put in your pocket. I’ll put the rest in your room!”

“Issei, no-” The fight leaves you, knowing that your stubborn best friend won’t listen to anything you say. Stuffing the piece of twig into your pocket, you yell over your shoulder as you leave the house. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

His voice calls out from where he still lingers in your bedroom. “Bye Princess! Have a good day at school!”

The journey to the university doesn’t take long, and before you even realize, you’re seated in your first class next to a lanky blond who has his headphones on as he messages someone. You frown slightly at him, an odd sense of deja vu washing over you as you stare at him. He must have felt your gaze on him, as he finally lifts his gaze off his phone to return your frown.

“Can I help you?” Despite the politeness in his words, you pick up on the slight undertone of annoyance. You shrink back from him, and mutter out a soft no, turning your head to stare down at the wooden table instead. You shove your shaking hands into your pockets, your fingers curling around a thin, rough object.

Please look away, please look away, please look away.

He huffs, and turns back to his phone, fingers returning to their rapid dance across the screen. Despite his chilly greeting, you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that settles upon your skin, clinging like spiderwebs. But there isn’t time to contemplate it, not when your teacher’s starting the lesson and your laptop hasn’t been set up yet.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima

27 notes · View notes

sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

And I Love Her

Harry Styles x OFC

Warnings: drinking, mentions of substance abuse

A/N: I have a lot of fics I'm working on at the moment. I have so many ideas I just can't keep them in my head. I hope you guys enjoy this one. Please let me know, the feedback is always appreciated. Much love to you all

The summer of '92 in Seatle Washington was like some weird fever dream. Nirvana was hot, everyone smelled like teen spirit and the dirtier you were, the sexier. We partied all night, slept all day, didn't give a fuck about the man and smoked all the pot we could get our hands on. I crashed on friend's couches or slept under the stars when it was nice. The freedom of having nothing to tie me down was intoxicating and I ate that shit up. So when my best friend Anna asked me to go out with her to see some bands at a local bar, I didn't hesitate.

It was a shitty little bar. But I guess it was supposed to be. It was the 'aesthetic' of the day.

My best friend Anna tugged me along behind her. The music was loud, the makeshift stage upfront holding a band that looked like they were plastered and played just about as well. The singer crooning into the mic about losing someone they loved and how life was a bitch. Didn't we all know it too.

Anna pulled me to a booth, out of the way of the small crowd that had crammed into the bar to hear this band play. People thrashing and head banging, twisting their bodies and writhing to the music. Red lights set an ominous glow, the smell of booze and weed filling my nostrils.

I slid into the booth beside her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She ordered two shots from the waitress that came by while I fiddled with my lighter.

"I thought Shannon and Reggie were meeting us here." I said loudly in her ear. Christ you could barely hear anything over the dude screaming on stage. I rubbed my temples, a slight headache forming.

"They are. But they had to work. Said they'd walk over after....not everyone can live off of painting and commissions." I rolled my eyes. I was a visual artists. I did a lot of abstract and weird art. You'd be surprised by all the people that are willing to buy the craziest shit. There's a lot of weirdos like me out there.

The waitress came back with our shots and I downed mine immediately, ordering a beer behind it. Anna sipped hers, don't ask me why, she always did shit like that. I was getting ready to say something to her about the band playing when I saw him. He came in through the front door and my eyes immediately landed on him.

He had long curly hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed or washed in weeks. He wore a baggy plain black shirt, ripped blue Jean's and what looked like jet black Doc Martens. A green flannel draped over his shoulders and sunglasses draped on his head. If I had a type, he was it.

He was with a group of people. Anna was talking in my ear but I couldn't hear her, entranced by this good looking man who was now making his way towards our booth.

"You look like a prince." I smirked as he walked by, stubbing out my cigarette. The boy stopped, turning to look me up and down. A wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Would a prince do this?" He grabbed me by my forearms, pulling me to the ground and flipping me onto my back. The floor was soaked in beer, my dress instantly wet as I squirmed beneath the boy above me. He grinned triumphantly as we rolled around, wrestling against each other.

"Stay down." He commanded, pressing my wrists into the floor. I smirked up at him, shaking my head.

"Never." He licked his lips.

"You're a fighter....I like that." His accent was thick. His words rolling off his tongue like poetry as he spoke. It had to be English. His voice was low and deep, his words slow, enunciating every word.

"You have no idea." He stared at me for a moment, eyes leaving my face, trailing down to my chest, I squirmed again only to have his grip on me tighten before his eyes snapped back up to mine.

"Sassy one aren't you." He let me go, getting off of me and helping me to my feet. "Sorry about that love...I really couldn't resist." His shirt was wet with beer, his hair matted and pressed against his cheek and neck. "I hope you stick around for the rest of the show."

"You playin'?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Could be....gonna have to stick around to find out." He reached out, wrapping a hand around my wrist and pulling me towards him again. "If you do decide to stay, meet me in the hallway after the set yeah? Wanna see just how much of a fighter you are." He winked at me before letting go, leaving me breathless and blushing.

What in the fuck?

"Tabbi, you know who that is?" Anna asked me with wide eyes. I shrugged, climbing back into the booth, my dress soaked and reeking of the spilt beer that had lathered the floor. "That's Harry Styles."

"Okay?" I said, glancing up to see him conversing with the band setting up on stage. "Is that a big deal or something?" she looked at me like she couldn't believe I didnt know who he was. it was annoying really.

"He's in the band about to play. One direction and...." she leaned forward across the table, trying to whisper now. "He's just....there's a lot of rumors about him. I'd steer clear if I were you." I wasn't impressed. I thought maybe she wanted him and was jealous of our little flirtatious action a minute ago. I rolled my eyes.

"Come off it Anna. It was just a little harmless flirting. Nothing more...."

Anna didn't say anything else, our attention turning to the stage as the soundcheck was coming to an end. Girls screamed endlessly as Harry stepped forward, guitar slung around his shoulder, a confident smirk on his face.

They opened with a number called 'Little Black Dress.' Wasn't really my style but I listened, observing the band as they played. The short, lanky bassist, covered in tattoos, the drummer with the arrow tattoos on his arm, he was cute too. The blonde one playing guitar alongside the boy I had wrestled-Harry.

And boy did he know what he was doing. Once the song ended and they started 'Stockholm Syndrome' his movements became so sexual. He stroked the mic stand with his fingers, loosely twisting his wrist up and down it, grinding against it, licking his lips, winking and sending kisses into the crowd. The men seemed to love it almost as much as the women.

"Hey guys!" Reggie and Shannon showed halfway through the set. I waved half heartedly, still intrigued by the boy commanding the stage. The music wasn't my favorite. But damn if he wasn't a great performer.

"She was wrestling with Harry Styles." I heard Anna telling them what had happened. Reggie called my name but I ignored him in favor of the band. I wasn't going to explain myself. I hated judging people based off of what other people told me about them. I'd rather find out for myself.

I decided not to meet him after the show. It was true, I was attracted to him. But he was going to have to work for it.

We were standing outside, huddled in our group, smoking and talking about the music when I felt an arm snake it's way around my waist.

"Left me in the hallway. Tsk. Tsk. What a tease." My stomach flipped and I gasped as his fingers slid just beneath my t shirt, just enough to trace over the waistband of my Jean's. I turned to see Harry, his pupils were blown, the green of his eyes only slightly noticable, giving his eyes a soft glow. I smirked, leaning in close, eyes darting to his lips before looking him in the eye.

"Don't you know? It's all about the chase." He chuckled, running his hand through his hair. His fingers glinting with the rings on them when they caught the streetlight.

"The thing is...I don't chase baby." He looked me up and down again, sighing heavily, as though he were bored. "You'll come to me when you're ready for me."

"Harry-" I gasped, a blonde girl shoving me back as she threw herself at Harry, kissing him hard on the lips. I rolled my eyes in disgust, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart and the disappointment in my stomach.

"Hey," I turned to see the bassist, the other one with a shit ton of tattoos. He smiled at me, holding his hand out. "I'm Louis. Sorry about Camille. That's Harry's girl."

"No worries. I'm just glad I didn't hit the pavement." He chuckled.

"Can I bum one?" He asked, watching as I pulled out my cigarettes. I held the pack out to him, he took two, stuck them in his mouth and lit them at the same time.

"Neat party trick." I teased. He shrugged.

"Nicotine addiction. You know."

"Lou." Harry's voice was low, his tone darker as he shouted at his bandmate. Camille had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, he had one hand wrapped around her waist. "We gotta go. Get a move on yeah?" Louis smiled at me sympathetically, pulling a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket.

"My number....I'm havin' a party at my place in a couple days. You should come through. I like meetin' new people. Be cool to hang." I check out of the corner of my eye and see Harry watching me closely, nostrils flaring as I stick the piece of paper in my bra, giving Louis my most seductive smile. Harry wasn't going to win me over. Not that easily. Like I said I like the chase.

"Cool. Maybe we'll swing by."

"Tommo." Harry said louder, a warning beneath his tone. Louis shook my hand again.

"By the way," he asked, before letting go, "what's your name?"

"Tabbi. It's Tabbi." He smiled, bringing my knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently, his lips were soft and he was sweet.

"See ya later Tabbi." I looked, just in time to see Harry look me over once more, licking his lips before walking away with his bandmate and his girl. I kept hoping in a small way that maybe he'd look back.

He didn't.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles serial killer au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #hs imagine #hs fandom #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

49 notes · View notes

catharrington · 4 years

Note

12 and 128 with billy and Steve?

Y’all really really do be trying me with this domestic stuff. I’m so sorry but I just don’t write mpreg so I’m changing it up a little. I was playing around with tags on this post and @thinger-strang asked where’s the meat?? Here it is bae!! Dedicated to U ;)

***

12- “I’m pregnant.” && 128- “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

Steve has never been to a gym before, really never wanted to. He has always played sports. Outside! In the sunlight and fresh air, not inside a stuffy box crammed with sweating dude bros who didn’t seem to like using the showers for their functions. He’s here, at Robin’s request, with an overpriced membership to Planet Fitness Gym, only because he’s a good friend.

“Okay! I am so, so done,” Robin huffs out as she throws the exercise ball she was using, it bounces against the mirrored wall and almost comes crashing back into her. She turns to Steve with a grimace. “I’m going to use the last bit of time just running. You coming?”

And of course Steve was joining her, she’s the only reason he’s suffering in this place. “Sounds fantastic.”

So Steve slips back on his loose hanging tank top while Robin cleans up their area. Then she’s leading out to a slightly raised running track that winds around the whole gym floor. It takes the runner past each area and room then loops back around to make a lap. Robin’s pushing her headphones on her fluffed up hair, the grimace still on her face.

“How much longer, exactly?” Steve asks innocently, but she’s already started off without him.

Steve has to run to catch up then settles into a soft jog next to her. He didn’t bring his headphones, why didn’t he bring his headphones. He could be zoning out as much as Robin is now. Instead he’s submitted himself to the entertainment of the gym around him.

And sure, it’s interesting. Lots of girls with ill fitting training bras bouncing, lots of tshirts with funny inspirational sayings. Lots of people struggling through their workouts with even funnier faces.

It’s especially interesting when they get to the weight lifting area. The equipment set up around the clean white floors and walls look like torture devices, Steve couldn’t bring himself to image how they worked. Jogging past he noticed one that you moved like wings and one that you kicked out, all with wires and huge metal weights, all with jacked out super serious people working them.

One guy is slinging two lengths ropes up and down, then stops to take his shirt off to wipe his forehead. An oh, Steve doesn’t mind that so much.

Then he jogs past to the last room before a curve and it’s a simple one, Mostly empty, except for a few standard lifting benches. And there’s only one guy occupying it. He’s looking at himself in the mirror and God, Steve is looking at him too.

This guy could be Adonis turned rock star, with his long curled blond hair pushed back with a folded bandana in replacement of a sweatband. He’s shirtless with only the smallest of small cotton shorts on and he’s flexing in long languid sweeps of his arms. Poses, moves, poses, Steve’s glued.

Then the guy flexes one bicep, just the one closest to Steve of course, and happens to turn over his shoulder to admire himself. And their eyes meet. And Steve’s still glued, still looking, his mouth must be hanging open he’s so embarrassingly staring.

And this guy, this Greek god, a total babe, keeps his eyes locked with Steve while he leans down to plant a wet, open mouthed kiss on his taught, sun-kissed muscles.

Steve’s heart stops, full stops, but his feet do not. They twist and collide one after the other like a car crash, and he sends himself tumbling to the ground with a squeak.

In a weak attempt to stop, Steve stretches out his arms. But he only manages to grip the back of Robin’s baggy shirt and bring her down with him.

“You are a complete dingus!” She screeches as she shoves Steve’s lanky limbs off her.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers softly, scrambling to his knees. He pushes his hands through his sweaty hair. And yeah, he can feel how flushed his skin is. He knows he is blushing tomato red. Steve doesn’t, he can’t, look back over at the guy who caused all this by being so amazingly distracting.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters again. Robin throws her hands up. Then she’s stomping off towards the ladies’ locker room. Steve has nothing to do but trudge off towards the men’s locker room, his tail between his legs.

By some grace Steve is saved meeting eyes with anyone else, and the locker room is empty. He rips into his locker to collect his towel. Steve pushes his sweaty face into the material and just screams.

“So smooth, so smooth you idiot!” He scolds himself.

There’s no way that guy is going to see Steve as anything other than a joke, a weirdo who tripped over his own feet. Maybe Steve will even have to quit the gym membership after only one day. Maybe he’ll just tuck himself in bed and never come back out.

Sitting on the benches, Steve’s hanging his head in defeat. His towel around his neck and hair in a messy curtain over his face.

He doesn’t see the door to the locker room open up. “Hey,” some guy calls.

Steve is seized with fear, yeah he’s really about to get kicked out of this gym for being a bisexual disaster. He brings his head up slowly.

“Oh,” he gapes as he sees the same Adonis as before, now standing only feet in front of him. Still shirtless, Steve notices. He’s even better looking up close.

“Wanted to say sorry about that,” the guy is smiling and Steve wants to die, “I didn’t mean to distract you or make you fall down. I was just being an asshole.”

“Nah it’s okay,” Steve stutters out. Then he notices how this guy has thick eyebrows; just as thick as his thighs glistening on display. His brows have a cut down one. And the other is currently raised a little in question.

“Oh- oh no! I don’t mean you being an asshole is okay! It’s just ah,” Steve feels his face flush red again. “I’m just a clutz naturally, I likely would have eaten shit on that track with or without a seriously hot guy with great muscles- oh. I didn’t mean to say that. Shit.” Steve has to stop talking too fast. He sounds so dumb sometimes, he scolds himself more as he buries his face back into his towel.

“It’s okay,” the guy is laughing now, laughing at him. But he keeps talking. “You were really... cute.”

That has Steve lifting his face from his towel. Scoffing a little chuckle himself, he pushes his hair back out of his face and sits up straighter. “How rude of me,” he stands up to hold out a hand, “I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Billy,” the guy, Billy, slides forward easy to take his hand in his. It’s big, warm, rough in lots of spots, and his fingers are thick just like every other damn thing on him.

“Hello Billy,” Steve says. The shake is quick, don’t make it awkward, but Steve misses his hand as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry, again, I made you take a tumble back there, Bambi.” Billy stops Steve’s heart for a second time, but the wide hungry grin he’s wearing starts it right back up. Shocks Steve to his core with the electric power he has.

Steve doesn’t want to look away from Billy’s bright blue eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of his smile, his smile for Steve, oh wow. But he does glance down when Billy sips a piece of paper out of his shorts pocket to offer him.

“If you want those pretty doe legs worked out a bit, I’d be happy to help with some tips in exchange.”

What Steve wants is to scream. Wants to spin in a circle. Instead, he casually takes the paper. Glances it over. Nods. Internally faints. It’s a folded paper with information printed out for a beginners lifting class, ‘any size & any age’ it reads. And under the slogan, in the margin between room number and time, is a hand drawn cartoon of Billy lifting a barbell with one arm. His bicep curvy and huge, and one of his cute little cartoon eyes closed in a wink.

Under the drawing is a hastily scribbled phone number. Billy’s phone number. Steve is shaking with effort.

“Give me a call, Bambi. I’ll reserve a spot for you,” Billy calls over his shoulder as he walks back out of the locker room.

