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yuunemi · 11 months

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I Wanna Show You Off

PAIRING : MITSUYA TAKASHI X FEM!READER

GENRE : FLUFF!

C/W : NONE!

LIBRARIAN'S NOTE/S : i was smiling like an idiot while writing this. i hope y'all enjoy reading this.

NOTES & REBLOGS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED ^^

"Hey Takashi."

It was one lazy afternoon, school just finished and you decided to hang out at Mitsuya's place. Luna and Mana were playing in the living room while you and Mitsuya were in his room. Lying down on his bed blasting your shared playlist with him while he's busy sewing clothes.

"Hm? What's up?"

You rarely call him by his name unless you have something serious to talk about or you were simply in a daze. "I wanna show you off." You said out of nowhere

Stopping from his work, he turned to look at you, "Huh? What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" He asked with a smile. "Nothing... I just want you to pick me up after school." You pouted.

Walking in your direction, he sat beside you. "Yeah? What made you want that?" He said while settling your head on his lap. "N-Nothing much... I was just being jealous of my other classmates..." You mumbled, your voice getting softer with each word.

"They're all going home together, buying food for each other, and all that pda in public... I know I act indifferent about those things, but you don't have to buy me food... I just want you to pick me up." You rambled on

Embarrassed at your own request and reason, you hug his waist and hide your face in his stomach, but he could see the way your cheeks turned red all the way to your ears.

Laughing at you, how could he reject such a cute request? "Sure thing, love, what time does your school end?"

"4:30 in the afternoon." Nodding his head at your answer, "Perfect, Luna and Mana's classes end 2 hours earlier than yours. I won't have to worry about cutting myself in half." He said with a laugh

"You know, you don't really have to if you're so busy... besides, you have your own classes to attend as well..." Feeling guilty for your selfishness, you take back your request.

"Well, I'm not busy and my school ends 30 minutes earlier than yours so don't worry about it, okay? I'd always make a way."

Softly smiling at you, he turns your head for a forehead kiss.

"Thanks!"

The next day came, and it was just like any other school day. Couples publicly displaying affection so early in the morning, students sleeping, and students cramming their homework due today.

To say that it was a tiring day was an understatement because it was exhausting. Juggling school work here and there while chasing teachers for deadlines.

What's worse is that you had to run around from the ground floor to the fifth floor because it was suddenly announced that your class had to finish decorating your respective booths for an upcoming school event in 2 days.

Your feet were dead from all that running around, and you were mentally exhausted as well. Today was such a mess that you forgot about Mitsuya picking you up today.

Rushing through the school lobby, you were shocked to see a familiar purple head wearing his school uniform with his oh so famous earring, "Oh! Mitsuya?"

Smiling at you, he raises up a plastic of McDonalds. You were wondering why he was waiting for you with food in hand when you told him that it was alright not to bring you any food—wait, not bring any food? Then it hit you

"OH MY!"

"WHAT TIME IS IT?!" Panicking, you took out your phone to see that it was 5:18 PM. "CRAP! I FORGOT IM SO SORRY!" Rushing to him, you gave him a hug and decided to stay and explain things.

"I am so sorry, I know I asked you to pick me up, but I was so busy that I forgot and didn't even notice the time." You rambled.

"Hey, hey... calm down... deep breaths... that's right, it's okay, I understand."

Ushering you to sit at the waiting area of the lobby, he proceeds to take out your chicken nuggets and open its box for you to eat before taking out your fries and drinks.

"To be honest, I thought I had kept you waiting because I arrived 15 minutes late, but when I arrived at your school, I saw you running around and scurrying here and there. I could see how tired you were and well... I got you this."

"Thanks! You're the best!" You said after finishing the food in your mouth.

"Oii!! L/n!! We need you here!!" A classmate of yours, shouted while running to your location. "Laterrr!! I'm eating!!" You shouted back.

"HA?! BUT EVERYONE'S WORKING TO THE BONE AND YOU'RE JUST-" Her angry protest was cut short when she saw you and Mitsuya together. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to borrow Y/n for a while." Mitsuya coolly said with a smile.

"Oh! Uhh-Hi! Sorry, I-uh didn't know... we'll just be on the third floor then." She stuttered with blushing cheeks while you just rolled your eyes at her. You waited for your classmate to walk away and for his attention to turn toward you before pouting your lips at him

"Huh? What's the matter?" Mitsuya asked with a carefree smile.

"I don't like the way you were smiling at her." You pouted

"She was the annoying classmate that I was ranting to you about the other day." You added

Laughing at your cuteness, he pinches your cheek. "Aww~~ I'm sorry, I didn't know." Stuffing your mouth with fries, you pout even more.

"You're so cute when you act this way, childish and jealous." Mitsuya adds with a mischievous grin.

Playfully rolling your eyes at him "Whatever." You said, which in turn, made Mitsuya laugh even more.

Finishing your food, you tidy it and go to a nearby trash can to throw it before returning to Mitsuya

"I'm so sorry Mitsuya, I really wanted to go home with you today but I didn't expect this to happen. But thanks for the food though!"

"Hey, don't sweat it, besides, who said you were gonna walk home alone today?"

Your eyes widened at his words "But Luna and Mana! I don't know how late we'll end, perhaps by 6 but—"

"Then, I'll just have to help you out to finish quicker." He interrupted with a smile

"And yes. It's okay, I don't mind. Besides, didn't you say that you wanted to show me off?" He added with a smirk

Blushing at the latter part of his response, you shake your head with a smile and led him to the lobby guard so he can claim a visitor's pass

Upon returning back to the third floor, you were met with an annoyed classmate "Y/n, what took you so long?! I literally called you 10 minutes ago." She asked

Mitsuya was about to apologize again, not until you had interjected with a sarcastic answer "Well apologies for enjoying my food and avoiding indigestion."

"Anyways, Mitsuya meet Yuna, my classmate, and Yuna meet Mitsuya, my boyfriend. He volunteered to help out with our booth."

"Hi! I look forward to working with you." Mitsuya greeted with a bow.

"Anyways, Kashi, I need your help here. Can you hold these two ends together, while I secure them in their place?" You said, already walking towards the problem at hand.

"Sure!" He replied, and your classmate was left speechless for a moment before she regained composure and went back to work as if nothing happened.

Boy did his presence cause such a ruckus, but it's not like everyone had time to gossip and pry more into the situation. Though one thing's for sure, you were undoubtedly proud to flaunt your boyfriend just for today.

The day finally ended, and all students were already being told to go home. Everyone bid their goodbyes and went their separate ways home.

"Man, I'm deadbeat tired."

"That must be heavy, let me carry it." Mitsuya said while taking your backpack and you could've sworn that the students you heard planning to go to the convenience store for food were now gushing and talking about Mitsuya's gesture.

"Thanks!"

Walking hand in hand on your way home, the day was definitely tiring but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Ne, Kashi, I'm surprised you didn't bring your motorcycle. I kinda wish you did now." You said with a dry laugh

"Well, you mentioned that the couples in your class were walking back home together, so I thought that's what you wanted... besides, I didn't expect you would be running out and about today."

"Yeah, I didn't expect it either... but thanks anyways! I imagine that I would be trudging on my way back home if you hadn't come."

"Next time, I'll be sure to pick you up with my motorcycle then." He coolly said. Instantly lighting up and turning to him, "No way!" you exclaimed.

"OH! OH! You should also do the things they do in books where they lean against their motorcycles!"

Laughing at your behavior, he nods his head, "Sure thing, love."

#tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #mitsuya takashi #tokrev fanfic #tokrev x reader

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mkstrigidae · 11 months

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please tell me about being 12 and obsessed with the titanic. i was once 12 and obsessed with the wives of henry viii, and remember it fondly.

how is the resurgence of the old obsession going? are you being made aware of how the old obsession has never left you, continued to influence you, shaped you?

I think that you and I must have some kind of psychic link because I was ALSO very obsessed with Tudor history at that age- I read those 'young royals' historical fiction books by Carolyn Meyer and just completely spiraled into the topic 😂

My titanic phase was actually very long and got me in trouble with several librarians over the years, in addition to shot putting me into an obsession with shipwrecks in general (and wrecks of other kinds, airplane disasters, etc.). I've had a lifelong fascination and love affair with everything and anything having to do with the ocean, and this felt like a natural extension of that interest. (More below the cut, for purposes of being considerate to anyone who has no interest in my rambling).

I think the concept of Titanic- this grand ship that man created and the ocean reclaimed- was very fascinating- and still is to me- because of the idea that if any one thing had changed, the whole thing might have been different. If David Blair hadn't accidentally taken the keys to the storage locker where Titanic kept a set of binoculars, if he hadn't been demoted before the voyage, if the White Star Line had bothered doing any kind of safety drills, it it had been just a bit windier, if there hadn't been that boiler room fire, if they'd listened to the Californian's warning, If Murdoch had decided to ram the iceberg instead of sideswiping it- everything could have changed. The 'Ifs' are really what fascinate me.

But at the same time, something like titanic almost had to happen at some point, it feels like. Titanic was over compliant with safety regulations of the day in terms of lifeboat capacity, and most of what happened the night of the wreck was actually in line with standard practices at the time. There were inherent issues in the Olympic class ships that would have caused a problem sooner or later, and if Titanic hadn't happened, some other maritime disaster would have demonstrated the problem of relying on other ships to ferry passengers in the event of a sinking, rather than having an appropriate number of lifeboats on board. How many disasters prior to Titanic- prior to the changed safety regulations, the ice patrol, SOLAS- didn't happen- only because one thing coincidentally went right? We only ever learn the new rules we need to have to make things safer because of events like this, where literally everything went wrong, all at once. If Titanic hadn't happened, something like it probably would have. If Tenerife hadn't happened in 1977, if it hadn't caused the changes to international airline safety regulations and standardized language, wouldn't another disaster of the sort prove to us that we needed to change something? If the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory hadn't burned that day, another disaster of the type would have happened, because the rules we put in place to stop those kinds of problems didn't exist- because nothing had prompted them to exist!

Sorry, this is getting to be a very long answer, but my Titanic obsession has never truly left me, and its legacy is my interest in dissecting these 'ifs' in disaster situations, in stories, in my own life- the seeming inevitability of so many things versus our ability to alter the course of events. There are these kind of pivot points that history seems to rest on at times, and I constantly wonder what things would be like if the smallest details at those points were changed.

(I actually didn't watch the movie until I was in college, oddly enough, but it's very difficult to watch it and not be awed by the amount of effort and research and care went into it. That being said, James Cameron does seem like a bit of a dick, and the Blue people avatar movies are a very expensive waste of money).

#ask answers #Titanic #SORRY this got long #I'm not good at using a small amount of words

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fang46 · 2 years

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the heat dream sequences: my thoughts - d:dw

ok soooooo i just reread this arc super recently. like umm maybe 3-4 yrs ago i read this arc for the first time, completely forgot about it, and recently i got around to catching up and reading akihiro's newer stuff. so i'm just waiting around for new mutants and marauders to update rn so i'd like to just . ramble abt my thoughts here abt both akihiro and how i feel like the heat arc was super mid plot wise tbh, but how the character writing was awesome imo

i'll be using pages from daken: dark wolverine issues 10-23 w references to other runs

ok i want to . first try to figure out what's happening here

so heat can influence people's perception of reality - and show hints of an individual's true nature. most of the heat hallucinations we see are from the two highlighted victims of the claw killer, donna, logan, and ofc akihiro. i'll be focusing on akihiro's hallucinations specifically bc his are the most prominent, not to mention the most intriguing since it gives us a rare glimpse of his psyche

this whole sequence is like. huh. the way he describes how warm he feels is interesting - "the world is the temperature of a mother embracing a lost and panicked child"... that's such a specific way to describe feeling high. also it's something he's realistically never experiences (looking at his backstory) so it's very. huh! so does he ... desire that? kinship? i think so bc of. what other sequences we see from him. also keep in mind the green and yellow boxes. i think they mean something more. the green boxes come in whenever "daken" is speaking. but the yellow boxes? those only show up in the heat hallucinations. they're usually panicking about akihiro's deteriorating condition. they're the voice that questions the purpose of heat.

those yellow boxes... who is that? now. we see these boxes pop up again somehow.... kinda. in issue #13. we see donna's boxes come up + her thoughts. its a bright yellow, contrasting w akihiro's olive green boxes.

so if . donna's boxes are bright yellow, and akihiro's is olive green, then who is the dark yellow bubbles? they're clearly thoughts,,,, but of whom?

ok so the next part is. devoid of "daken" (the green boxes, that's what i'm gonna dub it for the rest of this analysis idk stick w me here folks)

so the first semblance of this weird dark yellow color is how they depict johnny here. first of all... why is johnny storm out of all people here? why is he akihiro's guide? and why is he the "librarian's assistant" to the place akihiro is introduced to work in?

here it's vital to note that in reality, akihiro is basically dead. he has little to no healing factor holding him up right now. so we won't be seeing "daken" until the end of this hallucination. that's right - i'm dubbing this guy "akihiro" (I KNOW . I KNOW they call him daken here but whatever. i'm not calling him that argue w the wall idc)

the heat...! you think that's why he feels like johnny storm is one of the harbingers of his library? the library that. in a way is the storage of sins committed? since the library is full of the names of people who akihiro killed.

as you can see here, "akihiro" is sorry for killing people. he even takes the beating and stabbing almost willingly. he's.... taking punishment. the subconscious guilt that akihiro feels deep down, almost unawaked, is stored far far away from . its his superego, this persona of his. his desire deep down is to . be boring . be in control . be guilt-free? maybe. based off his conditioning it seems like he can't really think of forgiveness or acceptance of wrongdoing as a viable answer to be free of guilt - which leads to the only other option: punishment. and in a way, his own subconscious is beating him down... until donna comes and belittles him for being "weak". as we've seen in previous issues of this run and in the concurrent x-23 run, akihiro sees caring or even genuinely feeling emotion to be something "weak". that's what "akihiro" is doing right now - showing signs of weakness. the hidden side of him. in this point of the story, akihiro still thinks of donna as a psychopath - just like him. so in a way, "donna" encouraging him to be less pathetic and become "daken" again is like him saying to himself to be less weak. and lo and behold, "daken" awakens.

oh well. at least we know something is at play here w his psyche. i personally believe that essentially:

"daken" (the olive green boxes + all of akihiro's conscious dialogue) is the ego - the conscious part which flips flops constantly on ... idk what he wants anymore

"akihiro" (the dark yellow boxes + the mild mannered newbie in the extended hallucination sequence with johnny) is the superego - the "good" side of him

"donna" (the hallucination of her in the extended hallucination sequence) and the "costumed daken" (the guy we see in the last page) is part of the id - the impulsive, "bad" side to him

idk i thought this was kinda interesting to think abt . i wanna delve more into his backstory and apparent "psychopathy" that he self-diagnoses himself w all the time. is it true? or is it just another excuse to what he does? i'll talk more abt that in a later post

#daken akihiro #this storyline was really interesting but tbh i think it would've been fine if they ended it with donna leaving akihiro #its a simple but painful ending #and tbh bringing the avengers and the f4 was just ??? to me like ok i guess akihiro wants to go out w a bang idk

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tidetospine · 2 years

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Hello, I am new to Mao's channel and these RP's (well, I watched a few of Mao's videos from Abyssal Despair and Dawning Century. Love the art style btw.) ,and tumblr in general. I would like to ask a few questions if you all are okay with it:

I am curious to know who the cast and host's mun's are for this DanganRP. If they wish to remain anonymous I completely understand.

