#when I have a mattress on the floor its all 'haha! POOR!' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shumaejh · 3 years

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𝕊𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖

ᴛᴀɢꜱ- ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴜɪᴄʜɪ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴏᴍɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ɢʀᴏᴘɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ/ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴇʀᴠ ꜱʜᴜɪᴄʜɪ, ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ

ɴᴏᴛᴇ- ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ. ꜱᴏ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

➳ Shuichi is a pervert, a huge one. He always was, and his perviness only got worse when he first met you. You were astonishing to him. Your hair, your outfits, your personality, body, looks; all if it was absolutely beautiful to him.

➳ Over time he became more obsessive and possesive towards you, getting these unexplainable urges. Urges that would send him to jail of he dare acted them out. Fortunately, he had very good self control and held back on these urges. But, all good things must come to an end, as these urges and thoughts became too overwhelming for him.

➳ He had bought his own camera just for taking pictures of you at your most vulnerable moments. Shuichi would stay right next to your window, waiting until you're sleeping, changing, masturbating, etcetera. He kept it mild, for now.

➳ But of course, he got away with these things, and due to that he started thinking that possibly he could get away with more intense things. Break-in's, stealing, touching you in your sleep.

➳ He gave into those thoughts and urges too, satisfying them as he broke into your room at night. He did that by using the window, as it was closest to you, sleeping beauty. You were so much more beautiful up close and in person, your skin so soft to the touch.

➳ He grazes his hand across your delicate skin, that touch alone sending arousal to his half-hard dick. Saihara watched as your chest raises up and falls back down, in a calming slumber, completely unaware about what's to come.

➳ Your shirt was raised up just above your belly button, to which his cold hand took to its advantage and rested on your stomach. His eyes snapped to your face as you tense in your sleep, the cold of his hand interrupting your peaceful slumber.

➳ Once you've calmed, Shuichi let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His hand was warm now due to your body heat, allowing him to trail his hand up more and more without disrupting your sleep. His thin fingers stopped at the strap of your bra, his arm had only raised your shirt up more reveaing the bottom of your bra.

➳ Shuichi licked his lips in anticipation, taking his hand out of your shirt to delicately lift the rest of your shirt up, revealing your bra in its entirety. He could see your hardened nipples through the fabric, making his cock twitch in his pants. His hand groped your breast gently, he huffs, he could barely feel a thing! Your bra was in the way!

➳ He crawled onto your bed, straddling your hips with his hands at the sides of your head. He's so close to you, bent down with his lips inches away from yours. You looked absolutely stunning. The camera he had wrapped around his neck was nearly touching your breasts, which reminded him. He needed to treasure this moment.

➳ Forunately your lamp was on, which he found absolutely adorable. You can't sleep in the dark, you poor thing~ He did his best to drive his attention to his camera, lifting it up and taking a photo of your body, making sure your breasts were in view. With a chuckle, he took the camera off his neck and placed it on the desk. Now he can do whatever he pleases without waking you.

➳ Carefully he tucked his hands under your back, undoing your bra in no time. He felt the clips of your bra fall into his palms, allowing him to remove your bra. It took some effort, but in just a few minutes your bra and shirt were tossed onto the floor, revealing your now nude top half.

➳ His breathing became uneven, he wanted to do so much to you, but he knew that he needs to take baby steps to get to that point. For now, his hands squeezed and fondled your breasts, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipples to roll them between his fingers, feeling them harden. Satisfied, he let go, your nipples now hard and begging to be sucked on.

➳ He only chuckled at this and leaned down, pressing the flat of his tongue against your rock hard nipple, giving it a light flick of his tongue. That didn't wake you thankfully, a smirk forming onto his blush covered face. His thin lips wrapped around the bud, eyes fluttering closed.

➳ His sucks on the snesitive bud were incredibly gentle, in hopes you wouldn't wake up and attempt to kick him out. All he wants to do is make you feel good, so why wouls uou kick him out in the first place?

➳ Speaking of which, he groped your other free breast with his left hand, his right going between his and your legs to press his two fingers onto your clothed folds. He wasn't expecting your shorts to be wet, popping off of your saliva covered bud to look at the somewhat noticeable stain.

➳ "Ahaha.." he laughs softly, licking your other nipple once more before heading between your legs. The scent of your arousal hit him almost immediately, though he wasn't complaining. The scent was intoxicating, and made his pants just become even tighter.

➳ He sits up onto his knees, oh so carefully taking your shorts off and tossing them with the other articles of clothing. Your panties were just the cutest, making him immediately slide those off and have a whiff. "Mmhm~ Naughty, naughty girl.." he said, noticing that your folds were drenched.

➳ Instead of tossing the panties onto the floor, he shoved them in his pocker for later, getting back down onto his stomach to spread your wet folds. "Oohh.." he hums, you masturbated before this. Oh wow, he couldn't keep his dick in his pants for much longer. Quickly he grabbed his camera and took a photo of your hole, biting his lip so hard it nearly bled.

➳ "Wow.." he admires you once more, placing the camera down onto your desk once again. Stunning, he thought. Absolutely gorgeous.

➳ He leaned into your heat, sticking his tongue out and pressing the flat of it against your slit, and flicking it upwards while making sure it hit your clit, watching it twitch. A breathy laugh came from him, his left hands thumb pressing onto your clitoral hood and pushing back lightly.

➳ "Mmh.." he mumbles, sticking his tongue out to lap up your thick juices. His heart was pounding, you tasted astonishing. Your taste alone has him rubbing himself against your mattress, you're that addicting.

➳ Gently he pushed his tongue inside of you, there being not must resistance fortunately enough. His thumb let go of your clitoral hood to press down on your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. He could tell you were slowly starting to stir, small whimpers were coming from your sleeping body. Adorable, small whimpers to be specific.

➳ "Mmmh.. w-what..?" you mumble, sitting up to see what was happening to you. Shuichi's heart skipped a beat for a moment, busted, he thought. However, he didn't stop, he just chuckled lightly, sending a spark of pleasure through your nerves. "A-Ah-! W-What are you-?!"

➳ Your hands frantically clawed at his head, desperately trying to tear him off of you. His hands went straight to your hips to hold them down, the glare he's giving you shooting daggers into your heart.

➳ "G-Get off of me you creep! G-Get out of my house!!" you yell. Unfortunately for you, Shuichi wasn't leaving until you cum. His tongue got pulled out of you to flick your clit, thin lips wrapping around the little bundle of nerves. The feeling made you go tense, "H-Hnnaaah-!"

➳ The moan drove him on, watching as you finally gave up and fell against your pillow. In all of his years being a detective, he's never seen nor heard someone give up this quick. You must want this as much as I do, he thinks. That idea alone had his cock begging to be released from the tightness of his pants.

➳ He hums against your swollen, sensitive clit, shoving two of his fingers into your clenching hole with no regard of how it'd feel. "O-Ow!! S-Shuichi--" you get cut off, his other hand lifting up and slamming down onto your thigh telling you to shut up.

➳ With a whimper, you kept quiet. You felt your high becoming closer and closer, his fingers doing a 'come hither' motion right against your g-spot wasn't helping either. You did not want to cum because of this sicko, this absolute freak, but you couldn't help it. The pleasure was just too much. You came, you came all over his fingers. Your velvety walls cleched around his slim fingers.

➳ A hum of satisfaction came from his throat, pulling off of your overstimulated clit and roughly pulling his fingers out. He was absolutely desperate for your juices, his tongue darting out to lap up your cum. Sweet like saccharine, Shuichi though. He smirked once finished, sitting up onto his knees to pull hos pants down to his knees and to take his dick out of the hole of his boxers.

➳ "G-God.. you're gorgeous," he moans out, hand wrapped around his pre-cum leaking dick. Roughly he started getting himself off to your twitching, limp body. "Y-You know.." he starts, "I-It was so tempting to.. just carve my initials into your skin, but.. you're so incredibly irresistible, my love.."

➳ His words meant nothing to you, of course. You were sure about that once you felt his warm semen shoot onto your sucked-in stomach. He came a lot, letting out a pleasured sigh. "Here.." he scoops some of his seed off your stomach with his fingers to wipe it onto your lip. Instinctively, you licked it off, which you immediately regretted; it made his half-hard dick twitch.

➳ "Haha.. it's like you're asking for more. Don't worry, love..." he kisses your forehead. "This won't be the last time."

➳ He gets dressed, takes a photo of you, and leaves. Leaving you covered in his semen, quivering.

#tw: noncon #tw: somnophilia #tw: yandere #tw: toxic behavior #shuichi x reader #shuichi saihara x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader

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gamergirl-niffler · 4 years

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Technologically Challenged

Woderful @charted-uncharted Gave me idea about Sam having some problems with the new world after being pulled out from the prison.

I hope you like it, friend!

BIG THANKS to my best girl @martakasravi for playing the reader ♥

Sam didn't like fact that Rafe pulled him out from the prison. It's not that he didn't want to be free, but he knew that Adler basically meant a huge troubles.

Drake walked out trough the main gate and saw Adler with some woman, Sam wasn't sure what to think about this all.

"Ah! Look at that, Y/N. The Avery expert. Sam Drake, in flesh. Alive and well," Rafe said with nasty smile of his, placing hand on Sam's shoulder. "I hope they treated you well?"

Sam took the duffle bag off his shoulder. He wanted to puch Rafe right in the face but he simply couldn't. "Yea, they did."

"I'm glad, but now," Rafe said and looked at you, gesturing at Sam. "This is Samuel. Samuel, this is Y/N. She will take care of you."

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I am not that sexually deprivated to grab whatever girl you brought along, Rafe," he said looking at you with a frown.

Rafe only laughed. "My dear friend, the world has changed. She will make sure that you can understand it. I don't really have time for teaching and babysitting you."

You furrowed your brows at other man's comment; it wasn't that you didn't try to understand him but he behaved like a total jerk. "Well, even if Rafe would have paid me, I wouldn't ride your cock, buddy," you smirked at him coldly, tilting your head a little. "I suggest you to be a little less unkind. We're about to team up after all."

After these words you tugged slightly on Rafe's sleeve. "Can we have a minute?"

As two of you walked aside for a moment, you put hands to your hips. "So, you're saying I have to take care of this dude? Like, are you kidding me, Rafe? Do I look like a desperate? When you've called me saying you need a hand I thought about something else. I'm not a babysitter," you growled quietly.

"You are one from now on, babe," Rafe hummed and took a look at his phone before returning his attention to you fully. "Samuel is a nice guy, he is just a little bit lost. I told you what happened thirteen years ago. I bet he was expecting to see his little brother, not us," he said with a soft laugh. "Once you two get to the hotel, he will be nicer," Rafe patted your are and looked at Sam. "Ready to go?"

Sam only nodded.

You didn't reply to Rafe's words. Briefly glancing on Sam, you got into the car and waited for men to join you.

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As the car stopped in front of the hotel, you patted Rafe's knee. "Wish me luck."

Rafe didn't reply to your words, he looked at Sam in the mirror. "Don't hurt her."

Sam rolled his eyes and get out of the car, taking the bag with him.

The hotel was for sure fucking expensive, it was Rafe afterall. He would never book a cheap hotel.

Sam looked at the high building and then looked down on his old clothes. "I hope they will let me in. I look like homeles," he sighed, looking at you.

You were observing how Rafe's car vanished in the distance. Then your attention went fully to Drake. "Well, you kinda do. All you need right now is hit shower and some rest," you summed up while patting his shoulder. "C'mon," you tugged on the sleeve of his old jeans shirt.

"I would give out whole world for a bathroom and soft mattress," he muttered and followed you.

Sam could feel the nasty glances on him while you were taking care of the this at the desk. He never really cared what people thought but here, in such a luxerious place, Sam felt judged even by a cleaning lady.

He was more than happy when you informed him you two can go to the room. Spending night in one room with woman he bearly know was going to be odd but at least he wasn't alone.

When you were awaiting for the lift, you handed him an entrance card to the room. "Here. I'll ride on the floor with you but you'll need to get to the room first as I have one more thing to do. I promise I won't be long," you told him and smirked when the lift opened its door for you. "After you."

Sam stopped right in front of the door and looked at you. "Well, I may be a stupid prisoner but even I know the door won't open without a key," Sam smiled playing with card between his fingers. "I could use that but this would be illegal.'

You got off the lift and looked at the man, tilting your head slightly. In the first moment you didn't get his point but when you finally did, you bursted in laughter. "Oh, God! Drake! I mean, I'm sorry! I should have let you know what to do! Hotels are not using traditional keys to room nowadays. They use magnetic cards, like the one you're holding right now," you informed while walking to him. "All you need to do is place the card in a scanner, like this," you took the card out of man's palm and slipped it into the device next to the door. The lock clicked and the door opened.

Sam blinked, looking at the door. "Oh... Pfff! I knew that! I was just playing, ya know, using some of my charm to make you smile," he winked at took the card from you, marching into the room proudly. He felt stupid. IN FORNT OF A WOMAN!

Throwing bag on the floor, Sam flopped on the first bed, nuzzling to soft pillows. "This is something," he muttered lowly, relaxing. "I better go take a shower before I fell asleep here, in this poor state. I hope showers still work the same."

"You don't need the card to get into the shower though," you chuckled and closed the door behind you. "So, bathroom is on the left, balcony on the right. I have to leave you alone for a while. Just remember that if you want to use electricity, the card needs to be put here, in this little device," you pointed on the wall right next to the main door. "Go take a shower and I'll be right back," you smiled at him a little before leaving the room.

