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kitten4sannie · 1 year

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𝐂𝐡. 𝟐: 𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞?

ch 1

Ex Boyfriend! Wooyoung x Fem! Reader

Genre: gratuitous smut, angst

Summary: After having a pleasant night out with your friend, seeing Wooyoung's name pop up on your phone almost made you scream. You knew that even if you had ignored his call, he would just keep calling you back, so you gave in — just like every other time.

W.C: 6.5k (could be longer cuz I didn't check when I edited it lol)

Warnings: exes with benefits, switch! Wooyoung (yes you read that right 🥵), switch! reader, weed use, Wooyoung's still a dick, toxicity, lots of swearing, there are feelings involved (that's as descriptive as i'll get ;;), name calling, degradation, use of the word "baby", ownership kink, filthy dialogue, spit play, messy blowjob, deep throating, brief cum play, face riding, manhandling, rough/passionate (unprotected) sex, choking, multiple positions, kissing, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N: writing this one out just really hit different fsr and now i'm kinda sad that this is the...end?? maybe? who knows i might have some more ideas up my sleeve :] but i hope you all enjoy 🖤💔

p.s: take a tiny sip of water every time Wooyoung or y/n say “fuck/fucking” and you’ll be incredibly hydrated 💕

Fic Playlist

Masterlist

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"Byeee, get home safe!" you called out to your friend, watching as she opened her car door and craned her neck back to look at you, giving you a small smile and a peace sign. You repeated her actions, waiting for her to get into her car, before you followed suit.

Once you got situated inside your own car, you unlocked your phone to set up a queue of songs for your drive home, almost throwing it onto the dash when you saw Wooyoung's name pop up on your screen. "Awesome," you mumbled to yourself, bringing your thumb and index finger up to squeeze the bridge of your nose, sighing in dismay.

You saw there with your phone buzzing against your hand for a few seconds, ears zoning in on the sound of your heart racing inside your chest. "Fuck, okay." You leaned your head back against the headrest and reluctantly answered his call, snapping, "Let me guess. You want me to come over, right?" And you're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Mm, you're already wound up all nice and tight for me, huh?" your ex returned in a low voice, unable to see the way you were gripping your thigh with your free hand. "I like that."

You let out an ‘augh’ sound, as if you were disgusted, making an attempt to bring him down a peg or two. “Of course you would. Your life must be really sad if you get turned on just by the thought of arguing with me.”

"Yours must be even worse since you're always willing to become an obedient little cumdump for me," he replied swiftly, chuckling when he didn't get a response, except for a small gasp on your end. "I'll see you soon, y/n."

Hearing Wooyoung simply hang up the call after what he had said should've made you mad, but it almost had the exact opposite effect on you — once again proving that the both of you were one and the same. Quietly ignoring the butterflies that were trying to escape your stomach, you pressed on a random song in your playlist and put your car in reverse, not even noticing when your lips curled into a small smile.

* * *

"Sup." You waved at Wooyoung from the doorway, kicking off your shoes and setting your bag down, then joining him on the couch.

"Hey," Wooyoung mumbled, not noticing how delayed his response was. "Took you long enough." He already looked high as hell, with red and glossy eyes, along with his voice coming out like he had just taken a tablespoon of sand.

"Uh-huh." Getting comfortable, you brought your foot underneath your opposite leg and leaned back into the cushion, smoothing out your skirt a bit and leisurely fixing the length of one of your kneesocks.

Wooyoung's gaze slowly traveled up and down your body, causing his Adam's apple to bob inside his throat. He unconsciously grabbed at the crotch of his joggers, his tongue just barely poking out of his mouth to swipe over his bottom lip. "Wow, you actually got dressed up this time. You look...good."

Despite being used to Wooyoung's 'compliments', his words still sought to get under your skin. However, you swallowed your annoyance down, for now, as you were far more interested in the way your ex was blatantly eye-fucking you. "Well, yeah, I had plans before this, but that's not even the point. You usually call me late at night, so do you really expect me to come over with a full face of makeup and a whole coordinated outfit, or what?"

While you had been talking, Wooyoung made the best use of his time, bringing his bong up to his lips and lighting it, idly glancing down at your thighs. He sucked inward for a while, then pulled the mouthpiece out, still inhaling, all while internally pondering how he should answer you. Once the vapor drifted out of his mouth, he shook his head, replying, "Nah, just like...put on some mascara or something."

You took the bong from him when he passed it to you, silently taking a hit and mulling over his words, unable to keep yourself from smirking once you had exhaled. "Why? So you can watch it run down my face when you're fucking my brains out?"

When you had motioned for him to take the bong back, his slender fingers settled on yours for a moment, not making an attempt to pull away. "Ideally, yeah," he nodded lazily, his brown eyes lingering on your glossy lips. "I want to cum all over that slutty face of yours, too...and make you all messy."

Feeling your body respond to what Wooyoung had done and said, you leaned closer to him, your shoulders touching. "You never get tired of doing that, do you?" you asked, setting the bong down on the floor, so that you could rest your hand on Wooyoung's thigh, your fingertips just barely reaching the inseam of his pants.

Chuckling softly, Wooyoung shook his head, casually grabbing your hand and moving it farther up his leg, until he went stiff upon hearing his phone vibrating against the armrest of the couch. He immediately reached for it and pressed on one of the multiple text notifications he had received. “Hold up.”

You looked down at his phone, your once inquisitive expression melting into one that could only be described as pure disgust. “Are you actually serious right now?” you scoffed in disbelief, watching as Wooyoung scrolled through some highly explicit nudes that some rando had sent to him.

“What? Don’t act like you’re not fucking around with other people. Jesus, y/n, get off your high horse.”

“High horse? Really? It’s not even about that! You just–…ugh…never mind.” You shook your head slightly, not having the energy to get into it with Wooyoung for the thousandth time.

Wooyoung let out an exasperated sigh, typing something back to the stranger and repositioning himself on the couch. “Give me a minute, okay? Just fill up another bowl and I’ll be done before you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” you huffed, grabbing the grinder that was sitting on the cluttered coffee table and opening it, grumbling something rude under your breath.

“What was that?” Wooyoung eyed you through his peripheral, one of his eyebrows raising slightly.

You carefully filled up the glass mouthpiece, shaking your head a bit. “Nothing, just hurry up.”

“Uh-huh.”

You initially thought you had gotten over the way Wooyoung was still just sitting there in silence and ignoring your presence so that he could sext someone — since you were occupied with the abundant offering of weed he provided you. However, when you had reached a comfortable high, you finally began to feel pissed.

“Why did you even fucking call me over here, if you’re just going to do that, huh?” you questioned bitterly, just in time for you to witness your ex shamelessly pulling his dick out and wrapping his fingers around it, while using the other hand to hold his phone up. “Woo, are you s–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Wooyoung glanced in your direction, giving you a dirty look, before he began to stroke himself, exhaling when he started to get hard, pressing the record button.

Growling out of frustration, you moved toward Wooyoung, reaching your hand out. “Give me that shit,” you remarked, snatching his phone out of his hand and tossing it onto the carpet. Before he had a chance to retaliate, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, pushing his thighs apart from one another so that you could fit in between them.

“What are you…aaaah-oh, god…” he reacted, gripping his upper thigh when he felt your soft lips and tongue encase the tip of his cock, watching as you slid them down along his length and back up a few times, letting out a small noise of approval when you did it agonizingly slow the last time around.

You swirled your tongue around the tip languidly, prior to flicking it across the small slit, earning a groan from Wooyoung. “That’s what I fucking thought,” you taunted, using your thumb to rub against his frenulum in small, gentle circles, knowing that it was sensitive.

“Oh, shit…that feels good…” he exhaled, ignoring your attempt at slighting him, too caught up with the lust that was flooding his senses. “Spit on it, baby.”

You froze for a second when you heard what he had called you, which was unusual, since you had been used to him calling you that, but suddenly it seemed to yank at your heartstrings. Ignoring this revelation, you eventually obliged his request, drawing saliva into your mouth and letting it drip down onto his cock, one long string at a time, all while your dilated eyes gazed up into Wooyoung’s glazed-over ones. “Like that, Woo?”

“Uh-huh. Now, get to work,” he smirked, his cock growing harder inside your hand.

“Sounds good~” you purred, almost forgetting that you were supposed to hate him, your fingers tightening around his length and pumping it quickly, your lips attaching to his cockhead.

He drank in the sight of you, incredibly pleased with the way you were looking at him, his fingers slipping into your hair. “Messier, baby.”

You slurped on his twitching tip, bringing some of your spit into your mouth, then spitting it back out, moaning softly when it dripped down the sides of his cock. You moved your saliva around with your tongue, making sure to run it across his slit a few times, teasing him once again.

“That’s it…” Wooyoung slid down against the couch slightly, spreading his legs open a bit more, only snapping out of his hazy state when he heard his phone buzzing on the carpet, most likely receiving a FaceTime call from the ignored individual. “Hey, can you grab my phone and hand it to me?”

As your brows drew close and your nose scrunched up in anger, you tightened your grip around Wooyoung’s member, resisting the urge to squeeze it until you heard a disconcerting sound. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Wooyoung let out an abrupt chuckle, not meaning what he said in the slightest, but just simply saying it for your reaction. “Mmm, you must really want to suck my cock, if you’re getting this upset over some nudes.” Without any warning, he grabbed your chin and tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him. “You’re jealous, huh? Answer me, slut.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” you retorted, glaring daggers up at Wooyoung, your lips forming a small scowl. “I took time out of my night to see you, so I expect to have your full attention and not have to compete with some stupid cunt I don’t even know!”

Another pleased laugh escaped from Wooyoung’s throat, a rare grin gracing his irritatingly handsome features. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get this jealous. I’m kind of shocked, actually.” He leaned in and pulled your face closer in his direction as well, so that he could clearly see your next reaction. “Did you fall in love with me again, y/n? I wouldn’t blame you. I know you can’t help it.”

For a second there, the fear on your face was visible, but was quickly replaced with your usual display of annoyance. “Just shut up and let me suck your dick, before it goes all limp on me!” you protested, wrapping your fingers loosely around the base of his cock and pumping it again, encouraging Wooyoung to release his grip on you and allow you to go back to what you were doing earlier, but with more enthusiasm.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby…” Wooyoung’s long fingers remained entangled in your locks, but he didn’t pull at it, instead stroking it in an oddly affectionate manner. “Are you gonna deep-throat my cock? Huh? Are you gonna show me how much a slut like you loves sucking dick?”

Wooyoung’s baiting words only served to fuel your desire to see him cum for you. You didn’t even let yourself tease him anymore, and instead, allowed him into your throat, relieved that your gag-reflex wasn’t as active this time around. “Mmmmfff…” was all you could manage to get out, wanting to look up at Wooyoung, but unable to do so, with the way your irises were disappearing behind your shutting eyelids.

“Jesus Christ, I wish you could see the face you’re making…” he exhaled, somewhat shakily, gathering up your hair and holding it so none of it could hide his view of your face. “You’re such a fucking whore for me. I bet that cunt of yours is dripping already, just from having my cock down your throat.”

Feeling your pussy clench around nothing but air, you bobbed your head diligently, shoving most of his length down your throat in a way that drove him absolutely crazy — unable to hold yourself back. The thickening drool that consistently pooled inside your mouth slowly dripped down your chin and chest in abundance, letting you hear Wooyoung groan in approval.

“F-ffffuuuck, I…Oh, god…I think I’m…” his voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, knowing he was about to cum at any given second.

“Mm-hmm? Mm-hmm?” you moaned onto him, giving it your all, as if your rent was due tomorrow. You gripped his lower thighs, reluctantly pulling yourself off of him when you heard him mutter the word ‘open’, wanting to giggle after he could barely form the two syllables.

Cum shot out of Wooyoung’s cock, mostly landing near your mouth and on your chest, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. “Mm…” As if he was waiting for this exact moment, his fingertips were already rubbing the warm, sticky liquid all over your lips and chin, making sure to smear some across your cheek, appreciating how it began to mess up your makeup. “Look at you…You’re my messy little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, your jaw going lax, unable to hide how insanely turned on you were. Wooyoung took advantage of this and pushed his coated fingers onto your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth and suck on them, until they were clean.

“Good girl.”

You and Wooyoung sat there for a while, just looking into each other’s lustful eyes, neither of you knowing what to make of the unspoken jumble of emotions you both continuously decided to shove away.

Squeezing one of Wooyoung’s thighs, you smirked a bit, inquiring in a smug tone, “That must’ve felt really good, huh?”

“You were able to make me cum pretty fast this time, I’ll give you that. Though, my friend is still able to suck dick better than you, unfortunately…but, you know, practice makes perfect.” Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, giving into his usual toxic routine and trying to bring you down, all the while his cheeks and ears were still flushed beyond measure.

“Oh my god, will you shut up already?” you rasped, as you shot up from the floor, angrily pulling your top up and over your head, then sliding yourself out of your skirt, revealing you had nothing on underneath — much to your ex’s delight. “I’m sick and tired of hearing the stupid shit you say! So fucking tired of it…”

“Oh, yeah?” he gauged, his voice almost coming out like a moan, clearly getting off on how much he was upsetting you.

“Yeah!” You suddenly grabbed Wooyoung by the shoulders and yanked him down onto the couch cushion below, instantly straddling him, so that you were positioned directly over his face.

Surprised by your sudden actions, Wooyoung simply stayed put, his eyes trailing from the band of your knee socks up to your dripping cunt.

You let out a huff, using two fingers to spread your pussy for him so that he could get a good look at it. “Why don’t you put that big fucking mouth of yours to good use? Hm? Does that sound like a good idea?”

“Excuse me? You think I’m just going to do what you say?” he scoffed, using one hand to smack your ass, grabbing it roughly afterwards, eliciting a gasp from you. “I’ll eat your slutty little cunt if I feel like it — not when you tell me to. Now, get off of me, before I kick your ass!”

He was about to continue his tirade when you gripped the sides of his head and pressed yourself onto his mouth, rubbing your wet folds on his plush lips. “Shut the fuck up and stick your tongue out.”