What the inspiration for both the RP and its name " Tide To Spine"?I'm curious to know its meaning.

Are there specific pronouns that the cast prefer's to use? I ask because I'm familiar with Angelop's works and I noticed that Orpheus was a part of this and they go by (they, them) (sorry I'm rambling at this point).

Who is who? I know who Orpheus looks like, but I was having a bit of trouble interpreting who is who.

Again, You don't have to answer this if this is either too much or too insulting if you don't want to. I'm not a very good people person when it come to being more than giving out compliments (or whatever my social issues are), but I do sincerely hope everyone has a wonderful and enjoyable experience. Have a nice day

One by one...

Hi! For the privacy of the players, we will not be disclosing the muns of our accepted cast. However, I can say that the characters here in the roster video are the mod teams OCs - from left to right, they belong to mod Celyca, mod Anya, and mod Moa.

TTS's name is inspired from the song, From Tide to Spine, off the soundtrack for Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. Mod Moa's previous game (Dawning Century) took some inspiration from the Amnesia series, and TTS does too, as well as from Layers of Fear and The Binding of Isaac.

+ 4. We have just set up a roster page where you can view everyone's relevant information. But, if you wanted something quicker and easier to read, here you go! Each name links to the character's respective roster art piece. Adrian Wieslander (he/him) - Socialite Avril DuBois (she/her) - ??? Caligula Lacoste (any) - Party Planner Florida (she/her) - Traveling Merchant Freja Björklund (she/her) - Ult. Shepherdess Jigoku Kobayashi (she/her) - Ult. Martial Artist Johann Strauss (he/him) - Former Violinist Kaien Hattori (he/they) - University Student Magnus Majoris-Maroune (he/him) - M.C. Morgan Davies (she/her) - Antique Dealer Naoyuki Kannouji (he/him) - Ghostwriter Nuno of Meradeur, Magus of the Infinite (any) - Keymaster Orion "Ori" Lee (he/him) - Wanderer Orpheus Kanata (they/them) - Bouncer Sachiko Matsuoka (she/her) - Gardener Sebastian Skies (he/him) - Clerk Serge Qingren (he/they/any) - Embalmer Taka Izukunzo (they/them) - Librarian Yuuki Yukiyama-d'Aureville (she/her) - Antique Collector Additionally, one of the accepted applicants refused their position, so if you notice a slight difference in the characters in the roster video against this list, that's why. Thanks for reaching out!

#ask #mattsthriftyworks #tide to spine

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kwon-eunbi · 1 year

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I do not miss the constant deadlines of academia at all. Like, I loved going to class and learning and filling my head with interesting things, but the stress of deadlines and exams were awful. Being a librarian would be so amazing, would you want to work in a small library or a big one? Or like a community library or an academic one?

It was actually for Chinese linguistics, it was about tracing modern languages back to Middle Chinese and untangling how they evolved. I speak Mandarin, Russian, and English, and I’m supposed to speak French, but I don’t, don’t tell anyone. I lived in Paris and my dad’s partner is French Canadian, but I can only kind of read it. I love learning languages, though, I started Korean for an ex (when we were together ofc) and even though that’s over I keep going back to it because I enjoy the puzzle of sentence construction.

It's a good cover! Sounds basically the opposite of Wooyoung’s, and yet I think both of them capture the emotions of the song and lyrics in different ways.

I have such a soft spot for “Say My Name”, it was when I started listening to them, and I was like look at these kiddos going WILD. “Bad bitch, watch her do coke” indeed! But I do love when Hongjoong dresses fashionably but in an artsy way, if that makes sense, where he uses looks that aren’t exactly pretty as part of his performance, like the mullet in 2019. But honestly he’s just a crazy good performer, he could wear a paper bag and I’d be applauding wildly like YES king you are SO right. And Wooyoung with his little brother vibes off the chart through the whole era (and every other era tbh).

I like their melodic songs a lot, when I get frustrated with a piece on violin, I’ll play a little kpop song as a reset for fun, and “Precious”, “Horizon” and “Inception” are all go-to songs for that. But when I listen to their more melodic songs, I’m digging through there for the harmonies cause I just find those so much more interesting, when San finally gave in and started modulating in their performances of “Turbulence” on It’s Live? Ohhh those got me. He said no tritones on my watch! I might prefer their less pretty music tho? Like “Fireworks” or “Deja Vu” or “The Real”. I don’t know, but there’s not really a wrong answer.

For “Guerilla”, I joked that I wanted a nardcore comeback, my friends told me to be realistic, I said well now I’m gonna speak it into existence, and when Jason Sears possessed Mingi for those thirty seconds I went back to them like What Did You Say To Me. I think I would have liked it more with less pitch correction but I’m very annoying about punk music so ignore me.

I’ll check out Lucifer then! I need a new show for my cardio workouts, and if there’s five seasons then it’ll last a while. I remember what I saw of it was that it was a fun show, and I love a good monster-of-the-week show, so it’ll be great for those early mornings.

Thanks for letting me ramble haha I love talking about music. I hope you’re resting well and getting lots of sleep.

--🎅

hiiiii, sorry for not responding sooner, i didn't have time to sit down and respond properly bc yk uni and my friend came to stay with me so it's just been hectic lmaoo (i literally open tumblr, reblog the first gifset on my dash i see and close it), but how are you doing?? i hope well!! <33

ahhh i so get you about the deadlines. i enjoy going to lectures the first few weeks of the semester too but then i just... get bored of it and i just wanna skip them all but most of them check attendance so i can't skip too much :(( honestly i would just love to work in a library, idec which one just one yk, but in this economy and yk libraries not being such popular places anymore, i would be lucky to land a job anywhere....

omgggg that sounds sooo interesting!! i really love chinese but i don't think i would ever attempt to learn it cause honestly my brain isn't equipped for that so i truly admire you for not only knowing it but also studying its linguistics wow!! and ohh damn you speak russian too, well yk we could understand each other on basic levels cause my mother tongue is croatian. and yess, korean is so fun to study, i really wish i had more time to dedicate to it.

ohhh so you're basically a "veteran" atiny, love that! omg yess hongjoong and his fashion sense and his painted pinkie ahhhh it's amazing trulyyyy, and i agree he's an amazing perfomer, honestly all of ateez are, they're just crazy good it's insane!!

OMG YOU PLAY THE VIOLIN???!? wooow!! i love violin so much i always wanted to learn to play it wow you're truly so talented wowww!! and honestly i agree with you on it all! they truly have a discography to fit your every mood like no joke! btwww did you see the teasers for the new cb??? i caaant wait tho i am a bit disappointed that we're getting only two new songs but yk they've been working too hard this year i wasn't expecting a cb yet anyway but i'm definitely going to enjoy it fully!!

broo i love punk/rock/alternative in general so i'm really loving all of these new songs, like since rocky i was just AHHHH YESSS this is what i needed!! yk even tho i do love their more melodic songs, i hope they go in this punk direction a little longer cause it suits them so well and i definitely love the songs

yess lucifer is amazing and yk some seasons have more eps so it would definitely last you a while hahah

and feel free to ramble whenever you want! soon in the dms too hehe and again sorry for not responding sooner! i hope you're doing well too and getting rest <333

#annonymous #answered

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earlgreydream · 3 years

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unrequited.

anon requested. hey can u do draco x reader when its like unrequited love?? (this request was super long so i’m only including the first line. I loved this one though, angel baby)

You’d spent an entire lifetime of loving Draco Malfoy.

He knew it, everyone knew it. You grew up playing in the halls of Malfoy Manor with the young prince, and you’d loved him when he made flowers grow magically at his feet. You’d loved him when you’d started school together, making potions under Snape’s watchful eye. You’d loved him when you showed him the stars in astronomy, seeing them glitter in his eyes. You’d loved him, even when his father, Lucius, didn’t. You’d loved him, always.

As far as you and everyone else knew, Draco Malfoy didn’t love you back. You were friends, and he cared about you, sure. Draco kept you at a distance, pushing you away as you showered him with constant attention. You never meant to suffocate him, you just had so much love to give.

Everyone erupted into screams around you, even the Gryffindors, as Draco caught the golden snitch, winning the quidditch game for Slytherin. The players dropped down onto the field, celebrating, and you got lost in the sea of excited students. You went down to the field to congratulate him once some of the students had cleared out. All the players were still around, as well as their significant others and friends.

“Draco!” You called, and you saw him sigh before turning to you.

“Y/N,” he nodded, greeting you. His friends all watched the two of you interact, and Draco tried to be patient, but he was on edge.

“I wanted to congratulate you, you did a great job,” you smiled, and he nodded.

“Thanks,” he said shortly, trying to move past you, wanting to follow the others back to the locker rooms to clean up.

“Draco, are you okay?” Your brow furrowed, and he whipped around to look at you.

“Can you just fuck off? I know you’re obsessed with me, but I don’t love you. I never will! Leave me alone!” Draco snapped, bottled feelings exploding.

Everyone went silent, staring at Draco in shock. Despite Draco’s ability to be an ass, he’d always exercised patience and kindness with you. He stood up for you, and even when he was annoyed with you, he never let his friends mock you or make rude comments.

His response cut through you like a knife, and you stepped back. The two of you stared at each other, and everyone stared at you. Immediate regret washed over Draco, and nausea twisted his stomach.

“Understood,” you breathed before he could speak, before he could tell you that he spoke in annoyance, that the words were empty, and he didn’t mean it.

You turned, unable to look at Draco anymore. You felt like you were going to break, and you didn’t want to do it in front of an audience. You walked off the quidditch field, pain aching in your chest.

Draco stood on the field, watching you go. He swore, and turned to his teammates, uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Everyone else left, the tension dampening the excitement.

“Pansy-”

“That was fucking cruel, Draco,” Pansy shook her head at him.

“I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why-” Draco stammered, and Theo grasped his shoulder, cutting him off.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Theo felt terrible for you, knowing you didn’t deserve it.

You were headed back to the dorms when a hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you. You turned and tried to shove the person off, assuming it was Draco coming after you.

“Get off!”

“Okay, okay. It’s only me.”

You looked up to see George Weasley, concern in his eyes. You apologized and started to cry, wrapping your arms around your friend. George hugged you tightly, and led you from the hallway as you started to sob. You were brought into the Gryffindor common room, and you leaned against his side, curled up on a red couch.

Your friends that had witnessed Draco’s harsh rejection sat down with you. You were suddenly surrounded by sweets and students with blankets and sweaters and muggle movies, anything to cheer you up.

“I hate that foul git!” Fred sighed, and George hugged you, letting you rest on his chest.

“Forget him,” Hermione said, patting your leg gently.

Draco was sick. He wanted to apologize to you, swear he didn’t mean anything he said. He was nauseated, and he cried to Theo, telling his best friend he had fucked up.

“I love her, I want to apologize... I went to apologize but she was gone,” Draco sobbed. He’d gone after you, but George had already taken you to the Gryffindor common room. He’d spent hours looking for you, but everyone who knew where you went were locked up with you where Draco didn’t have access to.

“I know, Draco. I know you love her.”

“What was I thinking?” Draco dropped his head into his hands.

You avoided Draco as best you could, even convincing Snape to let you switch partners in potions so you wouldn’t be forced to work with him. You’d spent time with George, even going to Hogsmeade with him. He was sweet to you, swearing that you deserved much better than the way Draco had treated you.

It had been weeks of you avoiding Draco, managing to miss him, even when he’d tried to come searching for you at your dorms-- you’d been in the twins’ room.

You were alone studying in the library when someone approached the table. You looked up to see Draco Malfoy, looking sleep deprived and emotionally worn.

“Please, don’t leave, we need to talk!” he begged as you closed your book and pushed out your chair.

“How’d you even get in here? It’s after hours and I have special permission to be here, no one else-”

“Theo,” he answered, and you didn’t dare to ask, not wanting to know how Theo managed to get Draco in the library.

“You hurt me, Draco,” you said finally, and he nodded.

“I know, and I can’t apologize enough. Y/N, I am so, so sorry. I should’ve never snapped at you. I didn’t mean anything I said, I was stressed and upset, and you didn’t deserve that. I love you, I have always loved you. I’m so sorry, please forgive me!” Draco was crying, his words coming out in desperate rambles.

“You love me?”

“I love you more than all of the stars. I love you more than anything, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for hurting you,” Draco apologized, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He held you, breathing out repeated apologies.