Sam listened to you and nodded. "Understood, ma'am!," He saluted before going to the batroom.

The shower was a blessing. The privacy and warm water was something he missed for thirteen years! No reason to be afraid of all those "soap in the shower" jokes anymore.

After wasing off all the dirt, Sam used the hotel towel to dry himself and wrap it around his hips.

Suddenly, the door opened and you stepped into the room, holding few aper bags in hands. You closed the door with your leg and gasped, placing bags on the desk located near the bathroom door. "So!...," You were cut off by the sight of naked man with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his hips. You blushed a little but kept straight face. "I brought you few things. You need to try them on. I don't know your size, and taking fact you're pretty tall I'm afraid some of them might not fit well," you informed him. "Take a look."

"Oh... I was hoping these are takeouts," he sighed dissapointed and nodded. "Just give me a moment."

Sam went to the bathroom and left it few minutes later, fully dressed. "Okay, let's see how weird people like to dress up those days," he joked and looked into one of the bags.

He found there a nice, silky suit, a pair of jeans, two belts, few t-shirts and two spots of classic shirts, one black and one white.

He looked at you. "Ya know? I will take pants and t-shirts, all the rest is not really my thing," Sam repacked all bags, he put new clothes into his guffle bag. "Just... I have no money. Unless people now pay with credits like in Star Wars?"

You reached your purse and pulled the wallet out. You looked for a moment and handled h a gold credit card. "Your PIN is 6978, don't forget it."

"I remember the weirdest facts from history. PIN ain't a problem for me," he said taking the card. "Let me guess. It's hooked up to Rafe's fortune, huh?"

"Of course it's, my little bee," you told him. "He decided to spoil you a little so be glad and use as much as you can."

"So... Maybe I should get myself a nice bike, leather jacket, sunglasses, and drive off in the direction of setting sun," Sam joked.

"This credit card belongs to you now. You can buy and do whatever you want. Remember only that all of your actions will have consequences," you shrugged and sat on the edge of king-sized bed.

"It wouldn't really be my first time when the consequences bite me in the ass," he shrugged and sat next to you. "So? I am waiting at your lesson. What else changed in the world?"

"Here," you said while pulling something out of your jacket pocket.

It was nothing else but a newest iPhone.

"This is your new phone. All the necessary contacts are already added."

"And...," Sam sighed rubbing his face. He felt so lost. Being guided by a woman was kinda emberassing. "Okay, Y/N. Can you help me? I know it must be pathetic for me to not understand these stuff, but you know."

"It's normal taking you've been to prison for years," you told him. "First, you need to know what you operate on this phone only by using fingers, no matter how oddly it sounds, haha," you chuckled. "You need to put your finger here," you took his hands in your and guided it, "this is a finger scanner. It will unlock the phone for you."

Sam listened to you, nodding his head and following your instructions. After a moment he smiled at you. "Okay! I think I get it."

"I hope you do, oldie," you patted his back and got up from your place. "If you'll have any questions, you can always call me. I'm in your contacts under name Starlet," you chuckled.

"Wait, Y/N. I have a lot of questions. Don't leave me like this," he said, looking at you. "What if I lock myself in this room?"

"I need to go and order some food," you told him. "And you're a big boy. You'll survive for 10 minutes alone."

Sam nodded slowly, watching you leave. He was hungry but also tired. Out of the boredom, Sam pulled out the phone you gave him and started to play with it to check what else he could do with it.

When you came back, Sam was asleep on his bed. Phone was laying right next to him. Apperently he fell asleep watching gameplay from Tomb Raider on YouTube.

You closed the door after getting into the room. As you spotted him napping on the bed, you put boxes with chicken and rice on the desk and walked to the bed. You grabbed the phone in your hands and chuckled quietly seeing a video containing some adventure game gameplay that was still on. You exited the application and locked the phone, placing in on a nightstand. You clicked your high heels off. Then, you sneaked into his bed as you were tired as well. You put head to the second pillow and fell asleep.

#Sam Drake #Sam Drake fluff #Sam Drake x reader #Sam drake fic #drake brothers #uncharted 4 #uncharted 4 fic #Samuel Drake #writers on tumblr #Sam Drake fiction #Rafe Adler #Rafe Adler x Sam Drake #Rafe Adler x reader #Rafe Adler fic

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greatshell-rider · 3 years

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Jerry leaned against the open doorway to Lani’s room. “Hey, I killed a guy in the back alley.”

His sister sat hunched over her desk, a lamp pooling light around her head as she scribbled rapidly on a notepad with one hand and flipped quickly through a thick book with the other. Jerry was hardly surprised to find her still awake; it was only an hour or two past midnight. “Cool,” she said without looking up. “Put it over there.”

She didn’t gesture towards a “there”, so Jerry lugged the guy’s corpse into the room and dropped it against the far wall with the window. After a second’s hesitation, he cracked the window open. He didn’t know how soon Lani would get to the body, and while she might not care about a stench, he had to live with her.

“Didn’t think Dalpho would act so soon,” Lani commented as Jerry made to leave. He slowed and she continued, “Might throw a wrench in our current plan.” He saw a smile curve up her cheek at that.

Oh no. No. “Wasn’t Dalpho,” he said hurriedly. “Just some crook jumped me wanting my purse.” He scowled, flexing his hands and feeling the blood drying on them. “Tried to warn him off with my sword, but he was determined.”

“Or desperate. Don’t you ever spare a thought for all those poor souls out there? The whole city’s starving, Jerr-Bear, and you only think of yourself. Tsk.”

Clenching his jaw, Jerry reminded himself of the resolution he’d made this morning: No responding to Lani’s taunts. If he succeeded, he’d promised himself a spoonful of peanut butter (or the closest approximation to it this ’scape could produce) as a reward.

It is not worth it, he told himself. He took a deep breath and walked toward the door.

“It’s funny,” she mused idly, “how this keeps happening. Whenever I get jumped, we’re all friends by the end. But for some reason, showing off your pretty blade always makes things worse. What’s up with that?”

He threw a dirty look over his shoulder, opening his mouth to remind her how her “friends” always ended up. But he saw her smirk, recognized that glint of honed mirth in her eyes, and forcibly swallowed the retort.

“Shut up,” he growled, and slammed the door shut behind him.

She snickered behind the wood, and Jerry nearly turned right back around to tear the door off the hinges and smash it over her stupid head. He stood before it, hands clenching and unclenching, anger radiating through his body so painfully he had to bite down on his tongue so as to not scream. He’d just killed a man and, as always, his sister. Didn’t. Care. So why did he?

Spoonful of peanut butter, Jerr-Bear.

Jerry forced one lungful of air in, then out, then in, then out. He drew back his foot and slammed it against the door, found the shudder that went up the wood to be satisfying if not relieving, and limped into the kitchen to get that peanut butter.

“I’m going to eat the entire fucking jar,” he muttered.

But his sword, still dirtied, was lying on the table. He couldn’t put it away until he saw it cleaned and inspected it for damage. And he couldn’t eat with it dripping on the floor like that.

He sighed, dragging his hand down his face before remembering that it, like the sword, was also covered in blood. Swearing by the names of every deity he knew in both English and Wide and the other alien curses he’d picked up over the years, he went to the sink and scrubbed himself clean as well as he could, though the blood on his tunic was likely going to stain—the fabric was off-world, and so far had reacted poorly to most materials on this ’scape—and he got too frustrated to finish picking his fingernails clean, then stomped over into his room to get his stupid maintenance kit to get the stupid blade all nice and sparkly for its next stupid victim.

“Who’s the real victim, me or them, huh,” he muttered as he sat down with a towel over his knees, the kit set out on the table, and the sword in his hands. “Who’s the one who has to clean everything up in the end?”

Speaking of, there were smears and drips of blood all over the apartment from dragging the corpse in. That needed to be cleaned as well.

“Everything needs to be cleaned around here,” he snarled, scrubbing harder than what was polite with a rag at the blade. “Should just burn it all down and don’t bother building anything on top. Or else the ghosts will get at it.”

He was rambling nonsense. It was too late. He should be in bed. He should’ve been in bed hours ago. No, he wouldn’t have slept, but at least there were no random strangers to murder in bed. Not so far on this ’scape at least. Yeah there had been that one time, but that had been one time—

Rambling.

Jerry determinedly finished cleaning his sword in silence, not letting himself think a thing but focus solely on the monotonous, repetitive motions that had become familiar habit so long ago they should’ve been comforting now. Should have.

When it was done, he held the sword up, tilting it back and forth to watch the steel be highlighted at different angles. It wasn’t reflective enough to mirror his own face in it—which would have been far too thematically symbolic for Jerry to hold his lunch—but as he held it he couldn’t stop picturing the moment again and again, sliding the blade into the man’s gut before he could plunge his knife in Jerry’s throat or arm or whatever his wild swing had been aimed at. One moment, as shiny as it was now, the next, slick with gore. How quickly a thing became spoiled, and how easy to wipe it all away as if it had never happened.

Rambling.

Scowling, Jerry slid the sword into its sheath—good leather and metal, not flesh and bone—and put it on the table again. He tossed the towel onto the nearest puddle of blood (He was not scrubbing floors tonight. Not tomorrow either. He would make Lani do it. New resolution.) and, feeling exhausted, went to the cupboards. He didn’t even really want to eat anymore, but he did deserve at least one spoonful. Miserably, he pulled a cabinet open and dug through the mishmash of their rations gathered across the ’scapes and dumped in here in case of emergency to the fake back he’d installed early on. He pried the cruddy door open and wrapped his hand around the one remaining jar of air quotes peanut butter he had left.

The moment his fingers touched the plastic, he knew something was wrong. The weight was off.

Slowly, he pulled the jar out, dragging it through the rations without trying to maneuver it safely out. Old dusty packs of dried oatmeal and crumbled crackers fell to the floor, piling around his feet, as he held it up to his face.

He stared at the jar.

It was empty. Licked clean. Drawn on the lid in black marker, a smirking face winked at him.

Oh. Oh! Two murders tonight, then. It was a pity he’d already cleaned his sword.

The plastic squeaked. Jerry blinked and realized he had squeezed the empty jar so hard it was now crumbled in his fist, twisted in painfully distorted warpings.

“I’m going to do that to her bones!” he announced, cheerlessly, to no one.

“Wuh?” came a muffled yell from Lani’s room.

“You ate my peanut butter!” he called back, since apparently she’d been listening at the door. Waiting. Knowing. Giddy with excitement, no doubt.

“It wasn’t even good!”

“I am going to kill you!”

“Can’t! Locked the door!”

“There’s a window!”

“Ha! Wait, let me get a camera, I want to remember this!”

“Lani, I’m going to kill you! Straight up!”

“Thought you were bi.”

“You should see what I did to the jar.” He brandished it, though she wasn’t even in the room. “I didn’t even mean to.”

“Funny, the similarities between that statement and what I said about thugs in alleyways . . .”

“Going to kill you!”

“The day you say that sentence in past tense or at the very least present, I might start believing you!”

“Haha!” His voice dropped. “I’m going to bed.”

He closed his ears to whatever Lani said next and did that, crashing face-first onto the cot, which nearly buckled underneath his weight, and lay there with his eyes open, staring at the pilled fuzz of the mattress. He’d forgotten his sword in the kitchen. He always meant to have it on him, or close enough to be within arms-reach. He’d always had it, ever since Lani found out it in the sewers . . . he should go get it. Just in case. It was all he had to keep himself and his sister safe.

From the ghosts?

Rambling.

It could stay in the kitchen. For one night. Please, give him one night.

Jerry covered his eyes with his hand. Maybe that would help him sleep. But he could feel it, the dried blood still under his fingernails. He should’ve just cleaned that out, so it wouldn’t distract him. But it seemed, no matter what he did, he could never get every little bit out . . .

#my writing #Lani & Jerry #in which: jerry feels bad and lani Does Not #not much to say about this one. it was fun tho #oh if you want to know what lani's going to do with the body she likes dissecting things to see how they work #the less ethical the science the better amiright

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lastluvbug · 4 years

Note

Your Trick Me Once and Trick Me Twice was amazing! My poor heart ached as I read it. May I request for a situation where Kalim was depressed after the events of Chapter 4;Jamil says something along the lines of "If only you hadn't exist" and Kalim decides to take drastic actions like attempting suicide? You can choose if his attempt is a success or a fail but I do want to see Jamil's reaction to the attempt though. Of course this is only if you are willing to write this. Thank you very much! :)

Toxins

Haha, you guys sure are enjoying the angsty Kalim fics! Oh well, truth be told, I am too! So let’s continue the sadness train!

Warnings: Extreme suicidal tendencies, toxic behavior, and language.

Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

Vermillion skies bled to dark midnight as a little twinkle on the horizon grew into a thousand stars that created shapes and pictures Kalim loved to trace with his fingers.

Twilight, the death of the day, and the birth of the night. A long time ago, it was the part he dreaded with a passion unmatched by any other. After all, when the sun set, that meant today was over, and all those precious times he’d savored were now nothing more than lightly remembered memories soon to be rewritten, or forgotten. But now... well, now that he had no one to fall back on, no one to reach out to, twilight was now the sweetest kiss he could await for, the kiss that he’d wished to feel, but for now could only see.