Steve has to close his eyes to remember to breath after Billy walks out. He goes to spin around to his locker again, already dreaming about all the nicknames and emojis he’s going to put next to Billy’s contact name, when his shin cracks against the wood of the bench. He goes crashing to the floor. Second time in one day. At least Billy isn’t here to see it this time.

After Steve showered and nursed his bruised ego enough, he slips out of the locker room. Phone in hand as he looks fondly down at his new contact.

Billy God of Hot Bod 👅💦💪🏻

“Robin, guess what?”

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.” Robin shoves off his thin finger jabbing into her side.

He shrugs. “Oh so you don’t want to know?”

She shoots him a hateful glare over her shoulder. They walk out to the parking lot and stop at Steve’s car, standing flush up on the doors and talking over the roof. “Know what?” She finally bites.

“The good news?” He wiggles his phone for her to see.

Robin furrows her brows as she tries to read the phone. “Good news?” She mimics.

“I’m pregnant.”

Robin almost screams at his terrible joke. She slams the door as she climbs in the car and orders Steve to take her home now. While they drove Steve might have talked the whole time about how Billy’s fingers felt, but who could blame him.

#its thirsty for billy hours #its projectiing my messy bi ass on steve hours #but lets be real this is who steve is #this is the most in character my steve has ever been #harringrove #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #prompt fill

64 notes · View notes

baconsoupforthesoul · 4 years

Text

The Ink Demonth - Day 23 - Lost

Lost Together

A/N: Spacy’s back with more Borderlands au cause she can’t get enough of it apparently. Just a warning though, this piece does contain some extreme violence so proceed with caution. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy~

Bendy was lost. Or, at least he thought he was lost. Could you be lost if you didn’t have a destination in mind? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things. But the one thing he was sure of, was that he was damn happy to be away from Joey Drew.

The little inky devil strolled idly around the dusty Pandrian desert, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon. He didn’t really like being in his little form. It made him feel weak... vulnerable. But his much taller form required energy, and as long as no one was around, he could put up with being small… at least for a little bit.

Bendy kicked up some sand as he wandered by a large skeleton of some unknown ancient beast. At least he assumed that’s what it was. When you’ve only existed for a few months, there’s not much you do know. But Bendy was a fast learner. He watched and observed the world around him, picking up what he could from the landscape and the creatures…

“LITTLE LORD!”

… and the people.

“You!” Bendy spun around and yelled at the inky figure running towards him. “I told you to GO AWAY!”

Bendy could feel his limbs lengthening, the eridium he kept tucked into his inky body start poking out, running along his spine like spikes. The dark ink dripped down his face as he towered over the masked man.

“TALL LORD!” The man screamed happily. “GLORIOUS INKY LORD!”

Bendy growled, his tail whipping back and forth angrily, This stupid psycho had been following him for days now. He didn’t know how the man seemed to be permanently covered in ink, or how he ended up with a mask that looked almost exactly like his face. But Bendy was already sick and tired of this weirdo fawning over him.

“Stop calling me that!” Bendy yelled back, flexing his claws menacingly. “And STOP following me!”

“NO NO NO!” The psycho objected, but still managing to sound gleeful. “MUST FOLLOW INKY LORD TO BLOOD AND MEAT!”

“NO! YOU’RE NOT!” Bendy roared back, right into the man’s face. “Scram already! Get outta my face!”

“MEAT AND BLOOD! MEAT AND BLOOOOOOD!” The inky man continued screaming, waving his buzzaxe around excitedly.

“Uggghhh,” Bendy ran a hand down his face. “Well, if I’m your lord, then why don’t you do as I say and go somewhere and hit yourself in the face with your own buzzaxe!”

“YES! WANT THE PAIN! NEED THE PAIN!” The inky covered man cheered before taking his buzzaxe and hitting himself with the blunt end of it.

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Bendy sighed, turning around and walking away, leaving the crazed man to continue hitting himself in the face. As the inky devil continued on, weaving between the rusting metal ruins that seemed to poke out of the desert like spikes, a faint noise made him pause.

It was hard to hear anything over the sounds of the inky maniac hitting himself in the face and screaming “PAIN!” repeatedly. But Bendy could have sworn he heard something...

Just as he was about to dismiss it as just the wind, a gunshot rang out and Bendy felt a bullet penetrate his inky flesh. Luckily, something like that wouldn’t hurt him, but someone was shooting at him.

“Huh?!” Bendy looked out among the ruins and saw a bandit duck behind one of the ruins. He wasn’t alone though. A psycho not covered head to toe in ink came running towards him, swinging his buzzaxe wildly.

“I'll feed your skin snacks to my cockatiel!” The newcomer psycho screamed, but Bendy only smirked. Did these bandits really think they could kill him? It was almost cute, and Bendy couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle.

The ink demon rushed forward, gutting his deranged attacker. More shots started to ring out as Bendy charged the rest of the bandits trying to hide among the ruins.

The lanky devil jumped on the piece of metal that the man who had shot at him first had used for cover. The bandit yelped as he fell back, trying to scramble away from Bendy.

“Oh no, buddy. You ain’t going anywhere!” Bendy chuckled darkly as he rushed forward, pinning the man down onto the sand.

The man tried to push him off, his buddies firing at the ink demon but to no avail.

“Thought you could take me, huh? Did you think I was weak? Easy pray for you and your pals here? Think again.” The devil slashed the man’s throat, letting him gurgle out his last breath before taking off after the other foolish ambushers.

As he clawed and slashed his way through the bandits, Bendy had to concede to one thing when it came to Joey Drew. It was a hard thing to admit, as the man had tortured him, created him to use as merely a tool, an experiment. But while the man deserved nothing but a slow and painful death at Bendy’s own hand, he would admit that the man had done one thing for him. He had made him strong. All that raw eridium that had been thrust into him cause he had been deemed to weak by his creator. He remembered the pain and how he had screamed at Joey to stop, to just make the hurting stop. But... it had made him stronger. So much stronger than these dumb bandits who thought they could take on the demon.

However, Bendy tore through his attackers, he failed to notice one of their number sneaking up behind him. As the devil was looming over his next victim, another bandit psycho rushed up behind him. Bendy heard him and started to turn around, but it was too late. The man was about to bring his axe down right on the eridium spikes coming out of his back.

Before he could land the hit, the idiot from before, the psycho who adorned his face as a mask, rushed forward.

“IT HURT TIME!” The inky psycho screamed as he lodged his buzzaxe in the side of the bandit's head. Blood splattered as the dead man fell over, painting his killer red with it.

Bendy stared in shock, frozen to the spot. That dumb knucklehead had just... saved him? He actually helped him? No one… no one had ever done that before. None of the scientists ever did, Joey definitely didn’t, and no one on Pandora had either. It felt… good actually.

As Bendy stood there in shock, the inky man rushed forward and finished off the man Bendy had been standing over.

“NOW GO TO SLEEP!” He screamed, hacking away at the bandit even though he was already clearly dead. Bendy straightened up at the inky psycho laughed maniacally. Maybe… even though this dumb idiot was really annoying… it might be a good idea to let him stick around. He’d make a good meat shield in any case. Or an ally perhaps. Meat shield, ally, same difference.

“Are ya done?” Bendy asked, as the psycho finally stopped slashing at the deceased man. The psycho was panting as he turned to Bendy, heaving his axe out of the bandit’s stomach.

“Listen… I don’t need your help. But…” Bendy let out a sigh, letting himself shrink down to his smaller form. “But if you want… you can stick around I guess.” The devil avoided eye contact, kicking up at the dirt as he crossed his arms.

“YESSSSSS!” The masked man cheered, swinging his buzzaxe in the air victoriously. “WILL BUTCHER ALL THE SHEEP FOR THE LORD!”

“Yeah, you do that,” Bendy snarked. “But if you’re gonna stick around… I need something to call you. Do ya got a name or something?”

“ALL OF THE KILLING! PUT LAMBS TO SLEEP! SAMMY AND LITTLE LORD FIND BLOOD AND MEAT!” “Sammy? Is that it?” Bendy tilted his head at him. He’d have to get used to his insane speech patterns.

“NEVER STOP THE KILLING!! NEVER!!”

“I’ll… take that as a yes,” Bendy gave the man, Sammy, an incredulous look. “Well then, come on, Sammy. Let’s ditch this dump,” The devil motioned to the inky man to follow him as he continued his trek through the forsaken desert. As the two of them continued moving, Sammy occasionally spouting off about random things involving blood, meat, and sheep, Bendy couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the guy. Bendy may be lost out here, but at least he hadn’t lost his mind.

#the ink demonth #ink demonth #bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy #ink bendy #ink demon #sammy lawrence #borderlands au #spacy writes #// violence #// disembowlment #// blood

12 notes · View notes

heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

The Walk Home; John Mulaney

Eyes flicker. A head to toe, the anatomy of a girl: Her hair, short yet long and unnaturally naturally curled, the sight of her late yet early morning because she snoozes her alarm at least once and considers it a huge problem. Her eyes, focusing, so harshly on the script in front of her, her eyebrows bent at a 45° angle, creating even deeper creases in her forehead from her years of focus. So many little things that reflected her persona so gracefully he wanted to vomit.

You see, John was never a romantic person. People always said it should come easy, but he couldn't believe it. Everything in life took work, ethic, time. Why would there be an exception for lové?

He couldn't fathom it all: the skin and heat and loving one person so much it physically hurt your heart if you couldn't be with them. He felt that way sometimes, like his heart was screaming because he hadn't seen you when you went home that weekend, like it was digging itself out of his chest, but lighting itself back up when you bustled into the table read.

He nearly jumped from his seat for joy, now that you were sitting across the room from him. Highlighter twirling between fingers, leg bouncing quietly up and down, lips moving so carefully when her own lines came up.

He was so, so confused. Was this love? How could it be when he hadn't done anything to gain it. To earn it. It was like money, right? You had to put in work, ignore the cogs in the machine, press on past them. And that's how the product of love would be made, right? He'd never even held your hand, only served occasional hugs after shows, in greeting, when departing one another. And it's not like the two of you were best friends: You were good friends, but it wasn't the cheesy "if I tell her I love her I'll lose her and ruin our friendship."

No. He just didn't have the right to love you when you weren't even a thing.

Bill brought him from his id, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he exclaimed, "Wanna call a wrap on this, Mulaney?"

John flinched, "What?" The entire room of actors and other writers stared back at him, eagerly waiting for him to wrap the table read. He was lead writer for this weeks sketches, so he had total control: And it was 10:30 pm.

"Oh, yeah, let's wrap it up. Good job, everyone!" He clapped his hands in the air in mock excitement.

The entire room broke out into a loud, uncontrollable crowd. People flooded the doors, others walked across the room to talk to their preferred coworkers. You sat there for a moment, flipping through your script, with that confused expression on your brows.

"Mulaney-" bill slapped his other shoulder, and John seethed through his teeth.

"I'm a literal crack mom, Bill, my shoulders are going to wither away to absolute dust if you don't go easier on me."

The room was empty enough now that you heard this and giggled lightly. Your eyes lifted to meet his and- did your grin just widen?

John smiled as Bill replied, "Okay, Patricia. Wanna go get some drinks with Seth and I?" He motioned behind him where Seth Myers was packing up his bag.

"Oh-" he glanced over to you and your eyes quickly flickered away. You began to pack up, "No, that's okay. I'm really tired and I just wanna curl up in bed."

"Okay," Bill began to back away as Seth headed for the door, "See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah, see ya." John slowly slipped his script into his backpack followed by his water bottle, pencils, thoughts.

You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder, waving to anyone who was watching. You realized it was only you and John.

"G'night, John-" you yawned midway through his name. You were the only one who addressed him as such- which didn't help his feelings.

"Nigh- wait, you live on the other side of the city?" He interrupted his own words.

You stopped and turned in the doorway to face him, "Yeah, why?"

"Do you always walk home alone?" John pulled the backpack over his shoulders. He stepped towards you.

"No, Seth usually goes with me. But, apparently, he's getting drinks with Bill. We live in the same building," You addressed John's slight confusion.

"Okay, so I'll walk you home."

John pushes past you, out of the door, expecting you to follow. Was he being confident? Perhaps. Or maybe he just didn't wanna see a pretty girls face on the front of a newspaper tomorrow. (Not that ugly girls deserved that- God, what are his thoughts?)

You caught up to the long-legged boy at the elevator- "John, it's okay. I can handle myself- I have pepper spray!"

You showed off the can, dangling from the lanyard housing your apartment keys.

John nodded, "No, I know. But you're also 5'5" and, what? 95 pounds?"

"130." You jutted a rounded hip. Sure, you were short, slightly chubby, and had no upper body strength, but: "John, you yourself said your a crack mom. 6' and, what, 50 pounds?" You mocked just earlier statement.

"Hey, hey," he followed you into the elevator, "Together, we are a force of nature."

"Yeah, okay."

A round of gossip, about both the script and the show in general, stemmed from the elevator ride, stretched into the walk to the subway. It was, unsurprisingly, dead in the subway, save for a passed out homeless man and a group of frat-like boys making a ruckus in the back.

You took a seat on the bench closest to the front, far away from the others sat a seat over, afraid he'd overstep his boundaries.

"Aren't you glad I came?" John motioned to the men, "Smells like pig."

You giggled, "Gross. And, yes, a little bit, I am."

The doors shut and you braced yourself, an instinct that all New Yorkers knew. John forgot because he had gotten lost in your face, swimming in the old makeup beginning to oil around your nose, smudge black under your eyes. They were watery, the contacts inside tired and ready to be taken out. Your jacket was bunched at the sleeves, which were lazily falling over your forearms. The one side of it was falling off your shoulder, and the strings were uneven.

Gorgeous.

"Oh-" John fell into, his elbow crashing into your rib cage. You yelped in pain, pushing him off of you desperately.

"Sorry!" You exclaimed when you realized your reaction put him on the ground. You stood quickly, only to fall back onto the bench because of the force of motion. John began to die of laughter, and you quickly followed.

Bent at the waist, hands propped on knees, guffaws hurling from the back of your throat created lines around your eyes. Your shiny teeth framed the laughter, secondhand creases finding depth from the motion.

The frat boys whoops didn't end, and the homeless man didn't wake up. The subway didn't stop going forward, the tracks didn't stop buzzing, and rats beneath didn't stop running. The world kept spinning- but your eyes locked, and he swore the entire world was shocked by the electricity. You wanted to kiss him, and he felt like he wanted to kiss you, too.

But your stop pushed your forward, on your knees. He stood up and offered his hands to you. You quickly got off, or else you would have stranded.

"Well, that was one hell of a subway ride." You exclaimed, stopping for John to catch up, only for you to fall behind.

He slowed his pace, "Uh, I'd say so."

You grabbed onto the railing and trotted up the stairs, into the cool night of New York City, 69th street. "I don't know why we don't hang out more often."

John wasn't behind you, but he was following you because you lead the way to your apartment. It was at the end of the street, but his heart was in his throat.

"Uh, yeah," he choked.

"I mean, not unless you would want to."

"No! I mean, yeah, yes, I want to. That'd be fun! That would be coolio," He slapped his fist into his palm.

"Coolio? Ya know, for being great at comedy and writing, you suck at getting your words out sometimes."

Speechless.

You stepped through a puddle on accident, gasping as the water seeped through the holes meant to air out your Converse. John I've reacted quickly, scared you were falling and not just tripping over water.

"Oh, hey!" He grabbed you around the waist, tugging you to his other side. Your feet had completely lifted off the ground, a gasp choking itself in your throat.

You gripped onto him by his biceps, which had emitted some unknown strength out of him. He seemed surprised by his sudden reaction, too, which is probably why he attempted to pull his arms off of you subtly. However, because of the fight or flight still thickening his strength, he pushed you away from him. The gasp let itself out and you fell backwards, catching yourself on a set of steps.

John felt like vomiting- he even leaned his palms onto his knees, ready for the acid reflex to present itself on your shoes. He was sweating, small beads covering his forehead. You were crying, head in hands and shoulder shaking- wait, no. You were laughing!

You were laughing your ass at John, who had just presented his crush on you in the best way possible. You'd thought they were there, the feelings. You didn't want to say anything for fear of embarrassing him, but after that whole fiasco- he definitely liked you.

"John!" You screeched in between laughter, clutching your stomach now.