You heard heavy footsteps, and Draco’s eyes widened.

“Go, I’m not letting you get in trouble for apologizing to me,” you whispered, and he kissed you briefly, shocking you. He waved his wand and vanished, just as the librarian walked around the corner.

“Miss Y/N, why don’t you head back to your dorm, it’s past midnight?”

“Of course.”

You’d forgiven Draco, and he had expected you to return to hanging around him, he expected the two of you to become exclusive. You didn’t ignore his existence anymore, but you continued hanging around the golden children and their friends, particularly George Weasley.

He watched you giggle at George’s jokes, hanging off of his arm and flirting with him. Theo had insisted that there was no talk of the two of you actually dating, but you hung around him a lot.

It had been almost two weeks, and Draco hadn’t been able to spend any time with you, both of you overwhelmed and busy, and your friends taking up what free time you had. You had explained that you’d forgiven Draco, but they still ostracized him and shamed him when he tried to hang around.

Now, nearly all the students were out in Hogsmeade, and you were at George’s side, giggling at a joke he was telling. You squeezed his arm, and Draco was infuriated. Jealousy tasted like acid in his mouth, clouding his judgement and twisting his stomach. He loved you, and he couldn’t bear to see you touching and talking to others the way you were.

You were surprised when Draco approached your group, calling your name. You smiled, ignoring the harsh looks from the Weasleys. You raised your eyebrows as his arms snaked around your waist, hugging you against his body.

“Hi, beautiful,” he spoke, and you blushed. Your friends stared at him, and Draco didn’t let you go. You could feel the jealousy and possessiveness radiating off of him in waves, and you couldn’t deny that it was attractive.

“I’ve got to show you something, I found the book you were looking for,” Draco spoke, and both of you knew there was no book.

“Sure, of course,” you nodded.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” You nodded at George as Draco intertwined your fingers, his hold tight on your hand. They tried to protest, but Draco was already dragging you down the alley, out of sight.

“Draco-” you breathed as you were pinned against a cold stone wall.

“I can’t stand to see you hanging off of that redhead,” Draco seethed, and you looked up into stormy grey eyes.

“No? George is sweet,”

“Enough with that. You know I can make you feel a million times better than he ever could.” His words dripped with vicious jealousy, and he was kissing your neck, leaving a mark from his mouth against your delicate skin.

“Prove it,” you taunted him.

His gripped your arm, hauling you after him down the alley. Your body was pulsing with anticipation as you were being pulled into a hostel. A maid nodded at Draco, slipping him a room key, and you nearly tripped over your feet trying to keep up. Draco swore and picked you up, draping you over his shoulder.

You squeaked as he landed a hard slap to your ass to stop your squirming, and you let him carry you like that into the room.

“You’ll never want another man after me. I’ll have you screaming my name until you forget your own!” Draco’s threat had you dripping, and a whimper escaped as you rubbed your thighs together.

“Can’t even contain yourself and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Draco hummed, embarrassing you in the best way.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as you were dropped on a soft mattress, Draco towering over you. You watched him silently as he removed your shoes and stockings, dragging off your skirt with it.

“I want to be rough with you. I want to make you know that you’re mine,” Draco said, and you nodded. You’d hooked up before, once a few years ago, so he was less apprehensive about railing the life out of you.

“Please, make me yours.”

Draco’s breath came out in a sharp sigh at your beg, and he rid himself of his clothes while you pulled off your own. Your eyes hadn’t left Draco, and he stood in front of you at the end of the bed. His gazes dragged over the curves of your body, and you were tempted to beg for him to touch you.

Before you could speak, Draco hauled you back farther on the mattress and kneeled in front of you. You let your head fall back, and you moaned when you saw the mirror overhead, giving you a full view of your actions.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, and Draco smirked as he kissed your inner thigh.

“You’re soaked, my love,” Draco teased, lightly brushing his fingers against your core.

You whined, pushing your hips into his touch. You jolted with a shriek as Draco slapped your sex, his dark laughter sending vibrations through you as he kissed the area.

Your hands went to his hair, pulling roughly as he began to eat you out, the sting fading into overwhelming, passionate pleasure. As you began to squirm, he pinned your hips down, forcing you to take the pleasure he was giving you. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and you watching him eat you out, moaning as his fingers stroked you from the inside. Your sounds got louder and more high-pitched, and you were practically crying Draco’s name.

“Draco, I’m going to come, please, I’m so close!” you squealed, dragging your nails up his back, making him moan into your heat. It sent you over the edge, screaming his name as your back arched, your thighs squeezing around his head.

You struggled to draw oxygen into your lungs when he didn’t let you go, drawing out the ecstasy until it became torture. You fulfilled his promise, his name echoing off the walls desperately.

Draco forced a second orgasm from you, making your vision tunnel and fire spread through your body. The intensity of it was almost painful, and you were gasping and spasming from his touch.

You whimpered in relief as the boy pulled off of you, giving you a small break from the stimulation. Your breathing was ragged, and he smiled down at the mess he’d made of you, trailing his fingertips along the curves of your body. You choked out his name, shuddering as he circled your nipples, amused by your sensitivity.

“We’re not done yet, love, I want you fucked braindead for me,” his tone held feigned sweetness, and you nodded weakly.

“I love you.” You spoke, and some of the softness returned to his gaze.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Draco leaned down and delicately kissed your lips.

“It wouldn’t be fair not to let me get off, would it?” Draco hummed, and you shook your head.

You spasmed as he tapped his head against your aching clit before lifting your legs over his shoulders. You threw your head back as he pressed into you, snapping his hips against yours in one thrust. A strangled scream ripped through you at the force, the rough thrusts making your mind melt and your body shake. You felt like Draco was splitting you open, but you didn’t want him to stop.

Your hands searched aimlessly for something to grab on to, and Draco caught them, sliding his fingers in yours. He smiled down at you when you squeezed his hands, letting him take your body. He could feel his orgasm quickly approaching, and in a split decision he buried himself all the way inside of you, brushing your cervix, ripping another orgasm from you. Your broken cry echoed in his mind as he spilled inside of you, painting the sensitive muscle with his release.

“Y/N? Are you there, love?” Draco’s voice was much more gentle, and he carefully pulled out of you and let you rest down into the sheets. Your incoherent whimpers were like music to him, and he waved his wand to clean the two of you up.

“Draco?”

“I’m here, my love.”

He leaned down and kissed you, pulling you into his arms. You rested against his warm chest, feeling him press kisses to your head, draping his arms over you and playing with your fingers.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered, feeling him grin into your hair.

“All mine.”

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

Text

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires." She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

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seijorhi · 4 years

Note

hello, i love your writing and was hoping if u could write a yandere kuroo x reader where he corners her in a corner and kenma is there and is getting off from it 😳 thank u !

Asdfghjkl this was supposed to be posted on Sunday I’m sorry, bby!! I hope it’s worth the wait! 💕 also, loved this request so thanks for sending it in 😊

Kuroo Tetsuro x Female Reader, Kenma Kozume x Female Reader

TW dub con, coercion (kinda?), stalking, humiliation

Helping Hand

There’s a certain peace you find in the looming stacks of the library after the sun sets. It’s quieter then, less people milling about. You don’t have to fight for space or books, and considering you have midterms soon and essays coming out of your ears, that makes it the perfect study environment.

It’s only a little after eight, the library’s still open for another two and a half hours, but on the fourth floor it’s almost a ghost town - just how you like it. There’s a professor tucked away in the back corner, piles of books built up around him, an older librarian with her trolley, slowly re-shelving books, and two other guys around your age sitting huddled at a table a few down from yours - the textbooks and highlights spread across their desk having been long since abandoned in favour of literally anything else.

Honestly, you’d wonder why they’d bother coming to the library at all if it wasn’t an almost daily occurrence. Most days you were there, so were they - usually together, although it wasn’t uncommon to see just one of them camped out between the stacks as you made your way to your desk. The duo, one tall and lean with a shock of messy dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the other smaller, more reserved, with bleached hair and dark roots in serious need of a touch up, seemed to prefer this time to study too - not that they ever seemed to actually do all that much studying.

Usually the blonde ends up absorbed in his switch while the other casually thumbs through whichever book is closest.

So long as they were quiet and didn’t disturb you, who were you to judge?

You don’t really remember when they’d started to appear, only that they’d quickly become a fixture in your refuge - distantly familiar presences like strangers travelling on the same bus to work each day. They smile (well, the dark haired one does) and nod whenever you happen to look up from your notes and catch their eye, and while you’ve only spoken a handful of words to the both of them, they always seemed nice.

Nicer than the clearly overworked professor muttering away in the corner at any rate, which makes them the logical choice to approach when you find your bladder uncomfortably full halfway through your self imposed study session. Realistically, you know at this time of the night nobody else is likely to make their way up to the fourth floor, much less have any interest in your shitty, old laptop or the five whole dollars in your wallet - yet you find you making your way over to the twosome’s table anyway, a faint blush dusting across your cheeks.

“… don’t want to,” you overhear the blonde mutter, his attention wholly focused upon the game in his hands. “Things are fine, why change that?”

His friend sighs, “Because you can deny it all you want, but I know you better than that. I know I’m not the only one who wants more. You can’t just sit back and…” he trails off suddenly, hazel eyes flickering over to you in surprise.

Confused by his friend’s sudden silence, the blonde lowers his game and glances up - only to still at the sight of you.

You swallow down your nerves, plastering what you hope is a friendly enough smile across your face, “Hi, uh… sorry to interrupt you guys, but would you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom? I won’t be long or anything, I just don’t like leaving my stuff out in the open,” you say with a sheepish laugh, well aware that you’re rambling like an idiot.

It’s the dark haired one who answers, a wide grin breaking across his face as he nods, “Yeah, no worries. We’d be glad to.”

You smile back, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach (he does look kind of cute grinning like that), thanking him again before rushing away in the direction of the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift away from the duo back to the essay you’re mid-way through drafting. You have a sinking feeling that the argument you’re trying to use in the fourth paragraph is essentially a just rehash of the point you made in the first. By the time you unlock the stall door and make your way over to the sink to wash your hands, you’re starting to debate the merits of scrapping the whole thing and starting fresh with new ideas.

You still technically have time, it’s not due until the end of the month, but you just kind of want it done so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Then again, that’s kind of your feelings towards the semester as a whole.

Who are you kidding? University’s kicking your ass this year.

The ancient hand dryer’s almost deafening as it clicks on - it masks the sound door swinging open and the footsteps that echo out from the tile floors.

It’s only when your eyes flicker up to mirror that you see that you’re no longer alone-

Standing right behind you is the guy from before; the tall, dark haired one.

- and jerk in surprise, stumbling backwards with a choked yelp.

It doesn’t hit you right away - no, that’s relief that has you drawing a hand over your chest and letting out a shaking laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!” you say, bracing yourself over the sink to try and calm your breathing.

No, it doesn’t hit you quickly. Realisation is slow - creeping through your veins like ice as your eyes flicker back up the mirror.

He hasn’t moved.

He’s smiling, grinning really, but there’s something… something off about it. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes… Why isn’t he saying anything?

W-why isn’t he moving away?

Your heart, still hammering from his shock of his sudden appearance, squeezes uncomfortably and your eyes slowly widen.

“Wh-”

A rough, calloused palm slaps across your mouth, smothering whatever words you’d been about to speak. “Ah, ah. Gotta keep it down, sweetheart.”

He winks at you in the mirror, taking a tiny step towards you and you squeak, breathing in sharp, shallow pants through your nose as a warm, muscled chest presses against your back. “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’tcha?” he chuckles. “Relax a little - promise I don’t bite.”

With one hand wrapped around your lips the other creeping across your waist, his words don’t exactly bring you a lot of comfort.

It makes no difference either way - you’re paralysed, shaking and trembling, but utterly unable to move as he noses at the column of your throat, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You could scream, but there’s no guarantee anybody would hear you. You could try and fight him off, but he’s taller than you, and you’re willing to bet stronger as well.

Will he hurt you if you try and resist?

Is he gonna hurt you anyway?

You’ve heard the stories before about men who follow women into empty bathrooms and the awful things they do, but you never...

Those things don’t happen in places like this. The library is supposed to be safe, he- he’s been-

Your stomach drops.

Weeks.

He’s been visiting the library with his friend, sitting across from you for weeks.

His eyes bore into your reflection in the mirror like he can hear every terrified thought that passes through your head, and with excruciating slowness you’re forced to watch as his lips brush a kiss against your cheek, lingering and sweet - a mockery of tenderness.

A scared little whimper is all you can manage, and even that is swallowed up by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open once more.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening.

A faint burst of hope flickers to life.

You might not be a fighter, but this might be the only chance you have. You shriek again, the sound woefully muffled, and writhe against your captor’s tightening grip as slow footsteps round the corner.

Please, you think as tears stream silently down your face. Please help me.

What little hope you have is quickly - brutally - extinguished as your would be saviour steps into view.

Your legs shake and you’re almost positive that if it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapped around you, you would have crumpled to the floor.

It’s his friend, the blonde, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching the scene before him - you struggling against an iron grip, gagged and terrified - like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Your captor chuckles, relaxing his grip as his hand drifts upwards to palm at your breast and you want to die. “Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” the blonde groans as he makes his way over, but he barely glances at his friend before his catlike eyes come to rest on you.

Your cheeks are burning, a potent mix of shame, nausea and dread churning in your stomach as you’re crudely felt up, but under the blonde’s attention you freeze.

While his face is a blank mask of apathetic disinterest, those golden irises are piercing in their intensity as they study you.

The glint in his eyes is as unmistakable as it is stark; anticipation - like a house cat watching a golden canary flit restlessly in its cage.

The hiccuping sob comes unbidden, choking at your throat as you wail against the palm at your lips. You’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life, to slap yourself awake and realise that it’s nothing but a stress induced nightmare because this can’t be happening.

Why you?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this?