Caressed by the wisps of wind that held the slightest hint of spice, he leaned back onto his hands, swathed in the moonlight that seemed to spotlight only on him, on the tears that freely dripped down his cheeks like crystals, a sad smile tugging at his lips. Feet dangling over the edge of the too tall balcony, he drank the taste of night, the bittersweet flavor of the dry desert air.

Sleep had long since been a hazy concept, often coming in sporadic periods that sometimes stretched for hours, and sometimes lasted no longer than five minutes. No longer did he carefreely fall into blissful dreamland, no longer did he find comfort in the silk finery of his sheets, or the clothing that had once fit so snuggly over his already lithe body.

Stomach shrunken, fingers bony, cheeks ever so slightly caved in, Kalim had gone from so heathily full, to a frail petal on the edge of falling from its flower of life. He didn’t need to show anyone the way his ribs had replaced the muscle that used to line the bones, didn’t need to explain why he’d suddenly found nitpicking every food that was placed before him as a new hobby. Probably the worst of all, he refused to allow anyone to see the secrets he was hiding, masked with a terrifying expertise he surely shouldn’t be capable of creating.

Riddled with jagged lines that cut over his shoulders, his hips, his thighs, Kalim hid those so well, walking without a single limp, waving without a flinch, acting as if he didn’t feel the sting of reopening wounds whenever he stretched his limbs a little too far, or the dripping of crimson as sparkly as gems down tanned skin. Laughing soundlessly at the tranquil sky, he sniffled, betraying his actions as the glittery sea of bottled sadness spilled from his eyes.

What was perhaps the scariest feeling of all, was that he simply felt... nothing.

All those smiles to his friends, all those sympathetic hugs he offered to classmates in need, he didn’t feel anything through it. It was as if a switch had been turned off; the dark smothered his light, shutting out the emotions that had so clearly made Kalim, Kalim. He could laugh and cry as much as he wished, but that didn’t cover the fact that it was all... fake? Forced? Imitated?

He knew why. He wrote about it every night, in the journal he kept beneath his pillow. He dreamt about it, whenever he could manage even a glimpse of an image past the realm of sleep. He remembered it, he remembered him. His words. The ones that stabbed him in the back, in the heart he thought he could so foolishly bear to someone who’d once been so trusted.

He knew this was all because of Jamil. But he rejected any thought that came within a hundred feet of blaming him. How could he? How could he even begin to blame Jamil, after everything he’d done?

“Hey, Mr. Oblivious. Won’t you pull your head out of your ass for one goddamn second and pay attention?”

Kalim should’ve been listening better, then Jamil wouldn’t have had to tutor him on basic classes.

“Why won’t you just get out of my life? I’ve told you a million times, and I’m done repeating myself. I’m not your friend. I never have been and never will be. Now leave me alone.”

Was he being too pushy? Maybe... maybe he just needed some space.

“Kalim, get the hell out! Good for nothing leech, just get away from me!”

...How much longer can he do this?

Slow, encumbered, Kalim turned his head to the door of his room, waiting, hoping, praying that the handle would turn, and welcome in the one person he wanted to love again, despite the late, late hour. Staring at the wood, he felt numb, expecting something he knew would never happen.

Falling rather ungracefully from the balcony ledge, he dropped onto his wide bed, onto the plush mattress that was deceivingly firm underneath his back, cradling all the wrong places as his covers practically strangled him in the heat. The tears that came this time weren’t born of fear, or anger, but grief and guilt.

Maybe if he’d been more perceptive, maybe if he’d loved just a little harder, things would be different. But... didn’t it amount to anything that he’d tried? That once, Jamil had been treasured like a brother? Didn’t he care at all that Kalim was suffering?

Cuddling into the overwhelming confusion between suppressing heat and empty cold made Kalim’s head spin, and cradled by the hand of the night that so desperately urged its dimming sunshine into sleep, he felt his eyes slip shut, sinking into a slumber that was neither welcoming, nor satisfying.

<————>

Heavy and cold, shivering in warmth, dimmed in light.

Kalim curled in on himself, sleep clothing askew as he gritted his teeth, chest sinking with a fractured stabbing as he hugged his knees to his chest. Just as the nights before, sleep had brought nothing but a dreamless black that he wished he could stay trapped inside, only to awake yet again in a body that only ever seemed to work against him.

Sitting up, he grunted as his wounds burned, flames traveling through his veins as if salt had been rubbed into his cuts. Tears speckled across his eyelashes as he bit back his cry, every breath he took watering the knot that grew in his throat.

He knew then, with the sensation of cracking glass prodding at his chest, with the cloud that dampened his head, with the glaze that formed over his eyes consisting of dammed tears and bottled fear, he couldn’t do it today. He couldn’t go out and act as if everything was alright. He couldn’t smile and laugh like he’d taught himself to. Because every time, it would come out too broken, it would show the feelings he’d worked so hard to conceal.

He needed to make a trip.

Dressing himself was an especially difficult task, as any small movement made his arms scream in protest, his hips cry in red as mended injuries were pried open, his thighs burn like boiling water had been splashed over them. But, biting his cheek and gritting through it, Kalim disregarded his bodily urges to stop, pulling on his school uniform and sloppily tying his turban, slipping on his pointed shoes to complete the look.

He didn’t even note the time as he headed out, feeling unbearably heavy as he glued his gaze to the floor, wandering through the halls of Scarabia. Along the way, he caught the eye of a few students, who waved energetically. He didn’t have the strength to summon even a hint of a smile back, trudging past them as he blinked, shoving down the water that longed to rush down and cool his warm face.

Pinned with the helplessness of being alone, Kalim hesitantly made his way to the mirror portal that led back to Night Raven’s main building, freezing as he noticed who stood against the wall, cleaning the dirt from his nails. Jamil barely acknowledged Kalim until he was within reaching distance, scowling as he met the crimson eyes of the other.

Though he was tugging dangerously hard on a taut string, Kalim inhaled as he brought forth a shimmering smile, betraying the unspoken words in his eyes. “G-G—“ Kalim cleared his throat, swallowing the knot, “Good morning, Jamil! Are you on your way out? I could come with you, if you’d—“

“You’re a damn idiot if you think I want to spend even a second with you. Not that it’s any of your business, but I was waiting for someone.” Jamil clipped, crossing his arms.

“A... Ah, of course! Well, I could still stay with you as you wait for—“

“No. It’s clear they’re not coming. I should get out of here, before I waste anymore brain cells on a useless, incompetent child like you.” Jamil didn’t make eye contact as be pushed off the wall, pushing by Kalim without another word and wandering off into the labyrinth known as Scarabia.

Fists clenched tightly at his sides, Kalim stared blankly into the mirror, watching it swirl and sparkle with ethereal light as he resisted the urge to break down right then and there. He could feel as his legs quivered, on the edge of giving out as his breathing hitched, shallow and shaking.

Still, he followed the path set aside in his mind, almost missing a step as he practically fell into the portal, whisking away to the Mirror Hall.

Emerging on the otherside, he almost breathed a sigh of relief when no one was there to greet him but the dead silence of morning. Instead of bouncing off to class like he would’ve had he the stability to paint on a pretty smile like any other day, he made a sharp detour to a certain portal he never saw himself going into.

Stepping into it, he squared his shoulders, prepping himself with failing encouragements for the conversation that needed to succeed.

<————>

“Dorm head Vil. Pardon the intrusion, but you have a visitor.”

The blonde looked up from his vanity, pausing mid stroke and setting his mascara down. “Oh? Let them in, I’m not busy.” He shrugged, standing to his full height, enhanced by his heeled shoes.

“Of course,” the underclassman nodded, stepping out of the room to allow in said visitor.

Kalim felt weirdly out of place in the proper Pomefiore, despite having been raised in sumptuous royalty since birth, and setting foot into Vil’s positively sparkling room made him wince inaudibly with guilt. His bone slim fingers twitched with anxiety, a dark shade over his eyes as he stepped before the taller boy, only scarcely making visionary contact. “Good day to you, Vil,” he blandly greeted, grinding his teeth together in a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“...And to you, as well Kalim. Is there something you needed?” The white haired dorm leader shuddered, offering no explanation before pouring out the dialogue he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head.

“Well, you see... I’d like to ask you if you could make me a poison. Something fast acting, and easily hidden, that doesn’t smell too horrible.”

Vil flinched, pupils dilated and mouth agape as the request spilled from Kalim’s lips. He... wanted a what? For who? Why? “E-Excuse me? Kalim, what are you thinking?” Vil near yelled, balling his fists at his sides.

“O-Oh uh...” Kalim scratched the back of his head, feigning an awkward look as he chuckled. “It’s for educational purposes. I’ve been cooking for myself lately, and knowing me, I’m likely to accidentally poison myself!” He laughed boisterously, perceived differently by both listeners. “So I figured you’d be the one to go to, right? Unless... maybe I should’ve tried doing it on my own...” His voice trailed off, Vil’s hand on his chin, debating within himself.

Kalim popped a sad smile that didn’t appear so outwardly as Vil returned the act, a smirk falling to his painted lips as he extended a hand towards the prince. “Very well. Of course, coming to me is obviously the smartest idea someone like you could’ve come up with, but sit down first. You look absolutely atrocious.” Vil scoffed, gesturing to the seat before his vanity.

Reluctantly taking a seat, Kalim felt the insult dig deeper beneath his skin than it should’ve, crushing his hands under his thighs as he obediently followed Vil’s instructions, lips pulled into a thin line.

With momentary strokes and too gentle touches, Kalim couldn’t help but think of Jamil, seeing his gold speckled coal black hair and stony grey eyes instead of Vil’s blonde and amethyst. He used to do this too, every morning, dragging a brush dipped in black over Kalim’s thick lashes, dabbing red onto the corners of his eyes, thumb and first finger gripping his chin and tilting his head when need be.

A cold stab to his heart snapped Kalim from his short lived memories, reminding him of his purpose for coming to Pomefiore. “All done. Now that you look presentable, please, follow me.” Vil clapped, stepping away from the fellow leader and clicking off. Scrambling after him, Kalim gripped the fabric of his sweater tightly, biting his lip.

They didn’t travel too far, Kalim following closely behind Vil as he unlocked his bathroom door. Arriving in the room, Kalim toed the polished white tile, the lights fixed into the ceiling seeming to spotlight him as opposed to the beauty guru who swooped low to open the cabinets under the sink.

Inside were a number of brightly colored liquids, some transparent as water, others dotted with plant shavings or objects Kalim didn’t want to recognize. “Fast acting... sweet smelling, easily hideable, is that correct?” Vil quizzed, the twinkling of glass clacking against glass filling Kalim’s ears.

“Exactly,” he nodded into the mirror, averting his gaze quickly.

Vil didn’t reply, merely smiling devilishly before bringing out a small cauldron and three different bottles. Apprehension pulled Kalim taut as he watched the taller begin to explain his process, acetic irony making him soundlessly sneer. From poisoned to poisoner.

“On most occasions, a poison of this sort wouldn’t be possible to make, seeing as you want it to be not only quick to show results, but also pleasant-smelling. But, since you are working with the best, I believe we can make it work.” Vil boasted, uncapping and pouring the first vial into the cauldron. “This one is for the rapid dissemination,” the second, “this one for scent,” the third, “and this one for dilution, to water down the color, though still deadly.”

Kalim watched in wonder as Vil stirred the liquid, eyes wide and trained on the poison. Though at the beginning, an arrant black that made him scrunch his nose in disgust, the more Vil continued to churn, the color began bubbling with splashes of transparency. By the end, it was water-clear, and almost overpoweringly reeked of florals.

“Ah, there we are,” Vil smiled, laying a delicate hand on his cheek. Once again swooping low, he retrieved an empty bottle, ever so carefully filling it with the solution and capping it. “I haven’t made any antidote for this particular poison, so it may be in your best interest for me to hold onto it presently.” Vil cautioned, placing the ewer just out of reach while Kalim’s eyes shadowed.

“A-Are you sure? You can trust me, I’ll be careful with it!” Kalim argued, smiling wide to prove his point.

“Hm, I’m not a fool. I feel it would be for your safety if it was in my care until I create an antidote.” Vil refuted, sternly said, toying with the intricately designed cap.

Kalim chewed his tongue, clenching and unclenching his fists as he formulated a plan. Beaming a smile to Vil that seemed so outwardly innocent, he bowed slightly, showing his appreciation. “I see. Thank you for your time anyways, Vil.” He lied through his teeth, rising from his bow and bouncing off.

He didn’t risk a glance behind him as he stepped out of the senior’s room, shutting the door gingerly behind him. Scanning the gorgeously decorated hallway, he identified objects that could be used to his advantage, closing his eyes as he snapped the steps of his newly formed plan together.

Tiptoeing over to a vase that rose slightly above his head on a marble pedestal, he yanked the flowers that sprouted from the top out, tossing them on the floor as regret rooted itself into his heart. He internally apologized for what he was about to do, knowing full well that no one would hear him.

Winding his arms around the pot, his knees buckled as he dropped the weight of it in his arms, the arms that could barely lift his body mass. The water inside sloshed around, jumping onto his face as he regained his footing, tilting the porcelain prize and leading a trail of water around the corner of the hall. Repositioning himself in the indigo drapery of the curtain closest to Vil’s room, he swallowed a deep breath, hurling the expensive decoration as far as he could, cringing as the sound of shattering filled the hallway.

He hid himself in the curtain just in time, as Vil’s door burst open, slamming against the wall as he stormed out, empty handed. “What in the— Rook! Rook, go chase down Epel! That little scamp destroyed another vase, and made some pretty little prank out of it too.” Vil barked, Kalim cowering behind the curtain as the older stomped off.