He found the strength to laugh with you, completely letting himself go. He plopped onto the step beside you. "I can't believe I just fucking did that."

"That- was- the- funniest- thing-" you shook your head, hair whipping back and forth across your forehead, "EVER!"

After many more minutes of witch-like laughter, you finally let out one big breath of air. "Oh, my God. That was the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Ever?" John's cheeks were already red from the lack of oxygen being emitted to his head, but he surely did feel himself blush at that one. "Out of everything that has ever happened to you, that was the funniest?"

"Yes!"

"I don't know, I've seen funnier, moments that didn't include some stupid, crack addict looking, lanky ass, weirdo. Just the pretty girl was involved," he sputtered out, unaware of his words.

You smiled lightly, eyes lit with admiration. "He did it again."

John scoffed at himself, dropping his head in his hands, "He did. You must think I am the biggest idiot in the entire world."

"I don't," you scooted closer to him, leaning down so your lips were level with his left ear, "I don't think you're an idiot at all. I think you've let yourself get too tense over me. I mean, I think it's so sweet that at the first sign of trouble, you pulled me away from it all. But, you realized you were holding me and threw me away for fear of embrassement and rejection. I want you to know that there's no reason to be afraid."

John's tense shoulders relaxed and he slowly lifted his head from his hands. It tilted to the side, to face her own. Their lips were incredibly close, the air between them solely shared for the both of them.

"What?" His eyebrows scrunched up, face heating up once again. "Why?"

"Because I like you, too, John."

He wasted no time in pressing his lips into yours, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled as flush against him as he could, letting all of the emotion he'd been bottling up release into kinetic energy. You pushed back with as much of yourself as you could offer, tired but full of your own emotion.

"Hey! You two! Stop shoving your stupid love down my throat! My cats and I are trying to sleep!" A voice from the upper windows of the building behind you caused your lips to peel apart.

Laughter strewn from your lips as you carefully stood, kissing every two seconds, and made your way back down the road.

#john #johnmulaney #john mulaney #petunia mulaney #john mulaney x oc #john mulaney x reader #john mulaney x you #snl cast #saturday night live #john mulaney imagine #bill hader #seth myers #john mulaney and the sack lunch bunch

101 notes · View notes

nctzendreamz · 4 years

Text

HOMECOMING — PART lll

Prologue / Part l / Part ll / Part 3

Summary: The year is 3030, and the divide between the rich and poor couldn’t be greater. Wildwood University is the most prestigious school in the entire world, but it isn’t only because of the impeccable flying cars that can be seen best during the fuchsia lit nights, or the dexterous education everyone receives. It has secrets. A lot of secrets—the biggest being that Taeyong is going to kill you.

Genre: Gang!AU, Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, abuse, foul language, drug use, and murder.

“Y/N?”

Kun was always so gentle when he spoke to you compared to the rough and hard exterior he possessed. Ever since you were children, he was seen as the bad boy and everyone was scared of him. Everyone but you, and that’s why he fell for you so hard even in his adolescence years when he wasn’t supposed to know what love was—or care. On the days where he would come outside to play, covered in bruises, the others would run away claiming they didn’t want his bad luck, but you would run to him in your dazzling yellow dress that you refused to take off and hug him. You would remind him everyday that he was important and protected him from his bullies even at the age of five. You never treated him like the damaged flower he was. You instead watered him and continued to do so until he sprouted into a college boy and ruined it all.

“Hey.” Your eyes are looking down, trying to find comfort in the laces of your boots. The wood flooring was shining so brightly at you—it was newly polished after all, but the scent of this room is engraved into your entire existence. It’s him, and it’s making you feel sick. “Excuse me.” You manage to utter, never forgetting your manners. You don’t even want to brush against his strong shoulder or touch him. You’re weaving through and walking through the door as it fogs from the motion.

Taeyong watched this whole thing go down, and if he didn’t know for sure that Kun was your ex boyfriend, he knows now. The man was mimicking your previous actions—eyes locked on his striped socks. He’s taking deep breaths in and out.

“Um...I’m your roommate.” He places his hand out, but Kun doesn’t move. “Lee.” He introduces. Just when he thought his mission would be slight work, this had to come up. Taeyong wasn’t stupid. He knows that this Kun guy is going to be watching him like a hawk, as well as you, and they live together. What would he be doing while Taeyong was in class? He clearly wasn’t stupid either just from first glance, and mistrust was thick in the atmosphere of their dorm.

“Kun baby!”

The voice is booming and deep, but Taeyong doesn’t jump from it. He’s used to constant yelling and unnecessary cat calling. Indigo may have blinded your senses, but it enhanced your hearing. He heard them coming seconds before Kun did and he could tell it was more than whoever was screaming at such a peaceful hour—the afternoon.

Taeyong expects Kun to take a moment to open the door after what just transpired, but he doesn’t have to. Taeyong can’t take his eyes off of him. It’s the same tall and diesel boy that dropped you off this morning. Johnny, followed by six other boys, all in athletic clothing or school paraphernalia meaning they must have just got out of practice.

He was able to get into this room with his finger print? Fuck! It had to be because he was the president’s son. Which means you can do it too. He didn’t like the way he was being set up—I mean, isn’t that something he should’ve known?

“Turn around—oh.” Johnny’s mouth follows the pronunciation of his words before his lips go fish and makes a spitty noise at the sight of the lanky. Even with the little steps he takes he has some pep in his step. He seemingly knows who he is, and he’s proud of it. The other boys behind him don’t seem to be far off, but the way their faces look flushed indicate they possibly didn’t want to be here. They are probably tired, although Taeyong couldn’t understand how driving cars could make you this exhausted. “Hey roomie.”

He’s speaking to him, and Taeyong determines that keeping it cool was the best approach. He sadly envisions his own boys’ faces into their unmatching bodies as he knows this is the only way he won’t combust. He really hadn’t lived a life outside of his place of stay if it wasn’t a murder and he didn’t want it to show.

“What’s up.” He decides on, and they don’t speak to him again. They obviously think he’s irrelevant—some skinny kid who has books shoved up his ass at all times.

“Why the long face?” One of them steps up. He’s quite short, but his eyes read menace. They’re cat-like, and so is his approach. His right side is in synch as his foot and hand moves simultaneously to Kun’s shoulder.

“Y/N was just here.”

Kun trusts them. He trusts them heavily. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest to tell them the truth even while he was standing right there.

“I’ll leave.” He prompts, but Kun’s arm is stopping him—his grip extremely rough.

“No, stay.” The gentle tone he used with you has completely washed away, and if looks could kill, and Taeyong wasn’t the invincible bastard he was, he’d be dead. “She was in here with him.” Kun tells, looking at his friends for guidance. If Taeyong didn’t know any better, he would assume they were in a gang. The sight infront of him was all too familiar—the solid stares trying to get him to crumble without even having to touch him, the eerie silence that was filling the room.

But then it all stops. They’re laughing now minus Kun who only let out a little chuckle, with Johnny being the loudest.

“He didn’t even flinch.” The cat-eyed one speaks.

“There was nothing to be scared of.” Taeyong says with his chest secretly out. If this was their definition of intimidating, he couldn’t imagine how they would survive in NEO. Everyday you got cornered into giving something up. The question was how well could you defend yourself? “I’m Lee.” He finished coolly.

“Ten.” He responds, putting his fist out. Taeyong bumps it.

“Johnny.”

“Hendery.”

“I go by YangYang.”

“Xiaojun.”

“Sicheng.”

“And Lucas.” Lucas is a big man, just like Johnny. His hands are large as he moves to shake his hand and he seems the most tired—actually, now that he can take a closer look at him, he recognizes this look. This Lucas guy is high as a kite. He seemingly notices Taeyong’s observations and lets out a little chuckle followed by a deep cough. His finger rests on his lips as he purses them to shh. “Snitches get stitches.” He lets out.

He’s joking, but at the same time he’s not.

“Don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“I like him already.” He prompts, slapping him on the back with a loud slap. Taeyong winces from this.

Although Johnny was laughing the loudest when it came to their previous antics, anyone who had ever came across him knows he doesn’t play about his baby sister. He’s watching his brothers talk to this new kid, but he’s not listening. He’s instead looking all around the room trying to see if there’s anything abnormal. The main point of his arguments with you was that you were way too friendly with people who didn’t deserve it—you always tried to rush a process that would be much more easy to deal with had you gave them just a little more time to prove themselves.

He’s going to talk to you about this Lee, and he’s going to completely fry you for coming into his room so soon. You had known him for a measly three hours assuming that he was in your first class, and Johnny wouldn’t accept that. You could be so fucking naive sometimes, and it was him who always had to wipe your tears from your faults. The only one he couldn’t blame you for was your relationship with Kun.

“Well, Lee—we’re going to get out of your hair.” Johnny prompts, and although mentally all of his friends are questioning the sudden prompt to leave, they know better than to do it out loud.

“Oh...alright.” He says, but Johnny is a human lie detector. That tone is so fake and maybe this Lee is antisocial and doesn’t like to talk to this many people at the same time, but it was rare for a new student at Wildwood to not want to ride the crew. Everybody wanted to know them, and he wasn’t being cocky about it—it was just the facts.

The all step outside one by one, walking in a line of eight through the spreaded hallway.

“He’s a fucking weirdo.” Sicheng speaks as his hands in his pockets guide his legs to move forward. He’s also very high—probably more high than Lucas.

“Agreed.” Yangyang seethes. Recently he was trying his hardest to control it, but he was a smart mouthed little rascal, and anybody could get some.

“I wouldn’t say so.” The eight of them are out of the building and getting tingled by the stairs now as they return to the fresh air. The campus is what it always is—exciting and full of new adventure as the open space sets the scene perfectly. The baby blue sky adds onto its perfection, although they were all very accustomed to this. Outside of this dormitory is a statue of Lobos Smith. It’s a golden brown tint and it features him, as well as hovering light bulbs above his head. At night, water shoots from the bottom and the bulbs illuminate something beautiful—a combination of radiant colors that were created to inspire and soothe, as it reads on the plate. They all touch his enlarged hand as they pass by him.

Even when high, Lucas was still knowledgeable. “At the most I would give him emo, but weird? Didn’t get that vibe.”

Ten, Hendery, and Xiaojun seem to be neutral on this, always wanting to see more before they made such conclusions about people. They had met plenty of people on such a large campus that didn’t have the worst of the worst intentions for them, although it easily could’ve seemed that way on first glance.

“You’re not looking deep enough, Lucas. We talked about this.”

Kun wholeheartedly agreed with Johnny, Sicheng, and Yangyang. He was fully expecting to walk into his dorm room and be greeted by the typical Wildwood boy—either a rich dick, or a nerd, not that he believed this to be a negative adjective, that would stay out of his way and only ask did he want to hang out when he was extremely lonely and bored. Lee, on the other hand, seemed to be trying way too hard.

“But he barely spoke.” Ten speaks up now.

They’re walking past all of the different social groups as they continue their disagreement—the green grass providing means of peace between them. Regardless, they would never let things get out of control anyway. They were allowed to disagree, fight, they were even allowed to give a good punch sometimes too, but they would quickly be pulled apart. They were boys, and that’s what boys did.

The bench that is unofficially marked as theirs is open as it should be, and they take their normal positions. Half on the bench, and the other half sitting on the ground in front of them. Ten presses the button that was hovering beside him from the left, and an umbrella reveals itself to cover them from the yellow sun. It really was a beautiful day, but they had things to discuss and they weren’t asking for a tan.

“But notice how he said everything right.” Sicheng reveals. This seems to get his brothers thinking, and he can see their opinions changing just that quick. That was the effect he had on everyone. He was the quietest out of all of them unless they were together like this, and although Kun was labeled as the menace of the group, it was actually him. His thoughts could get absolutely deadly sometimes, and his facial expressions always read what he felt. His built figure didn’t help his case, but the ladies loved it. He never had a night where he couldn’t get someone in his bed.

“Exactly.” Kun finally speaks. “It was almost too perfect. And the way he reacted when Y/N ran out...it was almost as if he wasn’t that shocked.”

“You know how Y/N is.” Xiaojun says. Johnny immediately looks at him with sharp eyes from his spot on the grass. His legs—even through their long nature are tucked in his chest while his hands hold them in place. “Not saying that in a bad way, Johnny.” He hurries. “She just makes friends easily, and she can sometimes—

“Talk too much. I know.” Johnny finishes for him, eyes locking back to the ground now. The more and more they verbally observe this kid, the more eerie he feels about him. He usually didn’t mind when his boys talked about you either, as they never disrespected you. They just spoke facts, and regardless of how they felt about your decisions they would always protect you. “I’m sorry.” He says—and it’s not something he speaks often. “You said nothing wrong. I think we just need to eat.”

“Agreed.” They say in unison, Yangyang taking his phone out to hit up the campus delivery service, but haulting when he hears the same notification being recieved on all of their phones.

“Never mind.” Johnny sighs—him, as well as the rest of the boys rushing to get up and get on the move.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Johnny has friends? And why didn’t you tell me that Y/N has an ex boyfriend that is still madly in love with her? And that he is apart of Johnny’s friends. It’s your fucking job knit-wit.”

Taeyong is seething on the phone, although he does feel bad. Poor Jaemin didn’t have a clue as to why he was currently being scolded, as he did the research he was asked to do. Nothing more, nothing less. At this point he had been tuning the harsh words out—too high in this moment to give a fuck about anything his leader was saying.

“Look, I already told you what the deal is, hyung.”

Taeyong can picture him now, smoking his Indigo. The younger members seemingly preferred this method for whatever reason, and he finds himself to be correct when he can hear a cough erupting from the boy’s throat over the device.

That excuse is good enough for Taeyong, but he doesn’t want to stop this passion just yet. Even now he could tell his high was finally wearing off similar to how it did a few weeks back, and it’s scary, but it’s good. He’s feeling anger, nervousness, although he was sure the lather would wear off rather quickly. How would it feel to kill in such a state?

“Whatever.” He shooes. “Get Sooman on the phone please.”

“Sooman? You sure you don’t mean daddy?”

“Very fucking funny—put him on the phone.”

He sits on hold for about five minutes, and during that time he decides to finally lay down on his bed. He hadn’t had the opportunity to go shopping for something a little more his style, but then again was it even worth it? Once he killed you, he would be gone.

God, it’s so comfortable. The bed he was accustomed to was so hard and he would always wake up with back pain that would last for the majority of the day, although he would never really feel it. You didn’t feel much of anything in NEO. He could emphasize this fact all day long.

Around the room aren’t ripped and hole-punched walls. They’re clean and polished an angelic white color—clashing way too much with the seeming inside of him. He deserves this luxury, but at the same time he doesn’t, yet then again, that made him deserve it even more. Kun’s belongings are still ragged all over the room, but even with Taeyong’s clean freak nature he can’t freak out about it. He doesn’t care right now. He lifts his leg to observe his chosen clothing; all black just incase someone attempted to compliment him. He realizes while he sinks into the the bed that he hadn’t done this at all, even if he had only been here for less than a day. He takes a deep breath—the kind that rushes to your toes and comes back up your body with a magical touch. The kind where you feel every problem and obstacle in your life haulting even if for a short moment. A short moment it was indeed.

“Tell me everything.”

It’s Sooman, and all the stupid doodles he was currently having would have to be put to rest, at least for now.

Taeyong explains in detail everything that had went down in the past couple of hours—even him meeting Mackenzie.

“You can use her as a free kill if you want. If the urge is strong.”

“Oh, trust me when I say she’s already on my list.”

And then he continues. There’s actually only so much detail he can give considering he is only seeing black and white for now, but he describes you. He doesn’t know why or how, but he finds himself imagining you in a lot of different aspects. What would you be wearing tomorrow? Would you completely change and end up in sweatpants and a hoodie similar to your brother a few moments ago? Or did you dress like such a superstar all the time?

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“A pretty face only gets you so far.”

“But remember what I told you. She’s not just a face, boy. If she’s like anything I’ve experienced, she may rope you in without knowing. You won’t even see it coming. That girl is smart, and she’s something you’re not used to. Stay focused.” The man instructs, “Also, keep working on her. You also need to be gaining the trust of her family members as well.” He finished before hanging up.