“Relax,” Kuroo repeats, leaning down over you again, “we’re not gonna hurt you. Just wanna have some fun, that’s all.” You think he’s going to try and kiss you again, but instead his tongue darts out and he licks at the silvery tear tracks, groaning softly.

You shoot the quiet blonde a desperate, pleading look. He hasn’t lifted a finger to stop what’s happening, hasn’t done anything other than stare at you, but even as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile you hold out on the shadow of a prayer that maybe, just maybe-

Kuroo follows your wide, panicked gaze and almost snorts. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, baby. Kenma’s not gonna help you. He wants this just as badly as I do.” His thumb slides across your cheek, brushing away more tears, “C’mon, on your knees.”

He doesn’t give you a choice - the hand on your shoulder forces your shaking knees to buckle and you fall down to the bathroom floor.

The tiles are cold against your bare legs, but the shivers that wrack through you have little to do with the temperature. It’s far too late to regret the short skirt you’d thrown on that morning.

Kuroo hums appreciatively, lifting his palm to tap it a few times against your cheek like you’re an adorable little puppy who’s just learned its first trick, “It’s a good look for you, baby, but I think it’d be even better without this-” his fingers tug at the collar of your top and his grin widens, “- in the way.”

Yet he makes no move to take it off for you. One look into his eyes, the glittering amusement darkened with lewd desire and you know that he won’t.

He wants you to do it, to play along in their fun - to be an active participant in your own humiliation.

And really, what other choice do you have?

It’s impossible to ignore the bulge straining against his jeans as your trembling fingers grip the hem of your top and reluctantly yank it upwards. There’s a sharp inhale - Kuroo you think - and a whistle as it comes off, baring your lacy bra and the soft skin underneath to their hungry gazes.

Only for a moment.

Staring resolutely at the floor you’re quick to try and cover what little modesty you have left, bringing your arms up to wrap around your chest-

Except a hand catches at your wrist and tugs it back, and when you glance up you find it’s Kenma’s.

“… Don’t,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

You let your arms drop, hands clenching into shaking fists in your lap, fingernails biting into your palm.

The sound of a zipper being pulled undone is almost deafening in the quiet bathroom. Fresh tears sting at your eyes, but you can’t bear to look at either of them as Kuroo reaches inside his pants and frees his cock.

The hand that cups your cheek is surprisingly gentle as he coaxes your face back towards him and the achingly hard member in his grip. “See Kenma, I told you - change ain’t always a bad thing.”

His dark eyes flicker back to you and he grins, “Open up, sweetheart.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #yandere #yandere kuroo tetsuro #yandere kuroo tetsuro x reader #female reader #yandere kenma kozume #yandere kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #tw dub con #tw implied stalking #tw humiliation #kuroo x reader x kenma

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tpwkjerii · 3 years

Text

a ghost’s melody

searching for a quiet place to study, you stumble across a seemingly abandoned library and recital hall. when you discover that you’re not as alone in there as you thought and begin to fall for the mysterious boy playing the piano, you start to wish you believed in ghosts before.

pairing: ghost!pianist!taehyung x reader

warnings: character death (not main, except for tae who’s already a ghost lol), slight angst, some cursing, kinda heated makeout session, sfw (PG-13)!

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 4.3k+

listen to: claire de lune and adagio for strings

a/n: first fanfic on here lol i hope it isn’t trash & pls enjoy loves!! xx

Kim’s Library and Recital Hall

At least that’s what you thought was written on the battered storefront. The building’s exterior was aged — the faded letters were peeling, the glass windows were dusty with years of negligence, the copper door handle was rusted from the elements, and the black-painted wood was chipping at the corners.

The store was a perfect match amongst the other ones along the deserted street. It was so ordinarily fitting that anyone could have easily passed it. However, it happened to be exactly what you were looking for — a quiet place to study and somewhere to potentially spend the night since your roommate decided to let you know at the last minute that her and her boyfriend would be in your shared dorm for the night.

With a small shrug, you moved towards the door and attempted to push it open. After a fourth push (that was more tiring than you’d like to admit), the old door finally creaked open. Surprisingly, dust didn’t meet your eyes as you thought it would, and with a brief inspection of the interior, you noticed that it was oddly clean — a stark contrast from its outer appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that someone was diligently taking care of this place.

Paying it no mind, you moved further into the old store, basking in the silence and mildly soothing aura. The music-themed decorations and portraits of deceased musicians reminded you of your brother, and the quietness was a peaceful contrast from your hectic dorm (and, somehow, your campus library).

Before choosing a desk to work on, you checked your phone for the time.

4:37 PM

Nice, you thought. You should be able to get a few hours of work in while the sun is still up. Hopefully this place still has electricity or candles laying around. You sat down at a large wooden desk close to the storefront and pulled out your textbooks and papers, slowly beginning your studying.

You studied your notes in pure silence for 15 minutes when you heard a noise, but it was too quiet for you to distinctly make out what it was. It sounded like a scuffle, almost as if someone was walking but stopped abruptly. You turned and looked around carefully — maybe this place wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.

After looking around for a few moments and not noticing anything else, you returned to your books, although you paid much more attention to the pepper spray sitting in the pocket of your bag. Once twenty minutes passed, you slightly relaxed and hoped it was just a rodent. With a heavy sigh, you stood up from the desk and stretched, figuring that you could take a break and walk around.

With your phone in hand (and pepper spray in the other), you walked away from the desk and into a random aisle of books. You explored the various titles, noting that you hardly recognized any of them. It didn’t take long for you to realize this store was probably much older than you thought, considering that the most recent titles and portraits were from the late 1800s.

As you explored more aisles, you kept thinking of your brother and how much he would love this place you found. Yoongi always loved music and he never failed to humbly show off his natural talent at it. He once tried to teach you how to play the piano; unfortunately, you were too impatient and annoyed that you didn’t get it right away to ever succeed.

You were wrapped in your thoughts as you aimlessly walked around, now only thinking about how you would love to show your older brother this place. Suddenly, you found yourself at the entrance of a hall, and you stare in awe at the large grand piano sitting at the end. Despite its old age, it looked incredibly taken care of. The black paint was flawless and shined in the low sunlight, not a single chip in sight, and the ivory keys glimmered. You were about to walk towards the enchanting instrument when you heard the floor creak.

You froze in your tracks. That creak did not sound like a mouse, and you definitely didn’t hear anyone else enter this place after you. You tore your gaze away from the piano and turned around, your hand gripping your pepper spray. Weaving through bookshelves towards the table with your belongings, you cautiously looked for the source of the noise. But just as you turn the corner, you hear a gentle melody ring through the air.

Usually, this is the time where you would run. Or, if you were the character in a horror movie, the audience would be screaming at you to leave the store to avoid a tragic death.

But you didn’t want to run. Not because you found potential death exciting or because you wanted to piss off your imaginary viewers. But because the melody that was playing was the same one your brother spent months playing over and over again to perfect. It became so familiar to you in your home that you always associated it with him.

With a rapidly beating heart, you all but ran back to the empty recital hall. The volume increased as you neared the hall, and you held your breath as you finally approached the open doors.

“Yoon-” your whisper was caught in your throat as you made eye contact with a ghostly man. His face was devoid of any emotion, eyebags dark and defined, skin tone ghostly pallor, and eyes sullen and tainted with agony. Yet, he was beautiful. He had round feline eyes, defined jaw and cheekbones, full lips, and dark hair that fell elegantly on his forehead.

You waited as he continued playing the piece, knowing exactly when the end approached due to months of listening to it courtesy of your older brother. As the mystery man hit the last note, he looked back up at you, shock evident in his features.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his deep voice throwing you off guard.

“Y-yes, I am,” you started, finding yourself extremely nervous in his presence. You awkwardly shuffled your feet as you rambled, “I’m so sorry for intruding. I thought this place was completely abandoned, and I had no idea you were here. I’ll get going, so sorry again.”

With that, you turned to run back to your bag and get out. But he moved and grabbed your wrist at an unnaturally fast pace, and you gasped at how cold his fingers were on your warm skin. Goosebumps prickled along your arm as you looked up at him in shock and confusion.

He let go of you with a sheepish apology. “It’s just… it’s been a while since anyone has come by. You don’t have to leave,” he said, hastily adding, “unless you want to, of course! I cannot force you to stay if you do not wish to.”

A soft smile spread at your lips. This man was not nearly as cold as he looked or felt. His emotionless eyes seemed hopeful and his mouth was fixed in a boxy smile. With hope that this was fate of some sort, you told him, “I would love to stay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” the ghostly man pointed to himself, oddly shocked at the question.

You nodded, adding with a small laugh, “I don’t see anyone else here who could answer my question.”

He breathed out a laugh as he answered, “Taehyung. And you?”

“Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

He grinned at the way you said his name, and continued, “What brings you here, Y/N?”

“Ah,” you nodded and propped your arms up on the table you two were sitting at. “Noisy dorm halls, librarians who don’t care about enforcing quiet rules, and a horny roommate. You?”

His smile grew at your brutally honest answer. He hesitated as he answered, “I live here. I take care of everything.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Your mouth parted. “Are you Kim Taehyung. As in a Kim of Kim’s Library and Recital Hall?” you joked, relieved that he found your reference amusing.

“Yes, I am Kim Taehyung. I’m relieved you find that interesting,” he responded. You grinned at the way he answered, his tone and diction captivatingly formal.

“Well, you’ve done an excellent job maintaining the interior. The outside though… that could use a bit of help,” you admitted honestly, to which he laughed heartily at. “Do you get much business?” you asked cautiously after he stopped laughing.

He shrugged, the same boxy smile still on his face. “Not much, but it’s alright. The silence is peaceful.”

You nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to his answer but deciding not to push it. “It is very peaceful here, and if you ever need some help around here, I’ve got more free time than I’d like to admit.”

Taehyung laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll consider it,” he responded genuinely, his voice growing softer for a second. “I’ll have to warn that working here isn’t as great as it may seem. It’s quite boring.”

“Pfft,” you shook your head, “boring? With the piano skills you have? I could spend all day listening to you play while I dust or shit like that.”

He basked in your ability to speak freely and jokingly with him, and at that moment he gathered the courage to ask the question that was lingering on his mind ever since you made eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you run away when you first saw me?”

Your gaze faltered for a second, but a small smile returned to your face as you answered honestly, “I was going to run, but the piece you were playing reminded me of my brother Yoongi.”

A brief flash of shock passed on his face, luckily unnoticed by you as you continued your story.

“He used to play it so much, and it felt like fate to hear it again in this place,” you paused, looking back up at Taehyung with a sheepish smile and glassy eyes. “You see, as I walked around, I kept on thinking of how much Yoongi would love this place. Books and sheet music and portraits of musicians and silence. It’s just so so perfect for him. But, as much as I want to, I can never show him this place.”

“Why?”

“Yoongi died 3 years ago.”

[you]

goodnight yoongi. sleep well! i know you’ll do great at your performance tomorrow! mom and i will be waiting for you at the end !!

p.s. seokjin is invited to dinner next week ;)

[best/worst brother ever]

goodnight Y/N. thank you :]. treat me to some lamb skewers after?

p.s. you can text him yourself

[you]

of course, anything you want !!

sleep now, it’s already 3 am

p.s. why would i when i have you? :)

[best/worst brother ever]

ok, mom

[you]

>:(

When you turned your phone off to sleep that night, you didn’t realize that would be the last conversation you would ever have with your older brother.

The house was silent when you received the phone call.

Min Yoongi died in an accident on the way to the recital hall. A drunk driver hit his car, killing him and his friend and roommate, Kim Seokjin. The doctors did everything they could, but he suffered from too much blood loss...

You felt empty. Quiet tears escaped you as you sat in the passenger seat while your mother frantically drove to the hospital. The fresh bouquet of flowers you bought early in the morning to congratulate Yoongi on another performance well done was sitting in the backseat, the bright colors mocking your misery. Labored breaths left you as you ran to his hospital room, and you struggled to breathe when you saw his still body on the bed.

The doctor's solemn words drowned in the background as you fell to your knees. Your hands clutched Yoongi’s in hopes that he would reassuringly squeeze them again and wake up to say that it was just an elaborate prank. But he never did.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Taehyung whispered, offering a hand, which you gratefully took.

You shrugged, responding while wiping your wet eyes, “It’s ok. It was 3 years ago, and there’s really nothing to be sorry about. I’m not even sure why I told you.” You spoke honestly, which was odd since you barely knew Taehyung. For some reason, you felt as if you could trust him with anything.

“So what about you?” you asked after a few moments of silence. “Tell me about you. All about Kim Taehyung,” you finished with a gentle smile, your smaller hand still in his larger one.

“Well, I am 25 years old, a pianist as you saw, I grew up on my family’s farm before I moved to the city to study music with my uncle, and I eventually inherited the place we’re currently in,” he answered, his boxy smile growing as he told you more about himself.

“Wow,” you said, shocked at how much he told you despite knowing you for a short period of time. But you technically did the same.

“How did you like growing up on a farm?” you asked curiously, your hand unconsciously tightening your grip on his.

His eyes lit up as he replied, “It was peaceful. I loved the animals and spending time with my grandmother. The village was nice, too. My friends were always a few steps away,” he paused for a moment, “but when I started to play the piano that my uncle gifted me, I found my new passion: music.”

“So you eventually moved to the city to study music?”

He nodded excitedly in confirmation. “It was hard leaving my parents and grandmother,” he added. “But I tried to go back whenever I could.”

“It’s difficult leaving your family,” you agreed, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, Taehyung expertly carried the conversation.

“So Y/N, how old are you?” he asked, his boxy smile not fading for even a second.

You grinned and responded with the same tone he had earlier. “Well, I am 20 years old, I study Literature and Biology at the National University, I grew up in a city with my mom and older brother, and I found this place by complete chance.”

“You’re more interesting than I thought, Y/N,” Taehyung grinned. “And complete chance? What does that mean?”

“Well,” you started, “I was just thinking about how much I hated my roommate and dorm floor, and I somehow stumbled upon this completely deserted street. To be honest, I don’t even know where I am right now. Yet I’m still here talking to you, is that crazy or foolish of me?”