“Sorry, Epel-kun,” he whispered, before creeping out from the curtain and darting back into Vil’s room.

Snatching the vial from Vil’s bathroom countertop was surprisingly easy, Kalim tucking it into his pocket as he scampered out once again, heartbeat amuck. Sneaking along the walls, he beelined away from the mess he’d created, turning a blind eye to it as he pushed open a random door in the hope that it was some sort of exit.

Instead, he welcomed himself to the Pomefiore lounge, where a handful of boys were lined up before Vil and Rook, Epel amongst them, who all twisted to stare at the invader. “Kalim? What are you still doing here?” Vil badgered, arms crossed.

“U-Uh... you see...” Kalim ducked his head in fabricated humiliation. “...I got lost... I couldn’t find the exit.” He whined, a few of the students laughing as Vil sighed.

“Rook, please escort Kalim out. I need to have a word with you lot.” The leader threateningly smiled, the laughter immediately ceasing.

“Of course, Roi de Poison! Come now, Kalim, we shall leave these heathens to their due punishments!” Rook singsonged, spinning over to the white door where he stood.

Kalim looked over to Epel, who had his face scrunched in confusion and fear, an apology spelled in his gaze that the purple haired boy only caught at the last minute, Kalim vanishing behind the door as Rook pulled it shut.

“Oh, what a tragedy! The rowdy boys of our dorm destroyed a simply magnifique vase crafted of the finest quality! On top of that, they made a mess of the hall too...” Vil’s overly extra vice leader boohooed, the flowy feather of his hat bouncing in an imaginary wind.

“Really...? Why would they do that?” Kalim asked, as if he didn’t already know they answer.

“I wish I could say. I often wonder what goes on in those spoiled little brains of theirs.” Rook replied, falling into a solemn silence Kalim relished.

The early blue sky hadn’t before been such a treat to the Scarabia dorm head, the boy thanking Rook briefly for the guidance. “Of course! Do come again!” He laughed, waving briskly and waltzing back inside the rather stuffy building.

Sneaking a victoriously pitiful smile, Kalim pulled out the stolen toxin, only holding it to the sun as he stood before the mirror portal.

It wasn’t supposed to be so easy.

A tiny part of him had wished it hadn’t been.

<————>

The school day came and went in a blur of colors, voices, and assignments that flew right past Kalim’s head.

He wasn’t fully there when he agreed to walk with Azul, the Leech twins joining not to long after. Happy conversation tied between the threads of three complementary personalities weaved around Kalim, who remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the exchange. He was too busy twirling the stolen poison in his pocket, and had been for the whole day, debating his very existence instead of interacting with his peers as he normally would.

The quiet wasn’t overlooked by the three, though Floyd was the one to finally put voice to the thought the Octavinelle trio shared. “Hey, Sea Otter~ is something wrong? What’s with the face?” He cooed, downturned eyes for once actually bearing a dollop of sadness.

“Hm...? Oh, um—“ Kalim shook his head, pulling a smile to his face that looked more dismal than welcoming, “—of course! I’m a little tired, is all! Y’know, Trein’s lessons can put anyone to sleep, even me!” Kalim laughed, mutual discomfort shared between the Leeches as Azul fixed his glasses.

“Kalim, would you like to accompany us back to Mostro Lounge?” Azul offered, having picked up on Kalim’s abnormal behavior. “We could always use someone like you to brighten up the atmosphere.”

“Yes, Azul is right. You know how to play the drums, correct? Why don’t you pair up with Floyd? You’ll put on a show that’ll attract dozens to the Lounge.” Jade smiled, eyes shut out of joy.

For a moment, Kalim thought about it, giving them the false hope that maybe, he’d agree. He felt remorse sink its claws into his brain, making him shake his head as the three strolled by the open courtyard, a flash of red, gold, and black making Kalim freeze as he identified the person behind the Scarabian shades. “A-Actually, I had plans already,” he fibbed, stepping back to put distance between himself and the trio, “I was going to meet Jamil in the courtyard. Sorry guys.” He bowed, shoving his hand back into his pocket to fiddle with the bottle.

Azul perked an eyebrow. “Jamil wanted to meet up? With you?”

“Uh, yep! Told me this morning!” Kalim smiled, trying to wave off the suspicion that the fellow second years exuded.

“Oh? I thought that you and Sea Snake had—“ Floyd began, but Kalim was already dancing away before he could continue.

“Sorry, don’t want to keep him waiting!” He shouted, coughing after he stepped outside. It wasn’t often he had the voice to be so loud anymore.

“Should we pursue this, Azul?” Jade asked calmly, Floyd’d signature careless grin upside down in a glower.

“...No. It’s Kalim, he’ll figure it out himself. It’s about time he learned how to do so.” He coldly decided, pushing his glasses up. “Come, we have business elsewhere.”

“Of course,” both Leeches replied, though Floyd couldn’t hide the somewhat concerned look he sent over his shoulder, before disappearing with his fellow Octavinelle members.

In the courtyard, Kalim looked around confused, having been so sure that he saw Jamil walking around from the hallway. “Surely, he didn’t leave... wouldn’t I have seen it if he did?” He puzzled, approaching the stone well located in the middle of the wide yard space. He briefly caught a glimpse of his striated reflection in the impossibly dark water at the bottom, hastily breaking the contact to look up.

Through the strings attached to the wood bucket, Kalim’s maroon irises set themselves beneath the apple tree, to the person who sat so daintily upon the black-rimmed bench. With his hair brushed over his shoulder, Jamil crossed his legs, immersed in a thick book that Kalim couldn’t quite make out thanks to the gap. Sprinkled in the choppy afternoon sunlight, he looked more like an ethereal angel than the traitorous student he was to Kalim, so deceivingly beautiful.

Exhilaration, and dare he say, a spark of hope, flared in him, a genuine smile splitting his face as he sashayed closer. Believing that he had the courage to mend the bridge that had been severed from both directions, he stopped a meter from the bench, attracting Jamil’s attention, who shot him a dirty look, tearing himself from his readings.

“What is it you want now, Kalim?” He spat, holding the book up.

“I... I saw you from the hallway and I...” It was as if he’d forgotten how to speak, words working against him.

“Congratulations for using your eyes, dimwit. If you’ve come to be nothing but a stuttering fool, see to it that you leave me alone.”

Kalim squeezed his lips shut, heeding Jamil’s advice as he awkwardly looked up, to the apples that grew plentifully from the strong tree overhead.

Courage slowly being whittled down to an embarrassing pit, Kalim forced himself to smile once more, pulling his hand from his pocket. Taking a seat beside Jamil, he gripped the edge of the bench, leaning over the side to peer at the cover, and, riskily enough, Jamil’s tranquil features.

They didn’t stay tranquil for long, as grey orbs met Kalim’s enchanted red ones, scowling as he noisily slammed his book shut. “What?” He seethed.

“Nothing, I just—“ he cut himself off, unwilling to live the lie any longer, “I miss you, alright? I miss—“

“No, don’t start. Screw this, I’m leaving.” Jamil growled, tucking his book under his arm and stomping away.

“Jamil! Jamil, wait...!” Kalim called. Panicked as the vice refused to listen, he hopped up, rushing over to him and pulling on his arm, book falling to ground in a flurry of aged pages. A thunderous boom exploded in the courtyard as it collided with the ground, Jamil whipping around, arm still locked in Kalim’s grip.

“Jamil, please! I’ve tried so hard to take care of myself, but I need you!” He confessed, tears brimming. “I need your—“

“Shut up!” Jamil yelled, making Kalim flinch as he tore his arm away. Turning the tables, he spun, shoving a finger into Kalim’s chest as he grew red from anger. “What you need is to grow up! Do you understand how much you’ve hindered my life, because you just “need me so much”?” He kept shoving his first finger into Kalim’s chest, making him stumble backwards. “I wasn’t able to have a normal childhood because of you! I had to hide who I was, because of you! And now you need me? You must be a goddamn idiot, even after all this time!” Jamil accused, Kalim staggering as he tripped over himself trying to back away.

He refused to let his tears fall, Jamil continuing with his rant as his back hit the apple tree, both of them speckled in the magical light, despite the argument. “It would’ve been better if no one came to save you whenever you were kidnapped!” Kalim choked a sob, meeting Jamil’s murky eyes as the taller seized the collar of his shirt, slamming him back into the trunk of the tree.

Kalim gasped as his head thwacked against the wood, Jamil so close he could feel his uneven breathing. “If only you’d never existed.” He whispered, shoving a hatred dipped dagger into Kalim’s heart as he dropped the boy, Kalim’s legs giving out as he fell to the ground, eyes glazed and distant.

Stomping away, Jamil grabbed his book and left the courtyard, steam practically pouring from his ears as red hot anger guided his feet as far from Kalim as possible.

Dropped unceremoniously on the grass, the silvery haired dorm leader slumped over, bleak and broken as he stared to nowhere at all, shoved over the dam that had both blocked his sugary tears, and kept him from drowning in the ocean of self hatred and doubt that now had full access to Kalim’s entirety.

Numbly, Kalim picked himself up, ambling towards the school corridors once more as his eyes dried, hand reaching back into his pocket and this time, pulling out the vial within.

The clear liquid swished around, seeming so harmless in its elegant bottle.

Kalim hoped with everything he had left in him that it would be quick.

<————>

The beat of his heart had never been so loud before.

Erratic and off timed, electric volts shot throughout his hands, every pulse of blood throbbing in the tips of his toes, the center of his chest, the thin muscles of his legs. A formless noose of cold anticipation wound itself tighter around his throat, strangling the words that longed to be said from a voice that wouldn’t again speak. Tears pooled in his deep red eyes, though Kalim couldn’t fathom why, since he waited all this time just for the moment of peace that wouldn’t remain so peaceful.

Lying with his back against the end of his bed, Kalim rested his head on the firm wood, clenching the small bottle of poison Vil had specially created that morning in one fist, his journal in the other. Tilting his head to look at the moon, always a perfect circle, and always smiling down at him despite the action he was so close to making. He was tempted to smile back, but uncapping the bottle and smelling the rosy scent that wafted from it, he was reminded why it was he couldn’t.

Dropping the book inked with the thoughts he’d neither shared nor broke free from, he watched as it fell, slamming on the floor loudly and torn between pale light and shadows. Inside, a letter was tucked in the smudged pages, the last note that would be written in his swirly handwriting. He prayed that Jamil would take the time to read it, but he didn’t want to hold his breath.

Lifting the graceful vial to his lips, he felt his tears drip down his supple cheeks, for what seemed like the first time, fear dripped into his soul.

He was scared. What would be waiting for him after...? Would this really fix his wrongs? Would it... make up for what he did to Jamil?

“No,” he thought gently, pressing the glass to the plush flesh of his lips, “it’s not for you. It’s for everyone else.”

Hungry for a distraction, he looked to his door, locked for safe measures, keeping any prying intruders away. He didn’t want anyone to stop him. He needed to this, needed to make up for the years of pain he’d brought to those around him. Though, he did regret not getting a second chance to apologize to Jamil, the scuffle from before helping him realize that Jamil truly didn’t want anything to do with him. He deserved this. He earned it.

Finally, setting his dulled gaze on the moon once more, he leaned the glass up, pouring the liquid into his mouth and swallowing it in a single gulp.

It was excruciatingly bitter, burning trails down his throat as he gagged, dropping the vial as his hands squeezed his neck. The feeling didn’t stop no matter how tightly he wound his fingers around the skin, the bubbly fire spreading throughout his chest and dripping into his stomach, iron-tasting blood seeping out through his parted lips.

His vision swam with black, his body betraying him as he lost the fight in him, leaning back on the end of his bed, sitting with his legs stretched out on the floor and hands numbly dropped into his lap. It no longer felt painful as he struggled to keep his eyes open, the midnight-dark blood dribbling over his chin to settle on his clothes.

He had time for only one last thought, jumbled and lost to the winds of his mind, never to be voiced.

“I... I’m sorry... for every breath I took. I’m envious Jamil, that you had the strength to carry on for so long... Me? I couldn’t last half a year in your shoes... I’m not a fighter... I’m not even strong enough to look you in the eye. I hope—I hope this did something for you... I hope this... brings an end to your suffering.”

For a moment, he saw his life flash before his eyes. The games he used the play when he was little, the laughter he used to share with his siblings, the friends he made, the fight that cost him his best friend... they all seemed to burn away as he stared at the moon, ever the lively spirit.

But, just like a candle whose fire was blown out, he snapped, going limp in the paleness of his room.

Sat on the floor, leaning against his bed, Kalim Al-Asim took his last breath, light finally snuffed out for good.

<————>

Clomping down the corridors of Scarabia, Jamil pulled his hood over his silky braided hair, something indescribable cracking in his chest.

He hadn’t seen Kalim at dinner that evening, off putting Jamil’s behavior as he pondered over the reason behind the change. Ever since Kalim announced them as “equals,” Jamil had been rather lax with his servant duties, cooking only for himself instead of for the prince, refusing to wake him in the morning, and so on. But tonight... tonight was the first night he noticed Kalim’s absence in the mess hall.

Asking around had revealed that the white haired dorm leader had been skipping the meal for quite some time, furthering Jamil’s confusion as he followed his planned track to Kalim’s room. How long hadn’t he been eating? Was he really that afraid to ask someone else for help? The idiot.