Taeyong didn’t appreciate that exchange. He didn’t even get a chance to ask the real questions, obviously in a much more respectful way than he spoke to Jaemin. That was so unsual. He’s about to call back before he feels his phone vibrating in his hand. It’s Jaehyun, this time.

“He’s getting some right now.” Jaehyun confirms, his laugh erurupting from the predictable darkness of their side of town. He can picture the pretty boy now—perched up on his bunk as he always wanted the top anyway. He’s probably been having an amazing 48 hours all alone, free to blast as he pleased without interruption.

Taeyong doesn’t know why he didn’t put that together. As unfair as the rule was, it was a rule that stated only he—as he is the boss, could bring woman into the building. When it came to them and their rendezvous, it had to be in a dark corner, an alley, or if they got really lucky—the wife’s home while her husband was busting his ass to bring in some income, or for some members the husbands while the wife was begging the convience store to let her get dinner for the kids.

Good ole’ NEO.

“Fucking great.” Taeyong rolls over on his side, his black hair covering his eyes slightly. He doesn’t even try to move it away as he finds himself dozing off just a tad. He has never been this comfortable in his entire life.

“Tell me. I know you, brother. You need to get it out.”

“I don’t know. There’s just a lot of missing pieces of this puzzle that I don’t know. I’m sure Jaemin told you everything.”

“Mhm.” Jaehyun agrees, knowing his member would continue. He was always such a great listener, and he frequently had to deal with this. Never in such a setting, but even with his kills would Taeyong talk his head off about what he wanted to try next, and a lot of blabber. He listened because he cared about him.

“She has an ex boyfriend, and he doesn’t like me. They were all smiling and happy, but I could see how fake it was.”

“Well, you are trying to fuck, and then kill his love. And for the brother—his sister and his whole family.”

“But they don’t know that. They don’t know any of it.”

“Then they’re probably just being protective. I mean, how did you find out about the girl and Kun in the first place?”

“She was in my room.” He admits, silently slapping himself on the forehead. “And he’s my roommate. The shit was so dramatic, Jae. It looked like a soap-opera.

“I’m not saying don’t keep your eyes open. Trust me, me of all people would never be so stupid, but if you have your guard up openly, and so does he, how are you going to get close to them? Hm?” The indigo was talking, not Jaehyun. “I mean, you don’t have a choice but to switch it up.”

“You sound like me.” He chuckles.

Taeyong was the leader for many reasons, but truthfully more because he was incredibly scary. As he does a little crunch, he sees himself in the mirror and he doesn’t know the person he’s looking at. This isn’t the menacing, ruthless Taeyong that made his youngers practically pee their pants if they made a remote mistake. This was the boy that liked to explore, and he doesn’t like it. He feels sick, actually. He smile is wiped off, and he hits the bed again.

“Thanks for listening.”

“Of course.”

The hang up is quick from his side.

Taeyong needs to sleep. He needs to sleep a sleep better than any sleep he has ever experienced, and when he wakes up, he’ll have some of his real vision back.

“You’re home late, what happened?”

It’s your fathers voice, and as always it’s soft and comforting. Even at such a late hour. You always find it amusing that even when he should be sleeping, or perched up on his very expensive recliner channel surfing for sports, he’s instead in a suit ready for work. Usually you would make a joke about this, and he’s waiting for it—you can tell by the way his eyebrows that match yours are slightly raised; his mouth slightly agape in anticipation, but you’re not in the mood.

“Just an interesting day. That’s all dad I promise.”

“Well, my ears are open. I was about to respond to some emails, but you know I always have time for you sweetheart.”

Your father, as well as your brother were the two men who you could never doubt. They loved you, and they meant everything they said. Others couldn’t necessarily relate.

Your home hasn’t changed much since you were born. Well, at least design wise. Of course coming from a family who was the lead cause of the new world we lived in, you had all of the new gadgets and furniture. You were always the taste test for practically every invention after the dangerous trial and error was over.

Your tan colored ceilings were practically in the sky. And similar to Wildwood, the ceiling was open, although it was better worded see-through. You also had the option of closing it, and your father hits the switch as you follow behind him to go into his office. You only see half of the pink night being closed before the door is clearing.

His office was surprisingly simple considering all the resources he had access to. There were two family portraits that rested above his desk—one of the four of you, and one of all of the boys and men your father had in his life. “Uncles” you had never met. Johnny and his friends. The sight of Kun in the photo; his smile is bright and you can actually remember the day that photo was taken. He was so nervous about the whole ordeal. He couldn’t understand why he was chosen to be in such a photo with so many great men, as well as his knucklehead friends, but Johnny really wanted it. Those were his brothers, and your father had always been a believer of sticking together. He was a mentor to so many, and Johnny, Sicheng, Ten, Yangyang, Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, and Kun had all been friends since birth. Your father had practically raised them. It was actually quite a weird ordeal, but it made sense to you all. Fate worked in mysterious ways.

There’s a loveseat on the side of the semi-large room, and you sit on it. You expect him to sit in his leather chair, but he nudges you over with his knee. He puts an arm around your shoulder, and kisses your forehead as you move to his shoulder. This was him telling you to speak.

“I saw Kun today.” You mumble. You didn’t want to be having this conversation with your father. Especially about someone you know he saw as such an ideal man for you.

“How did that make you feel?”

“Bad.”

You know he’s trying to scrounge up his thoughts. You told your father everything, and every night you found yourself thinking about his reaction that night. Barely a reaction, at first.

An alarm is blaring at Taeyong. He doesn’t understand why, because quite frankly, he wasn’t planning on going to class today. He wasn’t here to be educated in the slightest, although he was very much so looking forward to his futuristic science class where he heard you did a lot of cool experiments in. He unconsciously takes a deep breath, and he smells something. It’s not strong, but he can smell it. It smelt of something sweet. Like vanilla or something if that nature.

The alarm is still blaring, and with closed eyes, he’s beating around trying to locate the button to turn it off.

“You have to speak.” A voice whispers from the other side of the room. Kun decided to sleep here last night—quite a surprise.

“Okay.” Taeyong speaks.

Snoozing. The robot woman follows

“You have to say ‘I’m awake’.”

“I’m awake.” Taeyong rips out, very done with this whole ordeal. He had never been more annoyed in his life. He’s also very shocked that Kun even cared enough to help him, but then again it was interrupting whatever he was doing.

He slowly rises off the bed, looking quickly to see if he has on any pants. He settled in boxers last night he notices, so he throws the sheets off of him before taking one last deep breath and wiping his face before opening his eyes. It’s like a flash of light does he see the same pastel and dirty vision just as he did when he tried this the first time. His pupils are moving from side to side, trying to see the splurts again. They’re evident and he can also see now very clearly that Kun has black hair just like him. He’s also shirtless as he’s on his phone most likely scrolling through nothing. Kun must have changed his sheets while he was in a deep slumber. It screamed money. It was a mixture of black, red, and blue; striped. They seemed to be comfortable enough.

“Goodmorning to you too.” Kun says, removing his eyes from his phone to Taeyong’s pitiful look. “I would’ve thought you’d look less tired considering how long you’ve been asleep.”

“How do you know how long I’ve been asleep? You were gone.”

“Look up.”

And he does. Above his head is a clock that reads the exact time he put his head down to rest, the time he actually fell asleep—5 minutes later, and how long he stayed that way.

“What the—

“You can turn it off. I mean, they’ll still know, but I won’t.” Kun points to his own clock that read he only got two hours of sleep before he shuts it off.

“Thanks.” Is all Taeyong can fathom. Usually more words would flow from his mouth, but Kun is a stranger. But usually that wouldn’t matter? He doesn’t like to be awkward like this. He doesn’t even know what he needs to take a shower here, but he’ll figure it out he assumes. There’s a machine in the large release area that gives you the option of what soap you want to use unless you have your own, in which Taeyong doesn’t. He decides on the Sea Breeze soap, as it seemed to fit the mood he was trying to set.

When he gets out, Kun is still in the room, but he’s clothed now. He’s once again dressed in some sweatpants, and a Wildwood shirt. He did change up his shoes though, switching his slides for sneakers.

“Don’t know if you care or not, but we have a race tonight.” He speaks up. “We’re going against our rival school—the jets. Big game and a good way to make friends.”

It was sly shade, but Taeyong catches it. That was his polite way of saying to get the hell away from you, but he was awake now. He should’ve said that when he was still drowsy because Taeyong was about to play him like a guitar. He’s throwing his book bag over his shoulder as he talks.

“Oh yeah I’ll definitely be there. Me and Y/N are going together.” He pretends to feel bad at the mention of you—giving his eyes the innocent and awkward stare, but he sees the way Kun practically blows up from your name coming out of his filthy mouth.

“Cool.” Is all Kun can gather. He’s throwing his own belongings in a duffel bag that resembles the one Taeyong put his weapons in, except he’s throwing shorts and extra jackets in there. He’s doing it quick and fast indicating that Taeyong already got under his skin and all he had to do was say your name. Maybe it would be easier to get him out of the picture than he originally thought.

Taeyong was secretly super excited about the race. He had never seen anything like what it was described to be, but most importantly it was a great opportunity to talk your pretty little head off and try to get more answers out of you. And let’s not forget the fuchsia nights. He was so ready for that.

When he left his dorm, it wasn’t exactly light, but it wasn’t dark either. After a long day of classes he didn’t care about, and classes you didn’t show up to, he had eaten a little meal from the cafe that he got very lost in before heading back to his dorm to change. Since he got a little of his colored vision back, he decided on a blank orange shirt that had to be curtesy of Mark. Mark really was an angel, yet, that made all of them be even more of a dick to him because he could be so soft sometimes. I mean, to Wildwood’s standard of soft he would be a hell raiser, but back home he was a sweet little thing. His pants stayed the same—black cargo looking pants with his signature boots.

The track was indescribable. I mean, the open space was so beautiful; the grass seemed to be the original green he expected even if it was dirty and blurry to him. He looks up for sky, but half is gray, and half is a darkened blue. Almost navy. The sound of engines going off and reviving is white noise for him because he had never heard this. There’s already a big crowd of students from both schools with their faces painted, some with shirts off, but all ready to cheer on their schoolmates. The track is basically a smaller NASCAR track—it’s too bad they got rid of that decades ago.

“Taeyong!” He knows this voice. It’s tiny and squeaky and annoying and as he looks in her direction he can’t deny he’s impressed. She really did change her look. Her hair was still raging white, but it was curly and she actually sported an outfit similar to yours yesterday. She was surrounded by boys just as you predicted, but they seemed to push him to the side.

“What’s up, Mackenzie.” He smiles, but it’s so fake. And the fact that she doesn’t see it just proves she’s a fucking blonde. “You seen Y/N?”

“I saw her earlier. She was here with Johnny and they were talking, but not for too long. Johnny practically ignores everyone on race days. Any distraction can make them lose and Johnny doesn’t like to lose.”

“You seem to know a lot about him.”

“We’re going to get married one day.” She dreams towards the sky.

“Right...” He whispers to himself, before turning around. As such awful story telling would do, you’re right there as he turns around. How long had you been standing there? God, he had to clutch his heart—something that he never had to do. Technically you just ran up on him and he didn’t hear you. He’s glad his boys didn’t witness that,

You look more beautiful than you did yesterday, not to say you didn’t look beautiful yesterday. You did change up your outfit a tad; a long sleeved v-neck crop top covering your chest, although he sees the cleavage. And you’re wearing high waisted mom jeans with some matching white sneaks on your feet. They’re giving you a little height. You have glasses on the top of your head, but he assumes you’re not in such a bad mood that you don’t want to see anything right now.

“Hey.” He smiles, and he doesn’t have to fake this one. It’s coming out naturally and it’s pissing him off. Yes, you were pretty, but you aren’t roping him in. He doesn’t feel things for people he only wants to hurt them.

“Hey.” You smile back, punching him in arm lightly. “I like your outfit. I was expecting you to be wearing all black again.”

“What? You thought I was some emo boy?”

“Well, I still think you are. I think you added a dash of color to impress me.”

Oh, you were good.

“Do you think you’re that special?” His tone is taunting, but not disrespectful.

“I know I am.” You turn around promptly, and he feels his feet running towards you to catch up.

It seems like you’re going to a more secluded area where there are less people who are prone to screaming and yelling inappropriate things to the opposing players. There’s a hologramed fence that seems to be where you’re headed, but you keep walking.

“Y/N you have to watch the race. Your brother is in it.”

“Oh, I’m watching the race.” He doesn’t even have to see you to know you’re smirking. It’s the sway in your hips. You’re walking to seemingly nothing, but as Wildwood does, there’s something hovering where you’re headed. It’s a button, but he doesn’t know what’s its for.

“You coming?” You tease.

“I—can I?”

You take his hand in yours—an unfamiliar feeling to him. Even so he doesn’t let go. You press the button and hologramed box is shielding the two of you before you’re shooting in the air.

“What the!” He screeches, unconsciously squeezing your hand too tight.

��Ow ow.” You laugh loudly. “Are you trying to break my hand?” He knows he hurt you, but even so you’re still laughing.

“I’m sorry. That just scared me.” He finds himself being shy now as the two of you are still holding hands. He slowly lets go, but not before caressing your mangled bones.

“It’s okay, newbie. When I was a little girl I almost had a panic attack the first time I did this.”

This, was the view. It was amazing, and it was secluded from the rattled teens and young adults who were passionate about their school. There were seats made for two, and Taeyong assumes that the box registers how many people it holds, and makes the seats according to that.

“There’s no one else that can do this, right?” He’s fascinated. You’re high up enough to where you can’t be seen unless someone was looking very hard, but at the same time you can see the track perfectly.

“Nope. Just my family.” You point to the other side of the track, and he can see another one hovering holding what seems to be a man and a woman—possibly some others behind him. Your father and mother although he can’t see their faces. “I’m a privileged girl.”

He’s trying to find something snarky to say back at you, but the confidence he had before is slipping away. He even finds himself shaking slightly, but he decides to just ignore it. “Nothing wrong with being that way.” He whispers. That’s all he can think of.

The two of you are sitting very close right now. He really had only known you for a measly 24 hours, but it felt like an eternity and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like the power you obviously held. And now you were scooting closer to him and his heart is slowly racing when that wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“How was your day today?” You question, but you’re not looking at him. Maybe he makes you nervous. You’re both watching as the cheerleaders are doing stunts to get the crowd pumped and the band is starting to warm up for the team. It almost seemed like football, but that was irrelevant these days.

He hadn’t had someone ask him that ever. It was so strange to him how every little thing you did was so original, even though back in the old days it was common curtesy. Back when the world wasn’t so split up.

“It was good.” Is all he can form. He relaxes back in the seemingly invisible chair, and it’s comfortable. “Finally made it to the cafe.”

“Do you always whisper when you talk.” You taunt him in his same tone.

You get a smile out of him. You were pretty funny. He could admit that.

There were a lot of things he could’ve said, but he remembers his orders “keep pushing it” or whatever Sooman said. He was trying so hard to keep his wall up, when his mission was to make you fall in love with him. He felt so guilty about it, but he didn’t have to. It was what he was instructed. “I’m just—you make me a little nervous.” He slips, knowing your heart beat is probably increasing.

“Me? Why?” And now your head is on his shoulder.

“Because you do things like that.” He speaks. He doesn’t know what to do with his body. Affection was something he had no idea how to handle or give back, and this was going to be his biggest weakness when it came to getting your head.

“My day wasn’t good.” You switch the subject, although your head stays in place. “Yesterday wasn’t good either.”

“Why?” He whispers. “Is it because of that Kun guy?”

“You catch on quickly.” You chuckle, making his shoulder vibrate. “But yeah. We have an interesting history. I was just so surprised to see him. It was so weird.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Taeyong needs to do something. He needs to touch you in a way that shows you he’s “interested”. He sees your hand dead on your lap, so he decides to interlock your fingers just as you did to him a few moments ago. He can’t lie—this feels nice. He knows it’s not supposed to, but no one else is here to tell on him. He could enjoy this, right?

“Nothing to say.” You mumble. “Just caught me off guard.”

There’s the wall. He was hoping you’d start venting, but he’s not surprised when you hault. I mean, the two of you had just met yesterday, although it wouldn’t seem like it based off your current position.

“I know we just met yesterday, but can we stay like this?” Your tone is hushed as you speak, and your voice is wavering just a tad. You probably feel stupid for even asking that.