“No.” His left hand reached up to move a strand of hair away from your face. Your breath hitched and body froze as his cool fingers met your warm skin. “It’s not crazy or foolish at all,” he finished.

You melted under his haunting gaze, and you didn’t even notice how the sun had fallen outside and how the lights automatically flickered on.

Five hours.

Or at least it felt like five hours of you and Taehyung simply talking. At this point, you were really hoping he wasn’t planning on murdering you because you honestly have never met a guy this perfect. It seemed like he didn’t have a single flaw!

With each conversation and joking remark, you found yourself moving closer and closer to him until you two were thigh to thigh. Your denim jeans met the expensive material of his trousers, and both of your warm hands were covered by his much colder ones (something you chose to chalk down to iron deficiency or other potential medical conditions).

To merely say you were growing feelings for Taehyung would be an understatement — you were falling in love.

Eventually, he offered to show you around the store, considering you only really looked at the front. His hand around yours, he led you towards the back, where there were less bookshelves and more music-oriented displays. There were encased instruments, very old photos, worn sheet music, and more portraits.

“My uncle loved collecting portraits,” Taehyung said when he caught you staring at one of Jung Hoseok. “He said it was like always having a memory of someone, even if they passed.”

“Your uncle was right. Although I think pictures and a camera may be cheaper,” you teased, unaware of the slightly pained smile on his face. You looked around some more, and your smile fell as your eyes landed on a very familiar-looking portrait.

The curve of his lips, strong jawline, uneven eyelids, defined eyebrows — it was like you were looking directly at him. Your breath hitched as you looked at the inscription below the oil painting.

Kim Taehyung / 1877 - 1902

“Taehyung…” you called. He didn’t respond.

“Taehyung,” you called again, slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his panicked ones. “You… You’re …”

“Dead.”

“What do you mean you’re dead? You’re standing right here! But the portrait. Oh my god. Is this a dream? Have I been dreaming this entire thing? Ghosts aren’t real! Are you a demon? Oh fu -”

“Y/N!” he shouted, his arms wrapping around you to calm you down, his icy skin only further reminding you that a dead man was hugging you.

“You’re so cold! Oh fuck! You’re so cold! I’m so stupid!” you continued panicking, completely unaware of how to deal with this if it really wasn’t a dream.

“Can you please give me a chance to explain?” he asked, his low voice soothing you.

Begrudgingly, you nodded, and melted into his tight grip. It was hard to believe that he was a ghost when you were physically touching him, a complete contradiction of what online conspiracy theories and horror documentaries (and your biology lectures) told you.

“I didn’t lie about anything I told you. I was born in 1877 and I died in 1902. I was poisoned by another musician who grew jealous of my success. I chose to stay in the human realm as a ghost instead of pass on.”

You remained silent, needing a moment to think. Was he telling the truth? But Taehyung didn’t have a reason to lie to you, nor did he have a reason to be honest. And why was he so insistent on explaining himself? Did he have the same feelings as y —

“I’m telling the truth,” he said abruptly, sensing your inner turmoil. “I understand if you do not trust me. It would be hard for anyone living to trust me in this situation, but I want you to know that,” he paused, looking at you with such emotion that it made you want to reach out to him and take all the pain he was feeling away. “That I am being genuine because I care about you the way you care about me.”

You gasped quietly in shock.

“The last living person to enter this place was 60 years ago, and no one ever stayed,” he began sadly. “But then today, you,” he looked down to make eye contact with you, “you came in and you stayed and we talked for hours.”

As much as you wanted to comfort him, you still remained silent.

Taehyung continued, “Even when I was alive, I never encountered anyone who spoke as passionately as you, who was refreshingly honest, or who cared about what I said as much as you do. Y/N, I hope you understand that our time together today has meant the world to me, and I would never betray your trust or presence for anything in the world.

Your eyes teared up at his confession, and you barely managed to whisper, “Today meant a lot to me too.”

Taehyung let out a relieved breath and tightened his hold on you. “I may be a dead man but my feelings for you are true. I hope that you’ll accept me as I am and -”

“Tae-” you attempted to interrupt him, but he cut you off and only tightened the hug.

“And if you do not accept me, I understand,” he finished, his voice strained as he said the last two words.

“Taehyung,” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“Please, if you wish to leave do not say anything else. I fear that I might not be able to take it if you bless me with your voice and presence again just to leave soon after,” he pleaded, his hands gently holding you to his chest as you two still remained in a fond embrace.

“Taehyung,” you started again, feeling his chest tighten as you gently spoke, “Although this is all very hard for me to understand, I do accept you.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. “But,” you said sharply, and he winced at the word, “You need to explain everything for me to truly believe in you. How am I seeing you? How does this all work?”

Begrudgingly, Taehyung released the hug, and looked at you with a cheeky and fond smile. “How are you seeing me? Easy, as a ghost I can choose when I want to be seen,” he paused, “and when I don’t.” As he uttered the last word, his body disappeared in front of your eyes, and a surprised gasp fell from you.

“You! You! What the fuck!” staring as he reappeared, his body once again covering the wall behind him.

He laughed again at your shock, also finding your blunt language endearing. “It’s something all of us ghosts can do,” he said casually while you stood in shock. He continued, “I can also feel sensations like a human when I’m in this form.”

He stepped toward you again, leaving only a few centimeters between your bodies. “For example,” he started, grasping your warm hand and bringing it up to his cheek, “I can feel the warmth of your hands and how they feel on my skin.”

He dropped your hand and bent down, his beautiful face now directly in front of you. For a moment, you two only looked at each other, his strong eyes holding your curious gaze and his cool breath sending a shiver down your body. “And,” he finally said, “I can feel chills as your breath fans across my face.”

He stood fully up again, leaving you both relieved and disappointed. “I can also feel emotions just like I used to when I was alive, although I’m sure you already know that,” he told you, the boxy smile returning to his face. Your heart still recovering from the intense eye contact only a few moments prior, you could only muster a nod in response. “Would you like me to continue?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you admitted, shocking him as he was ready to explain more.

“No?”

“I believe you, it’s difficult to, but I believe you,” you told him, your voice quiet as you looked up at him fondly. “This is all confusing as fuck, and I really don’t know what the future would look like for us but,” you pause briefly, watching as his smile grew to meet his eyes, “I have feelings for you, and I want to try and make this work.”

Taehyung grinned and wrapped you in a tight hug, the ice cold of his skin no longer sending an unnerving chill down you. He looked down and used his finger to lift your face to look at him. Wordlessly, he closed his eyes and leaned down.

Following his motions, your lips eventually met. Taehyung kissed you with gentle passion, his full lips molding perfectly against yours. His hands moved down to the small of your back, and he pulled you in tighter to deepen the kiss.

This was better than you expected. His cold lips set a fire within you, and the way he moved his lips against yours made you feel as if your chest was going to burst at any second. The moment his lips touched yours, and yours his, you knew that you could never feel anything like it again.

A moment of adrenaline seeped into you as you parted your lips, greedy for more. At this, electricity coursed through you and you felt as if a fire was ignited between you, and as Taehyung deepened the kiss the fire grew, nearly consuming you both whole.

Your lips moved in sync with his for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless. He allowed you to catch your breath before he spoke, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you enter.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, a teasing tone evident in your words.

“It would be rude of me to walk up to a beautiful stranger and steal a kiss from them,” he answered, his hands moving to play with your fingers.

“I suppose it would be, but I wouldn’t have minded,” you admitted, making deep eye contact with him once again.

Taehyung smiled at your words, and he waited a moment before saying, “I know someone that I think you would be happy to see again. If you feel comfortable with me, I can take you to him.”

Your eyes widened, and at that moment, you could hear the same melody he was playing earlier coming from somewhere deeper in the hall. In that moment, you remember seeing the book that Yoongi had when he first learned the song, and how the composer was named Kim Taehyung.

A tear rolled down your face as you looked up at Taehyung in shock, his confirming nod causing a choked breath to leave you. Yoongi already found this place.

With the brightest smile you’ve had on your face in years, you gently grasped Taehyung’s hand. “I’ve never felt more comfortable in my entire life.”

#kim taehyung #bts #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfction #bts x y/n #bts x reader #min yoongi #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #bts angst #ghost taehyung

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entities-of-posts · 2 years

Note

Uh, hi again. been awhile. to me atleast i dunno how long its felt for u but idk. not. too much has happened well i mean quite a bit has happened but also its like. i dunno uh. Honestly not much has happened i think but i. missed? sending these? which is weird probably but honestly its very low on my list of things to be concerned about. I keep knowing the twists of books which. basically means im returning them quicker since i just cant handle reading after that honestly so the librarians been talking to me more. shes really nice. theres a lot of security cameras around school which makes more sense than the eyes so i dont know why i didnt notice them before but whatever. this is really rambly im sorry i should. i dunno. somehow my visions been getting even worse which is honestly annoying, since youd think that if it can spoil all my books and all that it could atleast keep me from needing to buy new glasses but whatever. sorry for sending this when theres nothing actually happened sorry -benny

No worries, as long as you forgive me for answering so late! I’m glad to hear you are doing alright, and sorry to hear the Eye is being exactly as annoying as possible - you’d think things so far removed from humanity wouldn’t have the desire or the knowledge to be jerks. And yet.

#statements #Benny the Watched

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years

Text

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 6

Chapter 6: 50 First Dates

pairings: logicality, prinxiety words: 3369 chapter warnings: mild swearing, mild NSFW content, reference to death chapter summary: and hijinks, do in fact, ensue.

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

–

Roman has been on two dates before.

It’s not like he couldn’t get any– oh, he could get many– but he never really considered the several outings he’d been on ‘dates’. He had met a lot of wonderful people, but when the star met the moon, he didn’t need any more stepping stones; he had landed, safe and sound, in the clouds.

And he thought about his first date (he liked to think they had only been on one date before a series of adventures) almost constantly. He thought about it whenever he would travel idly through stories detailing a million first dates. He thought about it whenever Logan wasn’t around to guard his precious books. He thought about it whenever the thought of his first book nook crossed his mind.

Roman has been on two dates before.

His last date was so boring, it killed him.

His first date, however, was in a library.

“That simply won’t do.”

Logan threw yet another argyle vest into the growing pile of sweater vests on his bed.

“What should I wear then, Roman?”

“For a first date? Something else.”

Logan groaned, turning back to his wooden wardrobe and fishing through all his clothes.

“This isn’t a first date, Roman.”

“Riiiiight. On a completely unrelated note, Patton told me that he wanted you to have this!”

Roman flew up to Logan and blew him a kiss. A flurry of red magic hit Logan’s cheek and left a lip-shaped mark. Logan huffed, swatting the magic away as Roman simply laughed, flying into his wardrobe and giving a few clothes a red aura — Roman’s stamp of approval, Logan presumed.

Logan begrudgingly picked out a few of Roman’s selections and began to try them on.

“He is simply accompanying me on this...art-venture,” Logan continued, slipping on a white button-up. “It is in the pursuit of knowledge–”

“Call it what you want,” Roman cut him off, tossing a bit of magic to neatly fold Logan’s sleeves just below his elbow. “But I’m telling you, you’re on a date.”

“And how exactly would you know that?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at Logan. “I’ve had a very full life before becoming your magical librarian, thank you very much.”

“...Right.” Logan cleared his throat. A beat of silence passed. Logan half-expected Roman to lift the mood right back up, but all he did was stare at him.

“I...I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan finally said.

Roman’s aura dimmed. “It’s all good, Specs. I just...I’ve never seen you care about something this much before. I’m just trying to help.”

Logan paused, before hesitantly outstretching his hand towards his wardrobe. A trail of navy blue magic was thrown into the closet like a rope and pulled out a grey blazer towards him.

“Fine.” Logan put on the blazer and went over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall, adjusting the collar. “Say this is– hypothetically – a date. What would you recommend I do?”

“Stand a bit straighter and be yourself,” Roman recited, flying up behind Logan and forcing him to straighten his posture. He eventually rested on Logan’s shoulder and smiled. “You tend to show others a good time when you’re having a good time, Logan. I don’t think there’s much you can do that’s wrong.”

A pause. “Except for wearing ivory socks when they should be eggshell-white.”

Logan huffed, going over to his dresser as Roman floated right off him. Mid-way through switching out his socks, he heard bells chiming downstairs. Logan checked his watch.

“How is he already here?” he muttered to himself, slipping on some black dress shoes and taking one more look at himself in the mirror. Logan sighed, smoothing out his tucked in shirt. “How do I look?”

“...Just fine, Lo.” Logan caught sight of Roman’s smile falling in the mirror. “You look just fine.”

Logan nodded and rushed down the stairs, Roman trailing not too far behind him. When he got downstairs, he found Patton sitting on the armchair, waiting for him. He wore some bootcut, light-washed jeans and a long, grey cardigan over a light blue dress-shirt. In his hair were little, blue and white plastic butterfly clips buried between each curl. His eyes went starry and wide behind his round glasses as he stood up and grinned.

“Hey! You look just– wow .”

Logan felt himself go warm. “Er, thank you. You...you look good...too.”

He could hear the muffled sounds of groans behind him.

Patton giggled, outstretching his hand towards Logan. “Shall we go?”

Logan swallowed down his nerves and took Patton’s hand, wordlessly nodding.

As Patton led Logan out, Logan turned around to face Roman.

“Roman, are you sure you do not want to join us?” He patted his small shirt pocket. “You’re always welcome to.”

Roman’s expression twisted ever so slightly.

“I’m fine here, Specs,” he finally said with a faded smile. “I don’t know, maybe I can really get some work done around here without you.”

Logan stuck his tongue out at Roman before finally turning back around and out the door.

Patton smiled and leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder as they began walking towards the theatre. Logan initially stiffened at the contact, but eventually relaxed his shoulders and let himself melt under Patton’s touch.