Jamil gritted his teeth. The absence hadn’t been the only reason he was so adamant on checking Kalim.

He wanted to—and damn him for saying it— he wanted to apologize. Ever since that afternoon, when he laid hands on Kalim, he felt strange, almost guilty. Maybe it was true that Kalim was overly clingly and immature, but it wasn’t his place to hurt him the way he did. Not only that, but...

Jamil furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at nothing in particular as he tried to assemble a puzzle that was missing far too many pieces. The gnawing in his stomach continued as he trudged down the hall, bringing a fist to his cheek as he nibbled on his lower lip.

Kalim had been so... thin. Like all the muscle on his body had just melted off, leaving skin and bones as replacement. Before the overblot, Kalim had been almost neck-and-neck with Jamil when it came to physique, always healthily svelte, while the dark haired servant became more toned thanks to the dirty work he often found himself in. But now—now Jamil could only describe Kalim as frail, dangerously near skeletal.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jamil tried and failed to remember how easy it had been to slam Kalim into the wall, to pin him using barely an ounce of his strength. The usually cheery boy’s helpless face flashed in the darkness, stained with tear tracks and shock as Jamil walked off, not even a glance over his shoulder to accompany him.

How long had it been since Kalim properly took care of himself?

“Doesn’t matter,” Jamil clucked quietly, reopening his eyes to see that the end of the hall, and the door leading to the grand bedroom, was closely approaching, “I’ll just get him to tell me. He’ll be back to the old Kalim in no time. Idiots never change, after all.” He quipped, though the tremor in his voice sounded more like a timid reassurance than a witty remark.

Stopping a few inches from the door, Jamil bit his tongue, debating what he was trying to say as he pulled his hood down. Cautiously bringing his hand to the door, he faltered for a split second, as if in fear the wood would reach out and bite him. Three quick short knocks bounced off the hall walls, magnified in Jamil’s ears as he was met with silence. “Kalim, it’s Jamil. Can I—I come in?” He stuttured, surprising himself.

When, yet again, late night quiet was his response, he felt the need to double over, uneasiness eating his gut. Knocking again, Jamil placed his ear on the door, listening for the rustle of clothing, or the scuff of shoes on stone. “Kalim?” He tried, hand slithering down to the brass knob. “Kalim, answer me or I’m coming in.”

Still nothing.

Dread coiling in his core, his arms stiffened as he turned the handle, finding it firmly held in place. Frantically jiggling it, he used a shoulder to push at the wood, feeling it give way ever so slightly. “Last warning, or I’m busting in, Kalim. Open the door.” He deadpanned, taking a step back.

The third round of the silent treatment sent Jamil over the edge, the vice shaking out his hands before balling them, running shoulder first into the door. It swelled, before dropping back in the same place, Jamil repeating the process over and over until his shoulder was decorated in a blossoming bruise and there was a hole just big enough for him to weasel his hands through.

Wincing at the sting in his skin, Jamil pushed his hand through the cracked wooden hole, maneuvering his arm so that he could reach the lock from the handle. Twisting it, a satisfying click rendered the door openable, Jamil yanking his scratched arm from the door panel.

“Alright, Kalim, was that necessary? I understand that I—!” Jamil froze as he swung the door open, letting a swath of light from the hall slip into the dorm leader’s exquisite room.

His heart skipped a beat as his blood chilled, eyes stretching impossibly wide while the air fueling his lungs seemed to be syphoned out of him.

There, just barely discernible from the dark, Kalim sat motionlessly. His eyes were sealed with his thick lashes, mouth parted as blood dribbled down to the neck of his clothes. He lie still, propped up by the bedside, a transparent purple vial close by, glinting in the light.

One moment... two moments... three, until Jamil shrieked out Kalim’s name, throwing the door completely open and rushing inside.

Sliding and dropping to his knees before the body, Jamil softly lifting him into his embrace as he called for anyone to come help, to come save what had clearly been lost.

“Kalim... Kalim, wake up...! I know you’re stronger than this! Get up, move, do something! Please, please wake up...!” Jamil cried, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I-I’m sorry I pushed you earlier... I’m sorry I l-left you alone for so long. I... I didn’t mean what I said, you know I didn’t! I’m sorry, I’m sorry but please, just open your eyes... laugh one more time. Smile...? Anything... just... wake up...”

Nothing. Kalim was cold, and not a single breath heaved from his bony chest.

“Somebody help me!” The plea was cracked, echoeing about as Jamil suppressed tears, tears that shouldn’t even exist.

He asked for this. Every damn night, he asked for this. He wished with every part of what he was for Kalim to be kidnapped, for him to shunned, for him to rot in a ditch. He hated Kalim—no, he despised him.

So why the hell did it hurt so much?

Why did every look at his pale face stab his heart in a way watching an abused puppy limp did? Why did he care that Kalim was feather light, that it felt as if he was holding a pile of bones rather than a person? Why were there tears dripping from his hatred powered eyes?

Trembling with the force of fear, disbelief, and stigma, Jamil’s ears didn’t recognize the orchestra of shouts and gasps that rang out behind him as Scarabia students acted upon his words, calling for teachers and help alike. He didn’t realize just how many tears slid from his face to Kalim’s bloodied clothes, soaking the fabric. He could only stare numbly at Kalim’s once so buoyant features, at the eyes that would never again light up with joy whenever Jamil entered the room. At the cheeks that would never again heat up in a blush that was the product of his profuse smiling. At the lips that would never, ever utter a single syllable, or pull into a grin that made even the sun look like a busted light bulb.

Moreso than that... Jamil heaved breathy sobs at the discoveries he made hidden all over Kalim’s body. His arms, mutilated with self inflicted wounds that never properly healed. His torso, tenuous and more bone than skin. He wouldn’t let himself go any further, already shaken to the core by the sick scavenger hunt.

The tears felt hollow and empty, painfully slow in their race to his jaw, grip crushing on Kalim’s shoulders.

He fought with a vigor that put three boys in the infirmary when help finally arrived, Kalim being wrestled away from his protective grasp and off to who knows where. He didn’t settle down until Kalim was carried off somewhere, far outside of Jamil’s view, and was left with the worthless consolation from people he didn’t care to see.

The only thing that ran through his head was the fact that he’d been the cause of this. That he was the one who pushed Kalim too far. That it should’ve been him to die instead.

Hours later, Jamil slept in Kalim’s now unoccupied room, stumbling upon a certain bound journal that just begged to be explored.

<————>

Why was it that the saddest moments always happened on sunny days? Was it the sun laughing at the earth’s struggles? Was it nature’s way of trying to ease the pain?

Jamil had no response for his questions, dressed in his formal wear as he stared somberly down at the glass casket, the temporary bed for Kalim’s lifeless body. Today would be the last day he ever saw him, as in less than an hour, Kalim’s family would be arriving to take their brother, their cousin, their son, home.

“Hey Kalim...” Jamil muttered, kneeling before the casket. “I, uh... I wanted to say goodbye, one last time. You’ll be with your family now, they’re taking you back to the Land of Hot Sands, where you’ll get a proper burial.” He said, studying Kalim’s blissfully expressionless face.

It was so strange, seeing him so calm. It looked like he was sleeping, like he could wake at any moment and pull Jamil into a hug that he would reciprocate with all of his strength, had he the opportunity.

“It’s not fair...” He whispered as a ray of light painted over Kalim, making his white tuxedo almost blinding. “Even in the afterlife, everything about you is so... so happy. Not a cloud in the sky, the sun shining on the horizon, it seems fitting. You were always... the sun to my moon.” Jamil admitted, a realization striking him like a lightning bolt.

“Oh, I um... I read this last night,” Jamil held up the black journal he’d found in Kalim’s room, “Kalim, why did you keep yourself hidden like that? You didn’t have to—you know you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have done this to yourself, because of me. You should’ve... should’ve...”

Should’ve what? It wasn’t Kalim’s fault he felt that way... it was his. Jamil knew that.

“I know it’s a little—no, very, very late, but I... I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Those words don’t mean anything now that you can’t even hear me, but I need to say them. I need you to know that I’m sorry...!” He felt his eyes damped, and using the back of his hand, he wiped away the water that hadn’t even spilled yet. “Kalim, you were right, okay?! You were right! You may have needed me, but I needed you more! You gave me my freedom, even after I threw you to your death! I had so much pent up anger, I didn’t... didn’t know what to do with it!”

The dawning of the truth set Jamil’s waterworks into action, a pretty blush darkening his cheeks as his shattered weeping rose into the air. This was it. Kalim would never smile, laugh, speak again. Never. He wouldn’t ride a magic carpet, or sit on the balcony of the lounge, or even take another breath.

He was gone.

Undeniably, irrevocably, gone.

Sniffling, Jamil placed the journal in Kalim’s hands, having written his own letter inside. “I figured, your family deserved to see your last words. And my apology. There’s not much left for me to say... but thank you. You were never in the wrong, it was me. Thank you, for being so forgiving, even in my darkest hours. Thank you, for staying by my side. Thank you, Kalim, for being the brother I didn’t realize I needed.”

Standing, Jamil leaned over Kalim, the one he took for granted. Sliding his hand over his eyelids, he bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, the way he did when they were little. “Goodbye.” He breathed, before parting ways, beads of saltwater still trickling down as he trekked off, fists balled tightly at his sides.

<————>

Dear Kalim,

I’ve had little time to ponder over your passing. Over the very certitude that you’re not here anymore. But in that little time, I’ve arrived at a single conclusion, that can’t begin to express my emotions.

I said I hated you. I said I wished you’d never existed. I said I wanted you out of my life. And, I used to mean those words. I used to believe that if you one day disappeared, everything wrong with me would suddenly right itself, that you were the source of my suffering.

But... only now, when you’ve really departed, do I see that I was so incurably mistaken.

I was the cause of your pain, as once upon a time, I thought you to be mine. I’m the fool, for having ignored you for so long. I’m the fool, for pushing you beyond your limits. I’m the fool, for pretending to hate you, even as I myself, was at the mercy of your charms.

When we were young, I treasured you like family. We fought like siblings do, we laughed as brothers, we grew as a pair. It’s impossible to set a specific date, but somewhere along the way, something changed. Suddenly, you were no longer my brother. Suddenly, you were my rival, my enemy that I could never escape.

I know the penmanship of my woes could never bring you back, I am painfully aware of that. I am beside myself that it took your death for me to grasp that the reason I never left your side was because I didn’t hate you.

I never left you, because I was afraid.

I was afraid that you’d lose the need for me. I was afraid that you’d leave me behind. Moreover, I was terrified of losing you, like I have now.

That smile of yours, the one that never ends, and never fails to bring laughter to even the coldest of hearts, that was what I wanted to preserve. That was what I wanted you to keep, if nothing else.

I’m truly sorry, sorry beyond what words can say.

I pray that one day, you’ll smile again. It’s far too late for me now, but I want you to know that you were my best friend, Kalim Al-Asim.

You were what I strived to be.

I just wished I had the gall to admit it sooner.

Written truthfully,

Jamil Viper

Yet another request finished! Thank you @etervenislucifen for the ask!

I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

Stay lovely!!

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #kalim al asim #twst #angst #vil schoenheit #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Bullets, Ch 4: Moonlight Trail

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 2700

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: discussion of violence/drugs, swearing

Featured Song: All Time High by Rita Coolidge from Octopussy (1983)

~ “We´re an all time high, we´ll change all that´s gone before, doing so much more than falling in love.”

+ “Where are you? Why do you hide? Where is that moonlight trail that leads to your side?” from Moonraker by Shirley Bassey from Moonraker (1979)