“Of course we can.” He accepts, and he feels the way you lightly graze your thumb on his own at his acceptance. It relaxes him in an odd way, although it also triggered something weird in him. He had never felt it before, but he just assumes it’s the indigo shaking him up and begging him for more.

“Ladies and gentleman—introducing the one and only Wildwood Jaguars!” They’re running through the banner, funny enough the most non-futuristic thing here. The crowd is going wild and here you and Taeyong are, lost in your position.

Game on.

77 notes · View notes

holdmyhopeinyourhands · 5 years

Text

What The Actual Hell Man!

Klaus never understood how he got himself into situations like these.

Sighing, he pushed his hair back out of his eyes, raising his other arm in the universal sign of ‘I don’t want any trouble’. “Come on man,” he mumbled. “Why don’t we call this a day, and I’ll just get outa your hair?”

The burly man in front of him didn’t look that into the plan. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

Klaus clammed his mouth shut. Stopping himself from blurting out the words that would guarantee him a beating.

The stranger took a step towards him. ‘He’s trying really hard to look intimidating,’ Klaus mused, ‘I would be impressed if I wasn’t so unimpressed.’

His lips twitched and he let out a soft giggle.

“Something funny Bitch!”

The man shoved him hard in the chest.

Klaus raised both of his arms. “No, no, nothing at all.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” the man foamed. “People like you shouldn’t be walking around my street.”

Klaus pursed his lips, eyebrows coming together at the center. “Where you born on this street or something?” he asked.

The man punched him, and Klaus saw stars.

Stumbling back, he grabbed his aching jaw. “Damn,” he hissed, bloody grin splitting across his cheeks. “You pack a mean punch big man.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at him.

This was the last straw for the weirdo, who had out of the blue decided it was his job to take care of the gay guy on the street.

Reaching out with a ferocious swipe, the burly man clenched his fist around Klaus’s collar.

“Your kind disgust me,” he spat out, slamming the lanky man against the wall. “Aint nothing manly or right about you.”

Klaus might have flinched, or felt hurt, if he hadn’t heard these shitty words almost every day growing up. “Ain’t nothing manly about you either dude,” he gritted out, breath coming out in silent gasps.

The antagonist just tightened his grip even more. “If I kill you now,” he said, eyes blazing with such hatred, Klaus kinda had to give him props. “I would be doin the world a huge favor.”

“You don’t say,” he mumbled. His vision starting to blur.

‘Where the hell was Ben?’ Not feeling the ghost anywhere near him, he sighed. ‘Maybe this was for the best. Who would have thought? Klaus Hargreeves dying from hate crime.’ He almost laughed out loud. ‘How ridiculously stupid.’

He didn’t die that day though.

A screeching noise drifted into his ears. Snapping his eyes back open, he saw a familiar car taking a violent turn around the corner, making obnoxious honking sounds all the way.

“What the..?” The man said, staring confusedly at the car hurtling towards them.

He had apparently brought out a pocket knife while Klaus was distracted, and now said knife was just dangling from his fingers, forgotten.

Klaus could take it easily. He probably should take it, but he wanted to see how this situation was going to play out, so he didn’t.

Maybe he should’ve.

For the car didn’t actually stop. It slowed down, but it didn’t stop. Instead it took a sharp turn into the sidewalk and slammed with all the force of a car not yet standing still, into the side of the man holding Klaus.

Burly flew across the air, slapping with a sickening thud on the ground.

Klaus could swear the man bounced at least twice.

“What the fuck!” Klaus screamed. “What the actual living fuck!”

The driver side of the door swung open, and little number Five stepped out, hands casually in his pockets, and ghost Ben hovering beside him looking horrified.

“Five?” Klaus whispered. Eyes still wide as their mom’s dinner plates.

Five looked over at him. “You ok?”

“Am I ok?” Klaus fingers came up to run over his frazzled hair. “Am I ok?” he repeated. “You just ran over a bloody man, man!”

Five scoffed. “It was intentional.”

“I fucking know! But why?”

His brother just shrugged, calmly walking passed him, and towards his victim.

“Stop him Klaus,” Ben said, shock and awe mixing together with desperation across his face.

“Five? Hey bro, could you not kill him if he aint dead yet, please?” Klaus said, quickly walking after his brother, Ben close at his heels.

Five didn’t reply, instead choosing to kick the downed man on the ribs.

Burly let out a broken sob. “Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Five kicked him again. Klaus winced.

“Have we learned our lesson today?” he asked. Voice as carefree and light as if he was talking about the weather and not just torturing a man, he had moments ago hit with his fucking car.

“What? I what?” came Burly’s pleading tone.

Five lifted his leg threateningly.

“I have! I have! Please stop,” the man pleaded through busted lips, trying desperately to roll away or do anything really.

He looked pathetic, Klaus observed. His heart twitched in sympathy.

“Good,” Five said, turning around, and walking back to his car, or Diego’s car, whatever.

“Let’s go Klaus.”

Klaus blinked.

“How did you even know I was in trouble?” Falling into steps with his brother, he looked at him with disbelief. Burly quickly forgotten, like yesterday’s news.

Five scoffed. “Please, you honestly think I don’t have a tracker on all of you?”

“What?”

The end

#the umbrella academy #number five #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #short fic #short fanfic #fanfic #i love writing this dynamic i guess #well enjoy #tua

245 notes · View notes

currebunz · 4 years

Text

Burn The Candle At Both Ends Ch 9

AO3 Link

Your brief vacation came to a close, which meant back to work. You had enjoyed your days lazing about with Dabi. You both slept in till noon, softly muttering about whatever came to mind. There were times he'd get handsy, resulting in lazy morning sex. He had told you had to keep under the radar, which meant he was home most of the day. 'Home', it felt odd to use that when it came to Dabi. You both were dating yes, but it was still too early to think like that. You began to fantasize about fluffy situations as you headed to Sir Nighteye's office. You weren't aware that you had passed the building until you found yourself outside a train station. You turned back around, keeping your eyes peeled for the office this time. You kept walking until your eye caught something strange.

On a nearby wall, a face stuck out. At first, you thought it was a prank or a decoration. You gently pressed the nose. "Ding-dong! Who's there?" the face spoke. You jolted back, raising your bag in defense. "Haha! Sorry about that! That's the first time someone has done that!" the face continued to laugh. "You're alive?" you asked cautiously. "Well yes, I can see why you're skeptical but I assure you I'm living" he explained. You were still unsure if you should be talking to this weirdo. "Say, by chance are you looking for Sir Nighteye's office?" he asked. You nodded, earning another laugh from the face. "Well look no further!" the face was suddenly swallowed up by the wall. Part of you thought about running away. You could leave now and pretend none of this happened. Call in sick, this was all too weird for you.

Suddenly, the face reappeared. This time attached to a body. Oh wait, he just opened the door. A tall boy with styled blonde hair smiled brightly at you. "I could tell you were lost, so I figured you were one of Numero's employees" he waited happily for you to enter the building. You nodded, ducking in quickly. The boy continued to chat away as you climbed the stairs. "Well we're here, it was nice talking with you," he said holding the doorknob. "Thanks...." come to think of it, you didn't ask for his name. "Just call me Lemillion!" he said a little too enthusiastically. "Thank you Lemillion" you offered him a small smile. He stared at you before bursting out into nervous laughter. "Wow, that feels better than I expected it too!" he rubbed the back of his neck while he spoke. You let him opened the door and walked into the room. He was certainly an odd one.

You re-focused on the task at hand. Inside the briefing room, you recognized a few faces. Your coworkers were all approaching a tall, lanky man before departing. you suspected he was Sir Nighteye. You lined up to speak with him, as you grew closer, you realized he was ridiculously tall. Like he might even rival All Might! His piercing gaze set on you, shit! Say something! "Hello sir" you greeted him. Sir, right, that's his name, way to go. "I presume you are one of Numero's employees?" he asked. "Yes, I was told to come to your office temporarily" you explained. His expression seemed to never change as he shifted through his paperwork. "You handle Endeavor's agency correct?" he acknowledged you again. You nodded, he looked like he would continue speaking regardless of what you said. "Due to the circumstances, it would be best for you to conduct your recording on the field," he said as he handed you a portfolio.

What?

"You appear confused, out with it" he demanded. "Well, doesn't that seem too dangerous?" you asked. Sir fixed his gaze on you, sighing deeply. "We have yet to determine if the attack was orchestrated or random" Sir Nighteye explained. "Why would villains attack a ranking office?" you asked. Sir Nighteye stared hard at you. "Why indeed..." he muttered. A moment passed before you decided to speak up. "So, I'll be tagging along with Endeavor today?" you clarified. Sir Nighteye nodded, returning his focus to the multitude of files before him. "Rest assured, the number two hero will be the safest place for you," he said that a little too ominously for your liking.

You left the office feeling sick. You didn't really have anything against Endeavor, but you could only tolerate so much of his attitude. Dabi had texted you while you were talking to Sir Nighteye. You had left him to sleep in alone.

Something told you not to tell him you'd be working with Endeavor today.

You locked your phone as you boarded the train. You knew how to get to Endeavor's office, yet the whole trip felt strangely new. You made it there faster than you would have liked. Upon entering, his usual sidekicks greeted you. "We were already notified by Sir Nighteye's office, Endeavor is waiting for you" they brought you to his room without hesitation. Probably to face the front of his frustration. Before you could knock, a loud voice boomed through the door.

"Enter, civilian"

You braced yourself, opening the door slowly. The office was plain as usual, minus the mounted awards along the back of the room. Endeavor sat with his arms crossed, flames ignited. "You're the agent who has been keeping track of my progress?" his question came out as more of a demand. "Yes sir" you answered promptly. His eyes narrowed, probably sizing you up. The rose from his seat, shortening the distance between you both. "You reports lack the appeal I need to jump to the top, today I will show you just how lucky you are to serve me" he brushed past you with that. There was so much wrong with his statement, you couldn't find it in you to correct him. 'Not my fault All Might is still a better hero' you thought. Another thing you came to dislike about Endeavor was his height. His large strides had you running to catch up with him. He didn't even bring any of his sidekicks with him, making it a very quiet walk.

You didn't really have any burning questions for him. Endeavor made no effort to acknowledge you either, nearly knocking you over a few times when he turned a corner. Part of you hoped it would stay like this, at this rate you would have nothing to report. But, to your dismay, the danger was afoot. A loud explosion came from a nearby building, smoke erupting from the core. A large villain rose from the smoke, taking a great leap out of the building. "Tch, this one is hardly worth my time" Endeavor clicked his teeth. He turned back to you, glaring slightly. "You! Pay attention!" he shouted. You ran over to the nearest safe area within the range.

Endeavor rushed in and began surrounded the villain in flames. Stray flames hit nearby buildings and created small fires in the street. You wrote down as many "good" notes as you could. To you, he was doing more damage than good. "I'll smother you in flames!" Endeavor roared, creating a shell of fire on the villain. The flames compressed downward, until giving out and creating a screen of smoke. As the smoke cleared, Endeavor emerged with the villain in a shriveled-like state. He held the villain by the collar, brandishing him like a freshly caught game. The crowd went wild. You clapped mechanically just to fit in. It wasn't like you were ungrateful, as Sir Nighteye had said, you felt safe with Endeavor. But even so, the villain was still a person who might have died.

It didn't take long for Endeavor to leave the press, probably to seem humble. What took you by surprise was that he was looking for you. "You there! You better have documented that!" he stormed over loudly. You pretended to write more notes, at least so he would stop yelling. His latest move was going to be the highlight of today. Once Endeavor had his fill, he continued forward on patrol. You lagged behind this time, not that he noticed. You checked your phone again, your shift was thankfully coming to an end soon.

Dabi had texted you too.

<I'll be at work till late, don't wait up>

After today, you were going to need some repose, you were going to wait up for him for sure.

You sent him a hasty reply as a scream echoed down the road. You sprinted behind Endeavor to the plaza ahead. You stopped as a bubble floated into view. "Get down!" Endeavor's large hand took you by the back of your shirt and pulled you away as the bubble exploded. You fell back on your ass, roughly colliding with the pavement. Endeavor created a wall of flames to buy time. "A water-based quirk, how annoying" he cursed. He glanced back at you, scowling all the while. "Stay out of my way and only write down the good parts" he ordered. "Don't have to tell me twice" you muttered as you stood up. You made a beeline for cover as you watched the battle unfold. You couldn't really see the villain between all the water and fire, but whoever it was put up a good fight.

Through the battle, you saw a child hiding under one of the plaza benches. You remembered the kind of damage Endeavor was capable of, suddenly thinking of the worse possible scenario. Your body moved on instinct, running to the child's aid. You used your bag to protect against the bubbles, your ears began ringing from the explosions. You reached for the child and pulled them out. "Run that way, now!" You shouted. The child nodded, running off without a second thought. Now you were in a bind. Your body was too large to hide under the bench, leaving you exposed to the water and fire. You looked around for an opening to escape, however, the plaza was engulfed with flame.

You didn't notice the bubbles rising from your feet. By the time they reached your knees, it was too late to scream. Blistering pain shot up your body as you fell backward. Your ears rang long, vision blurring, and breath quickening. A shadow loomed over you, but you couldn't hear what they said.

Your mind went blank and your vision dark.

You stirred slowly, your body still ached from earlier. Your head felt like mush and your eyes tried to adjust to the dim lighting. From what you could tell, you were on a bed. Other than the bed, the room was fairly barren. The only light trickled in from the other side of the door. Speaking of which, was the knob turning?

You threw yourself back down, pretending to be asleep. However, the movement caused your head to loll from the rush. "Hm? Are you awake? Huh? Huh?" a childish voice called out. You stared at the stranger who stood at the end of your bed. He appeared to be 10 years of age, 12 on a stretch. He had short silver bangs with a red cowlick coming from his crown. You also noted he was balancing a tray on his head. "You are awake! You can't fool me" he laughed as he placed the tray down on the nightstand next to you. You made out a large object, a teapot. He poured a cup and handed it to you. "Jiĕjie said to give you tea cuz you're a guest" he explained. You sat up and wearily took the cup. You waited for him to pour his own before drinking. It had a floral scent and tasted mildly sweet.

"Muah~! I love Jiĕjie's tea!" he sighed happily. You continued to observe the child as he drank his tea. On closer inspection, he appeared to be a foreigner. His skin was significantly dark in contrast to his light hair. "Bet you want to know where you are! Don't ya? Don't ya?" he began bouncing in his seat. You nodded, your throat was still dry and you didn't trust it to work. "Well, I can't tell you" he hummed in delight. 'Then what was the point in asking?' you tried not to appear annoyed. The boy stood up, taking the tray with him. "Follow me, Jiĕjie is waiting for you" he scampered off to the door and waited for you to climb out of bed. You slowly threw your legs over the bed, carefully standing. Your body still felt sluggish, but not as bad as before.

The boy opened the door, unaffected by the blinding light from the hallway. Your eyes squinted as you adjusted to the brightness. The boy took you down the hall to another room. You smelled something good as he opened the door. "I brought her, just like you asked" he chirped sticking his head in the doorway. He looked back at you before walking behind you and pushing you forward. "In ya go!" he laughed, running off before you could yell at him. You switched your focus back to the room. Inside, it was full of various colored Hydrangeas. A small table sat in the center of the room, a young girl was seated at the table arranging a pot of Hydrangeas. "Come in," she said without looking up.

You reluctantly entered, sitting across from her while she worked. "It was rather strange on him to bring someone back, let alone a civilian" she muttered. You tested your voice, asking her where this place was. "I cannot disclose that information, even if you are a guest" she smiled. So it was going to be like that. "May I ask why you are keeping me here?" you cleared your throat as you spoke. The girl was quiet as if she was unsure of herself. "As of right now, you will be a bargaining chip" she answered. Your mouth went dry. "Who would possibly bargain for me?" you almost laughed at the thought. She looked you in the eye, unwavering. "Well, plenty of heroes would, but specifically Endeavor" she explained.

You froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. The girl appeared taken back by your outburst. "I'm sorry, hold on, are we talking about Endeavor?" your laughter died down slowly. "Yes, are you not one of his sidekicks?" she asked. "No, I just write reports for the guy" you felt relieved that it had been a mistake. Perhaps they would let you go after all this. The girl furrowed her brows, obviously troubled. "This is less than desirable..." she trailed off. She stopped arranging the flowers and looked at the ceiling. "No matter, we still have one more use for you" her cheerfulness returned quickly as she faced you.