Pleasantly surprised by your aggressiveness, Wooyoung hesitated, but eventually obeyed, holding his tongue out, so that you could rub yourself on it, causing him to let out a small whimper, not able to hold it in.

“Mm, that’s it,” you mumbled to yourself, moving your hips at an increasingly desperate pace, wanting to cum as soon as possible. “Look at you. Just a second ago, you were so tough and scary, Woo. What happened?”

Wooyoung groaned out against you, using his tongue to lap at your slit whenever he could, your wetness leaking out into his mouth, causing his eyes to roll back into his skull. Of course, he loved having control over you, but he couldn’t ignore how painfully hard he was, so he decided to just go with the flow.

“Mmmm, that’s a good boy. You want to fuck me with your tongue next?” you questioned, in between pants, running your fingers through his hair, before gripping it roughly, earning an uncharacteristically whiny moan from him. “Answer me, you whore!”

He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his eyebrows knitting together in an upward motion, the tip of his cock now dripping pre-cum, as he emitted a muffled “Mm-hmmm!”

Normally, he would’ve gone ballistic from hearing you talk to him like that, but he was so turned on, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. In fact, he desperately hoped you kept going.

“Good…” you exhaled, letting go of his head for a second to rake your fingers through your somewhat-tangled hair, moving it out of your line of vision and behind your ear. “You better make me cum.”

Wooyoung slid his hands past your ass and up near your hips, then angled himself so that he could push his tongue inside your pulsing hole. He dug his fingers into your skin, shoving his tongue in and out of you as deep as he possibly could.

You breathed heavily, fucking yourself on his tongue as well, feeling like you were already going to cum, not only from the pleasure, but from the shift in power. “You always…act so big and bad…but you really…you really just want to get treated-nnngh-like a little fuck toy, don’t you?“

Wooyoung whined against you, almost pleading with his glossy, watery eyes, giving you the answer you wanted when he moaned, “Uh-huhhhh…”

“You’re so pathetic,” you mused arrogantly, giving Wooyoung a satisfied smile, flashing your canines at him. You had sort of expected to see anger boil up to the surface of your ex’s features, but you were instead met with a face that only could be described as pure bliss. “Now, suck on my clit.”

Wooyoung obeyed, pulling his arousal-coated tongue out of your pulsing hole and wrapping his plush lips around your clit, sucking on it with varying levels of intensity, knowing exactly how to drive you to your breaking point.

“God, that’s…Oh, shit…” you reacted shakily, your vision starting to blur around the edges, unintentionally bucking your hips up. “I’m so close…Just a little…more…”

With his arms locking around you so that you couldn’t escape, Wooyoung alternated between licking and sucking, groaning when you squeezed your thighs around his head.

“Fuck…!” you cried out, squirting so incredibly hard that you faded out of existence for longer than you had anticipated.

Wooyoung panted softly against your pussy, quietly slurping up your essence, in between shallow breaths, a deep blush imprinted on his cheeks. His eyes were closed and his mind was clouded over, as he came down from his own high, despite not even being physically stimulated.

Once you came to, you let out a satisfied sigh, climbing off of Wooyoung and standing up, in order to reach out your limbs and stretch them. “Ahh, who knew you could be so tolerable? You gotta be a whiny little sub for me more often.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, trying to wipe your cum off of his face, but unable to do anything about the arousal that had already wet his hair.

“Damn, relax.”

Feeling something on your lower back, you swiped at it and looked down at your hand, unable to hide your amusement when you saw the milky white substance dripping through your fingers. “Holy shit, did you cum just from that?” you blurted out, looking up and pointing at Wooyoung’s cum-covered abdomen. “Oh my god, you did!”

Wooyoung gritted his teeth tightly, unable to handle the amount of humiliation that washed over him, suddenly pissed that you were treating him like he normally treated you.

You were practically tingling from the newfound power you had felt, almost ready to cast aside your role as an obedient sub. Almost. “I guess you really like when I’m in control, huh? Should I use a strap on you n-”

Before you could finish, Wooyoung had already grabbed you by your upper arm and forced you face-down onto the couch cushion where he had just been laying, allowing you to feel the body heat that still remained there.

Pulling his t-shirt off with his free hand and tossing it to the ground, Wooyoung lowered himself to your ear, stating, “Don’t forget your place, y/n. I may have let you get away with that, but you’re still my little toy at the end of the day. You belong to me, don’t you?”

Biting your bottom lip, you wondered if you should give your ex the satisfaction of answering his question truthfully, afraid that it would cause his ego to double in size. “Just because you-”

“Don’t you, y/n? Isn’t that why you always let me treat you like this?” he interrupted in a low voice, positioning himself at your entrance, with his hand pressed onto the back of your head, pushing it into the couch.

“Mm-hmm…” you mumbled out, internally berating yourself for being so incredibly weak when it came to Wooyoung.

“Say it, y/n.”

Feeling the head of his dick just barely pushing inside your cunt and stretching you out, you began to nod your head against the palm of his hand, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. “I…I belong to you…”

Without giving you any sort of warning, Wooyoung grunted, plunging his cock into you, bottoming out in less than a second. “That’s fucking right.” Your obedience gave Wooyoung the incentive to destroy you, pushing him to begin slamming himself in and out of you, knowing he wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

A few mindless obscenities fell from your lips, as you felt your body completely relax into the cushion, taking Wooyoung’s rough treatment without any complaints.

Wooyoung took incredible delight in the way you always seemed to submit to him, letting out a few airy chuckles, his hips snapping into yours unapologetically. “That’s my…good girl…”

Unable to emit anything competent, you simply moaned and groaned periodically, your voice slowly rising in pitch and volume, your fingers digging into the edge of the couch, after hearing his puzzling choice of words.

He pounded into you relentlessly, making you cum somewhere along the way, but not stopping, until he felt the tight spring inside him threaten to uncoil. “Oh, shit…Get ready, baby…”

You felt your eyes becoming watery, actively refusing to confront yourself and face the fact that you were clearly upset over hearing Wooyoung routinely call you baby throughout the night. Of course, it turned you on immensely, but it hurt you more. “Just cum already, please…”

Wooyoung suddenly flipped you over, and shoved himself back inside you, leaning down so that he could drink in your expression, just as his cum started to pour into you.

“A-hhhh….”

“Can you feel it, y/n? All of my cum inside you? You love it, don’t you? Say you fucking love it!” he exclaimed, unable to keep his desperation hidden within his harsh tone.

You nodded weakly, gazing up at him, your thighs trembling against his. “I love it, Woo…”

Letting out a groan, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and slowly squeezed it in the right places, so that you felt like you were floating, the tips of your fingers tingling. “Say it again.”

“I…love…it…” you replied breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to stop a tear from falling down your cheek, which dragged a black streak of mascara down with it. You let out a small whine when Wooyoung leaned down towards you, so close that you could feel his lips moving near your jaw, his fingers releasing your neck.

“I know you do, baby…I know…” Wooyoung murmured softly against your skin, pumping his cum into your pulsing hole, only stopping when he thought he had sufficiently fucked it into you. “You look so pretty like this…” He pressed a thumb onto your cheek and wiped a bit of the mascara away, giving you a gentle smile, which only set off more alarm bells inside your clouded brain.

You couldn’t even think at this point, let alone make sense of the odd switch in character your ex had been displaying throughout the night. All you could do was lay there and try to catch your breath, your body warm and tingly, Wooyoung’s cum sliding out of you and down onto the cushion.

“Woo…I- um…” you started, without giving it much thought, only to close your mouth when he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in place.

“I'm not done with you.” Without even giving you a chance to react, he sat back against the couch, simultaneously lifting you up and down onto his lap, shoving his already-hard cock back inside your cunt, proceeding to buck his hips up into yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, gripping the top of the couch for stability, feeling a pleasant shiver go up your spine when Wooyoung slipped his fingers into the sides of your knee-socks and tugged on them a bit as he thrusted into you.

“Fuck, baby…How are you still so tight? Even after I just got done wrecking you?” Wooyoung studied your surprised face, just as he leaned into your body and sucked one of your tits into his mouth. “Hmm?” he mumbled on your chest, using the flat of his tongue to lap at your nipple.

You shook your head slightly, emitting a sharp gasp, not really knowing how to respond from being too caught up in the moment, as well as being focused on what you wanted from him. “Bite it, Woo…please…”

One corner of Wooyoung’s lips lifted up, as he rolled your nipple around between his teeth, before biting down on it with enough pressure to satisfy your needs, earning a delighted moan from you.

“Now, spit on it…”

Wooyoung pulled back ever so slightly, with his lips pursed, spitting on your breast and turning his head, so that he could spit on the other one. “Mm…Like that, y/n?” He used his thumb to rub his saliva around, making your skin glossy.

“Yeah, just like that…” Without realizing, you started to grind your own hips down into his, just as desperately as he was trying to shove himself up into you.

“I thought so…” he murmured, pushing your tits together in order to drag his tongue back and forth between them, groaning all the while.

“Babyyyy…” you let slip out, bringing him to let go of your breasts so that he could caress your cheek with his warm fingers, neither of you breaking eye contact for what seemed like an eternity. “It feels so fucking good…”

“Yeah?” Seeing you nod right away, Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his lips just barely brushing over your parted ones. “Are you going to cum on my cock again for me, y/n? Huh? Are you going to squirt all over it?”

“Uh-huhhh…”

“Then fucking do it.”

You cried out in ecstasy, careening over the edge from the way he was acting with you, whimpering when Wooyoung’s hands returned to your waist and squeezed it so tightly that you thought he might leave handprints on your skin. “Oh, god, I’m cumming…!” you whined shakily, tossing your head back and closing your eyes.

“Uh-uh.” When he saw that your head was leaning back, he gripped the back of it and forced you to continue looking at him, slowing his movements down, so that he could fuck you in a more calculated, almost passionate way. “Hey, look at me. I want you to cum again, okay? And, this time, you’re not going to look away.”

Instead of resisting Wooyoung’s hold on you, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your sweat-covered body against his, your lower-halves working in tandem with one another to reach your highs. “As long as you promise to fill me up,” you invited sweetly, your heart pounding inside your rib cage.

“Don’t I always? Now, come here.” Wooyoung gave you another oddly charming smile, one of his hands moving up to your jaw and coaxing it open, so that he could bring you into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue slipping inside and moving against yours.

“Mmm…!” you reacted, your eyes still open, due to being genuinely surprised that Wooyoung kissed you. You couldn’t even remember the last time he did; it was probably somewhere around your third or fourth breakup.

Wooyoung opened his eyes slightly, studying your wide ones, his tongue lapping lazily at your own, some of his spit already dripping down his chin.

Too caught up in the heat of the moment, your eyelids fluttered shut and your hands instinctively slid up the back of his neck, your fingers slipping into his damp hair. Your heads periodically tilted in opposite directions, so that you could both engage in a sloppy, fervent kiss.

Feeling your pussy tighten significantly around his throbbing length, Wooyoung reluctantly broke the kiss, using his free hand to gather up some of your combined saliva that was dripping in abundance from your mouths and rubbing it all over your lips, then pushing his fingers onto your tongue, groaning when your mouth closed around them. “Fuuuuck, look at you…You don’t act like this for anyone else, do you? It’s all for me, isn't it, baby?” he asked, burning the image of your fucked-out expression into his memory.

“Mm-hmm…”

“Thought so.” Wooyoung grabbed your chin with his glistening fingers and mumbled, “I can feel how tight your cunt is around me, so go ahead and cum. Come on, make a mess on my dick, baby.”

You kept your glossy eyes locked on his, almost screaming when your warm wetness squirted forcefully out of you and all over his cock for the third time.

“Gooood girl…Now, let me fill you up, baby. Just how you like…” Wooyoung groaned deeply, his hands returning to your hips and cementing you in place, as his seed spilled deep inside your spasming cunt, a string of obscenities falling from his lips.

“Oh my god…” You dug your nails into Wooyoung’s skin, your thighs shaking uncontrollably, almost unable to handle how good it felt to be filled up to the brim with your ex’s load.

Once Wooyoung could breathe properly, he struggled to find the right words, not able to explain how he felt. “Oh, god…that was…”

As your body relaxed completely against Wooyoung’s, you kept your arms wrapped around him, suddenly not wanting to let go, but not really thinking about it, since your brain was still buzzing from the overload of endorphins. “I know…I know what you mean…” you replied cryptically, nuzzling his neck a bit.

Wooyoung didn’t say anything else for a while, simply running his hand up and down your lower back, his fingers ghosting along the indent of your spine. He closed his eyes, feeling his head almost spin, due to the influx of conflicting ideas that had infiltrated his mind.

You were in a similar place, the truth of reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, forcing you to pull yourself away from him, wanting to get away from the distressing headspace you were falling into as soon as humanly possible.

When Wooyoung felt your warmth leave him, as you got up from the couch, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding it rather tight. “Don’t go. Just stay here with me tonight,” he announced, not even thinking before he said it.

Suddenly made uncomfortable by the way he was squeezing your wrist, you forcefully yanked your arm away from him. Wincing, you rubbed your sensitive skin, making up a viable excuse, “No, I need to get home. I have work tomorrow. Why are you being like this?”

Wooyoung tsked and sat up, quickly snaking his arms around you and bringing your body against his, so that you were awkwardly pinned to both him and the lower half of the couch. He rested the side of his head on your upper abdomen for a moment, then pulled away to look up at your shocked face, giving you a straight answer, “Cuz I want you to stay. I don’t give a fuck if you have work. You’re going to stay put.”

You wriggled around in his grasp, shaking your head and complaining, “Oh my god, you’re being so fucking weird. Just get off of me!” When he didn’t let go of you, you pushed on his face, causing him to grunt, but still hold on, eventually letting go when you shoved his shoulders instead.

The force of your push caused him to slam into the back cushion and slump down against it, prompting him to just stay there instead of getting up. He remained silent, giving you an expression that you couldn’t read.