A/N: not much action in this chapter, but i’m saving that for chapter five and i’m very very excited about that chapter haha

~~~

You let out a groggy groan, your eyes fluttering open, just to be met with a dull pain in your head from the drugs last night, making you close your eyes again immediately. You tried clearing your mind, focusing on the sound of the DB10’s tires moving with the road, but the sound of Harrison’s music was too distracting. Somehow the normally soothing voice of Sam Smith just made your headache worse- and that’s when it hit you.

“You listen to Sam Smith?” You questioned quietly, opening your eyes just enough to peak over at your partner. The car’s interior lights as well as the streetlights outside were the only things illuminating Harrison’s face.

“I’m surprised you know an artist from this decade.” He chuckled lightly, his thumbs drumming against the steering wheel as he continued his drive down the nearly empty highway.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked as you shifted in your seat, stretching to get more comfortable.

“All you seemed to listen to going to Monaco was Nancy Sinatra.” Harrison stated and you felt a twinge of embarrassment strike you, you’d never have someone so blatantly call out your music taste, but yet again you didn’t exactly spend quality time with many perceptive agents.

“Well, I don’t only listen to Nancy Sinatra. I listen to other artists,” You trailed off, trying to come up with names, “I listen to Carly Simon.”

“As in “You’re So Vain” from the ‘70’s?” He laughed and you let out a groan.

“Alicia Keys.”

“Hardly counts.”

“She still counts.” You insisted, “You were listening to Duran Duran earlier. That’s not from this decade.”

“But I still,” He paused to let out a large yawn, “I still listen to more modern music. Sam Smith is very modern.”

“Where are we?” You asked, wanting to just drop the subject.

“We’ve got about half an hour until we get to Venice.” Harrison replied, glancing over at the clock. You took a moment to study him as he kept his eyes on the road. His hair was the most disheveled you’d ever seen it, and you’d dare to say he had bags under his eyes.

“Let me drive for a while.” You offered, and he glanced over at you like you were crazy. You could tell he was holding back from scoffing in response.

“A few hours ago, you were spilling your darkest secrets to me and then spilling your guts in the toilet. I’m not letting you drive.”

“Then pull over so we can get a hotel. You need to sleep.” You stated. Just as he was about to open his mouth to respond, you added, “As assistant director of MI6 and the lead on this case, I’m telling you to get a hotel.”

Harrison let out a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head at you, “I was just going to say, I’ll stop when we get to Venice. No need to pull the assistant director card.”

“I might as well pull it while I can.” You said, and he raised his eyebrows at you, making you elaborate, “M doesn’t want us to kill Le Chiffre, but if I see him, I will. I doubt I’ll keep my position if that happens.”

The rest of the ride into Venice was silent between the two of you. You didn’t particularly want to talk about last night’s revelations or the upcoming task of having to not kill Le Chiffre; meanwhile, Harrison had his own inner turmoil between trying to empathize with you, allowing you to take out the private banker, or following M’s directions of simply tracking him. By the time the two of you arrived in Venice and got a hotel, it was nearly 3 AM, and, with a six hour car ride behind you and an eleven hour car ride ahead of you, you two were beyond exhausted.

“This bed better be softer than the last one.” Harrison mumbled as the two of you stepped into the elevator. With one hand on your suitcase, you leaned against the elevator wall as he stood in the center, holding onto his own luggage.

“Surprisingly, Monaco had the worst hotel bed I’ve ever slept on.” You stated. The elevator came to a stop on your floor for the next few hours. The doors opened, and the two of you stepped off it.

“Really? I think the worst hotel bed I’ve ever had was actually in New York.” He replied, inserting the key card into the door. He pushed it open, holding it for you to go inside first. You paused once you’d stepped into the room.

“Scratch that. This might be the worst.” You said, eyeing the single king size bed in the room. Harrison blinked, stepping in the room behind you.

“Am I so sleep deprived that I’m only seeing one bed or is there actually only one bed?” He asked.

“There’s only one bed.” You sighed, setting your suitcase down near the dresser and opening it. You started to gather your clothes for the night. “But you’re still sleep deprived, and I’m too tired to even attempt to get a room change, so this’ll have to do.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take the floor, but, for now, while you get ready,” He trailed off, flopping down on the bed with a small sigh of his own. “God damn, this is comfortable.”

With your pajamas in hand, you turned back to face the bed. Seeing your partner so exhausted and sprung out on the large bed, you felt your heart twist a little. “Sleep on the bed, then.”

“What?” Harrison mumbled, sitting up to look at you. “No, you take the bed. I’m a man of chivalry, I can’t let you sleep on the floor.”

“A man of chivalry. Is that what you call yourself when you sleep with all those women?” You questioned, sarcasm dripping in your tone. For a split second, he pouted, before it grew into a smirk.

“If gets the women into the bed, then yes.” He replied, cockily. You turned, making your way to the bathroom as you shook your head at his words. He hopped off the bed to follow after you, “Look, it’s big enough for both of us. Besides, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you.”

“How lovely.” You rolled your eyes, and he shook his head.

“That’s,” He sighed as you shut the bathroom door, locking it to ensure privacy away from him. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. We can share the bed and sleep next to each other, nothing sexual about it.”

“Agent 007 not wanting to sexualize sharing a bed with a woman? That’s a surprise.” You scoffed through the door, beginning to change in the privacy of the spare room.

“You’re one to talk.” Harrison bit back, “You know we’re really not that different. We both sleep with the enemy.”

“Except you sleep with women for sport and you’re called a womanizer, whereas I sleep with men for strictly professional purposes and get called a whore.” Now changed into your comfortable clothes, you threw open the door, jaw clenched angrily at the double-standard that cursed your ‘profession’. Pushing past Harrison, you sarcastically remarked, “Sexism- isn’t it wonderful?”

“You’re not a whore.” He said, quietly, a new softness in his tone, making you look at him curiously. You could see the genuineness in his blue eyes, “You’re intimidating and, quite honestly, scare the shit out of me sometimes, but you’re not a whore. Anyone who calls you that obviously doesn’t realize they should be less concerned with how you handle your body and more concerned with how well you handle a gun. You use your assets like I do, like any spy would.” He paused, “You don’t like to be known as the maneater, but I don’t like to be known as a womanizer. For us being MI6’s top agents, neither of us are winning in the reputation department.”

You swallowed an uncertain lump in your throat, not sure how to respond to his unusual yet kind words. Turning away from him to put away your clothes, you replied, “Let’s just get some sleep.”

Harrison wordlessly entered the bathroom to get ready to sleep himself, and you quietly climbed into the bed. You laid on your side, facing away from the bathroom and the other side of the bed, keeping to one edge of the mattress. A few moments later, he emerged from the bathroom, turning off the bedroom light as he did so.

“Do you- do you mind if I sleep without a shirt?” He asked.

“I don’t care.” You answered quietly, despite the odd feeling in your gut at his question. Momentarily, you thought it could be leftover from last night, but as you heard him discard his shirt and climb into his side of the bed, you knew it was something much worse- butterflies.

You lay on your side of the bed, waiting for sleep to overcome you, but it seemed to be taking its dear time. Meanwhile, it only took a matter of moments for Harrison to fall asleep. Your poor partner passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and you were left to listen to his soft snoring, little noises that you hadn’t noticed while sharing a room with him in the past. Yet again, the past few nights, you two were plenty far from each other and tonight, well, there wasn’t much space, especially when you heard and felt him shift closer to you in his sleep. You just about put Harrison in a choke hold, feeling his arm sling around your waist, but as you flipped over to look at him, your fight reflexes dropped. He was still asleep and, god, he was a cuddler. You considered shoving him away or even just getting up and sleeping on the ground, but then he let out a soft murmur of incoherent words, light puffs escaping his lips. Finally feeling a sense of peace overcome you, you let yourself lean into his embrace.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the laptop ringing with an incoming call from M, or at least you recognized the ringtone as that; your arms were currently trapped under the tight cuddles of Harrison, who was still peacefully asleep. With how heavy of a sleeper he was, you were surprised no one had murdered him in his sleep yet, considering how annoyingly loud the laptop was.

“Wake up, Osterfield.” You grumbled, kicking your legs harshly against his. He mumbled something, tightening his grip around your arms and torso, pressing you further into his bare chest, before his eyes fluttered open. His arms dropped from around you immediately as he processed his position, cheeks flaring red a little in embarrassment of his cuddly nature. You shot up from the bed, grabbing the laptop from the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. You open it, answering the call without a second thought. The screen flashed to M in her office, and you bit back a groan at how obvious it was that you just rolled out of bed- it didn’t help that Harrison was in the background, getting out of the bed and tugging on a shirt. Talk about the professionalism between the two of you for not only stopping Venice for some sleep, but also sharing a damn bed.

“Sorry, was I interrupting your beauty sleep?” She questioned with no actual apology laced in her words as Harrison sat beside you on the couch.

“Good morning, M.” You greeted, professionally.

“I must say I was surprised to hear from Moneypenny about Monaco last night. How did Britain’s finest agents get drugged so easily?” While her question was directed at both of you, you couldn’t help, but feel like she meant it more towards you than your partner. You were meant to be the one calling the shots for this mission and you were the one that drank the suspicious champagne.

“It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.” Harrison replied definitively. Sensing how you tensed beside him at M’s words, he placed a reassuring hand on your knee, hidden from the laptop’s view; he felt almost protective of you for your actions last night, and, having been so vulnerable yourself, you were hesitant to lean into the security.

“It damn well shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” She let out a small sigh, “I know your next target was intended to be Le Chiffre in Montenegro, but there has been a slight change of plans.”

“Are we no longer going to Montenegro?” You asked, trying your best to not sound hopeful about never going back there.

“You’ll still be going there, 006. Le Chiffre has decided to host a charity gala tonight; and, seeing as it’s currently 11 in the morning in Venice,” She spat out the city’s name in distaste as if to question why you two had stopped there for so unintentionally long, “You’ll be taking a private jet to Montenegro straight out of Venice’s airport. Leave the DB10 behind, Agent 003 will be there shortly to retrieve it.”

“How is this different than our prior mission of interrogating Le Chiffe?” Harrison voiced.

“I believe you’re familiar with this woman.” M stated, and a photograph of Pussy Galore appeared on the screen. Harrison dropped his hand from your knee as he recognized the blonde, “Pussy Galore has been identified as Goldfinger’s personal pilot, and she has been spotted in every location the sniper has struck in.”

“She’s the sniper?” You questioned. You already thought the woman was a joke just because of her name, but now, she was the bitch that shot you, and you weren’t about to let that go.

“We believe so. Q traced her to Montenegro this morning. Your new mission is to keep an eye on Le Chiffre and try to keep him alive- he could prove useful as an asset to take down Goldfinger or he could be the perfect bait to get the bullion smuggler.” She sent you a pointed look, catching how you clenched your jaw as a picture of the private banker flashed onto the screen, “As for Pussy Galore, bring her in alive. If she’s Goldfinger’s personal pilot and favorite sniper, she’s valuable to him.”

“Is that all?” You asked, and she shook her head.

“I need to speak with 007 alone.” She said, making you and Harrison look at each other in confusion. You nodded before getting up and leaving for the bathroom, deciding to get ready while they had their private discussion.

“M, the champagne wasn’t Y/N’s fault-” Harrison started, immediately believing that M’s private conversation was about your mistake from last night- that or she was going to strongly suggest Harrison take a leave of absence again.

“Last night happened, and I am not going to fret it any longer. I’m far more concerned with Montenegro.” She spoke, and Harrison’s face fell, giving it away to her that he knew already, “Agent 006 is my best agent, but by now, I assume you can tell she lets her emotions get to her. Four years ago, once she was healed, she went rogue for a few weeks. My only way of finding her and bringing her back to MI6 was a trail of dead bodies- all of which were connected to Le Chiffre.” Harrison gulped at the new information, his eyes flicking nervously to the bathroom door. Le Chiffre really did a number on you and you had the physical scar to prove it. “She will kill him at the first opportunity. You accused me of hiring her as your nanny for this mission, but now I need you to take care of her. Don’t let her kill Le Chiffre; he needs to be alive. Don’t let her kill Galore either. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” He nodded with a heavy head.

“And, for the love of God, no more champagne between the two of you.”

“Got it.” He nodded again, “When will Q be in Montenegro?”

“He had to finish a new prototype for 005, but he will be there tonight.” She explained. “Now, you two get to Venice airport as soon as possible; you have a gala to attend.”

Before Harrison could reply, M ended the call. Shutting off the laptop, he stood from the couch, already feeling anxious about tonight. The only reason he had a partner for this entire mission was his own mistake, and M didn’t trust him, but, now, it seemed like the tables had turned- M didn’t trust you in Montenegro. With each new piece of information, this was transforming into so much more than it was just days ago in London, and, without Q to crack the flash drive, all Harrison could do was keep you from killing the two people that could lead back to Goldfinger.

~~~

Let me know if the tags aren’t working or if you want to be tagged :)

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield one shot

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spaceyantique · 4 years

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five’s a crowd [beatles x reader] part four

chapter summary: George is sweet and comforting in the aftermath of the Battle of the Coffee Machine, and you’re not sure why your heart beats so fast being near him. Meanwhile, you’re getting closer to strangling John and poor Ringo doesn’t want to be involved. And it’s high time to make up with poor Paul.

warnings: bit o’ angst. way less of a crack fic oops i got emotionally invested haha

word count: 1.3k of FEELINGS

also peep john’s thighs in this pic hoy moly sorry i’ll take my john stan self elsewhere

one | two | three

masterlist

When the dust settles, you’re in your bedroom again, headphones on and listening to the Crickets on the highest possible volume. You’re kneeling on your floor, spreading out all of your papers across the ground, sorting them between the kind you used waterproof ink on (the Survivors) and the ones that you didn’t (the Deceased). Your hands are shaking, from some combination of exhilaration from shouting at Paul and anger and general despair for your now-hopeless midterms grades. You try to spread out the Survivors so they have enough room to air dry, but there’s just not enough room in your broom cupboard of a bedroom.

Due to the skull-rattling music of the Crickets through your headphones, you see George’s feet before you hear him. He’s wearing those fuzzy socks that you’d gotten all the boys for last Christmas (his are green) and he’s standing with one foot in the room like he’s afraid a single word from you could blow the door clean off its hinges. His hair is still curly, and you feel a strange rush of warmth in your chest.

You remove your headphones and he visibly relaxes. “Yeah?”

“I wondered if you needed any help.” George’s voice is soft. You nod at him and turn your focus back to trying to salvage a particularly wet notebook. He crosses your room slowly, taking great care not to step on any of the Survivors. You scooch over a bit as he reaches you, and then he plops down next to you, both of you leaning your backs against your mattress and surveying the damage.

“And I--” George’s eyes are focused on the floor by your foot. “I wanted to say sorry. Even though it was both me and Paul, I think… I think I could’ve handled it better.” You do a little half-laugh at that, blowing air out of your nose.

“Thanks. For apologizing,” you say, spreading the notebook out in vain hope of recovery. “And yeah, that could’ve gone better.” George nods, and you swear he leans slightly closer to you.

“What a day,” he sighs, slumping a bit more against the bed.

“What a fuckin’ day, indeed,” you agree, before a wave of despair overtakes you. “God, I’ve still got midterms starting Monday.” You curl your knees into your chest, wrap your arms around your legs and bury your head on top of it all.