Logan took one more look through his shop windows as they passed by it. He caught a glimpse of a blur of red near the shelf behind the front counter. A few seconds later, he saw a brown book floating through the air.

But before he could catch sight of what the book was, Patton dragged him past the window with a smile brighter than the stars above him. And then he was gone.

—

They arrived early at the theatre, settling in their seats with a large bucket of popcorn. Logan watched a few trailers that advertised some of the romantic-comedies that would be playing for the next few weekends. He grimaced.

“Why do these movies...hm, how do I say this – exist?”

Patton laughed. “Maybe someone felt like they needed to exist! Every story means something to someone, Lo.”

The title and tagline of a rom-com flashed on the screen in front of him: " Around Him for 80 Days": Your Hot-Air Balloon of Love, flying soon next week…

Logan stared at Patton with a deadpanned expression. Patton sheepishly smiled.

“Okay, so maybe the answer is money…”

Logan snorted, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

The lights around the two eventually dimmed, and Logan let himself be immersed in the movie, as cheesy as it was.

The film eventually began with bright, blue, all-too-cheery skies. And as the film progressed, the plot, Logan told Patton, stayed fixated in its ‘lightly humorous but completely unrealistic’ nature; which, Patton informed him, was not the point.

The movie followed the shenanigans of Henry falling in love with a girl named Lucy, who suffered from anterograde amnesia. Logan did his best to keep his mouth sealed at every inaccuracy, if only to impress Patton, who was beaming the entire time. He even found himself following in Patton’s laughter like some sort of a strange puppet (though there were some moments that admittedly made him chuckle on his own).

However, against his will, Logan found himself endeared to the story towards the end. He watched the blurry VCR footage of a wedding unfolding in front of him with wide eyes and, for a brief moment, felt himself being pulled into an unknown world that was still similar to his own. The film’s message wasn’t too hard to extract. Two people were able to form a bond that transcended their adversities because of love and...

‘And someone wanted to share what that feeling was like.’

Logan snuck a glance at Patton, who was tearing up at the end (of course). His vision went blurry for a split second, a flash of navy blue flickering in his line of sight; and then, it was gone.

Logan reached inside the bucket of popcorn to see if there was anything left, and felt his hand graze Patton’s. Warmth fluttered in his chest. Of course.

When they left the theatre—and eventually got the ice cream Patton had promised—Patton rambled on and on about the movie, with Logan quietly walking beside him. Logan switched his focus between Patton’s words and the cool, night air hitting his face. He furrowed his brow as he became lost in his own thoughts.

‘ Everything was real, even that story which wasn’t real– but it felt real, it is all real…’

“How about you?” Patton said, snapping Logan out of his trance. “How’d you like the movie? I know it’s not really your thing–”

“No no,” Logan said with a smile, toying with his spoon in cup. “I cannot believe I am truly saying this but...but I enjoyed it.”

A gasp. Patton stopped dead in his tracks beside him. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on , you drew this out of me...”

“Logan Fray– the Logan Fray– enjoyed a ‘nonsensical’ romance movie?”

“It was a fine story, Patton, no need to over-sell this–”

“I can’t wait to tell Roman!” Patton’s smile was oh-so blisteringly bright as he danced ahead of Logan, nearly dropping his ice cream cone and singing a song Logan didn’t recognize. Logan chuckled.

The streets felt emptier in Patton’s company, Logan noticed. He wasn’t quite in solitude, but he was not overrun by a crowd of thought, opinions, and expectations held by not only others, but himself — it was just him and Patton; it was just the two of them together.

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asked, suddenly beside him. Logan blinked, then shook his head.

“Nothing, Patton. I am having a lovely evening with you.”

Patton squinted at him. “You have your thinking face on.”

A pause.

“I am just thinking of how I could tie this experience to my research,” he finally responded, a feeble attempt at a lie. Patton’s mouth thinned into a small frown.

“Ah...right.”

Patton continued to walk, now alongside Logan in an awkward silence. Logan, not really knowing what he had expected, followed suit.

“Logan?” Patton asked after a few minutes.

“Yes?”

“...Why do you want to know what the meaning of art is?”

Logan frowned. “I have to, for my–”

“For your speech, yeah,” Patton finished for him. “I know it’s for your speech, but...”

“It could possibly serve as an onset to a prospective publication,” Logan tried again.

“It just seems sad,” Patton blurted out. “Don’t you think?”

Logan felt his heart drop, almost ashamed. Patton seemed to catch on almost immediately.

“Sorry, that was like– wow, so uncalled for–”

“You’re not wrong.” Logan squeezed his eyes shut. “You are not wrong at all.”

They walked in a bit more silence before Logan sighed.

“Sometimes, after what feels like a lifetime of barely-surmountable adversities...you tend to lose sight of the path, let alone what lies at the end of it.” Logan looked at Patton, eyes wide and earnest. “Have you ever felt that way?”

“A little, but not as much as you do, maybe.” Patton shrugged. “I have never really lost anything. Though, I have never had too much to lose, heh.”

“I see,” Logan murmured.

A beat of silence.

“I suppose art has always followed me,” Logan said, voice barely above a whisper. “My grandfather would bring stories to life in front of my very eyes, every single night. And then...well, they died with him. At some point in my life, I couldn’t live without his stories and...and now I can . There...there must be a reason for that, no?”

“I’m not sure.” Patton looked up at Logan. “Do...do you think you have ever really lived without his stories?”

Time seemingly stopped around them as Logan felt himself taken aback by Patton’s question. For a few moments, he thought about the shop, the way the books on the shelves have always been there. He thought about his grandfather and the stories he would bring to life. He thought about his parents and the hazy memory of the summer days he’d spend with them in the backyard, looking at insects with a magnifying glass and a toothy grin. He thought about his magic, the way it was first pulled out of him and into the air above his head in a swirl of faintly-coloured wind.

He thought about Roman, and how he’s always been there. Always.

(And in his chest, Logan felt a puzzle– one he almost forgot was ever fragmented– slowly piece itself back together.)

They eventually find their way back to Fray and Far Fables, with Logan mostly quiet the whole way back. He had reassured Patton that he did nothing wrong; he was just thinking, as he always did. Patton didn’t press on.

“Well, here we are,” Logan said as they neared the front door. He awkwardly shifted in his place in front of Patton, averting his glance to the floor.

“Here we are!” Patton echoed back with a nervous laugh. He smiled at Logan regardless. “I had a really good time, Logan.”

“I did as well.” A pause. Logan hesitantly added, “I...I enjoy spending time with you.”

“Aw, Lo! I like spending time with you too!” Patton smiled, almost embarrassed. “You...you make me think! And I like thinking with you, really.”

Logan couldn’t help but look at Patton. Under the faint lights of his shop, Patton’s eyes looked like a mix of honey and wine, sweet and tempting. And Logan never realized it until now, but his freckles reassembled the same sort of stars he always saw in Patton’s smile.

Logan blinked, and felt Patton’s gaze on him narrow; perhaps he was under similar examination.

“Um...I should get going.”

Patton laughed, even more nervous than the first time.

“Oh! Yes, of course!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And hey, thank you for indulging me in these silly art-ventures, heh. I know you don’t have to, but...well, it’s nice to know that you’re getting something out of these.”

“I…” Logan took a deep breath. (For a brief moment, he wondered how one would encapsulate this crazy and horrifying feeling in a campy romantic comedy.)

“I get more from being with you, Patton,” Logan finally said. “You...you challenge me in a way that reminds me that there is more than just a...a finite answer. You make me want to seek more .” A step forward. "And...and there has to be more."

And before he could say anything else, Patton leaned forward on the tips of his toes and pulled Logan into a kiss.

—

Here’s what Logan knows.

He knows that despite there being something out there, there is nothing—truly nothing—in this life. There are bonds and spirits and magic that surround the world, sure. But you come from nothing and leave, ultimately, with nothing, because everything you could ever want to have is left behind.

However, he now knows this as well: the very act of creation immortalizes what little space you make for yourself, and everything that he once believed was true is actually—and this is rather unfortunate—complete and utter bullshit.

Logan felt his back hit the door as Patton pressed against him in their kiss. He swore he could feel both their hearts racing through their clothes. And in that very moment, Logan decided that he would do just about anything to be as close to Patton’s heart as possible, as if the two of their heartbeats could create a symphony if they were just a bit closer, closer, closer.

Logan fumbled for the door handle and with a struggled twist of his wrist, he sent the two of them stumbling backwards into the shop mid-kiss. Patton pulled back for a moment to let out a breathy laugh. Logan, almost desperately, ran his hand through Patton’s hair and pulled him into another kiss, and another, and another.

They bumped into a few display tables, knocking a few books onto the floor. Logan jumped back at the noise, then looked at Patton. Patton was still clutching onto Logan’s blazer collar, his cheeks glowing red. He wore the smallest and shakiest of smiles. A few of the butterfly clips in his hair were askew, and Logan didn’t even know when this happened, but Patton’s cardigan was completely undone, as well as a few buttons of his shirt.

He nodded towards the staircase and Patton nodded, seemingly breathless.

As they were heading up, it dawned on Logan that he had never had someone else upstairs since his grandfather passed. It was mostly rather small and, quite frankly, unimpressive. A rush of insecurity flooded Logan’s being, but all too late.

There were two doors when they reached the top: to the left was a small, cramped bathroom; and to the right, his bedroom.

Patton looked at Logan, who sighed and braced himself as he opened the right door.

In typical attic fashion, the ceiling was slanted towards a small window near the back of the room. Underneath the window was a kitchenette with a sink and a few appliances, as well as a rack of pots and pans lining the walls beside the window. His bed rested on the right side of his room, and across from it were rows of shelves filled with old books and picture frames, with some boxes and drawers laying underneath. A string of fairy lights and small light bulbs were strung from each shelf and illuminated the room with a warm glow.

In a small interlude from their intimacy, Patton looked around in awe.

“ Wow. I can’t believe this has been up here the whole time.”

Logan shifted in his place, taking a deep breath.

“I know it is not much, but this...well, this is home. Always has been.”

“I love it, Logan.” Patton looked up at Logan with a small smile. “I love it.”

Logan grinned, a mix of relief and realization settling in his chest. He felt himself become lighter in Patton’s presence as he pulled Patton into another kiss, one that was softer than the previous ones.

And Logan held Patton close as if he was every answer he was searching for, as if their embrace could create a space in the vast world for just the two of them; as if life was no longer empty, but full.

Logan held Patton close in a warm, ‘ thank-you-for-all-of-this’ kiss, and then closed the door behind him.

—

When he heard the sound of the door closing upstairs, Roman decidedly floated up from behind the counter. He looked at the staircase and in his mind, remembered the sounds of Logan and Patton’s hurried footsteps leading to Logan’s bedroom.

Roman flew over to lock the front door and took a glance out the window. He stared at the place where Logan and Patton were standing before he had hidden behind the counter; he recalled the way they looked at each other, the way they held each other in such closeness and warmth. And he recalled seeing something that he knew Logan wouldn’t have noticed: he saw the glow of a pulsing, navy blue aura surrounding Logan when he kissed Patton.

Roman held his gaze with the city outside of the shop, and realized with a shattered heart that he had been in here longer than he had originally planned for; that someone was waiting for him in the same way he knew Logan had been waiting for someone like Patton (even if that someone was there, he was always fucking there–)

At that moment, Roman realized that he held every answer that his new life ever needed, yet everything was out of reach once again.

Fighting back tears, Roman locked the door and quietly floated back onto the surface of the front counter. The brown, leather-bound copy of The Midnight Forest laid open in front of him.

Roman looked up at the staircase one more time, forcing himself to not hear the giggles and the creaking of the bed and the love, love, love.

He steeled himself and silenced it all, before pressing his hands against the pages of The Midnight Forest and disappearing in a flurry of red smoke.

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

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sushiburritonoms · 3 years

Note

Ooh, #13 for Sacred Texts, because that's one of my favorite questions on these types of lists. And if you'd like (I know they could involve spoilers, etc), 2, 4, and 5, as well. Because I'm absolutely loving that fic and am very curious. :D

Hi Anon!

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

So normally I don't listen to music at all when writing, I'm one of those 'need a quiet space of her own' puritans. I was never able to listen to music while studying either, I think it's some focusing problem but I'm not about to self diagnose.

BUT for Sacred Texts I had a section in Chapter 3 where the teens listen to music in the car and for that I had to listen to top 50 hits in the US for this year to get a sense of what is popular right now. This fic is set in an alt universe 2021. No pandemic and the election in 2020 was Palpatine vs Mon Mothma (don't ask me who Sheev's Vice President is, I just know its not Dooku as I have plans for him later. In this universe nearly all the old Jedi are librarians). So some real life events like the postal service in the US being taken over by right ring sycophants happens in this universe. Some of the music I picked in chapter three was because it was a meme and it was funny (Toxic because of this video of Luke's entrance in the Mandalorian). I wanted to show that Poe was bilingual and to show that Luke's community is diverse so I picked Todo de Ti. I liked it because in English the chorus is "It's because I like everything about you" and I thought that was rather sweet and fitting for a Din/Luke story. But nothing deeper than that, I just liked the beat. I picked Doja Cat Kiss Me on advice from the Boba/Din/Luke server. Again I liked the beat there's nothing deep there except its probably something Luke doesn't like. So I guess if you want to get into the mindset for that chapter, try listening to whatever is on the radio at the moment and that's the world of the teens.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Actually this story is based off a short Tumblr fic I wrote for @darkisrising. Its my most popular post! You can see I took some of the dialogue from that short fic and used it in Sacred Text. At first this was going to be a one shot, I was like 'piffth why would Luke Skywalker, dreamer, ace pilot and the most eager boy in the universe become a librarian of all things.' But then I realized that is kinda what ends up happening in the movies, he goes from this eager hopeful farmer to this wise powerful Jedi. I was kinda interested in what happens in that in-between phase of life when someone is not quite middle aged but is starting to realize that the adult life they are living isn't exactly the life they expected to live when they were a kid. That's why I decided to redo the short story into a longer fic because I wanted to know why a modern AU Luke would want to work with children in a library without it being a crack story of 'we made him a librarian because librarians are hot, teeeheee'.