“Jesus,” you remarked, hastily picking up your discarded clothes from the ground, while trying to disregard the unresolved feelings that had been eating away at you since you had stepped into his apartment. “You better not do that again, or else I’m not coming around anymore.” You glanced up from the floor to give him a dirty look, wanting him to know that you were being completely serious.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his damp brown hair, actively ignoring the sharp twinge of pain inside his chest. “Whatever. You know you can’t live without this dick.” He snapped his fingers at you when you wouldn’t give him the response that he wanted, desperately trying to get your attention when you started to put your clothes on, ignoring him. “Hello? Are you fucking deaf?”

You remained tight-lipped, zipping up your skirt and adjusting it, eventually letting out a small sigh. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you had it in you to continue this relationship with Wooyoung. At first, it was a good way for you to release all the negative emotions you had usually shoved deep down and locked away, but now…now it was just leaving an incredibly bitter taste in your mouth.

Wooyoung grimaced, clearing his throat and asking in an irritable tone, “Why are you just staring at me like that? You know it’s the truth. You can’t live without me, y/n. If you could, you would’ve blocked me after the first time we broke up.”

Ignoring his words, you walked over to the door and grabbed your bag, letting it dangle near the ground, instead of putting it on your shoulder, your distant gaze lowering until your vision grew blurry from the threat of incoming tears. “You know…now that I think about it, we should really stop doing this, Woo. It’s not good for us.”

He suddenly jolted up, his fingers gripping at the edge of the cushion below him, unable to hide the panic forming on his face. “Wh-what are you talking about? Jeez, I…I must’ve fucked you so hard, your brain stopped functioning,” he responded, letting out a nervous chuckle.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, appearing like you were in a significant amount of pain. You should’ve done this a long time ago, but there was always a small part of you that wanted to hold on, hoping that somehow all of your problems would magically disappear and you could go back to how everything was before. However, deep down inside, you knew that it was never tangible — even from the start. The two of you were just flawed, broken people who could never seem to build each other up, instead opting to tear down one another again and again. And it had finally gotten to be too exhausting for you.

Wooyoung felt like he was going to start hyperventilating when you looked up at him with a blank face, initially unable to see the tears fall from how fast you were wiping them away. “y/n…?” he called out shakily, dread forming within him, making him feel like he had a ten ton weight sitting inside the pit of his stomach.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out at first, causing you to clear your dry throat. You closed your fists tightly for a moment, before they slowly relaxed against the sides of your thighs. “Woo…it’s over. I just…can’t do this anymore.”

Before you realized what was happening, Wooyoung was already clinging onto you, tears dripping down his own cheeks and shaky, abrupt breaths being forced out of his throat, showing a side of himself that you had only witnessed once years ago. “D-don’t be fucking stupid!” he choked out, his fingers gripping the back of your sweater so firmly, you thought that he might rip the thin material. “You’re not leaving me!”

Your eyebrows lowered and pulled together, your lips still quivering, as you wondered internally why he had to make this so incredibly hard for you. It was difficult enough already; you didn’t want to let go of him, but you knew you had to for the sake of your sanity, as well as his. “Woo…please…We can’t do this anymore. We’re destroying each other. Can’t you see that...?” you murmured in a fragile voice, making a weak attempt to pull away from him, blinking away a few tears in the process.

Wooyoung shook his head violently, dropping his weight down on you and burying his face into your chest, his fingers clawing into your back desperately, shouting, “I don’t care!” He let out a few small whimpers, wiping his tears away by using the front of your sweater. “I’ll happily drown with you, y/n…” He pulled back slightly and looked up at you with empty eyes, an incredibly pained smile on his flushed face.

“No! That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you idiot! That’s so fucking toxic!” you protested, unable to keep your voice from cracking, while actively doing your best to stand steadily and peel Wooyoung off of you. “Get. Off!” You let out a sudden yell of frustration when you couldn’t get away from him, not knowing what to do at this point. “Please…”

Wooyoung tightened his grip around your body, until you could feel significant pain in your ribs, leaving you almost lightheaded. “No!” he shouted, with every ounce of his being, threatening to damage his vocal cords.

Feeling completely and utterly drained, both mentally and physically, you slowly slumped down onto the carpet, giving up and allowing your bawling ex to curl up around you like a frightened child.

Wooyoung had lost all control of his emotions, too traumatized by the thought of you leaving him to hold back in any sort of capacity. “Fuck…you…You’re staying…right here…!” he gasped out, in between sobs, his voice airy and weak. “You’re never…leaving me!” He lightly hit his closed fist against your back, stopping when he simply wanted to hold onto you again. “Never…ever…!”

You closed your tired eyes, leaning your head into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck and resting it there. “Okay.” Caving in, you gently stroked his hair and placed your other hand on his lower back, giving it light pats.

Wooyoung stiffened up for a second, still gasping for air, unable to quell his crying-induced hiccups. “You…mean…that?”

“Yeah…I mean it.” You relaxed into his body, holding him so close that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. You nuzzled your cheek into his warm skin, noticing how he would jolt periodically from drawing in quick, fragile breaths. “I’m right here, okay? Now, just breathe…and relax…”

He followed your advice, concentrating on his erratic breathing, until he eventually calmed down, his rapid heart rate slowly returning to a normal one. “y/n…” he mumbled, gingerly moving up near your face and gazing at you for a second, before pressing his cold lips onto yours.

You didn’t resist him, not even noticing when your fingers automatically interlocked with his, until you felt him squeezing your hand. Once you shared a few gentle, heartfelt kisses, you pulled back slightly, looking into his sad blood-shot eyes. “Where do we go from here?” you asked, your voice barely coming out.

Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his hand gripping yours so tightly, he threatened to cut off the circulation. “I…I don’t know, exactly…” he answered truthfully, letting out a pained sigh, his eyes still focused solely on your watery ones. “But I do know that I want you by my side.”

After listening to his words, you leaned back into Wooyoung, the tension in your body subsiding. “Okay…I’ll stay with you, Woo. I won’t leave...until you want me to.”

Letting go of your hand, he opted to wrap himself around you once again, resting the side of his face on your shoulder, his breath hitting your skin. Closing his eyes and feeling some sort of peace, Wooyoung smiled to himself. “Don’t be stupid, y/n. That’s never going to happen.”

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #kpop smut

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katyawriteswhump · 1 month

Text

the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out.

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly.

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?!

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?”

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again.

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick.

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word.

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.”

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!”

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago.

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.”

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!”

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?”

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!”

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.”

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer:

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns.

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin?

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie?

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie.

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me!

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stobin #platonic stobin #stobin friendship

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zerobotic · 1 year

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just realized this post got spit out of my queue after i put it in there like a month or more ago, and, fun fact! i’m 500% more angry about it now than i was a month ago when i queued it!! because in that time ive taken and gotten the results back from a neuropsych evaluation, which my therapist and doctor requested as part of the adhd evaluation ive had going on for nearly a fucking year now, and boy am i fucking seething about it! i spend a whole year telling my therapist about how much im struggling in ways i cant seem to overcome, and she goes “yeah that sounds like adhd” and we begin the lengthy process of looking into that, and then the pcp decides they need more info so i get referred to the neuropsych folks. and this FUCKING neuropsych guy sees me for a single visit and i take some cognitive tests and he writes up a report saying, in his infinite wisdom, that i am simply ““““too high functioning”“““ to truly be struggling and have i considered im not trying hard enough? have i considered using a planner? setting reminders in my phone? have i considered that im only looking for an adhd diagnosis because i feel slighted by my parents not looking into any of this when i was a kid and now i want validation because of my poor relationship with my family (which ive talked with my therapist at length about and this guy only knows the bare fucking minimum)?

like, it’s been a couple weeks since i read that report and i STILL wanna strangle someone about it and im still waiting for my therapist and doctor to respond about how, inevitably, this has fucked over the entire process of seeking a diagnosis all because some jackass can’t understand that doing well on academic tests doesnt equate to being able to successfully cope with the reality of day to day life, and my therapist and doctor apparently arent allowed to formally diagnose me if there’s any uncertainty! which, being too good at tests and therefore being told i cant be struggling is the story of my life and why im in this situation as an adult in the first place.

and seeing that post about being high functioning brought all that anger back to the surface now and underneath the anger im just. so, so exhausted and dont know what to do anymore, because nothing ever gets easier and i dont know how to make any of it work and for a while there i thought maybe i could officially get some answers and maybe some help with making things easier for once and now that’s been shot down too and i dont know what to do because nothing ive ever tried has worked and im back to square one again. underneath the anger there’s a part of me that’s losing hope on the idea of anything ever getting better

#zero rambles

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dreary-doll-writing · 1 year

Text

Babysitting Johji

Pairing: Ryuji/Ryou(implied)

Rating: G

Word count: 1,193

Notes: Johji is NOT the demon baby he was in the manga.

"Of course I can take care of Johji, you have my word."

The word of a fool.

That's what Honda had given his brother before the older left for his first day out with friends in nearly two years.

Now he was regretting it to hell and back.

The kid definitely didn't want his uncle. And Jonouchi, Anzu, and Yugi were all busy when Honda tried to call for help.

After a twenty minute fuss about eating followed by Johji grabbing Honda shirt and dipping it in his food Honda was desperate for help.

He thought about asking Shizuka for help but he didn't want to put her through this too.

Against his better judgment he called someone else.

"Otogi! How are you today?" He puts on his best friendly voice while trying to keep Johji from taking the phone away and joining the conversation.

"I'm in the middle of a uh...study session, can I call you back?"

"Can you...reschedule it?"

"Not really? What's so desperate you need me <i>now</i>?" Ryuji asks, clearly sounding bored of this conversation already.

"I'm babysitting my little nephew and I'm having hell, I <i>really</i> need help, and pretty much everyone else is busy..."

Ryuji goes quiet and Honda would be worried he got hung up on if he couldn't still hear the other breathing.

"Otogi? I can-"

"Mind if I bring an extra? I can be there in 20 minutes."

"Bring anyone you need, I'm desperate," Honda cuts off the quip he can feel on Ryuji's lips even over the phone, "Don't you dare. There are little ears listening."

"Fine, fine. 20, like I said. Keep him alive that long, wouldja?"

Honda rolls his eyes and grunts an affirmative before hanging up.

Which is apparently Johji's queue to try and eat the phone.

"No! Come on!"

Johji starts crying again and Honda desperately looks for something that might distract him for 20 minutes. At least.

---

There's a knock on the door that Honda only barely hears over Johji still fussing and crying. He scoops the toddler up to avoid him wandering off...again...and opens the door to Ryuji and...

"Bakura? He's your “Study buddy”?!"

"What were you expecting?"

Honda remembers the "little ears" listening before he says something he definitely doesn't want repeated back to his brother, "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Ryou seems to notice the clear implication lingering in the air a moment after Honda lets them both inside, "Oh! We were really studying! We weren't-"

A hand goes over xer mouth before Ryou can say anything Honda might regret.

"I don't really care either way, I'm just glad to have help."

Johji seems mesmerized by their new guests and reaches for Ryuji with "grabby hands", pushing Honda in hopes of getting let go.

"Aww, you're having trouble with this little guy?" Ryuji asks, taking his hand off Ryou's mouth to take the toddler from his uncle.

"Funny, his dad says he doesn't like strangers, and who's stranger than you?" Honda teases.

Ryuji doesn't acknowledge the dig and proceeds to coo at and coddle Johji instead.

Johji reaches up a hesitant hand to touch Ryuji's face, rubbing the line running down from his left eye.

"You like my eyeliner little guy? Maybe I'll help you with yours."

"You're not putting makeup on my nephew."

"I'm joking."

"He's 2, he doesn't know that."

"I didn't even bring an--"

Ryuji is cut off with a tug on his bangs hard enough he screams, and Ryou taking away Johji before Ryuji can drop him. Johji giggling at his own "joke" the whole time.

"Little sh-"

It's Ryuji's turn to have his mouth covered by Honda.

"Not so easy, is it?"

Ryuji glares, grabbing Honda's wrist to yank his hand away from his own mouth, "Who called who?"

"You were my last option! Plus I didn't almost drop him."

"I'll drop something, you-"

Ryou shushes both of them.

Johji tries to copy and ends up just spitting on Honda, and giggling more.

The two exchange angry glares but leave it there.

"You want to go play, little.." Ryou pauses, "what's his name?"

"Johji!" The toddler answers before Honda can.

"You want to go play, Johji? I'll play with you."

Johji wiggles out of Ryou's arms and toddles, wobbling, towards the bag his dad left Honda with, digging food and spare clothes out till he finds his prize.

He returns with two rubber animals, a duck and a sheep.

"Sheep!" He shakes the toy at Ryou expectingly.

Xe kneel down onto xer knees and take the sheep.

Honda and Ryuji just watch as Ryou sits on the floor and plays with Johji, keeping the toddler completely inthralled for a good, long while.

"Who woulda guessed xe'd be good with kids?" Ryuji hums, a small smile on his face.

"I'm not surprised at all, really."

"I'm playing pretend, not deaf," Ryou chides them, but the smile on xyrs face was a show that xe were being playful.

Ryuji trots over to the baby-bag and digs around for another toy, finding a rubber goat that looked like it was from the same set, before setting down with the other two and joining in.

"Unle!" Johji points at Honda excitedly.

"You heard him, Honda, go get a toy, I think I saw one more," Ryuji insists.

Honda reaches into the bag without looking and grabs the first thing that feels like a rubber farm animal before heading to sit with the other three.

He doesn't want to play but he also likes playing and laughs more than fussing and crying.

When he puts his toy in the mix he realizes he grabbed a raccoon of all things.

"Rac! Rac!" Johji babbles, whacking Honda's hand with the duck.

Ryuji snickers and Ryou covers xyr mouth to muffle xyr own laughter.

"Arrr, you'll regret that, ducky!"

Johji squeals in delight and bounces his duck around to hide behind Ryuji's goat.

---

Ryou got Johji to eat with only a little fuss after "catching the mean raccoon" and then tired him out with a game of "chase you uncle until he gives back my sweater", and now the toddler is fast asleep in the middle of the floor, with his uncle to one side of him, Ryou the other, and Ryuji across from both of them.

"Thanks you guys, my brother should be home in a few and I think a sleeping toddler isn't too much on my own if you wanna head," Honda hums, rubbing Johji's back softly.

"It was nothing," Ryou smiles softly at Honda.