“Hey,” George’s voice is even softer as he says your name. “It’s all gonna be alright. In the end, at least.”

You manage a weak noise in response, trying desperately to stop yourself from crying out of sheer frustration. George hesitantly drapes an arm over your shoulders and he’s so warm that it almost makes you forget about the lump in your throat.

“It won’t last forever, see. This week might be bad but we aren’t in it forever. We won’t always be in uni. You’re smart enough with or without these notes. And if it goes badly, these grades won’t matter forever.”

You sniffle, lifting your head a bit to rest your chin on your forearms.

“All things must pass. Whether it’s good or bad, and when it’s gone, there’ll be new things. And they’ll go too. So it’ll all be okay.” George punctuates each word of his last sentence with a shake to your shoulder, and you smile a little despite yourself.

“All things must pass,” you repeat in a soft voice. George grins, showing off those vampiric teeth.

“Right. ‘Sides,” George leans over to grab one of the Survivors in front of you, and in doing so, he presses his side to yours. He’s warm there too, and you feel strangely glued to him. “They look sort of cool now. Vintage-like.”

He holds the page up for you both to inspect. He’s right, honestly, it looks like when you had to ‘age’ printer paper for a school history project when you were about ten.

“Would you say it’s gear, though?” You deadpan, and George groans.

“Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

You tilt your head as if to consider dropping his embarrassing slang as blackmail, but when you feel the tips of George’s curls brush your temple, you feel as if someone has sucked the air out of your lungs with a vacuum. You sit back up with a jolt and George’s arm falls from your shoulders and you’re left with the distinct sensation that the ground is spinning away from beneath you.

Calm down, Sandra Bullock, you think. It’s low blood pressure, just breathe.

“I think I should talk to Paul,” you blurt. “Make things right, y’know.”

Y’know. Since when do you say that? What’s gotten into you?

Dehydration, your brain supplies helpfully.

George looks a bit taken aback by your sudden change of direction but nods still.

“Probably a good idea,” is all he says. You’re still breathless and practically reeling, so without thinking, you wrap your arms around him in a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you say, still holding him close, but all George can think about is the smell of your shampoo lingering on your hair and how he hopes you can’t feel his hands shaking as he hugs you back.

As you pull away, you flash George the brightest smile he’s ever seen and suddenly his heart has jumped straight out of his chest into his throat. You pull yourself to your feet and, lithe as a cat, you step around the Survivors and disappear into the hallway, leaving George to calm his racing heart. As he listens to your footsteps recede, he’s struck with the sudden, crucial realisation of his feelings. His heart leaps again and all he can think is a resounding

oh fuck.

You enter the living room to find John and Ringo halfway through a game of cards. Ringo shoots you a sympathetic look and John throws his hands up in mock surrender, snatching up a paper napkin to wave like a white flag.

“We’re innocents!” John cries, and you roll your eyes.

“Piss off, Sergeant. Where’s Paul?” He’s noticeably absent from the common area, and the light is off in his and John’s shared room (which is directly off of the living room/kitchen).

“Cafe down the street, ma’am. Licking his wounds, ma’am.” John salutes you sharply with each “ma’am” and the expression on Ringo’s face rivals Jim Halpert’s most irritated looks on The Office.

“Piece of work, you are,” Ringo mutters, tossing another card on the pile.

“Hold on, if I’m a Sergeant, what’s Ringo?” John scoffs at Ringo’s play and looks through his cards again.

“Dunno. Lieutenant maybe?” You reply, pulling your shoes on. John salutes you again and he breaks into that insufferable shit-eating grin.

“How’s about George?” Now John’s leaning over the table at you, still grinning widely.

“Why’d you say his name like that?”

“Like what?”

“You know.”

“Sorry, birdie, I don’t.”

“I think you do.”

“I promise I don’t. Ringo’ll tell you, it was perfectly normal how I said it. Won’t you, Ritchie?” John nudges Ringo, who suddenly looks like he’d much rather be somewhere else. You turn your gaze to him too, and he sighs.

“Sorry, can’t say, because I know how to mind my own business.”

John throws his hands up again with a whoop.

“Oh, K.O.!” He crows, and you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, I’m choosing not to address you. It’s a choice,” you say, tuning out John’s hysterical laugh as you turn on your heel and leave.

“I’m going to find Paul!” You shout, and John yells something about you getting your eyes stuck up there if you keep rolling them, but by then, you’ve shut the apartment door behind you and you’re engulfed in the cold evening air.

#five's a crowd #the beatles x reader #the beatles #beatles fic #george harrison x reader #ringo starr x reader #paul mccartney x reader #john lennon x reader #john #paul #george #ringo #dee writes #crack fic #fluff #slow burn #modern au #modern beatles au

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anotherwhumpblog · 5 years

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I don't remeber if i ever wrote an introduction, so here goes.

My name is Pie but you can also call me Lara or Jer. I use any pronouns.

Ive been interested in whump since i was a small child, I think 4 or 5. I was one of those "gifted" kids who could read at a college level before starting school. My favorite books were always the ones where someone got hurt or sick.

I like whump because i find it relatable, and it helps me to cope with some things i went through.

Most people, i think, dont find whump relatable. A friend of mine said that most people didnt have a childhood anywhere near mine ^^" so here's a brief description of some of the things about me:

Im only 5 feet tall. Which is odd since my family is above average height and my brother is 6 foot and 15 years old. Most of the time when people point it out, i just laugh it off or say i dont know why im so small. But to be honest, its from malnourishment. My family was very very poor (we still are rather poor but not as bad as it was). I lived with my little brother and my mom, and my dad was very abusive and didnt live at home. I'm extremely lactose intolerant, and mom would make macaroni and cheese a lot because my brother really liked it. But I couldnt eat it, so i was forced to go hungry a lot. My mom also has become more and more abusive as I've gotten older, and stopped making meals for me altogether in my early teens, so i had to either cook for myself or live on chips. Which i did. Combine that with no milk, and you get me.

I have hundreds of scars. Most of them are knife wounds. Most of them have pretty cool stories, too, like the one where i was stabbed with a sword (i used to fence), and the one where i was shot with a paintball at point blank range (as in the barrel was right next to my skin).

I have chronic pain. Theres something wrong with my bones that causes them to ache and makes my joints occasionally give out. Ive also got the beginning stages of arthritis from sewing 10 hours a day when i was a teen.

I cant swim. I know how, but i get exhausted very easily and my arms and legs start hurting and then I start to sink. Its terrifying and embarrassing, so I just dont go in deep water. I still swim in the local river though haha.

I get sick easily because I'm allergic to pretty much anything that gives off pollen or spores. I get frequent bloody noses and respitory infections. My childhood house was also rotten with mold and mildew. I remember that if i pushed on the wall in my bedroom, I could actually move it a couple inches in, and the drywall would slide along the nails. We also had rats and ants.

I have difficulty remembering things, and my brain has actually blocked memories from me. Im in therapy because of this. It affects my short term memory too, and sometimes i get lost in the mall and stuff because I forget where im at and who im with.

I sleep on the floor, because I toss and turn from nightmares and got tired of falling off the bed. I do this in hotel rooms too, much to the concern of my friends. Yes i have a mattress, yes I'm comfy, yes i prefer it this way.

When i was 11 my mouth grew a second pair of upper inscisors for absolutely no reason and i had to have a set removed because they stuck out like a vampire and were causing problems with the rest of my teeth. The remaining set were also too pointy and i was constantly biting my lip by accident so the dentist filed them down. They had to sedate me for that and as a result i hate the dentist. I also had to have braces afterwards.

Those are the teeth they removed ^^"

I stutter really bad and have a lisp. I can keep it under control unless im really anxious. When im in a new setting, i cant talk at all. I have specific friends who I've given permission to talk for me, and im trying to learn asl.

I was sexually assaulted as a teenager, but that's the one thing i don't feel comfortable talking about.

So yea thats me!! If you have any questions go ahead and ask me them! I have a lot of stories about my life and telling them helps me heal. You'll see a lot of stuff on this blog that's similar to what i went through, but not all of it is that, I just really like whump in general. I don't really have any ""turn offs"" except for extreme medical inaccuracies like gallons of blood loss and stuff. i also sometimes reblog my art here too ^^"

Sorry this is so long

#whump #introduction #whump intro #whump blog #irl whump #whump introduction #about me

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shenanigans-academia · 5 years

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Summer Training Camp Arc/ Rescue Bakugo/ The End of All Might

Episode 39: Game Start

•the fact that Denki and Mineta physically went to Mido’s house to invite him to the pool is actually kinda cute. Too bad they have creepy intentions

•Momo:”Aw I was supposed to spend several weeks traveling Venice with my parents”

Uraraka: “WHAT is YoUr LiFE??” I feel you girl

•Mineta/Denki:”TheRe’S BoObS At tHe End Of ThiS TuNnEL”

Iida-Absolute Unit-Tenya:”HELLO FELLOW CLASSMATES”

•Iida is built like a fucking TANK what the heck but why the fuck are you walking like that Iida lmao

•Iida talking about how far he and Izuku have come as friends, I’m soft

•Kiri refusing to come without Bakubabe convincing Bakugo to join then looking so defeated when he immediately starts picking a fight I can’t with these two

•”friendly competition between classmates” cuts to Bakugou looking possessed before saying “I’m going to annihilate you Deku/ Icy Hot Bastard” bruh do you have an off switch or at least take it down like 20 notches you’re exhausting

•”YOU DIDNT EVEN TOUCH THE WATER”

“ITS CALLED FREE STYLE SWIMMING”

•Lmao the whole class is cheating

•I love how it just cut to a dramatic montage of TodoDeku moments while Sho can’t take his eyes off Mido WHY THEY ALL SO INTENSE FOR YOURE 15 HANGING OUT AT A POOL DURING THE SUMMER WHY ARE YOU GUYS ALWAYS ON

•Mido/Todo/Iida all just staring at each other intensely having their own inner montages. Literally anybody watching them “...are they okay?”

•Aizawa you party pooper

•I’m sorry but Kirishima is so in love and no one can tell me other wise no I do not take constructive criticism

•Okay that end montage is so fucking pure I’m. So. Soft

Episode 40: Wild, Wild Pussycats

•Kirishima “can’t keep my hands to myself/off Bakugo Katsuki” Eijirou

•Class 1B to anybody they meet: “we’re sorry about Monoma”

•Aizawa loves his class can’t you tell

•”Long time no see” Aizawa’s a cutie

•Lmao KOTA the first of Mido’s adopted kids

•These poor fucking kids can’t catch a fucking BREAK

•Koda tried and I love him

•Kiri’s heart eyes are so LOUD

•I love when they all work together

•”YOURE IN MY WAY ICY HOT”

“Then pick another route” Todoroki doesn’t have time for your tantrums Kacchan

•These poor kids

•Kota went for the KO

•”YOU FIEND OF A CHILD. GEEZ KID HOW OLD ARE YOU”

•”Brats got spunk”

“He’s like a mini version of you “

He’s right and should say it

•Mineta needs a muzzle

•The boys are all like we’re just as curious to see the girls but Mineta needs to calm down 300%

•Kota to the rescue!

•IIDA GOT A FACEFUL OF MiNETA ASS HE DIDNT DESERVE THAT AGSFJSHHSJXG

•Mina almost killed a child with her boobs I’m dead and so is Kota

•I’m sorry but it’s both funny and weird that Midoriya is just naked while being told this child’s tragic backstory

•Aizawa you are actively trying to kill your students aren’t you just admit it

Episode 41: Kota

•Testutestu is such a good boy

•Good training idea according to UA Teachers: Break yourselves or else you’re weak. Just fucking die then you can be heroes

•Tiger is amazing “I’m here to beat you guys to a pulp”

“I have some questions about him...” ME TOO RANDOM CLASS 1B STUDENT BUT I LOVE HIM

•Iida tries so hard

•Momo explains how her quirk works: smart and precise description

Sero Fucking Hanta: “like how poop works” BRUH

•This kid is literally just a mini Kacchan

•I’m sorry but Mido why would you ask a small child who you’re trying to befriend about their murdered parents like what part in your mind made you think that was a good idea

•Mina And Bakugo sleep the same way, starfish style, I love them. But who the FUCK is sleeping under a bunch of pillows off their mattress on the straight floor with their butt in the air (I bet money it’s Kaminari)

•everyone complaining about training in the dark:

Tokoyami: ”Revelry in the Dark”

•Kirishima’s too tired to deal with his angry boyfriend

•Todoroki trying to help Midoriya with Kota “be careful what you say, you can be really annoying” he’s trying

•Tokoyami constantly whispering “Revelry in the Dark” to himself is the FUNNIEST thing to me I love you, you emo punk

•It Dabi Time

Episode 42: My Hero

•these poor fucking kids I swear

•”we want our treat Mr. Aizawa”

“Do you want me to tighten your bindings?”