You started to feel nervous. This wasn't how you thought it would go. "You see, we've been at odds with a certain group lately" she stood up from her side of the table and walked to the window. "But perhaps that will end if we offer you to them?" she smiled at you from over her shoulder.

You quickly jumped to your feet and ran to the door. You swung it open and met a very tall man. He had a large scar across his face and smiled wickedly down at you. "Save that energy for the exhibition, doll" he smirked grabbing your wrist. You felt a dull blow to the back of your head before you blacked out. Your body slumped forward, allowing him to lift you. "Again with the damn tea parties, it'd be faster if we just kept them in a cell" he sighed. The girl continued to smile, not bothered by the slightest. "A barbarian like you would never understand" she teased. The man scowled and began to carry you out, only stopping as he was addressed.

"Gein, send a message to our misty friend that I want to speak to Shigaraki in person" she demanded.

"Sure thing"

Dabi was going to have an aneurysm at this point. The usual grunt work would've been fine had Toga and Twice not come along. Toga had wanted to bring back a "friend", to which Dabi had to ended up killing to finally get her to stop. Twice was just being twice, which annoyed Dabi enough. When they arrived back at the hideout, he planned on making a quick report so he could leave. Shigaraki, to his disdain, had other plans. "You won't be going anywhere just yet" he stopped Dabi before he could leave. "What now?" Dabi didn't hide the annoyance in his tone. "We've received word of an offer to form an alliance with another group, this would be a good chance to increase our numbers" Kurogiri explained. Dabi stayed quiet, so he was going to be insurance.

"Everyone will be necessary, we don't know what they will try to pull" Shigaraki stood up slowly, obviously enthusiastic about this turn of events. "What was offered?" Mr. compress's curiosity was shared amongst the other villains. "A hostage with relations to the number two hero" Shigaraki stared at Dabi. He said that to purposely agitate the other. Dabi kept his cool though, he wasn't going to play into Shigaraki's game. "Really!? That's pretty impressive!" Spinner shouted. He was the only one really impressed by it. "We'll be rendezvousing at a secret location, split into groups and don't draw attention to yourselves" Kurogiri explained.

Dabi went on his own, he was planning on seeing this hostage for himself. He knew Endeavor didn't have relations with anyone, so who could they possibly have? It sounded more like a trap for him than anything. He checked his phone and sighed. It was getting late, you were probably at home waiting. It was too risky for him to go to your apartment right now, he'd just have to tough it out for now. But for some reason, he couldn't shake off the feeling...

Something bad was going to happen tonight.

#dabi bnha #dabi x reader #mha dabi #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #burn the candle at both ends

3 notes · View notes

lost-kinn · 5 years

Text

some observations about the pure vessel fight

some meta thoughts below

- the pure vessels does the “screaming” position that they have as their hall of gods statue, plus the infamous pose they have when they scream in the black egg temple, but no sound comes out--and YET, imo, there’s such an emphasis on the moment that i cant help but feel like although they don’t have a voice, there is a method of self-expression that’s happening here, particularly with the fact that the armored cape is so obviously meant to chain them up and hold them in place, even the fact that it seems to hold them into a “proper” posture when it turns out that the hollow knight doesn’t slouch/hunch because of the radiance, but just because they apparently really like to hunch. you fight the pure vessel in their prime, and they’re still bent over like they’re looking for pennies. every single time you fight the pure vessel, you see that same animation run over and over and over, and i get this STRONG feeling that even if their dreamnail dialogue is “do not speak” and “do not think” and “do not hope,” their actions are speaking a heck of a lot louder than their words, and their actions are to throw off their mantle and participate in a fight that, ultimately, was not ordered by the pale king and doesn’t serve hallownest and doesn’t seal away the radiance; if the protag knight is in godhome fighting these gods on their own free will, it would seem that so is the pure vessel, and the pure vessel, apparently, prefers to slouch, and have a raggedy old cloak that doesn’t fit them, and hold their sword in the WEIRDEST fucking position

- when i fought the hollow knight in the black egg temple i too was feeling: hey this is a pretty climactic fight, but it seems to have gotten hijacked by the radiance? what if i actually genuinely wanted to have a climactic fight with my long-lost sibling, not this weirdo who i’ve barely heard anything about? this fight feels like the fight that we didn’t get to have but we wanted, and in a better context: because there’s no repercussions, nobody dies from this event, the radiance and hallownest isn’t on the line, these two can really go at it with everything they’ve got just for the sheer sake of fighting

- “fighting for the sake of fighting” i think is also important to note because insofar as the protag knight knows when they’re in godhome, they’re literally doing this entire thing just for fun. they aren’t guaranteed a reward for doing any of this. it’s me, as a player, who’s looked up the dlc ending. the player knight is just doing this because sometimes you just wanna achieve glory for the sake of glory

- i still think about rukafais’s post about how fighting is a type of communication for the vessels. to really put everything you have into a fight, to really bare your heart and soul and everything you can manage, is like pulling out your true self on a string, and that’s what the pure vessel and the protag knight are doing to each other--but it’s not true communication unless the fight is really fucking ungodly hard; if it doesn’t push you to the absolute brink of your ability, it’s not making you honestly reveal yourself

- the entire thing about “attunement” is just fucking incredible imo because i really do feel like i get to know a boss entirely through their moveset. i personally really feel that not only with pure vessel but with a bunch of the bosses: the way lost kin has a moveset that’s so similar to you, how the pure vessel parries almost identically to hornet, how one of the things i had to learn with the failed champion is that it matters how close to him you stand--if you back away, he’ll fuck you up; if you stand close enough to him, he’ll back away--the programming of the fight feels like you’re fighting a coward who’ll always back down if you get too close to him.

- just in general the entire theme of finding yourself by finding people who look like you--other vessels, the pure vessel, the lost kin, hornet, etc--i’m just. so about it. it’s so clever for an artistic medium, where all you really have are visuals

- (there’s something in there about the masculine-coding of the giant armored shoulderplates and how the pure vessel purposefully breaks it off and surprise!!! they’re a genderless stringbean underneath with zero secondary sex characteristics!!! it’s SUPER FUNNY every single time actually like HOW tiny/lanky the pure vessel is under that huge big-ass armor)

- sometimes it just blows my mind that the pure vessel has hands and i dont know why. quirrel does a thing where he’ll flex his hands while he’s idle and pure vessel does it too; it’s just mesmerizing every time

- i wiki’d the attack where the pure vessel makes a giant light sphere and apparently it’s called Focus--no idea if that’s canon or not--but the parallel to the player knight’s focus is pretty clear just from the pose they make that it’s a parallel to the player knight’s focus where they heal themselves. makes sense, considering that the player knight also uses soul to perform spells

- from that, i’m going to guess that most of the pure vessel’s magic attacks are using soul, which makes sense because that’s the pale king’s domain--particularly makes sense because all the pure vessel’s attacks seem to involve blades or white light; if i was going to guess, the blades are a soul made temporarily physically manifest

- the interesting bit is when their HP hits 25%, which is when the void tentacles start coming out--and this one i think is interesting because the pale king, i presume, would have taught the pure vessel to use soul magic, and his influence on the pure vessel’s usage of blades is pretty clear whatwith the razorblade-fetish that the pale king seems to have. the thing about the void tentacles is that they wouldn’t have been taught that--i dont think the pale king would have even approved of such a thing--it’d be a thing that would just come naturally to them, but because a “pure” vessel doesn’t have anything come “naturally” or “innately” to them (they’re supposed to be entirely empty!!!), any usage of void magic probably would have had to be hidden from the pale king in order to continue to appear “pure.” and the pure vessel is still using it when they get to the end of the fight. they’re on their last legs, and they pull out what’s essentially a last resort--see above the point about fighting pulling everything you have to give out of you, and the only way to really pull everything out of a person to have the most honest communication is to make the fight as hard as fucking possible, and it’s only when the protag knight can really push the pure vessel to the absolute edge that they bring out what i’m going to guess is probably proof that you can take a vessel out of the abyss, but you can’t take the abyss out of the vessel--not even if the pale king says so--not even if the pure vessel themselves desperately, DESPERATELY wants to be “pure” and “empty” and abandon their connection to the abyss and their fallen siblings altogether.

- anyway i have a lot of feelings about the ways that the pure vessel manages to both aspire to fulfilling their purpose for the kingdom while simultaneously only able to embrace their scraps of identity in the safety of godhome and the pantheons

#original #personal.txt #lore

134 notes · View notes

reddieforakiss · 6 years

Text

Icecream on Sundays

College Reddie// not established relationship// roommates// Rated M for intense make outs and sexual references// SPOILER ALERT FOR HEATHERS MOVIE

Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak have been living together for around a year now. In senior year they ended up deciding on the same college so they figured being each other’s room mate was better than being with a stranger.

// When Richie first brought the idea up to Eddie, they were in his room reading comic books. “Eds I think we should be room mates when we get to college”, Richie said out of no where, and Eddie threw him a confused look. Richie went on to reason, “I mean who knows what kind of weirdos could end up rooming with you otherwise?”. Eddie snorted and nudged his side into Richies side, “I know exactly the kind of weirdo that I’m gonna room with”, he looked in Richies eyes “you”. Richie smiled wide and wrapped his arm around Eddies shoulder, “Aw hell yes Eds! You aren’t gonna regret it”. Eddie turned red and laughed softly, smiling, “I feel like I already am”. //

As they moved in and began school, the two of them started in routines. Eddie always got to shower in the morning and Richie did at night. Eddie made both of them breakfast as long as Richie would do the dishes after. If either one of them left at night, they would leave notes for each tier saying where they went and when they would get back. On Saturday mornings they would always go grocery shopping, at the mini mart of course. And, every Sunday night, they would get snacks and watch a movie together.

This particular Sunday it was Eddies turn to pick the movie as Richie had picked it last time, choosing Transformers 2 much to Eddies distaste. He reasoned the special effects were what made it good and as Richie was a film major he “cared about that kind of thing”. This week Eddie decided to go for Heathers. The two were sitting on the couch, icecream bowls in their hands and Eddie was queuing it up on Netflix. “EuGh Eds we have seen that movie so many times”, Richie huffed out, honestly he didn’t mind though because both JD and Veronica were hot as fuck and made his bisexual brain do flips. “What! It’s a good movie with an important message”, Eddie shot back. Richie looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Mhm and I’m sure it doesn’t help that you think JD is”, Richie then wiggled his eyebrows, “SpiCy”. Eddie bumped his shoulder, “so what! I like bad boys okay!”. Richie snorted, “Eddie, he’s not a bad boy he’s a cold blooded murderer”, he then leaned in close to Eddies ear, “I mean, unless that’s what you’re also into, I can kill a man too ya know”. Richies whispered voice sent shivers down Eddies spine, god damnit. Richie had been doing shit like that all the time lately, always teasing him about them being together. And sure Eddie kind of enticed it with his own comments but sometimes it got too much for him to handle. Sometimes it made Eddie think, he might actually like Richie?? But now wasn’t the time for that, so Eddie shoved him away and shouted, “Ew, Gross!” And as usually Richie pretended to be dramatically wounded.

As the movie began to play, Eddie sang along to the introduction; “When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?..”. Richie looked at him fondly when he did that, Eddie was cutest when he sang along to songs he liked because he would always get this bright look in his eyes. God what a beautiful boy. “How do you think they got Veronica buried under all that grass?”, Richie inquired with icecream in his mouth. “I don’t know Richie, I don’t think this movie is really going for realism”, Eddie looked back at him. He had peanut butter on his cheek, Richie always insisted putting peanut butter in his vanilla icecream, gross. But kinda cute too.......Shit.

Right around the time Heather Chandler screamed corn nuts, Richie had gotten bored. It was a good movie yes, but after you’ve seen it ten times in a year it starts to loose its charm. Richie looked over at Eddie, his face lit up by the bright screen amoungst the fading light from outside their window. Eddies eyelashes always looked long, but it was the most noticeable from his profile. God, those pretty lashes and that angel nose could kill a man. Richies eyes moved down to Eddies mouth and, fuck. Eddies lips were glossy with icecream residue, they were also puffy from the coldness of the treat. A small drop of melted icecream fell down from the corner of his mouth and Eddies tongue went to lick it up. Everything felt like slow motion. Shit that looks kind of like. God no Richie no not right now, Richie turned to face the screen again.

Right around the time Veronica had made the call to the football players, Eddie realized Richie kept looking at him. He’d look back, only to find Richies head snapping away back to the screen. What was he up to? But as it happened more often, Eddie could see from the corner of his eye that Richie was looking at his lips. Eddie took another spoonful of icecream and, Oh. That’s what Richie was looking at. Eddie looked down at the cold white treat in his hands, and there was quiet a lot left. Richie had gotten a whole pint each for both of them and while Richie finished his quickly, Eddie had barely made a dent. Eddie brought another spoonful up to his lips, this time slowly dragging the spoon out of his mouth. He could feel Richie shift on the couch. He felt like he was in control in a weird way, and in an even weirder way, it was kind of hot. Now Eddie upped his game, this time swirling his tongue around the spoon. The next spoonful he made sure to leave a good amount left on his lips so he could slide his tongue across them. And the next time, he “accidentally” dropped some on his shirt. Now Eddie was never one to make messes, but this time it was kind of fun. Eddie huffed to make himself seem frustrated and began to suck on the fabric where it had dripped. He mouthed at it and gave it small licks with his tongue. He could feel the intense heat of Richies stare burning into him. He liked to know he did in fact make Richie feel some kind of way and this thing was not one sided. And it was not one sided by a long shot.

Richie wouldn’t take it anymore and grabbed Eddies shoulder. “Eds”. Eddie looked back up at him, as innocent as could be, “yea rich?”. Richie stared him down intensely, searching for something. Eddie looked back, daring. “Can I have some of your Icecream?”.... what? That was not what Eddie was expecting at all. “Uh, sure Rich”, he went to grab the pint but Richie grabbed his sleeve again. “No”, Richie felt incoherent at this point, trying to fight through his lust, “Wan taste now”. Richie dove in for a kiss and Eddie shivered. It was intense and full force, no warning at all. Eddie melted into it, his eyes closing and letting out a soft moan as Richie licked into his mouth. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and moved them up and down. He wanted to feel every single inch of him. One of Richies hands snaked down the the waistband of Eddies shorts and slowly began to slide under. Richie grabbed his bare ass and kneeded it with his palm. Eddie moaned louder, allowing Richie access farther into his mouth. The kiss became even more passionate and Eddies entire body became red hot with burning desire. Richie pushed Eddie down into the couch, now having both hands on the smaller boys bare ass. Eddie grabbed at every part he could, his fingernails raked up and down Richies back, one hand making its way up to Richies neck to pull at the small hairs. Richie groaned and drew back for one second, “please do that again oh god please please please”, he blubbered out. Eddie got a handful of hair this time and pulled harder, Richie had to take his mouth of Eddies as his became breathless. “Fuck”, Eddie whispered “you’re so hot went you’re turned on”. Richie looked down at him again, “oh yea?”. He smiled into Eddies neck and began to kiss him hard. “Mmhm, yea”, Richie sucked at his Adam’s apple. “So”, Eddie was breathless, “h,happy you got that icecream”. Richie laughed into the crook of Eddies neck, “me too Eds”. “Mmm”, Eddie pushed Richie up and off him. Richie looked worried but Eddie came crashing down on top of him. Eddie mouthed at Richies neck, “Wan make you feel good too rich”. Richie breathed out, “holy fuck”. Eds bent down near Richies painfully hard crotch, Richie began to say something but Eddie interrupted, “no I’m not doin that, not tonight atleast”. Eddie kisses Richies hip bones instead and lifted up his shirt so he could see his exposed stomach in the light of the tv screen. Eddie looked down and raked his eyes across Richies body. He was so beautiful. Richie had always been lanky, his ribs slightly exposed from leaning back, and Eddie loved it. Richie got paranoid from Eddies silence. “Sorry im not much to look at”, Richie laughed out. Eddie looked up at him confused, “are you kidding me? God I could stare at this for days, take a picture and frame it even”. Richie awkwardly laughed, “okay whatever you say”. Eddie could hear the doubt in Richies voice and it aches. Eddie kissed Richies jaw and then neck. “Think you’re beautiful rich”, he laid his head on Richies chest, “always have”. “Ohoh yea?” Richie grinned down at him with a goofy smile. “Yea”, Eddie sighed softly and played with Richies chest hair. “Sorry, that was kind of a mood killer thing for me to say huh”, Richie laughed a little solemnly. “It’s alright”, Eddie held him tight, “that’s about as far as I wanted to go tonight anyways”, he smiled up at Richie.