"We should get back to my place and finish studying," Ryuji pushes himself to his feet.

"Right," Ryou agrees.

"If you need help with him again you know our numbers," Ryuji waves at Honda on his way to the door.

"Thanks, again, I'm just glad we didn't have to deal with-"

Johji cuts Honda off, whining and straining in his sleep.

"So Bakura, you're good with-"

The door shuts abruptly, the other teens apparently making a run for it before Honda could even ask.

"Assholes."

"Assholes! Assholes! Assholes!"

"Oh, good, you're awake..."

#yugioh #yu gi oh dm #duel monsters #fic #writing #honda hiroto #tristan taylor #ryuji otogi #duke devlin #ryou bakura #babysitting

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

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The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

#ethan torchio #maneskin #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio fiction #ethan tochio x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin fiction #fluff #my writings

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woodrokiro · 3 years

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Do It For the Band, Part Five (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki:

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four.

Against her better judgement, Tatsuki takes an early flight home the next morning, so she really doesn’t know what went down.

Frankly, between battling her colossal hangover and focusing on not puking on the plane when it hits turbulence: she doesn’t even think about it until later in the week.

Since the tour ended, the band has a week off to just chill and take some time for themselves before regrouping and planning their next move. Tatsuki goes straight home to smoke weed and binge dumb movies on her to-watch queue. Chad and Orihime had plans to stay in their last tour city for a while since they had friends and family there.

And as for Ichigo and Rukia…

Who knows. They’re both such dorks that they’re probably that gross couple who serenade each other in bed, naked, making weird metaphorical lyrics about the sex they just had.

Gross. But kind of sweet.

She makes a point to not think about or reach out to any of them (besides Orihime, of course) the entire week - not that she doesn’t love her team fiercely, but they all need the break away from each other... Especially after they spent all their time together making the album and going on tour, and especially if Ichigo decides to show one of his new Rukia-love ballads to the band upon their return.

Still, she attempts to check in with Ichigo on the fifth day over text.

How ya doin’, tiger?

He doesn’t respond for a few hours, but she doesn’t think much of it. He’s always been sort of a shitty texter, and there’s a strong chance all the raucous love-making isn’t reminding him to check his phone.

She’s on the fourth episode of Terrace House’ newest season, debating whether one of the cast members is a chaotic queen or absolute garbage when she hears the familiar ping of a text message on her phone. She picks it up and reads:

Fine.

Huh.

Not exactly the sunshine-y answer she expected, but then again: it’s Ichigo. He’s not exactly a sunshine-y person, even when - apparently - he’s radiantly happy.

She shrugs, deciding not to push it. She’ll find out soon enough how everything’s going when they have practice in a couple days.

Practice is in Chad’s garage, and Ichigo, Chad, and Orihime are already there.

She mostly chats with Orihime, who has so much to update her on about her newest recipes, like natto ice cream and sriracha orange juice, and hey, Tatsuki, what are your thoughts on this newest article I found about robots dominating the planet within the next five years?

Tatsuki glows in the babble, chuckling when she can’t help herself. Says the first sounds… Interesting, the second sounds like maybe she can keep revising it a little, and that last article sounds like it might be from a not so trust-worthy news source.

Her friend tries to argue the source’s credibility when she looks over at Ichigo. He’s silently tuning his guitar, head bent and posture weirdly… Slumped when she catches his eye.

She raises her eyebrows at him without interrupting Orihime’s chatter. You good?

He shrugs, gives a weak smile and thumbs up before returning his attention back to his instrument.

Uh oh.

Ichigo Kurosaki does not do weak smiles… Or thumbs ups, for that matter.

It’s another few minutes before Rukia swings the door open, a bit of a sweaty mess and running out of breath.

“Hi all, I’m so sorry I--”

“You’re late.”

Everyone swings their attention to Ichigo, who observes their keyboardist stone-faced. The shocked silence that follows is short, but suffocating.

Rukia flushes before she blinks, raising her chin. “Yes. As I was saying… I’m sorry I’m running late, everyone. I had a lunch meetup with an old friend that went longer than expected. Please forgive me.”

“Chill, Rukia - you’re fine. You’re only five minutes over.” Tatsuki shoots a look at Ichigo, who’s still ruthlessly eye-ing daggers into Rukia.

What the hell…?

“... Whatever. Let’s just get started. Go over everything to catch back up to speed, and all that.” Ichigo plugs his guitar into the speaker, and Rukia nods as she quickly sets up her keyboard.

Practice from there is…

Like. It’s good. It is. Despite the long break, everyone is still on top of their shit: Tatsuki’s beats are muscle memory by now, and Chad is as on it as he ever was. Ichigo and Rukia are in perfect sync, per usual.

The energy, however, is another story. While there was always some sort of joy and excitement when they all played together, now it’s like the air is stiff, heavy. From behind, Tatsuki can see Rukia keeps trying to look at Ichigo during all the parts they usually harmonize together, to get some sort of connection.

Ichigo doesn’t even remotely glance her way the entire time.

They’re near done with the entire set when Ichigo clears his throat, turning to the rest of them. Urahara has joined them by this point, watching with an unreadable smile as ever.

“So… I think we should scrap Sun and Moon from our main set.”

Orihime lets out a soft gasp. Chad’s fingers accidentally let loose a note on the live bass. Tatsuki chokes on her spit.

“Sun and Moon? You mean our crowd pleaser? The one we always end shows with a bang on?”

“It’s not our only crowd pleaser, we’ve also got some other great ones. I’m just afraid it’s gonna be a one-hit wonder, ya know? And with that note…” He turns to Urahara. “What do you think about us going ahead and starting to write for our sophomore album?”

They gape at him.

Even Urahara raises his eyebrows. “That’s… Well. That was fast.”

“Is it? Our album is more like EP, anyway - just a little longer. Like a warm-up. And it’s good, of course I’m proud of it - everyone worked so hard on it - but, just… Why not start now? Why not take advantage of the momentum we’ve got going on?”

Rukia clears her throat. “Ichigo, that’s… We’ve got such a good grip on what we have -”

“I just think Soul Vibes is static for us. Outdated.” He quickly looks back at her before returning his attention to Urahara.

Rukia looks like she’s been slapped.

“I think we’re more dynamic now, even just in these few short months. And yeah it’s fast, but - we have time, right? To get started on writing?”

“I suppose so.” Urahara looks at Tatsuki and Chad, who both shrug. Something’s really off here, but Tatsuki sort of sees his point. It’s clear Ichigo’s raring to write something new… Why not?

“Sure, if you’d like, I can make some arrangements with the music studio. You and Rukia can go in there and--”

“Actually, I was thinking we can work on some stuff alone before presenting it to the group.” He stops Tatsuki when she begins to sputter. “Look, I know the whole reason for pairing Rukia and I for songwriting was to get us working as a team. But we’re fine now…”

Ichigo looks back at Rukia, and they share a look that’s so… Tatsuki doesn’t know what it is, but she sees Rukia swallow heavily in response.

“We’re fine now.” He repeats grittily. He starts again, stronger: “We collaborated on some cool shit, now I think it’s time to make it a little more diverse like I mentioned earlier. Have my songs, have her songs, have Chad’s songs if he still wants - all threaded together with Tatsuki’s beats. Why not?”

The room is quiet as they contemplate it. It’s not a bad idea, but…

Tatsuki glances over at Rukia, who’s looking down at her hands.

Urahara clicks his tongue.

“Well, Kurosaki, you raise a good argument. I don’t see why not, and I’m not hearing any objections… Just one thing: you’re not striking Sun and Moon quite yet. No arguments! Hear me out.” He stops Ichigo with a hand. “You’re not striking it until any of you come up with a song just as good, if not better. There’s power in that one, you can’t deny it. Make something as rock n’ roll as that and the team will talk. Let’s just… Keep each other in the know, all right?”

The band - Rukia included, albeit softly - agrees, and they start to pack up.

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on; she’s always down for making more jams, she knows Ichigo and Rukia have got more up their sleeves, that Chad definitely deserves to put more of his stuff forward - but that… Look the two vocalists shared…

What happened that night after she left the bar?

She doesn’t have much time to wonder, however, because suddenly she’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears Ichigo approaching Orihime about whether she wants to go out and get a couple of drinks.

Tatsuki’s heart is too busy falling to see Rukia’s stricken face.

#my stuff #ichiruki #bleach #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #do it for the band

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local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

Can I pretty please request with Kalim x Tall fem reader x Silver. Maybe a hint of Riddle please and thank you! 😄

I’m not sure if that’s what you wanted, but I hope you will enjoy it~~

Also excuse me for taking so long with answering it.

,,They’re so sickeningly cute”

,,I don’t think this meeting is an appropriate place to solve your love-life problems, Kalim.”

Riddle’s strict and curt voice cut Kalim’s rant for good. Yet, it seemed that any of the dorm leaders, apart from him and eventually Azul, was truly interested in the meeting.

,,I think I may have a nice pair of heels.”

“Perhaps, a little contract would be an appropriate solution?”

Azul ignored Vil’s previous suggestion and his attention shifted from dull paperwork he had been doing to Kalim. His sultry voice made Kalim turn around to face him and almost urging him to continue. Azul adjusted his glasses, before speaking again.

,,Well, I’m sure I could make you a tad taller, or Y/N smaller, unless Silver is your true problem?”

Kalim frowned, not really sure how to properly respond. He caught a glimpse of displeased Riddle who sighed in frustration, knowing very well that the meeting was surely over and they wouldn’t get anything done by the end of it.

You, Kalim and Silver were a rather specific couple, no one truly expected to work out. The differences in your personalities very present, yet this time your height was the reason for Kalim’s chagrin.

Or maybe it was Silver’s height?

Maybe both.

You were slightly taller than Silver, maybe few centimetres. Yet, those few centimetres were more than enough to drive usually cheerful and beaming with happiness Kalim insane. Silver could easily reach your lips and steal brief kisses anytime he wished for them. Kalim had to tug on your tie or ask you to lean a bit down.

Normally, he didn’t have any problems with your height, after all, he loved you the way you were. But recently Silver got bolder and Kalim could see him sneaking kisses from you.

Kalim had enough.

,,Speaking of Y/N and Silver, where’s Malleus?”

Kindly remarked Idia who usually was almost transparent on those meetings. Leona snorted in annoyance, just on the mere mention of dragon fae.

,,K, so which one of you potatoes forgot to tell him?”

Vil’s voice, much to Azul’s discontent who was already taking out his golden contract, started another heated argument as everyone tried to put the blame on someone else.

,,Wasn’t it your turn Vil?”

,,Absolutely not, I’m fourth in the queue. It was Riddle’s turn to invite Malleus this time, I presume.”

“WHAT, NO WAY IT WAS MY TURN!”

“SHUT UP RED POTATO AND TAKE CRITICISM!”

“YOU DID NOT JUST-”

Kalim could only watch as the chaos before him unfolding. Riddle’s shouts woke up Leona for good who joined the heated argument dragging Azul with him into it.