I also saw a lot of Jedi values reflected in public librarianship. Public librarians are dedicated to serving the intellectual and social needs of a community. It is a very hard service orientated profession because you deal with the public all the time, you deal with censorship, homelessness, poverty and (if you're in the USA) the drug epidemic. I think of public library staff as Jedi honestly, they are my heroes, they are so much more than book shelvers and women with cat eye glasses and cardigans (but seriously cardigans are the best item of clothing ever, I can't dis). I called the story "Scared Texts" in honor of the tiny tree library Luke keeps in The Last Jedi, but also because of the democratic/civic values of the library as an institution of knowledge all around the world.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I liked the DILF line in chapter 2 because the thought of Obi-Wan saying that out loud cracks me up. But so far, I really like these two lines from chapter 3:

In Jedha it often felt like he was flying solo; crippled even, in a plane that was broken and past prime, jittering a path forward that had no real destination. The days blurred together and the only way Luke was even able to tell the passage of time was by the inches that Finn and the other kids gained in height.

I like that it fits how Luke sees himself right now but also gives you a clue into his life before librarianship. It tells you how fond he is of the teens and yet how unbearable it is to see them grow up and get ready to leave you. Since I also worked with kids I constantly had these cohorts of children that I would bond with, develop relationships with and then see them off into the real world. Its really quite a complicated emotion and for Luke who wants companionship and a family, but can't get his act together to date, its doubly hard.

5: What part was hardest to write?

Up to this point, Chapter 3 was the hardest. Ask @bronze-lorica or Dark, I deleted whole sections and started again. I rewrote sections of the Luke and Leia phone call because I wasn't getting their relationship right. I always struggle with pacing, either I go too slow or too fast and so of course this story is no exception. I like how chapter 3 came out now, its made chapter 4 much easier (which will be out sometime this week I hope).

I'm sorry this was probably way too long and beyond what you wanted to know. I love to ramble about my thought process. Thank you for asking anon! I really enjoyed answering these.

ALSO Thank you for saying you're loving the fic, that means so much! aksldfjasd sorry I forgot to say that earlier!

#ask game #Sacred Texts #sb rants

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yourfaveisyanderematic · 5 years

Text

I Need Thee Every Hour

Nobody asked, but I delivered! It’s Pucci Time, Lads.

Additional Warnings: gaslighting(ish), unreality. Mild internalized ableism. I was raised Protestant and therefore know next to nothing about Catholicism, do not come for me for this.

“Napping in the confessional again, child?”

Your eyes startle open, and you jerk back from the warmed wood lattice your cheek had been pressed against with a little gasp. You find yourself rubbing at the sticky skin with one hand, self conscious, even as your mind catches up to the present and you realize the other man has no way of seeing you.

“No. No, Father, I was—“

The priest’s chuckle is low, musical, and you find your excuses faltering without him even saying anything.

“There’s no need. Nobody else is here…and it’s better for the bench to be used for rest, rather than not at all, I’d think.”

You’re still working past the confusion that always muddles your first minute or so of wakefulness, so your grasp on reality isn’t very firm yet. There’s a moment where you feel ten years younger, back on that sweltering summer afternoon (it is quite warm in here. The air feels heavy in your lungs) when you’d been caught sneaking cigarettes by one of the nuns from your school. The feeling—of being caught in some petty, irreverent act by a lovingly admonishing authority figure—is exactly the same, even if your reverence for the clergy has faded to a vestigial politeness and the age difference has changed from fifty years to maybe five.

The moment passes, however, and the confusion morphs into cold dread.

It’s happened again.

“I’m happy to see you again so soon, but I’ll admit this wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to start coming to church more.” It’s a testament to Father Pucci’s charisma that you can hear the smile in his voice, as if indulging in a shared joke. It’s a testament to your own composure that he can’t detect your distress as you try to piece together your last few moments of awareness, but it’s disjointed and futile, like forcing together puzzle pieces from opposite sides of the board.

Over the past couple of months or so, you’d been experiencing…you’d been calling them Skips. Fainting episodes or blackouts wasn’t the right term for what was happening; during those, you would have collapsed to the floor and awaken some time later, in the same place. You wouldn’t have remembered doing anything because you didn’t do anything.

(You would have preferred it if you’d simply been having blackouts. These would have an explanation, some kind of cause. You could justify going to the hospital. People would be worried about you.)

Skips were different. You would start in one place and find yourself in another, hours later. People would try to continue conversations you didn’t have the start of, or mention seeing you somewhere you had no business being. Even now, what Father Pucci said about seeing you again so soon—when was the last time? Could you work out what was said without him getting suspicious?

Why was it that you would sometimes, for no real reason, simply not remember what you were doing?

After the first couple times you’d noticed it happening, you hesitantly typed your question into the library’s search engine—something to the effect of ‘doing things without remembering’—but when you started reading words like psychotic break and split personality disorder, you became overwhelmed, fleeing the librarian’s gaze in a mad dash for the refuge of your home. You canceled the doctor’s appointment you’d scheduled for the next day. Dinner was cold leftovers alone rather than at the diner with your friends, and their numerous phone calls went unanswered; you were too afraid. Were you going crazy? Did that just happen to people?

It’s only when Pucci stops that you realize he’d been talking to you, and for a very scary moment you think it’s happened again, but you’ve just been too absorbed in your thoughts to pay attention.

“I’m sorry, Father,” you mutter, “I’ve…I guess I have a lot on my mind, lately.”

Your friends had been getting impatient with your newfound absentmindedness, but Pucci just hums. Perhaps priests are used to talking to people busy thinking of other things.

“Look around,” he points out, and you catch a glimpse of movement through the screen as he shifts a little closer to where you sit, “there’s no better place in the world for a moment of quiet contemplation. Given what you were doing before I got here, though,” and here you can hear that quietly teasing smile in his voice again, “perhaps a cup of tea and a walk would do more good for your thoughts. Come; perhaps I can even convince you to tell me what the problem is.”

The aged wood creaks as he gets up and exits his side of the booth, clearly expecting you to do the same. You follow suit, though you can’t help but notice the lack of stiffness in your body, despite your unnatural sleeping position. You weren’t there for very long, then. No more than a few minutes…but what were you doing, and why did you come here? Answers remain stubbornly out of reach as your eyes adjust to the brighter interior of the cathedral, roving along the empty pews until you turn to see Father Pucci, adjusting some of the candles nearby.

Something in his free hand catches your eye, glinting in the afternoon sunlight filtering through stained glass. You can’t help but blink in surprise.

“You listen to CDs, Father? That’s very modern. I didn’t think priests could do that.”

Pucci turns the disc over in his hand, considering it carefully, and then slips it into his sleeve. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something strange and intense, before his features rearrange themselves into something more casual, and you could easily believe you’d imagined it entirely.

“I really shouldn’t, you’re right. I suppose I can’t help it…even when I know I have work to do, I find I’m doing it again. Something about…” his eyes meet yours, and he coughs, a little awkwardly, and turns away.

You find yourself smiling, in spite of the cold fear still dragging at your footsteps as you follow him out of the chapel. “Alright, Father, I won’t tell anyone. Though now I have to know: what genre are you into? Jazz? Classical, Disco…not, Rock, surely?”

“A Capella, actually,” he shrugs, opening another door for you to walk through, “instruments are wonderful, of course, and they’re doing exciting things with modern electronics, but there’s something untouchable about the human voice, especially one so steeped in holiness.”

“Ah.” The answer is more boring, somehow, than you expected. A Capella is…well, it’s typical for a priest, isn’t it? Too in character. For a moment you were sure you’d learn something interesting about your unlikely friend, but he’s slipped back into the comfortable realm of the proper clergyman.

It’s only when you reach another set of doors—and this time you open it to admit him, rather than the other way around—that you realize you had been leading the way to the kitchenette, despite never being there before. You’re not able to do much with this thought, however, because Pucci’s already pouring a cup from the waiting kettle and sliding it towards you with a sly smile and a whiff of bergamot. His hands don’t brush yours as you take the cup, though you think you see his fingers twitch and imagine it’s because of desire. Maybe he sees how stressed you are and wants to comfort you, but can’t. Do they teach people not to touch at seminary? Is it one of their vows?

You’re only here for the drink, you tell yourself as you stir in milk and sugar and watch him drop a lemon slice into his own cup. Only here for the drink, and then you’ll be on your way, off to try to work out what had transpired in your missing hours.

There’s a nameless tension in the silence that reigns, as you drink without tasting and nibble listlessly at a shortbread cookie from the nearby plate. The lull in conversation doesn’t feel like an absence of words, but an expectation of them, like he already knows you’re going to say something and is ready whenever you are. You’re not going to tell him anything, of course. The guilt can twist at your stomach all it likes, you won’t be saying a word to him. You can’t make everyone you know worry about you.

You don’t last three sips.

“Father, I think I’m going crazy,” you blurt out, and regret it the moment you see him raise an eyebrow the moment you finish the sentence. So much for not making him worry. You keep going.

“I keep…forgetting things? I don’t know how to describe it. But I’ll be walking home, or buying food, or talking to someone, and then it’s like…something happens, and suddenly it’s hours later and I’m on the other side of town—“

It’s like a floodgate has opened, like every word you failed to say to everyone else is suddenly coming out now in a rush. Your thoughts can barely keep up with what you’re saying, you’re in too much of a rush to say it all.

“—and of course Madeline is worried and so is Ashton, but you can’t just say ‘hey sorry I actually have no idea where I was or what I was doing when I was supposed to be giving you a ride home and it might happen again’ without sounding insane, and I don’t know, I’m really scared this is going to turn out to be something wrong with me—“

You almost want him to cut you off—to stop you before you devolve into terrified rambling—but Pucci just stands there, not once taking his eyes off your face, until all the words are out and you’re practically gasping for breath.

His hand is warm on your shoulder. It’s heavy. You force your breathing to return to normal, to let him ground you in the moment.

“It must be terrifying,” he murmurs, “not knowing what’s happening to you. I’m so sorry you’ve been keeping this to yourself for so long…have you told anyone else?”

The cup rattles in its saucer as you try and fail to sip, to give your mouth something to do other than talk. “No. Uh. This is going to sound really silly, but I don’t want people I know to find out this is happening.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “Well, we’re not in the confessional, but I’ll still keep your secret. It’s only fair…you have one of mine, after all.”

You bark out a humorless laugh and wince at its harshness. “Sorry, Father, I don’t think the two are equal at all. Your thing isn’t even that weird. No offense.”

“You’re right,” he nods, “the two aren’t equal at all. As for your condition…I won’t force you to tell anyone else about it. They’d only tell you to see a doctor.”

“I should, though, right?” you mumble bitterly. “I mean, if it turns out I really am—“

“You know yourself better than anyone,” Pucci replies, which is an excellent non-answer, “ultimately, you will decide whether or not to seek medical attention. Until then, however, I have an idea that can help you. You own a phone with a camera, right? It seems everyone does, these days.”

You fumble for your phone, before remembering you’d left it at home; you didn’t want to risk seeing a call. “Yeah, I do, but the camera’s not very good—“

“That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it can take a photo at all. From now on, set an alarm on your phone for every hour, on the hour. You said you still behave normally when experiencing this memory loss, right? So you’ll remember what the timer is for, even if an episode is happening.”

You’re not sure you’re following, but you nod anyway.

“From now on, every time the alarm goes off—not during the night when you’re asleep, obviously—you should take a picture. It doesn’t have to be of anything, just have the picture. Later, if you’re having an episode, you’ll have a better idea of what you were doing. Who knows? It might even help you remember.”

That’s…holy shit, how didn’t you think of that before? If he wasn’t sworn against that kind of thing, you’d jump up and kiss him. Maybe you could even start recording conversations…if you couldn’t track your time on your own, you could get machines to do it for you. Nobody would ever have to know something was wrong!

Your drink’s unfinished, but you barely care; you have to get home right now, maybe drop by an electronics store for a recorder. “Father, you’re a lifesaver. I’m going to get on that right away.”

“Thank me by coming to Mass!” he calls after you as you bolt out of the room without a glance back.

It’s only when your footsteps have fully subsided that he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He takes the cup—not the one he poured for himself, but the one you were drinking out of—and brings it to his lips. It’s pathetic, maybe. This indirect kiss doesn’t compare at all to what he indulged in, only a little while ago, but he savors it all the same. Is it greedy to take any touch from you he can, however slight?

Is it greedy to love both your joy and your fear--to see your face light up when he promises hope, to imagine what you’ll look like when you finally notice the livid red splotches along your collarbone, or the blood splattered on the side of your shoes?

Perhaps—but that’s a confession you’ll never hear.

#yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere pucci #by me #EYYYYY IT ME BOYYYYYY #FINALLY POSTING AGAIN LADS #gonna have a gorier start to October but my thirst for that bastard priest is perhaps too strong #might make a continuation for this bc I was gonna end it with a different line but figured the confession ine would be more appropriate #if y'all don't make more content for my mans I'll face God and write it all myself

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zairapvrker · 5 years

Text

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 2

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry for the long wait! This isn’t really what I hoped for but college really is taking a toll on me.

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

“So does she know?”

Luke had never looked so uneasy in his life - and that meant a whole lot of time. He was pacing around back and forth with his hands in his hair, gripping it tightly into his fists and looking ready to pull it all out at any given moment.

“Of course she doesn’t!” he screamed back at his friend, looking at him shocked - how could he even think for one second that he’d told her? - now letting his hands rest at his hips and never stopping his nervous walk.

“But are you sure you aren’t mistaken? Do you feel that pull?” Ashton tried again, attempting to reason with him.

Luke stopped dead in his tracks, his arms hanging at his sides and his shoulders low. He’s never looked more human, reckoned Ashton.

“It’s her, Ash. There’s no doubt in my mind about it” and fear isn’t something easily found painted on the face of a thousand years old vampire, but Ashton was short of words looking at his friend.