Eddie laid on Richie as the rest of the movie played. Eddie loved the way the bare skin of Richies chest felt against his cheek. When the movie ended Richie whispered, “Hey Eds?”. Eddie looked up through sleepy eyes , “mhm?”. “Do this um”, Richies voice seemed a bit scared, “did this mean anything to you? Cuz it meant a lot to me and I just want to be on the same page because I’ve loved you for a while now and you are my everything and I just think you’re so magical ya know and”-. Eddie cut him off with a quick kiss. “This meant everything to me Rich”, he smiled at him softly. Richie looked at Eddie almost tearful, “Eddie kaspbrak, will you be my boyfriend?”.

“I thought you’d never ask”. And after a quick kiss, the two fell asleep.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2017 #beep beep richie #it fandom #it 1990 #reddie fanfiction #reddie fanfic

63 notes · View notes

impalafortrenchcoats · 6 years

Text

tomorrow never came

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

AO3: Link

Chapter: 2/?

Summary:

A look at Hogwarts and the battle for it through the eyes of the students who lived and loved there.

A BTS/Harry Potter Fusion no one asked for, nor wanted.

Ships: Namjin, Yoonseok/Sope, Jikook/Kookmin, VMinKook

Category: Harry Potter AU, Young Love, Angst, Some Fluff, Battle of Hogwarts

Chapter Wordcount: 6,284

Other Chapters: Part 1/ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Excerpt:

“But, you know what? Yoongi thinks you’re worth the hassle, okay?”

Namjoon continued to stare.

“And I think you’re pretty cool, too. You listened to me go on about Mario and still wanted to play. You’re a weirdo. And I’m awkward. But I like you. So I think you’re worth it, too. Okay? Nod if you understand.”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glistening slightly.

“So, I’m saying it again and I really, really mean it now. You are my friend, Namjoon. And that means I'm going to be here, whether you like it or not. And as Yoongi would put it, fuck the houses .”

Namjoon gave a little choked laugh. Seokjin couldn’t help but lean in to hug him.

“You might be stubborn, Namjoon, but I’ll have you know I’m pretty stubborn, too. I already decided. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

It took a few seconds, but eventually he heard Namjoon whisper, “Okay.”

CHAPTER 2

September 1, 1991: Hogwarts Express

Seokjin Kim knew his life was over.

He huddled on the floor of the empty compartment because crying while seated on the actual seats did not satisfy his current level of woe. He was only eleven, but never had he been more certain of a fact than now. His life was over .

The entire morning was a horrible blur of dramatic screaming, mostly on his part, as he clung to his Nintendo Super Comboy and locked himself in his room, all the while ignoring his parents as they alternated between pleading and demanding his cooperation.

If someone had been passing the Kim residence that morning, many interesting exclamations would have been heard.

Things like: “I don't want to be a wizard, Dad!”

And: “Mario isn't a wizard!”

And: “I want to be plumber!”

He vaguely remembered screaming those along with a litany of other nonsense, he’d admit to that. Okay. It was not one of his finest moments.

However, he felt it was justified considering how his family had literally railroaded him into wizard boarding school with almost no consideration for his social life. Sure, magic was cool. But who was going to play Super Mario World with him? He knew how these things worked, incoming witches and wizards generally fit into two categories: 1. Muggleborns or half-bloods who were raised closer to their muggle roots and were going to be too in-awe of the new environment to appreciate the good old simple fun from their world or 2. Purebloods and those already extensively exposed to magic and would have literally no clue what was happening in the muggle world, particularly in the matter of technology.

Seokjin was both fortunate and unfortunate enough to fall into an odd median between the two. While his father was a pureblood wizard of respectable lineage, he had also inherited the rebellious streak from his own father, who had emigrated from Korea in lieu of continuing the family trade as mediwizards, a respectable career for a Chungin class wizard (Seokjin never understood the class division of the Korean Wizarding World, much like he didn't understand the obsession with blood purity here in the U.K.). In any case, Seokjin’s father had taken rebellion one step further and had not only married a muggle woman but had also chosen a mundane career path as a baker.

That was not to say his upbringing was completely devoid of magic. His father had maintained close ties with their family back in Korea, and Seokjin had spent many a happy summer there.

However, one momentous event last year had taken his life on a whole new path. For his 10th birthday, his uncle, while on business in Korea, had managed to pick up a revolutionary game system, the Nintendo Super Comboy.

And his young life was forever changed.

He swore his allegiance to the magnificence that was Mario and the rest of the adorable pixelated crew in Super Mario World, and that was the end of that.

It may have taken several months of groveling on his uncle’s part, but his mother was now on speaking terms with her brother again, so Seokjin figured no harm no foul.

On one hand, yes he was borderline obsessed with the game system, but on the other, he finally had something that helped him connect with the neighborhood muggles his age. Finally, there was something that overcame even his eternal awkwardness, and over the past year, Seokjin could finally say he had a relatively close group of friends. Heck, he would even call Ken, a boy on his block, his best friend.

But now, all that came crashing down. His adventures in Mario’s world with his real life friends were over. Now, he had to start over from scratch, and with witches and wizards.

There was no hope.

His one consolation was that, as an olive branch (and last resort on his father’s part) for peace and his cooperation, he was able to bring his newly magicked Nintendo Super Comboy with him.

At least he would still have Mario.

Speaking of which, he might as well distract himself from his imminent social ostracization with some artificial friends. There will be plenty of time for intensive boyhood pains and feeling sorry for himself later.

However, just as he reached into his pouch containing the Comboy, which his father had also been kind enough to cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on, the door to his compartment slid open with a loud bang to reveal two boys his age.

Seokjin could feel his eyes blinking rapidly, a terrible nervous habit he’d never been able to break. Bloody hell. He wasn't supposed to let anyone know about the pouch, but here he was, shoulders deep in the bag.

His dad was going to kill him.

Both the newcomers silently stared at him. He'd give them a pass. He sure wouldn't know what to do if he were to open a door and come face to face with a sorry looking kid huddling on the floor of a train compartment, half inside a small pouch, face still probably covered in dried tear stains, blinking aggressively.

His whole life was awkward. His father killing him would be merciful.

“Can I help you?” he asked, because his mother raised him better.

The tall, lankier one was the first to answer, although his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, “Do you mind if we sit here? Everyone up front seems to be making a ruckus about some student being here. It was getting too noisy.”

The whole time Lanky was talking, his friend, a pale, waif-like boy, was giving both Seokjin and his companion extremely dubious looks, like he couldn't decide whether or not he should remain in either of their presence any longer.

“No, go right ahead. There's no one else in here. Except me, I mean. I'm here. Just me.”

“Okay… yeah.” Lanky slid into the room after a short pause, cautiously easing into the bench across from Seokjin.

His friend was a little more reluctant to enter. He turned to look down the train, as if deciding between the pros and cons of going to find another compartment, but ultimately seemed to decide against it as he heaved an impressive sigh and stomped in to collapse next to his friend. He was certainly an interesting character, since the second his butt made contact with the seat, all energy seemed to leak out of him, leaving just enough for him to lazily lift a leg and ease the door close with his foot.

There was an awkward silence. Well, correction, Seokjin was awkward, Lanky was clearly uncomfortable, and Lumpy seemed perfectly fine once he’d melted into the seat. In fact, Seokjin wasn't even sure if he was even awake anymore. Wow. That was fast.

Which was why he jumped and almost dropped the Comboy he was finally pulling out when Lumpy broke the silence, apparently not asleep like he’d thought, “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

Well, here was his chance. New place, new people, new Seokjin Kim.

‘Seokjin-ah, you can do it,’ he thought to himself. ‘Don't be weird. Short and sweet is the way to go.’

But instead, he opened his mouth and cemented his lot in life, “Well, you see, I'm going through a bit of a tough spot right now. My life is over, and I just didn't feel that I could really enjoy the seat properly, and the floor felt like a much better place to mope. Just mope. Not cry. I wasn’t crying. I could move to the seat if it bothers you.”

“I really don't give a shit what you do, mate. I was just asking ‘cause this idiot’s dying to know, but won't ask you until it's too late, and I can't sleep while he’s fidgeting.”

Seokjin honestly didn't have a response for that.

The boy didn't bother to open his eyes as he continued, “Now that that’s out of the way, I'm going to take my nap, now. Don't either of you talk to me until we get to the school or food comes. We good? Good.”

He then proceeded to further melt into his seat and slip into oblivion.

Glancing over to Lanky, Seokjin was slightly comforted to see the boy staring in shocked horror at his friend.

“Is he always like that?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” He looked back Seokjin. “I'm Kim - I mean, I'm Namjoon Kim, by the way, and he's Yoongi Min. Sorry about… actually, I have no idea what I'm apologizing for, but I feel like I should…”

“I'm Seokjin Kim. And if anything I should apologize.”

“For?”

“I don't know? Sitting on the floor? Being awkward?”

“Well, if we all go through life trying to live up to the expectations of society, that would be a whole lot of extra work, wouldn't it?”

Seokjin silently stared at the boy, who had just said what he did with a completely straight face.

‘What?’ he thought.

“What?” he said after a moment’s consideration.

The boy — his name was Namjoon, Seokjin tried to remind himself — gave a little uncomfortable wriggle in his seat before answering, “I mean, I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason why you're sitting on the floor. I don't know your situation so who am I to judge what you're doing.”

“Huh.” Seokjin continued to inspect Namjoon. He came to a very solid conclusion. “You're an odd one, aren't you?”

“Yoongi always said that I don't know when to stop and that I should probably learn to shut the fuck up.”

“Your friend sounds like a real charmer.”

“He grows on you.”

“Like fungus, I'm sure.”

The other boy only shrugged nonchalantly in response.

Another silence fell over the compartment, although this time it was slightly less awkward than before. Namjoon was fiddling with the hem of his robes, which were a nice change from the usual attire of British wizards. Seokjin noticed the similarity of the two boys’ clothes and those worn by the boys in his grandparents’ neighborhood, so he assumed the boys weren’t locals. Not to mention he’d noticed Namjoon’s earlier slip in starting the introduction with his surname.

He wondered about how to start up a conversation when it came to him. He immediately perked up and beamed brightly at Namjoon.

“Speaking of mushrooms, you want to see something cool?”

And that was the end of that. At some point over the next few hours, Seokjin finally pulled himself off of the floor and onto a seat, and Namjoon had slowly migrated from the increasingly squashed seat, as the sleeping Yoongi began to ooze over and claim more of the bench, to sit next to Seokjin. Both boys were deeply immersed in the game as Seokjin struggled to advance in the level while simultaneously answering the myriad of questions Namjoon threw his way.

They worked through a rough patch earlier when a still confused Namjoon had scoffed at the game, and the threat of a resurgence of waterworks from Seokjin ended that train of thought rather quickly.

They hit another bump in the road to Mario when Namjoon tried to apply some overly philosophical meaning to the pixelated characters. Seokjin nipped that at the bud with a deadpanned, “Sometimes a goomba is just a goomba, Namjoon.”

Eventually, they settled into a comfortable pattern which alternated between discussing gameplay and story, Seokjin slapping a bruise into Namjoon’s shoulder whenever Namjoon managed to wrangle the controls from him, and talking about themselves whenever activities permitted.

By the time the food cart rolled around, Seokjin knew that Namjoon came from a relatively affluent family, who were pretty active in politics as was expected of those in the Yangban class in Korea. He and Yoongi were both sent to study at Hogwarts rather than somewhere closer to home as a means to increase their families’ relations abroad. However, despite both being from the same class, from what Seokjin could make of what wasn't being said, Yoongi was from either a branch family or something of the sort and was from a completely different economic background than Namjoon.

In spite of this possible point of contention, both boys had grown up together and remained close friends. Based on this, Seokjin decided he was going to give the prickly character a chance, first impression notwithstanding.

As for Yoongi, it was almost magical how the second the creaking of the food cart was barely audible from their compartment, his eyes eased open without necessitating any involvement from the compartment’s other occupants.

However, Seokjin couldn't help but note with some trepidation that the casual malaise that seemed to cling to the boy’s every movement was contrasted by the sharp gleam in his eyes as he took in the sight of Seokjin and Namjoon huddling over the game.

Not that Seokjin was intimidated or anything.

Maybe just a little.

“Oh, good. Yoongi, you're up.” Namjoon noted, still keeping an eye on the characters and waiting for the next chance to grab the controller.

“You made a friend.” Yoongi’s tone could be considered disbelief, if one overlooked the lazy drawl.

Namjoon looked over and glared in response. Seokjin didn't voice it aloud, just to save his new friend some dignity, but the pout he was throwing at the boy across from him was more on the cute end of the spectrum. He hoped he wasn't aiming for stern.

He failed miserably if he was.

“Shut up. I could make friends. Seokjin, tell him you're my friend.”

“Um… I'm his friend,” Seokjin obliged.

Okay, now the look that Yoongi was throwing their way was just plain rude.

Seokjin raised his eyebrows back at the boy and stared, for a lack of a better response. Ha, that should show him. Seokjin totally had a handle on the situation. He’d never lost a staring contest in his life, and Yoongi had another thing coming if he thought he was starting today.

Of course, the traitor, Namjoon, took his momentary distraction as an invitation to reclaim the controller.

No, just no. Not happening.

The following scuffle was not going to win him any cool points with Namjoon’s judgmental shadow, but this was his game, okay?

And since the universe apparently had it out for him, he was in the middle of contemplating biting Namjoon’s hand because the boy was just that persistent, when the compartment door slid open again, this time revealing the round face of a boy their age. Everyone froze — well, Yoongi wasn't really moving to begin with — and stared at the newcomer.

While he was clearly shocked silent by the hectic scene inside the compartment, it was still clear that the boy was also rather distressed by the barely concealed tears in his eyes.

“You need something?” Yoongi’s gruff voice broke the silence.

Seokjin sent him a stink eye, not that he thought Yoongi cared, but would it kill him to have a heart?

The boy at the door seemed to wilt under their collective gazes but still managed to ask, “Have you seen a toad? My toad’s run off, again, and I can't find him anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Seokjin hurriedly answered before Yoongi could open his mouth. Who knows what kind of remarks would come out if he did. “We haven't seen any toads.”

“Oh,” the boy deflated even more, “I'll just keep looking.”

“Actually, you want some help with that,” Yoongi asked.

Seokjin stared at him in surprise.

“Yeah, Namjoon here loses stuff all the time. He's got plenty of experience looking for shit. He wouldn't mind helping you out, right, Namjoon? Oh, and, Namjoon, you mind grabbing me something from the food cart while you're at it? Something sweet. I don't care what.”

Of course.

It didn't surprise Seokjin when Namjoon stood to do just that with only a wary glare thrown Yoongi’s way.

As Namjoon ushered the boy out the doorway and off to who knows where, Seokjin managed to catch part of their conversation. The new boy was obviously still unsure about the turn of events.

“You really don't have to do this! I’ll just keep looking. Trevor usually turns up on his own. Um, I'm Neville Longbottom, by the way,” the boy said, his voice fading as they wandered away from the compartment.

Inside, however, the atmosphere abruptly turned cold. Yoongi didn't move, but the entire weight of his gaze fell on Seokjin. And with no Namjoon as a distraction, Seokjin was left wide eyed and clutching his controller.

“Look. I don't know you, but Namjoon? I think you’ve talked with him enough to realize some things, right?”

“He takes Mario way too seriously?”

Yoongi just raised his eyebrow before continuing, “I don't know how things work for you British wizards, but back home things aren't so straightforward. Did Namjoon mention his family?”

“Not really, but I guess they’re something of a big deal? You guys are Yangban , right?”

“Mm-hm. So, consider this a warning, this whole thing, coming to Hogwarts, studying abroad, was Namjoon’s idea, his father doesn't really approve of this. And he sure as hell isn’t going to approve of you.”