He sighed deeply in resignation, knowing deep down inside that his problem wouldn’t be solved anytime soon.

~~~~

,,Little bird told me that you considered making a deal with Azul concerning the height of one of us.”

Your voice made Kalim sign slightly, Silver chuckle and Jamil throw his hands in the air in pure helplessness. If it wasn’t for your presence and Silver’s subtle glare, which you called “I’m the intimidating Diasomnia, move away”, Jamil would be spitting insults and trying to reason Kalim’s idea in rather harsh and loud way. Instead he simply left you three to deal with this matter.

,,I mean, I could perhaps get smaller...” You started, while Silver raised an eyebrow surprised with your statement.

,,No, no, no, you’re not a problem Y/N. You are absolutely perfect.”

Kalim was quick to vividly protest.

You, a problem? Never, absolutely never.

,,So, you suggest that I’m the problem?”

Silver asked smoothly and it was your time to vividly protest. However, Kalim’s answer stunned you. He avoided looking into your eyes at all cost, as his attention drastically shifted from various plants he could see in the garden.

,,I mean, actually, YES”

Silver didn’t seem to be surprised in slightest. He just sighed heavily, as his hands began gently running through your hair.

,,It’s just-agh-how to say it... I just hate it than Silver can steal kisses from you anytime he wants and I’m too short for that!”

You blinked twice in surprise, fully comprehending his words. Soon a smile crept on your lips, while Silver looked clearly amused at Kalim who was regretting his confession.

He was simply jealous and both you and Silver would never let him forget about it. With a giggle you sat at the grass and boys followed you. You leaned closer to Kalim’s flushed face, your lips almost touching his.

,,I’m flattered you wanted to make a contract with Azul just because you were jealous of Silver”

,,W-what?! I, I was never, EVER, jealous of him!”

His faltering words and flushed voice made you giggled and Silver couldn’t help but burst in laughter.

Yeah, sure, he wasn’t jealous at all.

Not even in the slightest.

,,Well, I believe now you can steal as many kisses as you want.”

You encouraged him with a sly smile, while Kalim’s face lit up at your words. His soft lips soon crashed onto yours, determinated to give you as many kisses as Silver had gave during past week.

,,You could just take a box and surprise our dear Y/N, you know shortass?”

BONUS

,,Could you lean 20 centimeters?”

You frowned at Riddle’s quite bizarre request, but seeing his irritated face and how his patience was running thin, you complied. You leaned down still confused.

,,How can you walk with a tie like this? It’s almost a violation to the rules and as prefect you should be doing your very best”

You blinked stunned, hearing his words as his hands quickly took care of a mess called your poor, unfortunate tie. With a faint smile you thanked him.

,,Why is everyone in this school so tall? Maybe Azul could take of this.”

“Wait! Riddle, this is a very bad idea!”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst writing #twst silver #kalim al asim #twst scenarios #twst imagine #twst x reader #twst x mc #twst silver x reader #twst kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #diasomnia #scarabia #requested #fluffy apple

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

From the random prompt generator:

There is definitely a theme, but the first one is Stabbed and Space Ship. Guess a bit of John since I already threw stabbed and Alan out there...

Sacrifice

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst Characters: John

Ooh, John in the firing line? Also, you and Nutty need to stop getting me to play with knives. Boys get hurt when I get stabbity! (mostly Scott but apparently it’s John’s turn, unless Scott appears anyway... we’ll see. I think he’s in hiding at the moment!)

Okay, so... there was a stabbed? And a space ship? I have no idea what else this thing is doing through, and how it managed to end up kinda Scott-centric when he doesn’t even appear once? Actually, this seems a little like my fic Phobos, maybe.

Last time I did a load of ‘drabbles’, I ended up publishing a lot at once and kinda clogging dashes and tags and stuff, so this time around I’m going to remember the ‘queue’ function exists and start using that so they’ll spit out a few a day rather than all at once! This one’s posted live, but chances are the others won’t be.

Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!

Thunderbird Three. Of all the Thunderbirds, John privately thought that the big red rocket was their father’s favourite. The TV-21 might have been his pride and joy, but the freedom to blast off into space, go wherever he wanted, see whatever he wanted... Jeff Tracy was a Colonel, a pilot, but he was also an astronaut, and once you were an astronaut, you were always an astronaut.

John couldn’t imagine leaving space for the final time, stumbling back into Earth, with all its gravity and noise and people and knowing that he’d never leave again. Trapped.

It was bad enough that he was currently based on Earth, Alan still too young to take up the mantle no matter how much he tried the puppy dog eyes on Scott. Still too young to realise that the puppy dog eyes weren’t always the way to get biggest brother wrapped around your little finger, and that while it might get him anything else from Scott, it wouldn’t get him a red rocket. Alan’s puppy dog eyes reminded Scott how young he was. How young they all were.

John remembered the arguments when Gordon forced his way in, fresh out of rehab and determined to make a difference with what was left of his life. Clashing with Scott, who wanted nothing more than to bundle him up in cotton wool and keep him safe, despite being the one that supported him into WASP in the first place. Or maybe because of it, some big brother guilt at play, because Scott was all too good at that.

That big brother guilt was going to make an appearance again very soon. John hadn’t wanted to leave Five to pilot Three until Alan was ready. Had suggested Kayo, Scott himself, but Kayo was too young (her snarls when Gordon had barged his way into IR and she’d been left behind were one of the most terrifying noises John had ever heard - Scott in all his fearlessness had turned his back and walked away) and Scott couldn’t leave Alan. Couldn’t leave Gordon, couldn’t quite put enough trust into Virgil because no matter how reliable he was, he was still a younger brother, young enough to be Protected, rather than Protector.

John was the only one he trusted to launch into space. John was the best and a compliment like that from Scott wasn’t supposed to hurt so much. But it had, and it did, because it meant Dad’s gone but also because it was an excuse.

Scott couldn’t go because the last time he’d left them, head held high and proud, he’d come back broken. It had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with whatever he’d never said about Bereznik. About being alone. Scott smothered them not because they needed it, but because if he didn’t aggressively keep them all under his wing, he’d shatter.

So here John was. The sacrifice, to keep his big brother together and Dad’s dream alive, and he’d never felt more like one than now, because there was a knife through his suit and he was curled up in the zero-g of Thunderbird Three’s cockpit, gasping for air after grappling his way back through the vacuum with a compromised suit and the age-old warning don’t hold your breath or your lungs’ll explode running through his head.

Alone. Scott on that blue and green marble, because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the rest of his brothers so far behind, out of reach. Blood running down his leg, mission absolutely failed because he wasn’t rescuing knife-wielding madmen who wanted him dead and hitting his family with another tragedy.

Scott was going to be beside himself. He might even pull out of space rescues, trap John on Earth where it was safe. John couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t imagine living out the rest of his life on that marble of gravity and noise and crowds.

But what was his alternative? Bleed to death out here? All alone, disappearing just like Dad because Thunderbird Three was their only space rocket? A space burial didn’t sound so bad, never trapped on Earth ever again, and maybe one day John would choose that, but not today.

He grit his teeth, fastened a tourniquet around his leg, and dragged himself into the pilot seat to go home. Home, to a frantically terrified big brother who still needed him.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #thunderangst #thunderwhump #drabbles #janetm74 #behind the scenes

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gallivantingheart · 3 years

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Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 5: anneliese ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2800

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: this one’s kinda super long-ish than usual. and a bit of a filler/character chapter, but I still hope you like it 😊

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans,

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonyoung doesn’t dare kick his feet up onto the antique coffee table now that your grandmother is in the building, despite how much more comfortable it would be to. The way he reclines so deeply gives away his bad habits as he clears his throat and sits up a little better. You’re glad that Soonhee has tasked the ambassador with your princess lessons for a while. Maybe a more relaxed approach might jog your memory.

“So, where did Her Majesty get to last you did this?” He says, flipping open the photo album.

You lean forward, holding your sandwich up and away from the pages. “Uh, great grandparents. So...sixth generation.”

His brows raise. “Only sixth?”

You whine, slumping as he laughs kindly at you, empty of any maliciousness. Since the security breach, you’ve really warmed up to Soonyoung, glad to have someone closer to your age to relate to and learn from. And he’s a great teacher. Patient but firm, not to mention relentless. He told you about his travels across the country and secret stories about Amaide. They gave you a better idea of the kingdom you may end up leading.

You groan loudly - bordering a roar - after mixing up your great, great grandmother with your great grandaunt (once removed) and snap the album shut.

“Soon, spare me. My brain is seizing up.”

He laughs louder this time, eyes vanishing into his round cheeks. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right. Class dismissed.”

You get up and check your phone, noting the time. Maybe you would have enough time to catch the start of Jihoon’s radio show, if you left now. Jihoon did say he wouldn’t mind if you dropped by - inviting you even before you needed places to hide. Tonight might be a good time to? You slide your kitten heels back on, pulling out your earphones. Only now do you realise that there is a constant, soft pattering from the roof - rain. At least Junwoo was driving you everywhere now, so no risk of getting too wet. Your footsteps echo through the embassy, killing the quiet you’d become familiar with in the old building.

“So where are you headed now?” Soonyoung asks, tipping his head at the attendant who hands him his coat.

You shrug your own on, as well as a felted plaid scarf. “Uh, back to campus? I’ve got a friend I wanna visit.”

The blonde checks his watch, eyebrows shooting up into his feathery fringe. “At this time? There are still people at your college?”

“Hmmm. They have a community radio station. Jihoon has a show on Thursday nights.”

“Oh, do you want a lift?”

You slant your head at him as he detours past the front desk down a short and fairly dim hallway, elaborate alcoves set into either side of the wall.

“Sure? Only if you’re going out? Otherwise Junwoo is at my disposal, so to say.” You wave your hand in a dramatic version of your grandmother’s wave.

Soonyoung nods eagerly. “Yeah! I’m meeting up with some friends in Hongdae later on tonight, so leaving a little earlier won’t hurt. Like I told you, I’ve got nothing to do now Soonhee is catching up.”

You grin, jumping for the passenger seat of the dark car Soonyoung indicates to. Darkly tinted windows, an expectation of most cars you get in nowadays.

“So, who is Jihoon? Is he the one you posted about the other day?”

You nod, carefully not looking at him as you gesture to turn right out of the gates. “Y-yeah. Ah, he’s Mingyu’s cousin.”

You flinch at your voice, stuttered and shy. You didn’t need someone else giving you crap over Jihoon. Soon’s eyebrows raise as he purses his lips, humming in thought.

“Huh. Alright.” Okay, he so doesn’t believe you, but whatever. “That’s nice that you have such a close group of friends. They obviously know about the whole princess thing.”

“Yeah. Can’t really hide something this big from people who have known you most of your life, y’know? Grandmother doesn’t know they know though.” You insist, bouncing a little in your seat.

The rain has died down into a drizzle, almost spitting, so Soonyoung turns the heater and the wipers down. But you can already imagine the cold wet seeping into your shoes, tucking them closer to yourself.

“Of course not. Her Majesty would lose it if she knew you’d broken protocol so early on. Secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

His eyes are wide and he’s quite serious about it, a little bit more desperate than you expected him to be. You don’t dwell on it as you tell him to turn again into the east entrance, past a familiar cluster of restaurants.

When he gets to a set of bollards, you sling the door open, fashioning your scarf over your head. “This is me. Thanks Soonie!”

He grins, waving. “No worries! See you next week! Be safe!”

“You too! Night.”

Shutting the door, you dash for the first spot of dry you see, turning to wave him off.

You navigate the dark campus and get out of the lift five minutes before the start of the show. It’s only then that you question whether or not Jihoon would really want you there. You’re just his cousin’s best friend he’s really nice to, maybe a friend of his yourself. You hesitate at studio 2, shifting from foot to foot as you overthink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by and watch one of the shows if you want. Mingyu and Minghao have even been in an episode or two.” Jihoon looks up briefly to smile small.

Quickly, you open the door and claim a seat next to Bumzu, Jihoon’s director and producer for the radio show. He’s quite well known in most circles, being everyone’s music and tech go-to. You put your finger to your lips, unwrapping your scarf from your head. Somehow, Jihoon is too absorbed in prep to notice you come in.

“Ji said I could come by. I hope I’m not in the way.” You whisper, unsure of the standards in the studio.

Bumzu smiles, his rougher edges softening. He passes you another set of headphones, plugging them in. The on air sign isn’t on yet, luckily.

“Not at all. We’re just about to start. Make yourself comfortable.” he murmurs. “Jihoon, we’re good to go. Cameras are rolling.”

You look over to see Jihoon settling in in his classic sweats and slides, despite being filmed. The host’s eyes slide to you, widening in shock. He motions to you with a wave, brows quirked. You wave shyly, smiling tentatively. The on air light above you buzzes to life and you settle, fond smile pressing at your lips. A subdued but chill jingle plays, male vocals playing to introduce the show.

“Hey everyone, it’s Woozi and welcome to tonight’s Woozi Tunes, your thursday night music fix. We’ve got new stuff from Justin Bieber and our on campus artist, Bumzu.” Jihoon says into the mic, giving a short wave to a camera.

As he chatters about this and that, his eyes slide your way, holding for prolonged amounts of time. Even Bumzu smiles, waving him off subtly. You’ve probably put him off, poor thing.

“So, first up we have Golden by Harry Styles. All thanks to his new mv, which I really recommend watching. Hope you like it.” He turns a few dials and nudges his headphones off an ear.

Jihoon looks straight at you, squinting a little as he smiles. You mirror his actions, shuffling closer while carefully staying out of the various camera shots.

“Bumzu, we’ve got four in the queue, right?”

The producer next to you nods. “Yeah, an ad segment then I’ll open the request lines. So, ten, maybe fifteen minutes till live. Studio audio has been muted.”

You don’t understand any of the small terms being thrown out around you. But you don’t care too much, bundling your scarf closer to your neck in the enclosed room for something to do.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you were coming.” Jihoon says, empty of malice.

You smile but shrug. “Yeah, I ended up finishing pr- uh, study group earlier than I expected and thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

He shakes his head, shuffling his slides back and forth over the tightly woven grey carpet. Beats and patterns wave behind his head, turning the fluorescent halo around his hair neon.

“Not at all. I’m glad you decided to come. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I always enjoy your radio shows, Ji.” You blurt out.

Your jaw drops at your lack of filter, promptly shutting your mouth as your stomach drops and flutters. Wow, maybe Minghao is a bit right - too obvious. His brows quirk, resting his elbow on his knee.

“You listen to it?” He asks.