"You know you have two choices now” he reminded him.

“I know” sighed Luke defeated whilst flopping on a chair, letting his head rest in his hands once again.

~~~~

Each step I took towards the school entrance felt like a weight added on my shoulders. I was, of course, never a big fan of school. Sitting through classes while trying to pay attention when all I really wanted was sleep, was not my forte. That, and I hated half of the classes I was taking. The positive side was that no one was paying attention to me, so I could hide in the back of the classroom and only give a small smile when the teachers introduced me. That was, until art class.

“Hey, you’re the new kid right?” my shoulders sunk in defeat. Apparently I had not acquired the power of invisibility throughout the day.

“Yeah, it’s me” I turned around to see a girl who was smiling far too wide for someone who had just gone through a whole day of school.

“We’re throwing a party this Saturday, as a welcome, you should come!” I stared at her dumbfounded. A welcome party? What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked quite shocked.

“Oh, it’s just a lame excuse to throw a party when there’s nothing better to do on the weekend, it’s been a while since a new kid came to town” she shrugged, still with that dumb smile on her lips. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Sure then” giving her the same kind of smile, I turned around just as the teacher walked into the classroom.

As the bell rang I tried sprinting out of the class, only to remain stuck in the crowd of people who had had the same idea. Deflating, I stepped back and waited until the door was clear, taking a step towards it.

“So you’re going, huh?” the voice that seemingly came from nowhere, gave me a heart attack and made me jump on the spot. As I turned around I could see lingering on his lips the faint smile he was trying to hold back.

“Fucking hell, do you even make any sound?” I almost yelled holding a hand on my chest - still heaving from the scare.

“Or maybe you just have really bad hearing” he said crossing his arms as I rolled my eyes and caught his mocking ones looking at me.

“How do you know I’m going?” I asked then.

“I heard you talking about it” he shrugged.

“From the back of the class?”

“Unlike some people, I’m not loud and I have good hearing” he sentenced, clearly making fun of me.

Tired of his humor, I drily stated “I’m going” and started my retreat towards the door.

“Alone?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll make friends” I stopped dead in my tracks and shrugged, turning around and facing him again, now defensive.

“Just like you did today?” he now leaned against a desk, as graceful as ever.

“Huh, you’re unbelievable! I don’t even know you!” I exclaimed frustrated and offended just before I turned around to storm out of the classroom, catching a hint of realization in his blue eyes.

I walked quickly out of the school, making my way to the bus stop as fast as possible properly breathing only ten minutes later, as I sat at the back of the bus, and the tight knot at the pit of my stomach dissolved.

Meanwhile, Luke stilled against the desk he was resting on, as her words replayed in his head. I don’t even know you!

She was right. He didn’t know her.

I started feeling properly good again once I walked into my house and all tremors had dissipated. Even if my mind was clear and not too much preoccupied with the thought of blue eyes, it was like my body begged me to go the opposite direction.

Not giving too much importance to the mixed signals both mind and body were throwing at me, I went about my day, finishing the little to none homework that was assigned and starting dinner. It was not until I sat at the table with my mom that I informed her of my encounters of the day. And just what I feared happened.

“A party! Oh, but that’s amazing! You get to hang out with your friends even on the weekend! See? This isn’t as bad as you thought it would” except it was. She went on rambling, now beaming at my new -nonexistent- social life. Using the lame excuse of homework, I excused myself back to my room and flopped on my bed.

Excellent, I thought, one day of school and it’s all already going to shit.

The next day, at the end of the literature class, I tried making my way as quickly as possible to the cafeteria, but once I got there I decided to go to the library for lunch. Loud places weren’t for me. Even if a sign clearly said that no eating was permitted into the library, no one was really around and I had found a chair near a shelf that sheltered me from the librarian’s desk - out of sight, out of mind.

“I liked your insight on Jane Eyre” almost dropping my sandwich to the floor, I looked up and found myself looking into the same bluebell eyes.

“Will you fucking stop sneaking up on me?” I asked exasperated while steadying my shaking hands.

He smiled slyly. “Nah, I’m quite enjoying it” he said shrugging his shoulders and deliberately sitting in the chair across mine. I raised my eyebrows. “You plan on staying there?”

“Yes” he sentenced, staring right in my eyes. If it would’ve been anyone else I would’ve looked away, but found that I couldn’t.

“What’s your name?” I asked then, realizing that I still didn’t know.

“Luke” a shadow of a smile adorned his lips, making my heart skip a beat. Oh, get a grip. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Bea” somewhere in the back of my mind a sense of déjà-vu made itself known to me, very faintly but enough to make me stop in my tracks and stare at the books on the shelves behind Luke’s head. I shook my head and looked at him again, who was staring at me questioningly. I flashed him a curt smile and stared back down at my sandwich as if it was the most interesting thing in the whole room.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking as serious as ever.

I nodded shortly. “So, how did you do on your Jane Eyre questionnaire?”

He smiled confidently. “Good, I would ask you how you did but I think I already know the answer”

I laughed drily. How come in his presence I didn’t know how to handle myself properly? What was it about his way of moving so gracefully and as if he knew exactly what he came to do? Of talking with sarcasm and a mocking tone that bothered me so much. Why did I feel so calm yet unnerved when he was around? Like I knew something he knew as well but couldn’t quite grasp it.

Suddenly he stood up, startling me. “The bell’s about to ring”

I nodded, standing up as well and replacing what was left od my sandwich in its wrapping inside my backpack. Turning around I didn’t find him where he was standing just moments before.

Huffing annoyed I just walked out of the library like a woman on a mission, finding my next class quickly. Just wishing the trembling of my hands could stop for a second, I closed my hands in fists and waited patiently for the bell to ring and the rest of the students to come in.

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take-u-to-the-moon · 5 years

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Timing - Dick Grayson

Warning: Slightly sexual. Mention of Joffrey Baratheon.

☆

Why do I always insist on doing my work at this cafe? And why does it have to be on the other side of the city? And why can't I just check the time once in a while like every other people? Why is it so hard for me to be on time? Just once in my life. So I wouldn't have to run on the deserted streets of Blüdhaven to catch the last bus that goes on the direction of my home. One day, because of some kind of miracle, I might leave on time but it's not that day.

Just as I turned the corner I saw my bus as it was leaving the bus stop. I froze in my place, trying to catch my breath. All this running was for nothing. I groaned in frustration. Now what? My parents are probably already asleep. Not that they would be happy to drive all the way here at the middle of the night. But my best friend does live around here, it's only a ten minute walk. I could stay at his place for the night I'm sure he wouldn't mind having me over.

I turned around and started my way to Dick Grayson's apartment. I hope he's not out jumping around rooftops yet. I mean I would be able to get into his apartment, I know where he keeps his spare keys. I think half of the apartment building does.

I finally reached his building and nobody tried to attack me on my way but Dick will still freak out that I come here all alone in the middle of the night.

As I started my way up the stairs I fished out my phone from my bag and dialed Dick's number. He answered after the second ring.

"Are you still home or already out saving the city?" I asked without a greeting.

"Hello to you too," he grumbled. "I'm home. Why?" He asked in suspicion.

"Well, I kinda missed my last bus," I explained my situation. "And you live close so can I stay the night?" at this point I reached his floor and I was standing in front of his door.

I heard shuffling from the phone as Dick started to talk again. "Of course," he said with a chuckle. "I'll go and pick you up. Are you still at the cafe?"

The door opened and Dick stumbled back on surprise when he saw me standing there.

"Nope," I said with a smile as I ended the call. "You know it's hard to believe that you're Nightwing when you get scared by a woman who'd literally just standing at your door," I teased and walked past him.

He closed the door with a sigh and turned to me. "Someone could have attacked you," he followed me towards his couch and we sat down beside each other.

"But they didn't," I pointed out but he just rolled his eyes.

"So no patrol tonight?" I asked hopefully.

"I planned to leave in an hour or so," he sighed but a smile was tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I guess I can take the night off this once."

"Don't worry, Blüdhaven can survive a night without you. It did for years," I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled at him innocently.

"Good to know someone appreciates my hard work," he said with a frown.

"It's the truth Pretty Bird and you know it."

"Why am I friends with you?" He asked followed by an over dramatic sigh.

"I'm cute and I have a wonderful personality."

"Yeah, it definitely because of your wonderful personality."

"Are you being sarcastic with me, Richard?" I asked in a stern voice.

"Can we go back to you calling me Pretty Bird?" He asked with a charming smile.

"Nope. You lost that privilege," now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"How can I gain it back?" He leaned closer to me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

I smirked at him already having an idea. "Can we watch Game of Thrones? The episode where Joffrey dies?" He abruptly pulled away from me and furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Not what you were expecting?" I teased and put on an innocent smile.

"It's just oddly specific," he said uncertainly. "Should I be worried?"

"No. It's because my mother finally decided to start watching Game of Thrones" I explained. "And if course, I joined her."

"And?" He looked like a confused puppy. Or Jon Snow when stares into the distance.

"And the first season reminded me of how much I hate Joffrey so now I want to watch him die." Dick looked a bit scared because of my reasoning and I couldn't help but burst out laughing at his expression.

"You worry me sometimes," he said with a sigh and grabbed the remote and searched for the episode I asked.

I made myself comfortable as the opening credits started playing, leaning my head on Dick's shoulder.

"You know," I dtsrted my rambling. "When me and my mom watch Game of Thrones, my father always manages to walk in on a sex scene, or when people are talking about sex or their penis. I don't think he ever saw a normal scene."

He started laughing slightly and smiled at the sound.

"I hope, for the sake of your future boyfriend that your father's timing won't stay this," he paused, looking for the right word. "Precise."

I couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled in my chest at the thought. "My poor father," I said, once i watched my breath. "He would probably get a heart attack"

"Or kill whoever you're with," Dick said with so much certainty that I couldn't help.but laugh at him again.

"My father is incapable of being scary and intimidating and would never be able to kill someone," Dick looked at me, still unconvinced. "Don't tell me that you think my father would be able to hurt someone?"

"Well..." he tried his best to avoid making eye contact with me. I just rolled my eyes at his flustered state.

"The humble librarian who falls face first to the floor when he stumbles over a stack of books he put there a few minutes ago, "I said in a mocking tone. "Very intimidating."

"All I'm saying is that he can be intimidated when he wants to be," Dick explained as light pink tinted his cheeks. ' m starting to understand what's going on.

"And how would you know that?" I inched closer to him. "What reason would he have to scare you?" I softly put a hand on his bicep. He stilled under my touch.

"Uh- Well- I-" I slowly slid my hand up to his shoulder and he stumbled over his words. I had a crush on him for a while now and judging by his reaction it's reciprocated.

"You know," my hand was at his neck now, my thumb stroking his jaw. "I have a theory."

"What theory?" His words were barely above a whisper, his beautiful blue eyes stating at me in anticipation.

"Nope, I'm not telling you," I smirked. "I think its better if I just act on it."

"What-"

He couldn't finish the rest of his sentence because a sealed his lips with mine in a gentle kiss. He returned the kiss with unexpected passion, pulling me closer to him as if he never wanted to let me go. He pulled me o to his lap, hands on my waist and mine instantly reached for his hair, slowly running through it.

"I guess I was right," I said still out of breath after we parted.

"Mum," Dick hummed in agreement and smiled at me with a goofy grin.

One of his hands he cautiously cupped my cheek like he was afraid I would pull away from him. But when I did the opposite and leaned into his touch he gently pulled me in for another kiss. This one was more urgent, more needy. Neither of us wanted it to end.

His hands slipped under my shirt, his touch sending goosebumps all over my body. I pulled away from him, helping him remove my shirt and throw it on the floor. Dick's was soon to follow.

Without warning he pushed me down on the couch, now towering over me. His blue eyes not leaving mine. I didn't have a chance to stare at them for long because he leaned in and started to leave a trail of kisses down my neck. My heart stopped at the contact.

He was sliding the strap of my bra down my shoulder when I heard a familiar song. My ringtone. I really wanted to ignore it but while would be calling me in the middle of the night. And why? Curiosity won. I flipped us o we so now I was straddling Dick who looked equally surprised and aroused at my actions.

"This was unexpected," he said. "Not that I'm complaining."

I wasn't paying attention to him, I was focused on my still ringing phone on the coffee table. When he realised that a frustrated sigh fell from his lips. But all of that didn't matter as I read the caller ID and I broke out in a fit of laughter. "He has a sixth sense," I said between laughs.

My words seemed to only confuse Dick even more and just laughed harder at his lost expression. My phone finally went silent but my laughs still rang trough the apartment.

I grabbed my phone and simply showed Dick who was calling me, still trying to calm myself down. His eyes widened I horror as he muttered "He knows."

I hit the call button and put the phone up to my ear, patiently waiting for my father to pick up.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked in terror and sat up swiftly grabbing my wrist, trying to pull the phone away from me.

"Calling him back," I said calmly. "He's probably worried about me."

"Or maybe-"

His sentence was cut short by a loud shout if my name coming from my phone.

"Hi Dad," I said groggily. "Sorry that i didn't pick up but i was already asleep."

"Asleep where?" He demanded. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Calm down. I missed my bus so I called Dick, you know that he lives near the cafè. And he was kind enough to let me stay the night. So we can both go back to sleep before we wake him up too. Poor guy already has to sleep on his couch because of me."

Dick started to snicker because of how obviously I tried to reassure my father so I covered his mouth with my hand silencing him.

"Call me in the morning then, so I can go and get you," he said much more calmly than at the beginning of our conversation.

"I will," I said quickly. "Good night."

"Good night."

I ended the call and put my phone back on the coffee table.

"He will murder me," Dick said in a serious tone.

"He," I pushed him back down to the couch. "Doesn't," I left a kiss on his neck. "Have to," and one on his jawline. "Know," and another in the corner of his lips. "Everything," and finally one on his lips.

☆

Part 2

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc comics imagine

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