Seokjin began to bristle at this, “So are you telling me I can't be friends with him? Because you can take that and shove it — ”

Yoongi gave a short laugh, “No. I'm giving you a warning. Namjoon’s a lot more sensitive than he looks, and I just don't want to deal with the shitstorm later when things go to shit because some pansy-ass decides that there are easier things to do than be friends with a Yangban politician’s son.”

Seokjin stared for a moment.

He wanted to open his mouth and refute the implied accusation.

But the thing was, Seokjin had been to Korea enough times to get the gist of what Yoongi was saying. He had seen firsthand the unspoken but strictly upheld social expectations. He had heard rumors, more horror stories really, of what happens to those who crossed those of higher power. And ultimately, that was all it was, here it was all about blood purity, but there it was about class power. Both were something completely out of people’s control and Seokjin didn't understand it.

He knew himself. He wasn't complicated, and what he wanted was simply a comfortable existence. Conflict was difficult to avoid, of course, but he always tried his best to avoid situations that increased the likelihood.

Situations like these.

Namjoon apparently was going to throw a wrench in his plans for quietly powering through Hogwarts and bailing the second h e graduated.

But here, Yoongi was giving him an out.

Seokjin studied the boy for a moment. He was speaking from experience, Seokjin was sure. There would be consequences to being of an elite class without the financial backings expected of it. He was sure the other boy didn't have it easy either, but he still managed to maintain a friendship with Namjoon.

Suddenly, a wave of some unnamed emotion shook him as he really took in the situation. He thought of his grandfather and what he must have been thinking when he left his home. He thought of his father and mother for some odd reason.

In the end he thought about Yoongi, and he was grateful. Yeah, he could see why Namjoon liked him, in all his prickly glory.

Instead of answering, Seokjin reached into his pouch and pulled out his lunch boxes — his mom knew he was a bottomless pit.

“You want some ddeokpokki?” he asked.

“What?”

“It's really good. Mom always adds octopus because I said fish cakes alone were boring.”

The confusion on Yoongi’s face was the most expressive he’d been all day.

He took a moment to digest what Seokjin said before opening his mouth and trying again, “What?”

“You told Namjoon to get something sweet. The cart lady only has snacks, I should know, I made dad tell me all about the food here. You shouldn't eat sweets on an empty stomach. So, you want some ddeokpokki? I think I have some sandwiches, too.”

Yoongi blinked at him, “Did you not hear anything I just said? What the fuck, mate?”

“Of course I did. I just assume you and Namjoon are going to be a packaged deal. And you're too skinny anyway. Also, did you know you curse a lot?”

Yoongi stared at him.

He let the Yoongi mull things over and busied himself looking for some utensils. They were going to have to share the chopsticks, he guessed.

“What kind of sandwiches do you have?” Yoongi asked finally.

Seokjin smiled and happily went about describing his lunch.

By the time Namjoon got back, Yoongi was munching away at the ddeokpokki, while Seokjin was sulking with the sandwiches. He only offered someof the rice cakes, not all. Yoongi chose to deliberately ignore his attempts at reclaiming them.

“Did you get my sweets?” Yoongi asked.

“Did you find his toad?” Seokjin followed with what he felt was a much more pertinent question.

Rather than respond, Namjoon chucked two pumpkin pastries and a chocolate frog at Yoongi’s head. Only a pastry made contact but bounced harmless off the side of the boy’s head. Yoongi squinted at Namjoon, eyes promising future retribution.

Namjoon ignored him. Although he did throw a few odd looks between Yoongi, Seokjin, and the extra food.

“We didn't find the toad, but we ran into some girl who insisted on helping out. So I left Neville with her and came back,” he said, finally.

“That's too bad. I hope he finds his toad soon,” Seokjin said. “You want a sandwich? I would offer ddeokpokki but some people don't know the meaning of the word ‘share’.”

Yoongi didn't even bother to acknowledge his statement.

As for Namjoon, he continued to look back and forth between the two boys, “So… that's it?”

“What’s it? I have some gamja-jorim, but mom didn't pack a lot of side dishes.”

“No, I mean…” Namjoon trailed off and glanced over at Yoongi.

Yoongi just shook his head, “You can't have the ddeokpokki.”

“Yes, he can! It’s not yours, anyway.”

With purposefully slow movement, Yoongi picked up a rice cake and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth while holding eye contact with Seokjin.

The asshole.

If anything, Namjoon looked more confused by the interaction, “No, I meant to say, what are — ”

He stopped as abruptly as he started, still giving them odd looks. Then he just shrugged and slumped back in his seat.

“You know what? Never mind. Can I have a sandwich?”

Seokjin handed him one, and that was the end of that.

The rest of the train ride was a relatively quiet one, although much more comfortable than before. Yoongi was even kind enough to share a pumpkin pastry with Seokjin and Namjoon, although that may have had to do more with taking the opportunity to hit the lightly dozing Namjoon in the face with the sweet.

The girl who had helped Neville earlier had stopped by at some point and reminded them to change into their school robes, which they did with little complaint.

By the time they were struggling into the rickety little boats that were supposed to carry them to the school, Seokjin would say that he had a relatively solid understanding of the two other boys and would happily call them both friends.

Their boat ended up being only the three of them, since Seokjin was sitting next to Namjoon, and Yoongi just glared at anyone who dared approach him.

And when their boat rounded the bend in the lake and the entirety of the castle became visible, Seokjin had to grudgingly give it to his dad; Hogwarts was pretty cool.

It also gave him a good chance to study Namjoon’s dimples as he took in the sight.

On the other hand, the castle quickly lost points once they were off the boats and were lined up to enter the castle. Seokjin promised himself he would apologize to Namjoon later for the bruises on his arm and the ringing in his ears, when he screamed and latched onto the boy as the ghosts came through the wall to observe the First Years.

He wouldn't be holding his breath for Yoongi’s apology for the scratches on his and Namjoon’s backs from the same incident, though. He was just grateful the other boy didn't rip their school robes in his fright.

When the bustling of the students died down and they were finally ushered into the Great Hall, Seokjin was only mildly surprised to hear it was going to be a hat that was sorting them into their respective houses. His father did mention that the sorting process wasn't going to be anything taxing or painful, unlike what the rumors implied.

What he was surprised with was the hat’s singing. But before they knew it, names were being called and one by one the students sat down on the stool, and when their houses were announced, went to their respective tables.

It was only when Professor McGonagall called, “Kim, Namjoon,” that Seokjin realized he was still clinging onto the other boy’s arm.

He quickly let go, but automatically straightened Namjoon’s robes before backing off and letting the boy make his way to the center of the hall.

It was a few long minutes before the crease in the hat opened and called, “ Slytherin !”

Seokjin was probably the only unsorted student who was clapping along with the students at the green table. Yoongi rolled his eyes at his antics, but he didn't pay the spoilsport any mind. He wanted to show his support. Namjoon was still his first friend at Hogwarts, after all.

And he knew to appreciate Mario.

He didn't have too much time to cheer, since as soon as Namjoon was seated, a sharp call rang for, “Kim, Seokjin.”

Seokjin quickly made his way over, only pausing to smile shakily at Yoongi.

Once seated, the hat was quickly settled over his head, obscuring his view of the hall.

“Ha! Not too keen on Hogwarts, are you? Well, can't say this is a first, but definitely not something I've seen all too often,” he heard the hat’s voice in his head.

“I’m sorry. If it's any consolation, I wouldn't have been happy with any wizarding school.” He hoped he hadn't hurt the hat’s feelings… did hats have feelings? Surely a singing one would have some level of sentience.

The hat chuckled, “No harm done, child. You didn't want to leave your friends, isn't that right? It's good to see one with a level of conscientiousness. Now where to put you, hm?”

Seokjin didn't know what to say, but he thought of Namjoon and Yoongi. He didn't care where he ended up, but they were his friends and since he’d decided it, he was going to keep them. So it didn't really matter which house he was in, he was going to make it work.

“A tenacious one, aren't you? Keeping friendships between houses won't be an easy task. It will mean a lot of hardships.”

Seokjin shook his head slightly. He didn't care. He knew it was going to be hard work from the beginning. Yoongi even warned him.

“So be it. In that case, better be-”

“ Hufflepuff !” The hat called out.

He quickly took off the hat and gingerly placed it back on the stool. As he was making his way over to the Hufflepuff’s table, he tried catching Namjoon’s eye, but the other boy was staring hard at the plate in front of him.

‘What's wrong with him,’ Seokjin wondered. He kept trying to get Namjoon’s attention until he heard Yoongi’s name being called.

“Min, Yoongi.”

It would be a lie to say he wasn't shocked when the hat barely touched Yoongi’s head before calling out, “ Huffepuff !”

Yoongi frowned the whole way over to Seokjin. It was much less shocking when he all but shoved over a boy already seated next to Seokjin to make room for himself.

Seokjin debated apologizing to the other Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, but gave that idea up when Yoongi crowded his personal space to squint aggressively in his face.

“We have a problem.”

“Yeah. You've killed my personal space bubble. Please back off, Yoongi. I can't take you seriously when you're this close.”

Yoongi did sit back a bit, but his squint was all the more intense, “This is all your fault.”

“Wait, what's the problem exactly?” He thought about what Yoongi said for a moment and added, “And how is it my fault?”

“Why the hell am I in Hufflepuff!”

“How should I know? Wait, was that a rhetorical question?”

“That wasn't a question. This is me explaining the problem to you. I am here. That's not suppose to happen. The only reason I went along with this whole thing was to look out for Namjoon. You don't understand. I don't care how many tests say he's a certified genius, that idiot is a fucking dumbass. I can't watch his sorry ass if I'm stuck over here!”

“You know, it's probably thoughts like that that landed you in Hufflepuff.”

“What?”

“Weren't you listening to the hat?”

“It’s a fucking singing hat!”

“Well, it was singing for a reason! Hardworking and loyal, Yoongi. Those are the traits of Hufflepuff. You were probably all worried about Namjoon. No wonder the hat sorted you so quickly.”

Yoongi stared at him for a minute before uttering a very vehement, “Fuck!”

Seokjin was just about to bring up Yoongi’s unnecessary excess use of expletives again when all around them loud excited whispers broke out. He and Yoongi looked around in confusion before he caught the Macmillan kid saying, “Is that really Harry Potter?”

He turned just in time to see the dark tuft of hair on a small figure disappear under the sorting hat.

“Huh,” he said, mostly to himself, “I forgot he was starting school this year.”

“Who's that? Is he famous or something? They were making a big fuss about him earlier on the train.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you and Namjoon aren't from around here.”

“So, he's famous?”

“That's an understatement. I'll tell you guys later. Now, about Namjoon, I don't think you're giving him enough credit. The hat put him there for a reason. I'm sure he'll do fine.”

“You have no idea. He’s known as the God of Destruction back home for a reason.”

“Okay. You're going to have to tell me the story behind that later, but what are you so worried about. He still has us. We’re just in different houses, not planets.”

Yoongi gave him a blank stare, “You sure he knows that?”

Seokjin eyes widened in surprise, “What? Yes! He should — I mean — we were…”

He looked over at the Slytherin table where Namjoon was clearly ignoring them.

Seokjin felt his whole face pinch into what he could only assume was an expression of complete and utter dismay.

“That fucking dumbass!”

Yoongi reached over and patted him on the back, “Welcome to the club.”

And so it was that while the rest of the student body began to belt out Hoggy Warty Hogwarts , Seokjin occupied himself by glaring holes into the back of Namjoon’s head. Yoongi was seemingly too busy judging the entire British wizarding world to sing along with everyone.

Dinner came and went, and the students were told to follow the prefects to their dormitories. Seokjin couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of emptiness while taking in the sight of Namjoon as he continued to avoid looking at the two of them.

This simply would not do.

As a public service announcement, it should be noted that two very determined Hufflepuffs on a mission were a terrifying sight to behold.

It took one week and several hours of stalking later, but Yoongi and Seokjin were finally able to corner Namjoon. Although, they had a slight hitch in their plans when one of the Slytherins, a Theodore Nott, had taken it as a personal slight that two seemingly inoffensive first-year Hufflepuffs had the gall to attempt to abscond with one of his housemates. The entire thing came to head in an unfortunately public setting.

One thing was made readily clear from the encounter: Pureblood children were not often faced with good-old, physical threats in a schoolyard confrontation.

What Yoongi lacked in physicality, he made up for in pure, rage-fueled ferocity. He fought like a berserker with nothing to lose.

Seokjin, being a loyal and conscientious friend, made sure to hold onto Yoongi’s wand and cloak for safekeeping as Yoongi single-handedly destroyed all preconceptions about House Hufflepuff in one vicious swoop, colorful profanity and all.

Fortunately, the incident was largely swept under the rug by both parties present, mainly due to mutually assured shame.

The Hufflepuffs were simply not ready to have their peaceful reputation so utterly tarnished, while the Slytherins simply couldn't admit defeat to the badgers, and first years no less.

And, yet, despite the embarrassment from the entire fiasco, Namjoon remained mulishly doubtful of the sincerity of their friendship. It took some effort on Seokjin’s part not to allow Yoongi to beat some sense into their idiot friend, but the time of violence was over. Also, Seokjin wasn't really sure how effective the physical persuasion would be with someone who actually grew up with Yoongi.

He mentioned as much to his still fuming housemate, and Yoongi responded with a loud, “Well, you talk to him! I'm out!”

Yoongi emphatically grabbed both his robe and wand back from Seokjin and proceeded to storm away, leaving in his wake a hallway full of petrified Hufflepuffs, not all of whom were first years.

Seokjin took Namjoon’s momentary distraction by Yoongi’s dramatic exit as a good opportunity to take him by the hand and drag him away to a more secluded area. They ended up in an empty classroom, where Seokjin immediately shoved Namjoon into a chair and all but sat on him to get him to stay.

He made a point to look directly into the taller boy’s eyes as he spoke, “Namjoon, listen to me, okay? I'm not smart like you, and I don't have a way with words like you, so don't expect anything fancy, but you are going to listen to what I have to say. Understood?”

Namjoon nodded at him, probably shocked silent by his forward approach.

“You asked me to tell Yoongi that I was your friend when we were on the train, remember?”

Namjoon nodded again, blushing slightly at the reminder.

“I have to admit, I probably didn't really mean it at the time, because you know, that's a weird request and all. But, after you left, you know what Yoongi told me?”

Namjoon shook his head.

“He said that being your friend was a hassle. And he's right. You are a problem and a half, Namjoon. You're stubborn, too smart for your own good, and without enough common sense to figure your way around people. Your family is going to hate my guts, probably more than they do Yoongi’s. And you don’t even have the decency to appreciate this.”

Namjoon only stared at him. Seokjin continued before the other boy could process his words enough to be hurt.

“But, you know what? Yoongi thinks you’re worth the hassle, okay?”

Namjoon continued to stare.

Namjoon nodded, eyes glistening slightly.

Namjoon gave a little choked laugh. Seokjin couldn’t help but lean in to hug him.

“You might be stubborn, Namjoon, but I’ll have you know I’m pretty stubborn, too. I already decided. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

It took a few seconds, but eventually he heard Namjoon whisper, “Okay.”

Seokjin smiled and released...

… a breath he didn't realized he was holding.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, how long he had been lost in memory.

It was good, he thought to himself.

Not always, of course, but it had been really good. He was lucky to have them, his friends. They were all stupid, idiot goof-balls, but they were his, and he wouldn't change any second of it even knowing the end. It was probably him being naive, but Seokjin couldn’t work up the slightest doubt that it had all been worth it.

He got to say good-bye, even.

Who knew how many were lucky enough to get even that. He wanted more, though. He wished he had said something to Yoongi and Jimin before running off, but at least he was sure Yoongi understood. And the younger boys, Merlin, he hoped they were all okay. But, Taehyung and Hoseok weren’t even in a house with anyone else.

Please, please, please, don’t let them do anything stupid.

At least with Jungkook, Seokjin was certain that Namjoon wouldn’t have run off without making sure the youngest in their group was safe.

And, Namjoon. Seokjin bit his lips as he tried to ignore the pangs of guilt. He never intended to break his promise.

Maybe someday Namjoon will forgive him.

Special thanks to allourheroes for cleaning up my writing mess.

#bts #bangtan #bts fic #namjin #jikook #kookmin #yoonseok #sope #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #my fanfic #myfanfic #fic: tomorrow never came

9 notes · View notes