“Of course I do! I like you-your music taste.” You clench your teeth through your grin.

Wow, you really needed to learn how to filter your brain better. At least you don’t blush easily. You chatter back and forth about the playlist for tonight and his upcoming guests - he has Seokmin and Jeonghan, a mutual friend of Joshua’s, next week to talk musicals and teaching (how they relate, you’re not really sure). You forget Bumzu is even in the room until he gently clears his throat.

“Jihoon, you’re back on in 60.” He calls quietly.

“Oh! Oh right. Thanks, Bumzu.” Jihoon glances back to you, the tips of his ears a fairy floss pink. He’s grinning though. “Psst, do you want to talk more after the show?”

You nod, shooting a thumbs up, casting a glance back up to the time, hearing the end of a Pink Sweat$ song fade out.

He’s more charismatic over radio than you realise, leaning back in his chair and chatting briefly to one of the callers requesting. Still subdued but open, cracking a grin here and there. You check the radio show’s page to see if anyone is commenting on the show tonight - you’re a frequent snooper. Jihoon has quite a few fans, not just on campus. You bop your head along to his rhythmic playlist and listen intently to his callers. Before you know it, Jihoon is hunched near the controls and ending the show.

“Thanks for tuning into another Woozi Tunes on 97.6 fm. Remember, if you want to listen to this episode or any others, podcast recordings and playlists will be available on Spotify. To play us out, a song for, well a friend. An oldie but a good one - Bruno Mars, Finesse. Woozi, signing off.”

You bite your lip to stifle laughter. His favourite artist, your favourite song. You let him murder it the summer of 2018, long after it had come out, just to annoy Mingyu.

“And… cut. Cameras and audio are off. Another week down.” Bumzu announces, pulling off his headset.

You pull off your own, delicately setting it aside. You give a lone round of applause. “Well done everyone.”

The radio host looks to you, quietly preening as he stands to tug his jacket off the back of his chair. You stay seated out the way as they clear everything away, slotting equipment into draws and wiping down surfaces. There isn’t even any idle chatter between them, but rather than being awkward it’s a moment of peace you didn’t know you wanted. Working, content peace away from everything as of late.

“Jihoon, don’t worry. I’ll finish up.”

Jihoon’s dark brows shoot up. “No no, hyung. We’re almost done.”

“Exactly. There’s not much left and I lock up anyway. You’ve got an early seminar tomorrow. And a guest. You can head off.” The older man insists, his soft edges turning to a stubborn frown.

The younger of the two rolls pretty quick, pushing the keyboard away and nodding. Jihoon’s dark eyes flick to you hopefully as he grabs his keys and wallet from an open draw.

“Alright. Talk tomorrow. Night, hyung.”

You give the older man a wave, bundling yourself up again now that you’re leaving the enclosed space. “Thank you, Bumzu! Good night.”

You head out into the hallway, meandering down to the lift and then the small set of stairs to the entry of the arts building. The rain is heavier as you drift awkwardly, checking your phone and contemplating your journey home.

“How - how are you getting home?” Jihoon asks, flipping his hood up over his dark hair.

You shrug. “Bus. Soonyoung dropped me off, not Junwoo.”

His lips press together as he shows a prolonged nod, kicking at the lino in his slides. You click through for the bus timetable, patting your pockets for your purse. You wonder what he’s waiting for, seeing as he drove here and the carpark for this side of the campus is underground and less than five minutes. He probably had staff parking too because of the radio show.

“Are you busy?” Jihoon asks suddenly, a little sharper than you’re used to.

You shoot him some side eye, tucking your phone away. “What...when?”

“Uh, now?”

You smile, shaking your head and stuffing your hands in your deep coat pockets. “Nope, I’m free.”

His shoulders perk up and he pulls his hood back down. Jihoon’s ears are going a little pink again as he turns back for the stairs further into the building. You feel the tentative excitement rolling off him, rubbing off on you so that you mirror his frame, your own shoulders tucking up around your ears. Every shuffle of your feet echo and the light sensor above you flashes red.

“Do you want to see my new song? I know you haven’t had the chance to see much of them.”

You’d mentioned - gently hounded, you hoped would be the best alternative term - before that you would be excited to hear some of his stuff. You’re already on your way back to the lifts.

“Absolutely! Lead the way.”

You lean over the soundboard, listening intently to the demo track. His voice is distinct, so unlike what you thought it might be. Still, it's versatile and powerful when combined with the lyrics. The beat is steady and you bounce your head along.

You glance to him, leant back in his seat watching you. "You wrote this? Like, all of this?"

He hums. "Yeah. It’s the track I got an HD for.”

Jihoon's arms are crossed and you feel bad that he has to feel defensive with you. You smile then gasp when the pretty singing becomes fluid rapping. His gaze turns with your reactions, concerned. Finally, you pull off the headphones as the minute and a half closes.

"I - singing, rapping! Composing? This is amazing, Ji! I'm so glad your major is music, otherwise your talent would be wasted for sure." You proclaim.

He ducks his head and fluffs at his hair with a smile. Jihoon seems unable to look at you and you let the bashfulness slide - not. You nudge at his chair so it spins.

"Wah, you act like no one has ever said that before!"

"I - it sounds a little different coming from you." he shrugs, still not looking. "Most of them are a little amazed or they're assessors with a job of picking it apart."

You nod and sigh. "Makes sense. Still. I hope you keep that track. I'd listen to it."

Jihoon beams before his sight slides to the digital clock sitting on a shelf - how very retro and efficient - eyes widening as he sits up straight.

“I - It’s almost midnight. We better head out.”

You can’t help but pout, standing up to push your chair in. “Yeah I’ve, of course, got princess things to attend to. Bumzu said you have class, don’t you?”

His slim fingers peek out of his navy sleeves, flying across the keyboard to turn everything off. “Uh-huh. I’m supposed to be doing the readings on it now, but It’s a pretty lax class so I should be able to get away with it.”

Your mouth is flapping silently like a fish, unable to form any coherent speech to reply with. Something not scolding, nor a joke, seeing as he’d just sacrificed his valuable study time to entertain you. Then he’s in the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch.

“Are you coming, Princess? Or am I leaving you in the dark?” Jihoon looks at you expectantly.

You gasp - mostly at the teasing name - and scuttle after him, breaking out into the dingy hall, yellowing walls and all. “I - yeah, sorry! Let’s go.”

(If Jihoon sings along to the radio on the way to yours, you don’t say anything. You’re grateful that he does the same for you when the Top 40 segment comes up in the thirty-five minute trip.)

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

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doctorthasmin · 4 years

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Hi! First off I just want to say I love your writing :) Would you consider writing something where 13 is forced to travel somewhere on Earth "normally" and the fam have to help her figure it all out? I think it could be quite funny! 💛💛

Aw thank you! ⭐️ awesome prompt too! Hope you enjoy!

“Well she’s not happy.” The Doctor grumbled as the Tardis door locked shut, the smoke trapped inside as Yaz and Graham stood outside their arms crossed.

“At least we’re in our present!” Yaz offered cheerily, smiling at the bashful embarrassed Time Lord.

“Yeah, that’s true, she’ll go back to Sheffield when she’s not in a mood.” The Doctor rolls her eyes, the Tardis door opens once more before slamming shut. The Doctor winces, swallowing, she was going to pay for this.

“Alright leave her be Doc, come on I recognise the area we need to find a tube stop.” Graham suggests, holding his arm out for Yaz to encircle as they all trudge across the green, misty fog clearing their lungs.

It’s about ten minutes before the Doctor stops sulking and grabs Graham’s over arm, following his lead for a change. She snuggles her nose into her bright scarf, resisting the urge to fill the companionable silence with her usual banter. It’s Yaz who breaks the quiet a few moments ,after when she jumps up pointing to a tube station.

“Nice, Hyde Park Corner we can ride the tube all the way to Kings Cross get the train home.” Graham grins, fishing out his wallet to remove his Oyster card, Yaz doing the same. The Doctor being the Doctor marches up to the scanner at the entrance and firmly presses the psychic paper against it. When there’s no beep she frowns, whacking the leather against the wall before trying again. No beep.

“Maybe it’s because the Tardis is repairing herself?” Yaz offers, moving her forward so she and Graham can tap their cards as a queue begins to form.

“Hmm maybe, will I have to stowaway then? We haven’t done that since we met Tesla, hope there’s no Skithra onboard.” The Doctor says glumly as they walk into the main station, Graham leading the Doctor to the ticket machines.

“Nah don’t be silly Doc, I’ll sort you a ticket back to Sheffield. God I hate these new machines, Piccadilly line, north bound single that’s the stuff.” Graham murmurs, slipping some coins into the machine before it spits out a paper ticket.

The Doctor hangs onto it with her sweaty hands like a 6 year old on their first trip out, Yaz and Graham take pity and wedge her between them as they approach the turnstiles, it’s hot and packed and the Doctor feels unusually flustered as she feeds the ticket in, the wrong way around, immediately spitting it back out.

“Come on will you hurry up some of us need to get back to work!” One guy behind Graham huffs. Swallowing her panicky sensation the Doctor smiles frantically jamming the ticket back in.

“Alright cockle, she’s not from the manor okay, you’ll get to work.” Graham chides, giving the man a stern stare as the turnstile opens and the Doctor breathes a sigh of relief ripping the ticket back out and barrelling up to Yaz for a half hearted cuddle.

“I don’t think I’m good at 21st century travel.” The Doctor mumbles as people stream past them into the tiled corridors. Yaz grasps her hand squeezing it reassuringly.

“It’s less than ten stops, we’ll be on the train home before you know it.” Graham murmurs as they hear the hiss of the doors opening and the tannoy calling out “mind the gap”.

The Doctor makes a comical leap across grinning as she lands in the middle of the tube waiting for Yaz and Graham to step over and huddle with her against the main pole. Dozens of people pile on and before they know it the trio is squeezed together like sardines. Yaz doesn’t mind it so much, beats being pressed up against strangers and the Doctor has her arm around her lower back protectively.

“Last time I was on a tube this packed was a West Ham game.” Graham comments chuckling as a few lads further down the train start singing an arsenal chant.

“Think it was a seminar on policing my last time, had to wear the uniform, people give you a load of space when you’ve got a stab vest on believe me.” Yaz chuckles as the trains jolts to a stop with passengers getting off and a rush of cold air comes in. The doors hiss shut once more and they’re off again, next stop Kings Cross.

“Got a vague memory of leading people into Holborn station in 1940.” The Doctor mentions quietly, it passes Yaz by but Graham catches her eyes and he flashes her a small smile, putting his hand in her shoulder warmly.

“You’re always there when we need you eh.” He whispers making the Doctor grin softly before inhaling deeply. The doors hiss open once more and in a human chain the trio step off onto the platform following Graham as they make it up to the train station.

“You girls stay here I’ll get the tickets.” Graham says grinning as Yaz sits down on the bench gently pulling the Doctor down with her.

“I know you’re sad about the Tardis, but she’ll forgive you don’t worry.” Yaz says softly, rubbing circles on her back as the Doctor leans into her side sighing.

“I know, just didn’t realise how bad I was at travelling without her.” The Doctor jokes, making Yaz smile and laugh for the first time all morning.

Hey folks! It’s been a nice break reading other people’s stuff 😊 I will be writing more but prompts are very much welcomed because I’m still struggling for inspiration!

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #thasmin #graham o'brien #doctorthasmin stories

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: The Flowers That Had Torn Them Apart

Author: @gravestone-monarch (Grave)

For: @creepioz

Pairings/Characters: Established Hinanami, Komahina

Ratings/Warnings: Major character death, blood, angst, unrequited love

Prompt: 1) Coffee Shop AU 2) Any Angst 3) Hanahaki’s Disease

Author’s Notes: So, hello there! I’ve never written Komahina or hanahaki before, so I’m sorry if some things seem out of place! (It also doesn’t help I haven’t played SDR2) (this probably isn’t very reassuring huh)

I know I was probably just supposed to pick one prompt, but I looked at the list and the story just clicked in my head

So now you have this!

I really hope you enjoy it! I did *shudders*

rEseArCh

For this so hopefully it’s up to standard!

Also I know it says Hinanami in the tags, it makes sense in the story (this isn’t a hinanami centered story I swear)

Once more, enjoy!! ^^

Komaeda had been getting his lunches at the Jabberwock for as long as he could remember. He practically lived in it at this point. Each day he’d come in, order, sit for an hour and leave. Day in, day out. He was lucky the little coffee shop hadn’t closed yet. Usually he has rotten luck.

But one day, something changed.

The something that would inevitably be the death of him.

He walked in one day and noticed someone new at the counter. Short brown hair, heterochromia, well toned…

Well, he was certainly attractive, Nagito would give him that.

He walked up and stood in the queue, checking his phone for the time. He was here a bit earlier than usual.

“Next!”

His head snapped up as he realised the relatively short queue had depleted.

“Ah, so sorry!” He said to the man.

“No problem. What can we get you today?” The person said.

“Mm… I’ll have the usual.” He said. The cashier raised an eyebrow, then sighed.

“Sir, this is my first day. What’s ‘the usual’?”

“Oh!” Nagito chuckled nervously. “Sorry about that…” he looked down at the person’s nametag. “…Hajime.”

“Mhm, it’s fine. Honestly, it’s already happened three times this morning.”

“Really? That’s almost impressive.”

“Almost, yeah.” Hajime grinned slightly. “Now, what’d you say you wanted?”

“Oh, right! Well…"

He gave Hajime his order, and seeing as there was nobody in the queue behind him, he stood talking to him for a few minutes.

He learned a lot about Hajime in the time he had. He was the same age as Nagito, and actually went to the same college, despite being in different courses. Nagito told him he wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing with his future. Hajime agreed.

"Yeah, not sure either, really. It’s a writing course, so it could really go anywhere. Journalist, author, scriptwriter… you get the point.” Hajime said, Nagito nodding.

“I see! Sure does give a lot of hope, doesn’t it? Knowing you’re not stuck on one path… it’s great!”

Hajime looked at him. “Yeah, probably. Oh, your order’s ready.” Hajime told him, writing Nagito’s name on the cup.

“Oh! Thank you so much, Hajime.”

“No problem. That’ll be ¥360.”

Nagito passed over the money as Hajime passed him his coffee. Their fingers brushed for just a moment. Neither said anything, but Nagito felt his pale cheeks flush slightly.

“Well, I’ll be sitting over there now. Bye, Hajime.” Nagito said, waving. Why was he waving? Was he on waving terms with this guy?

He was being awkward.

Hajime laughed, shaking his head. “See ya, Nagito.”

Nagito smiled back at him, almost a bit too wide, as he sat down, taking a sip out of his coffee. It tasted slightly different today, but… not in a bad way. It almost tasted better, actually.

“Huh…”

He didn’t pay it much mind, just enjoying the taste as he pulled out his laptop. He had decided to get a bit of work done while he was at the Jabberwock today. His next paper was supposed to be about lesser known or folklore diseases. After a bit of research, he had decided on a certain disease that had caught his attention.

“Now, how do I start this..?” He wondered to himself. After a moment, he opened his document and started typing.

The hanahaki (ha-na-ha-ki) is a fictional disease that affects people with unrequited love.

As he finished his coffee, he saved his work, closing his laptop. As he was about to throw out the cup, something caught his eye. Where he thought his name was, a series of numbers had been scribbled.

You seem cool. Call me, if you want

xxx-xxxx-xxxx

-Hajime

Nagito’s breath hitched. That was Hajime’s number, right? He couldn’t believe it. Hajime gave someone like him his number?

Woah.

He looked back over at the counter, where Hajime had started serving another customer. As he turned around to start his customer’s order, he caught Nagito’s eye. He gave one last smile before turning away.

Nagito smiled, putting the empty cup in his bag. With one last glance back, he left. Until the next day, at least.

Hajime and Nagito got to talking over the next few weeks. Hajime told Nagito his schedule (Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays) and Nagito made sure to come in on those days, if he couldn’t make it on the others.

They learned a bit more about each other over the weeks. Hajime was born on New Year’s, leading to parties doubling as New Year’s and birthday parties (despite him not always enjoying them.) Nagito was born on April 28; his birth month representing death, sorrow and horrid luck, but his birth date representing increased luck and fortune. As such, he’s always had a weird mix of luck, which Hajime just found kinda funny.

Nagito started getting staff discounts, which was great. Both were born into rich families though, so it didn’t make much difference to either.

Nagito did end up asking why he started working at the Jabberwock if he already had enough money to last him a lifetime. Hajime responded with I’m not really sure. I suppose I just… had a feeling. Besides, what harm could a bit of extra pocket change do?

Nagito got his paper submitted on time. Hajime helped him out at parts, knowing a surprising amount about the disease. Once he finished, Hajime congratulated him with a free meal.

Honestly, Nagito didn’t feel like he deserved it. Hajime’s friendship, he means. Sure, he was kind of frank at times, almost vaguely rude to people he doesn’t like, but he was able to put up with Nagito’s rants about whatever was on his mind, which wasn’t easy, considering his random theories and such.

He was nice.

Nagito knew he was falling for the man. He’d be a fool not to. The man was attractive, nice, understanding… yeah, Nagito definitely had a crush.

The days when Hajime wasn’t in work were the lonely days, as Nagito called them. They just felt emptier, since he started talking to Hajime.

Nagito wasn’t entirely sure what to do about his feelings. Becuase, let’s be honest here. 'Why would Hajime ever like someone like me? Besides, he’s probably straight.’

But he knew he couldn’t keep it in forever. It’d get too much to handle at some point. He was getting distracted in his classes for thoughts of Hajime. So one day, he decided.

He’d just tell Hajime so he could reject him. Get it over with. If he was lucky, maybe Hajime wouldn’t be totally repulsed. Maybe he’d still want to maintain a friendship! Wouldn’t that be great?

So that Saturday, he decided he’d say it.

Now, he was just counting down the days.

Saturday rolled around, and Nagito made his way to the Jabberwock. He probably wouldn’t stay too long today; he’d just say it and leave. But when he walked in, he noticed something.

Hajime wasn’t there.

“Huh..?”

Wasn’t that just his luck?

The day he finally decides to be honest, the object of his affections isn’t even there.

Well, that’s fine too. He can just come back in a few weeks. Maybe a year. Perhaps a century or two. Not too long, right?

He sighed, turning to leave. As he turned though, he slammed right into someone.

“Ah, sorry! I- Nagito?”

Nagito looked up at Hajime, who he had just slammed into.

“Oh, hello Hajime! I’m so sorry about that, I had no right to touch you like that, I-”

“Hey, hey Ko. What’d we say about the self-deprication?” Hajime said, raising an eyebrow.

“R-right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted you to meet someone.”

“Ah, has Hajime made a new friend? How wonderful!”

“Haha, you could… yeah, you could say that.” He gestured to the girl beside him, who Nagito hadn’t even registered until now. She had pale pink hair and was wearing a navy hoodie, holding her phone. He could hear faint Tetris music coming from it.

“Nagito, I’d like you to meet Chiaki Nanami, my… my girlfriend.”

Nagito could’ve swore his world just broke.

The floor felt like it was crumbling apart, the walls falling beneath their own weight.

“Hey.” The girl greeted. Both smiled at him like they hadn’t just broken his heart.

Well, they didn’t know, did they?

“A-ah… n-nice to meet you, Nanami… I’m- I’m so sorry, but I really must go. I- I don’t feel the best.” Nagito spit out that lame excuse as he advanced to the door.

“Oh, you need a lift? I could-”

“No-! ahem, I mean… no thanks, Hinata. Thanks for the offer. Bye.”

He pushed the glass door open and walked out, quicker than he had ever walked before. He didn’t live too far away, luckily enough, so he walked home quick enough, just desperate to get away from it all.

“Hm.” Hajime hummed.

“What’s up with him?”

“Not sure… a-anyways, what would you like?”

That night, the flowers started.

It was only a petal at first. He was sitting at his desk, booting up his laptop to take another look at his paper. Something had been bugging him about it, he just wasn’t sure what.

This wasn’t the first thing he’d done when he got home. His pillow was definitely tear-stained and he’d run his box of tissues dry. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, though.

He had finally gotten over the throbbing in his head the crying had given him and sat down to re-read it when he felt a tickle in his throat. He tried clearing his throat, which turned to a full on coughing fit. At the end of it, he finally coughed it up.

A small daffodil petal, a bit smaller than his thumb.

Nagito froze, staring at the petal.

He just coughed that up, didn’t he..?

He looked from the petal to the computer screen in horror, not taking long to put it all together.

He thought the disease was fictional… but he had most definitely just coughed this up.

Nagito had the hanahaki disease.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Lucky for him, he’d already done his research, so he knew the deal. Flowers blossom in the victim’s lungs, eventually rendering them unable to breathe and suffocating them. The only cure was for the victim’s feelings to be romantically requited. You could also get surgery, but that results in you being incapable of romantic love, and Nagito couldn’t bear that. Despite knowing he didn’t have a chance with most anyone, especially Hajime, he’d like to make himself believe he still has.

Now, here was the kicker.

In most of the stories he’d read, the victim simply believed their love interest didn’t like them. But not in his story, oh no. Hajime was already romantically involved. That meant he most certainly didn’t feel how Nagito did. And if Nagito was going to avoid the surgery…

“I’m going to die.” He concluded, putting his head in his hands. He didn’t have enough energy or tears to cry anymore, so he just sat there, letting the cold truth set in.

It already felt harder to breathe.

It only got worse over the next few weeks.

After only three days a full daffodil head had come up, while he was in the Jabberwock, no less. It was getting increasingly harder to hide it in front of others.

Especially Hajime.

Hajime was usually very observant. He usually knew when someone was lying or hiding something from him, so he had to pull out his best acting skills.

Which, admittedly, were those of a teenager.

While he sat there, he was constantly clearing his throat, trying to force down the seemingly harmless flowers clawing their way up.

Luckily for him, the same person that put him in this situation was his unaware cover.

Chiaki.

As much as Nagito hated it, Hajime was now a lot more preoccupied with his girlfriend, which meant if Nagito needed to slip away to choke up a flower or two, he could do just that.

He didn’t know how to feel about Nanami. Sure, on one hand, she was basically the reason he was walking up Death’s driveway. But on the other hand, it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own for having these feelings

How does that one song go?

How could I hate her? She’s such an angel.

But then again, kinda wish she were dead.

Not to that extent, but that basically sums up his feelings about her.

Feelings very unlike those for Hajime.

He did a bit of research when he could. Why daffodils? Turns out, a meaning for daffodils was unrequited love.

And wasn’t that fitting?

He was marking the days. Appreciating each day he still got to wake up, not having been smothered in his sleep. In all honesty, though?

He’d rather be killed in his sleep than choked to death at a coffee shop table.

He was also trying to appreciate his time with Hajime. He knew he would never have that sort of relationship with him, not now. So he tried to make the most of their friendship with him.

It was nice, for a while.

But all good things come to an end, as they say.

He was coughing up flowers multiple times a day, now. He’d noted to himself that when he saw blood, his time was almost up.

Terrifying, right?

It really was.

He’d just come home from a walk. He’d started going on them a while ago, when he’d just got it. He hoped the fresh air would do him some sort of good.

It’s funny, really. A while ago, Nagito wouldn’t have cared if he was killed. We practically would have welcomed it.

But now? Now he’d met someone. And because he’d met someone, he was dying. Because he’d met someone, he didn’t want to die.

But it’s not like he got a say in the matter, did he?

His lungs were being overgrown by weeds that call themselves flowers. Horrid things that were worming their way up his throat every. Single. Day.

And eventually, blood would come with them.

So here he was, sitting down after his walk. He sat down at his desk, his throat wheezing as he did. It had been three weeks and four days, and each day suffocated him just that bit more. And right now, he was dizzy. Probably from the lack of oxygen.

Right on cue, his next coughing fit started. It lasted as long as all the others, felt like all the others… but afterwards, it didn’t look like all the others.

He opened his eyes to see what he’d been dreading. A horrible stain of blood splattered across his desk, almost looking pink in the lamp light. He saw two daffodils laying in the midst. Some would call this poetic.

What would Nagito call it?

A death sentence.

He could barely breathe. The flowers crushed his lungs as he scrambled to get his phone out.

Logically, he should call an ambulance. Emergency services, anything that would help.

However, Nagito wasn’t thinking logically.

And that’s not what he did.

He looked over at the old cup, tapping in the number scribbled on it.

He’d never see that handwriting again.

He’d never see him again.

His hands shook as he pressed dial, holding it up to his ear. He also pulled up his paper on his laptop, scanning over it.

Now he knew what he was going to add.

“Hello?”

“Ah, h-hello, Hajime! S-so sorry to bother you th-this late.”

“Mm, no problem. Something up?”

“N-no, nothing at all..!” He scrolled to the bottom of the document, typing quickly. “I just wanted to ch-chat, is all… you g-got a minute?”

“Ahh, sorry Ko. I’m with Chiaki right now. Mind if I call you back tomorrow?”

“…sure. That’s no problem, Hajime. Hajime Hinata…”

“Huh? Ko, you ok?”

He saved the document, plugging in the laptop to charge shakily. He wanted to say his usual; Yep, I’m fine! No need to worry yourself, Hajime. See you tomorrow, hm?

That’s what he would’ve said had his throat not closed up.

Instead, he fought for his breath. He fought a battle that he’d inevitably lose. Hands shaking, chest wheezing, he spoke into the phone.

One last time.

“H-Hajime…”

“Yeah Ko?”

“I-I think I’m dying.”

He dropped his phone to the table, his head following suit not long after. In his last moments of consciousness, he heard Hajime yelling through the phone.

“What?! Nagito, did you say you’re dying?!”

“Nagito, answer me!”

“Nagito Komaede, talk to me!”

“C'mon, c'mon! Answer already!”

“I- Chiaki, call emergency services to this address. I’m sending help, Nagito. Just… just hang in there, please.”

A pool of blood drying on the table.

A final call ended.

A bleach white head of hair stained.

A final message on his computer.

In conclusion, the hanahaki disease is a very terrifying prospect, and now that I have experienced its effects first hand, I can confirm.

The hanahaki is deadly. I, Nagito Komaeda, have been killed at its hands.

March 11th.

They just didn’t get there quick enough.

Emergency services got there moments after Hajime did, who had sprinted up the stairs to where Nagito once resided.

He was shocked to find the scene in front of him.

He ran over to Nagito, trying to shake him awake. But no amount of shaking could uproot the flowers that had torn them apart.

He was brought off to a hospital, but he was already dead when they arrived. It didn’t take long to put together what had happened, despite nobody quite believing it. With the document Nagito had left, the blood and flowers and the tangle in his lungs, it was determined he most definitely had the disease, and just managed to keep it a secret.

Hajime.

He just couldn’t believe it.

Nagito was just… gone.

That phone call was the last time he’d ever hear the poor man’s voice. See him smile or laugh, despite how unnerving it could be at times.

All of that… gone.

Just because he loved someone.

Nagito had never talked about having a crush on anyone. But only people with unrequited feelings got the disease, right?

So whoever he liked just didn’t like him back.

And there was just the smallest, miniscule part of Hajime that had a feeling he knew who it was.

He prayed to whatever gods were up there that he was wrong.

Years later, Hajime still can’t look at daffodils.

For all they mean respect, chivalry… rebirth, eternal life, new beginnings, all of which Komaeda didn’t receive…

They also meant unrequited love. The cruel mistress that took his life.

He used to like Spring. Now he can’t stand it. That’s when daffodils bloom.

That’s when Nagito died.

He still lays awake some nights, thinking about the man he used to know. What would have happened had they not met? Had Hajime never taken that job, would Nagito still be alive?

A question that would never be answered.

He quit his job right after, not wanting to be reminded of the man. Despite that, he wouldn’t let him be forgotten.

So now, all he could do was heal. Mourn him, and heal.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever like daffodils again. After all, they’re the flowers that tore them apart.

-End-

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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nevernotwriting · 3 years

Text

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 9: Escape

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

You woke up with the very firm knowledge that today was your last day in prison. This was the day Yancy was going to help you escape. You felt nervous with excitement and anticipation, but a small part of your heart wrenched when you met with Yancy and his gang after lunch.

Yancy was hunched over staring at the table when you joined him, lost in thought. It took Hank nudging him to bring his attention to your arrival. He blinked and sat up, barely shooting you a smile before launching into the plan.

The plan was simple. When you were getting dinner, Tiny was going to push you into Yancy. Yancy would take a swing at you, and the rest of the gang would declare a fight to alert The Warden.

“And what happens after that?” You asked.

“Ah don’t worry, I got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Yancy replied. He smiled at you with a wink, but his smile still didn’t reach his eyes.

You wanted to spend some more time with Yancy before your departure, but he whisked himself away from the table shortly after, claiming he had some business to take care of before your escape could commence. You sighed as the rest of the gang departed, leaving you alone.

The evening rolled round all too quickly, and you were back in the canteen once more. You joined the queue for food, Tiny slipping in front of you. She nodded to you, and you nodded back. Yancy was stood behind you, the first time you had seen him in many hours. His hands were clasped in front of him, a tight smile on his face before he cast his eyes back down to the floor once again. You looked around at the other prisoners, all of whom were eating their food and shooting occasional glances your way. The guards milled around the edges of the room, utterly clueless to what was brewing in front of them.

A couple of minutes passed as you shuffled forward in the queue. You were about to turn to Yancy and ask him when this would be happening when Tiny stopped in her tracks. You bumped into her with a huff. She didn’t miss a beat, whipping round and shoving you backwards into Yancy.

“Hey!” Yancy snapped, pushing you away from him. A look of venom was plastered onto his face, but you saw it crack for a split second before chaos ensued.

Despite her nickname, Tiny had one hell of a pair of lungs on her.

“Fight!”

Every prisoner scrambled to their feet and surrounded you, holding back the guards like a human barricade as Yancy raised his fists. He took a purposefully slow swing in your direction and you ducked, keeping your eyes trained on him as shouts and screams rang in your ears. You were anxious at the prospect of having to hit him again when the lights turned red and alarms blared once more, indicating that The Warden was on his way. You gulped and glanced at Yancy, who gave you a reassuring wink. You didn’t miss his hands clenching into fists as he curled in on himself.

The circle parted to reveal The Warden, who marched forward and grabbed Yancy’s arm. You winced, scowling as he pointed a finger at Yancy’s face.

“Yancy!” He barked, flecks of spit flying out of his mouth in every direction. “What did I tell you about startin’ fights?”

Yancy gulped, shaking his head from side to side. “B-b-but-”

“You have given me no other choice!”

A guard stepped forward and The Warden tossed Yancy towards him.

“Put him in solitary!”

Your heart started pounding in your chest. Either the plan hadn’t worked, or it was one hell of a strange plan. By the time the lights returned to normal and the alarm died out, you were a quivering mess. The Warden rounded in on you.

“And you,” he spat. “Get back to your cell.”

A harsh grip landed on your shoulder and escorted you out of the canteen. You were pushed down the hallway and into your cell, the guard closing the bars behind you with a loud clang.

You sighed and scratched the back of your neck, unsure of what to do next. You looked towards your bed; maybe this plan of Yancy’s wouldn’t occur for a few more hours, so getting some rest didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Not like you had anything else to do.

You climbed under your covers, looking up at the bottom of the bed above you. What you saw made you shoot out from under the sheets faster than a bullet from a gun.

“Hey buddy. How ya doin’?”

“Yancy!” You hissed, trying not to yell. “What are you doing here? How did you get out of solitary?”

“Told ya, I got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he replied with a smirk, pulling a piece of black material from his pocket. “Looks like, uh… looks like it might be time to break outta here, but before we do, I need ya to put this on.”

Yancy held the material out to you. You frowned at him in confusion.

“Awh listen, it ain’t nothin’ personal. I just don’t want word gettin’ out about my escape routes, ya hear? Cause if you know, then yous gonna tell others, and then theys gonna tell others, and then suddenly, everyone’s breakin’ out, when no one-”

You put a finger to his lips, shocking him out of his irritated spiel. He went cross-eyed looking at your finger, but he didn’t seem to mind. You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, taking the material and tying it around your eyes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Good move. Now let’s get goin’. But, uh, watch ya head.”

With your makeshift blindfold securely in place, Yancy took your hand and led you to your escape.

A few hop, skips, and jumps later, you were on solid ground once more, and a light breeze indicated that you were outside. Yancy’s hand let go of yours, and you took off your blindfold.

“And there you have it!” He declared.

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. You relished in the sky above you, having only seen a concrete ceiling for most of the last few days. The grass you were standing on was slightly overgrown, and it tickled your ankles. You didn’t want to take these small details for granted ever again.

“Oh and, uh…” Yancy caught your attention again, producing two items.

“I think these are youses?” He asked, holding them out to you. It was your cell phone – unmistakably yours by its unique casing – and the artefact.

You gasped, taking the objects from him. “Yancy, thank you! How did you-”

Yancy shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “It’s no big deal. I just… I slipped by the Warden’s office to have a little chat on the way over here. I saw that thing,” he pointed to the box, “that yous walked in with, so uh… I dunno. I thought you’d want it.”

A smile broke out onto your face, your heart melting. It soon froze again as Yancy casually grasped two of the bars on the gate.

He was still on the other side.

“Yancy…” You cleared your throat. “Do you… why don’t you…”

You couldn’t get the words out, too afraid of rejection. You gestured instead, beckoning him to come with you.

Yancy blinked in surprise. “Me? Out there? With you?”

He smiled, but you could see the torment in his eyes. He glanced at the ground again, shuffling his hands on the bars.

“Nah, I uh… I done a lot of bad things, and uh… this is home! For now, anyway.” He gestured to the prison behind him.

The breeze seemed to pick up and chill you to your very core as his words sunk in. You took a step closer.

“Yancy, you told me yourself that you didn’t kill your parents. Why do time for something you didn’t do?”

Yancy shuffled his hands again and hung his head with a sigh.

“Look, Zero… I appreciate what yous sayin’, but I still done a few bad things. I ain’t perfect.” He attempted a smile, but it fell flat when he looked at your sombre expression.

“Neither am I, but you still helped me. Is what you did really bad enough to stay in here for… for what, forever?”

Your voice was growing hoarse with emotion, not wanting to let go of his kindness and charm so soon. You had only known each other for a few days, but the pounding of your heart told you more than your brain could ever rationalise. You placed a hand over his. His gaze fixed on your hand, and he flexed his fingers. You hoped he would intertwine his hand with yours, but he merely drew his hand back and returned it to rub the side of his neck. He let out another deep sigh, meeting your eyes once more.

“Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll… give it a shot.” The last four words were barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart clench yet again. You wanted to pull him towards you, hug him tight and never let go, but you couldn’t.

“Anyway,” Yancy snapped himself out of his guilt-ridden expression. “I better get back to it. You take care now, ya hear?”

You swallowed, barely managing a smile. “You too.”

Yancy returned his hand to yours, giving it one final squeeze before he began to pace away from the gate.

“Visitation, every third Sunday!” He shouted.

The two of you kept your eyes locked for as long as possible. When you finally did look away to turn on your phone, Yancy was gone.

A lump formed in your throat. You paced away from the gate, turning around to see only the side of the prison building and a desolate road.

You were alone again.

You leaned against a nearby tree, taking a deep breath in and out. You were out of prison, you were liberated, yet somehow you felt emptier than you had in the past couple of days you’d spent behind bars.

Your phone vibrated, startling you out of your worried mind. It was fully operational, with half the battery still left. A stream of missed calls and messages from friends and family trickled in, many of them asking where the hell you were and why you weren’t replying. Guilt flooded your body, and you made a mental note to reply to them as soon as you were safe and apologise for leaving them hanging. You tapped through your contacts, looking for a getaway, though in the back of your mind you already knew the best person to call.

Mark’s face and number appeared on your screen. He had a big cheesy grin on his face, hair splaying around. It must have been windy when he took that picture. Your stomach lurched as your thumb hovered over the call button, taking one final look around you for any passing cars you could hitch a ride from, but the road was empty.

“Son of a bitch,” you cursed to yourself, locking your phone. Seeing his face again sent your blood boiling after what you’d witnessed the night before on the security cameras, but your stomach still fluttered with all the fond memories you’d had with him. You curled up at the base of the tree, tears springing to your eyes as you hugged your knees.

Just when you were about to give in, you thought of one other solution.

You looked at the artefact, still clutched in your other hand. Shark said it contained something, right?

“Please, please be something good,” you prayed, prying off the lid and tipping the contents into your lap.

Whatever fell out wasn’t heavy. You picked it up. It was a key, and around it was a small piece of rolled-up paper. You unravelled it, revealing a message.

This universal skeleton key can unlock ANY lock ever made.

You read the message again, huffing a breath of disbelief. The key looked old but mostly unimposing. To think it held such power took your breath away.

You glanced at the prison gate. Your heart started racing again, thinking of Yancy on the other side, alone in his cell. You glanced to the road. You thought of Mark getting an earful from Shark for failing the heist. Maybe he even missed you.

“Why can’t everything be easy?” You questioned, looking down at the phone and the key in your hands. One of them led to a life you wanted, but figuring out exactly which was which was a whole other puzzle. Your heart was being pulled in two directions, one by a man you barely knew, and the other by a man you weren’t sure you could trust anymore.

Finally, your brain kicked into action.

What was that Yancy said earlier?

You heard his words in your mind, clear as day in his accent.

“Visitation, every third Sunday.”

Everything clicked into place as you hatched a plan. You stood up with a new sense of purpose, key tightly in your grasp.

You unlocked your phone and called Mark.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

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nazyalenskyism · 4 years

Text

Just Friends

Summary: Nikolai and Zoya are just friends... aren't they? | Zoyalai modern AU.

A/N: Zoya and Nikolai live in my mind, rent free at this point. Feedback is appreciated, and my ask is open if you ever want to talk or send prompts or anything! The fic is below the cut.

Ao3: Just Friends

“Hurry up! If you’re not here in,” she checked her watch, “four minutes, these freshmen are going to take your room.”

“Zoya, I’m almost there, just stall them!”

“How the hell am I supposed to--” he’d already hung up on her. Fantastic. She knew she should’ve booked the study room under her name, Nikolai was too eager of a student, he’d probably stayed behind to talk to his Professor about his favourite books concerning the lecture material. Nikolai may have been the one to curry favour and win hearts but at least she excelled at something he could never manage to master, being punctual. Squaring her shoulders she stepped towards the first years who were crowded around the door, probably counting down the seconds before the ten minute grace period was over so that they could snatch the room up for themselves. Not on her watch.

“Hey!” She snapped, her most imperious armor clicking into place. “What do you think you’re doing?” Zoya had long ago learned that people would believe what you had to say as long as you acted so confident in your convictions that you left no room for them to doubt you.

They all looked up at her, their mouths hanging open. Finally one of them mustered enough courage to spit out, “we’re waiting for the room to open up.”

“You’re Nikolai Lantsov?” Zoya drawled, letting her eyes sweep them from head to toe. They shrunk under her gaze, only one of them dared to respond.

“No but if he doesn’t show up in 2 minutes then we get his room.”

“Wait, we’re waiting for his room? I wanted to get a picture of him.”

This was new, so now they were treating Nikolai like he was a celebrity. “Well, you’re not getting his room, so get lost. And he doesn’t ‘take photos’ with anyone, his ego isn’t that inflated.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Nazyalensky, my ego is indeed quite that big.” With his wind tousled hair and suit, he definitely looked like a celebrity, and it was clear that the other students thought so as well.

“Unfortunately, she’s right about the pictures, sorry to disappoint.” He winked over his shoulder, swiping his ID and opening the door for Zoya. She entered as he said “if you’re looking to take pictures. I heard that Genya Safin is never opposed to that flattery.” He slid into the room firmly shutting the door while the students stood open mouthed. “You’re positively glowing Zoya, how was your presentation?”

“I’ve found that putting children in their place does that for my complexion. It was perfect as always, yours?”

“Perfect as always,” he grinned at her. Leaning back in his chair, he loosened his tie with one hand, while opening his laptop with the other. “So, Nazyalensky, I was thinking…”

“You do that?”

“Yes, and I do it better than most. But that’s how I do everything Zoya, you should know that by now. I was thinking that since we’re already dressed up, what if we get dinner at that fancy restaurant on the waterfront?”

Zoya’s head shot up, she’d been wanting to go there for months, but all her friends had wanted to go with their significant others, and you had to reserve a spot weeks ahead of time.

“We can’t, we don’t have a reservation.”

“Yes we do.”

“Nikolai, you just brought up these plans, even if you’d been thinking about them all day, there’s no way you could’ve gotten a reservation today. Even you don't have that much money or sway.”

“I may have made it a few weeks in advance.” In response to her confused look, he continued, “I know you like to spend your birthday alone, but I still wanted to celebrate with you, so I booked our table two months ago.”

Two months ago? Of course he would. He would’ve seen on the syllabus that they had a presentation today— two days before her birthday, and one that required them to wear business attire, and figured it was the perfect way to spring it on her the day of so she couldn’t say no. Not that she’d want to, she was eager to go to the restaurant but the further in advance he told her things, the more likely she was to talk herself out of them. Damn him for knowing her so well. Still, she wasn’t going to surrender this easily. She leaned back, crossing her arms, staying silent.

“Come on Nazyalensky, we’ve got the best table in the place and for afterwards, I was thinking we could have a movie night. You know you want to say yes.”

She shrugged noncommittally, “maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Whatever suits you best, Lantsov. Now hurry up, we only have this room for another 90 minutes.”

They got to work revising for one of their other shared classes, and before they knew it, they were greeted by a knock on the door.

“Occupied” Zoya hissed in frustration as Nikolai mumbled, “come in,” neither bothering to look up from their work until the visitor cleared their throat.

“Kirigin!” Nikolai beamed, his smile a little too big to be genuine, but Kirigin wouldn’t know that. Zoya peeked at Nikolai’s watch as he got up, they only had 10 minutes left.

“I was wondering if you would let me study here until you’re done? I have the room right after, but all the tables around here are taken.”

Nikolai looked to Zoya for and only then did Kirigin seem to notice her presence in the room. “We were actually just leaving,” Zoya said hurriedly rising from her chair before Kirigin could start falling over himself to compliment her.

“Oh, leaving so early?”

“Yes,” Nikolai responded, moving closer to her so that he could sling an arm over her shoulders. “We’re actually heading out for Zoya’s birthday dinner.” Kirigin opened his mouth, oh no. This was her queue to leave.

“I’m going to get some water before we go,” she announced, ignoring Nikolai’s imploring look in her direction, telling her not to leave him alone with Kirigin. Whoops. As she made her way back to the room, water bottle full, she heard something that made her freeze before she could walk in.

“So… are you and Zoya dating then?”

“Zoya and I?” Nikolai sounded flabbergasted. “Nazyalensky and I? No, we’re just friends.”

‘Just friends.’ Zoya thought. What was that that supposed to mean? She felt the sharp sting of hurt in her chest. She had been foolish to think that Nikolai saw her as something more than an ordinary friend. Not that she wanted him to. But still, an unnamed emotion had dug its claws into her chest and refused to leave her mind. What did he mean by that?

She stepped into the doorway, acting like she’d overheard nothing. Nikolai grinned at the sight of her, his smile reaching his eyes. He picked up her coat and bag, sauntering over to her. Waving a quick goodbye to Kirigin, Nikolai exited the room, waiting until they were in the elevator alone to talk to her.

“Is everything alright?” he asked quietly, as if sensing that something was off.

“Everything is fine, Nikolai.”

“You seem mad.” His eyes were full of concern, playful affection, and something else, something more biting that she couldn’t bear to face.

She turned away, “I’m not mad, why would I be mad?” Was this the concern you showed to someone you were just friends with? Knowing Nikolai, it probably was, but he was never this kind unless he wanted something from you. For once in her life, she didn’t seem to be the one by his side, rather the one under the crosshairs, completely blindsided. What did he want? She knew she shouldn’t be upset, Nikolai had never claimed to see her as anything more than a friend, and she had never asked for— never wanted more. Until now.

“Zoya?” The concern in his voice was near palpable, the warmth of his hand on her skin pulsed through her. She couldn’t deal with this.

“Just friends, Lantsov?” He froze, hand still on her shoulder. “I thought we were, how do you say it? Best friends.” She said, emphasizing the words as Nikolai would.

He let out a shaky breath as the elevator came to a stop before pressing a hand to his face, wiping all emotion but boyish charm away. “Why Zoya, you think that we’re ‘besties?’”

“Disgusting. No.” She wrinkled her nose as Nikolai laughed, leading her out of the elevator. In her heart she knew he was right. They were friends, just friends. And that was all they would ever be.

Just friends.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai fic #kos fic #zoyalai au #king of scars #tgt

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