Oooh Kinky Bad Aizawa akshdhbekal

•MONOMA SHUT UP

•Spinner is a long lost Ninja Turtle Brother change my mind

•”DIDNT ANYBODY TELL YOU ITS NOT A HEROES JOB TO BE HAPPY” clearly

•I respect Testutestu so much

•This muscley villain is Bakugo’s real dad and nobody can tell me other wise

•Okay that fucking Bondage villain is genuinely terrifying

•KOTA BABY STAY BACK P L E A S E

•it’s been X amount of days since breaking my bones- erases whatever number was there and puts a fat zero MIDORIYA YOU WERE DOING SO WELL but for this we will make an exception I guess

•oh my fucKING GOD KOTA JUST R U N

•Mido really thought he was gonna die holy FUCK

•”One For All One Million Percent” MIDORIYA YOU CANT EVEN HANDLE 5% BABY BOY WHAT IS YOU DOIN

Episode 43: Drive It Home, Iron Fist

•Shiggy thinking in Video Games format is honestly so on brand

•Mido is FUCKED UP right now poor boy

•”We’re in big trouble” YEAH NO SHIT ERASURE

•BAMF Aizawa is my reason for living

•Okay I forgot how much I love Twice

•Aizawa seeing Izuku’s broken bones: ”AGAIN???”

•Kota’s precious and I LOVE DADZAWA

•KIRI’S SO UPSET THAT THAT THE VILLAINS ARE HERE FOR BAKUGO IM SOBBING

•”Teachers changing their minds about fighting, why do I feel like this is Deku’s fault” BAKUGO SHUT UP YOU HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT RIGHT NOW YOU DICKHEAD

•TESTUTESTU IS SUCH A GOOD BOY

•DUDE BROUGHT A FUCKING GUN TO A CAMP I FORGOT ABOUT THAT HOLY SHIIIITTT

•CLASS 1B MVPS KENDO AND TESTU MOTHERFUCKING TESTU

•Midoriyas doing a Naruto run because his arms are fucking broken I’m crying

•Tokoyami, Dark Shadow And Shouji IM READY

Episode 44: Roaring Upheaval

•Tokoyami tries so hard to be good I love him

•WE! DESERVE! SO! MUCH! MORE! SHOUJI!

•Yami is so emo And is just such a Good Boi AH

•Scared Bakugo is Baby

•Honestly they’re all Baby

•Toga:”I love messed up bleeding people”

Mido: shows up completely broken

Toga:”Mr. Stainy who? I want that one”

•Aoyama would be the kid who gets caught in hide and seek because they think they have a great spot and can’t be seen and try to peek them convince themselves still nobody saw them in plain sight

•Awase was fully prepared to die protecting Momo I’m CRYING he’s my new favorite

•Battle Plan Mastermind Mido is amazing

•Also poor unconscious kid just being dragged behind Uraraka haha

Episode 45: Shat A Twist!

•Kiri: “I cant let them take my boyfriend” poor boy just wants to help so bad

•Whelp nobody is safe

•LMAO Aizawa just stomping on Fake Dabi has me dying

•Shouto how long has it been since you last saw your brother...?

•Shouji SMACK A BITCH Mezo

•I LOVE SHOUJI

•Compress you freak get those kids out of your mouth ya nasty

•AOYAMA YES

•Dabi stop being a dick to your little brother I’m gonna tell Rei

•Kirishima is so upset AND IM UPSET MY BABIES

•These kids just wanted a fun week at camp LEAVE THEM ALONE THEYRE 15

•...Mic...is the traitor...

•I love how everybody hates All Might’s ringtone lmao

•All Might’s like only Us teachers are allowed to beat our kids to a pulp in order to better them as heroes y’all are just mean

•I know Mitsuki has just a bad a temper as her son but how do you think she reacted finding out her child was the kidnap victim of a villain attack? No matter what you think of her as a parent, that’s still her kid and she must have been devastated. But just like Katsuki she would never admit it to his face

•Precious Boy Denki And Class 1A coming to visit their hurt friends I love this class so much

•”I brought a present! I mean it’s from everyone. It’s a melon!” Okay that was pretty cute

•Kirishima being like “why is everyone crying we’re going to go get him let’s go gays time to get our Gremlin back”

•Kiri:”he’s still within your reach Midoriya!”

Mido:”...my arms are BUSTED my dude nothing is in my reach right now I’m still gonna come tho”

Episode 46: From Iida to Midoriya

•Kirishima is THE Best Boi I love him so fucking much I would die for him

•Iida’s trying his best not to blow a gasket

•”Hysterical Strength” yeah sounds like Deku

•”Go home and take it easy” lmao have you met this kid?

•Kota is so freaking sweet

•Izuku. Go see your mother

•Iida’s got some good points. I’m including that punch to Midoriya

•Bakugo must be so tired of being tied up and restrained you know he doesn’t have bondage kink later on in life just hits too close to trauma

•Kiri’s constant state of mind: WWBD (WHAT Would Bakugo Do)

•Mido: Stealth Mode=Wakanda Forever

•Iida has the best costume this is not up for debate. I also always forget he has an undercut, we Stan an icon

•”So the rich girl just wants to go shopping” I’m crying

•Clean Shaven/Neat Hair Aizawa? Hell to the fucking Yes Please

•I’m genuinely proud of Bakugo and the fact that he knows that he’s intense and scares a lot of people/ how he comes across is aggressive and almost villain like, he adamantly doesn’t want to be a villain even if everyone just assumes he would be. He wants to be a hero. Whatever it takes

Episode 47: All For One

•Rightful shoutout to Kendo and Testu

•”We are offering mental health counseling to every single student but right now we do not see signs of any serious psychological trauma” Nezu I’m sorry but those kids are officially fucked up for life you can’t be serious

•”what if they’re brainwashing young Bakugo right now towards the path of villainy” leave Bakugo ALONE

•Aizawa is like you come for my angry son I come for your throat try me again bitch

•FERAL GREMLIN BOY FIGHT OR FIGHT MODE ACTIVATED Bakugo has no flight mode only fight

•Mido: Incoherent mumbling

Momo:“this is peak Midoriya” I love how they’re just used to him now

•the boys are just like you’re not touching our friend you drunk creeps

•Kirishima came PREPARED to get his boy back I love him

•Bakugo just take the help you prideful little shit

•Okay Edgeshot is great where has he been all this time

•Annndddd it all went to shit so fast

•oh my god Best Jeanist is fuckin dead

Episode 48: Symbol of Peace

•”You won’t escape Shigaraki” umm so how’d that work out for ya All Might?

•Kamui Woods “IM SO SORRY” poor boy

•Talking to Best Jeanist:”consider me...pressed” All For One got jokes huh

•...yeah no BJ REALLY Fuckin Ded

•These kids are so fucking traumatized

•A WILD BAKUGOU APPEARS

•Twice has big Deadpool energy tbh

•Lmao Iida has had enough

•Mom and Dad of group award goes to Iida and Momo

•All For One: asks Kurogiri to help warp the League

Also All For One: Stabs him while doing it

•”I don’t think so. Because... I Am Here!” All For One really said Fuck All Might

•All these kids think in Video Game Lmao

•I know there’s a lot of commotion happening but I definitely feel like the villains would be able to hear them talking

•Midoriya went to Kirishima like time to get your asshole boyfriend back you lovesick fool

•”YOU IDIOTS” you’re smiling because your friends are here you jerk

•Everyone’s so intense then Kiri-fucking-shima is there smiling like an idiot because BAKUGO’S BACK

•ALL MIGHT ALL MIGHT ALL MIGHT ALL MIGHT

•...I always forget Shiggy’s familial lineage and it’ makes me sad every time

•I love this episode so MUCH

Episode 49: One For All

•YOUNG MIGHT

•Nana Shimura looks just like Momo...Todoroki Secret Lovechild Theories Intensifies

•”YOU GUYS DIDN’T RESCUE ME YOU WERE MY BEST ESCAPE ROUTE”

“You’re welcome!”

Oh Bakugo just say thank you

•...soooo many people died in Camino Ward, man...

•Aizawa looks so young

•ALL THE KIDS WATCHING THEIR TEACHER AND HERO GET BEATEN TO A PULP HORRIFYINGLY IM SO UPSET

•All For One really just pulled an “I am your father” move but with Shiggy and Nana that’s messed up

•THE PEOPLE RALLYING BEHIND ALL MIGHT IM SOBBING YALL

•NOW IS NOT THE TIME ENDEAVOR

•THERE WE GO THATS BETTER

•Everyone loves All Might I’m so soft

•I’m genuinely crying guys

•...can everyone hear All For One talking about Midoriya oorrrrr???

•All Might you’re pulling a Deku pleaSE STOP

•United States of Smash I cant

•Kirishima really tried holding Bakugo’s hand YALL

•...Bakugo knows

•I love this episode too I’m so upset

Episode 50: End of the Beginning, Beginning of the End

•Gran Torino explaining why they didn’t know about Shimura’s family/Shigaraki is. Sad

•Bakugo is traumatized someone please help him

•Endeavor and Bakugo are the same person and I hate it

•Midoriya and All Might running to each other on the beach is big Marty and Alex from Madagascar energy I’m cackling

•PROUD DADMIGHT MAKES ME SOFT YOU’RE BOTH CRYING AND I AM S O F T

• PARENT TIME YES

•Jirou’s parents are so cool, Kyoka’s so cool THE JIROUS ARE SO COOL

•Oh my god the Bakugos are so CHAOTIC

•It all makes so much sense why he is the way he is and it’s all. Too much. Poor Katsuki

•He’s so. Tired. You can tell. I just want to give him a hug

•”Be CoOl MoM” Izu you’re just as tense and you’ve been with All Might for literally HOW LONG???

•Mama Midoriya is. Right. But that sucks for Izuku

•This is. So. Emotional

Last part of Season 3 is next. DORM LIFE BABY just a little less angst thank god these kids need a break

#mha rewatch #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #summer training camp #camino ward #rescue bakugo #part 5 #DORMS DORMS DORMS #spoilers

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kor-knight · 7 years

Text

Darkness Prevails epilogue

AND ITS DONE. Though, this was actually very hard to write. I overall wish to thank all those who read my story, and everyone who liked it, reblogged, and commented. You are my very existence. I also wish to thank my boyfriend, cause he’s like my biggest fan, following the story alongside all of you guys haha. Angel, enjoy it hunny! @stillapieceoftrash

Perfect

Of all the words in the plethora of words known to man, Betty would have never thought she would use that specific word to describe her life right now. But no amount of words that came to mind could possibly describe it better than that – her life was perfect.

7 years had past since the events of her teenage years – since her life was on the edge of a blade and she danced with darkness more times than she liked to. After her trip to the hospital and court hearings, Betty finally went back to school, soon after graduating top of her class – valedictorian obviously – alongside Archie and Veronica. Jughead had graduated a year later, having to repeat due to absences and lack of good grades. But once they were all done high school, it was a collective agreement to attend college together.

So they all applied, and got accepted to NYU; Betty and Jughead with the English majors, Archie on a sports scholarship with a minor in Music, and Veronica majored in Fashion design. After long conversations with parents, tons of planning, and house-hunting, the 4 set off for the city that never sleeps (or was that Paris?) They moved into a slightly larger apartment relatively close to the campus, adorned with two huge bedrooms located on opposite sides of the space - “for privacy sake” Veronica had said, a coy smile on her lips. The large common area had 4 desks, one of which was huge – Veronica clearly stating she needed a big one for her designs. Betty was solely in charge of cooking for the 4 of them, whilst Jughead and Archie were strictly on cleanup duty. Their little family was dysfunctional, but just as much home as Riverdale was.

College had been fun too, albeit insane exams. Classes were easy (at least for Betty they were), and her professors were pretty cool. They had even attended a few parties, more so a ‘Veronica and Archie’ scene as a designated “Power Couple” on the campus. Jughead and Betty had chosen more reserved extra curricular activities, such as poetry reading nights at the Java Jones down the road, or (big surprise) the double feature at a local theater.

But it was during their last year of college when Betty and Jughead’s life had changed for the better.

Betty had found out she was pregnant.

After countless failed attempts at getting back into their rhythm, of nights spent crying over too real nightmares and reoccurring ptsd, Betty finally sought the help so the elephant in the room didn’t butcher her relationship with Jughead any further. Though, even with all the struggles, Jughead never pressured Betty into anything, always letting her be the one in charge, pulling away when he felt her whole body tense, or just sit and talk her back from the edge of insanity. He had been everything she needed, and then some. So after weekly sessions with a therapist, Betty was able to expand their relationship to the peak they had it at before.

They spent nights wrapped in naked embraces, whispering sweet nothings to one another as they conquered Betty’s internal battles and heeded Jughead’s external desires. So little words were said during their times together, only primal sounds of need and want, battling for control throughout the night.

And thus lead to their baby.

She still remembered telling Jughead the news, every single detail.

“Juggie, I need to tell you something.” Her lip was between her teeth, eyes carefully watching the man in front of her. They were in their room at the apartment, Betty seating at the edge of their bed while Jughead was perched at the head of it, back against the wall.

Jughead blanked, body timid, eyes concerning. “Did I do something wrong?” His voice was raspy but soft, just above a whisper.

Betty shook her head furiously, placing her hands on the sides of his face. “No Juggie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His smile melted her heart, hands coming to rest on her sides.

“So what did you need to tell me?” Jughead asked.

“I uh-” Betty bit her lip again, looking away. Jughead’s hand came to rest on her jaw, bringing her eyes back to his, without saying a word he just nodded. Letting out a breath and standing from the bed, Betty finally said. “Juggie I’m pregnant.”

The first thing Jughead did was drop his mouth open in shock. Or awe. Or dispair. Betty didn’t quite know what emotion it was, but what came after is what Betty truly loved. Jughead smiled. He smiled so large she thought his face was going to crack. A full, toothy, completely and utterly happy kind of smile. Then he kissed her. He kissed her again, and again. Peppering kisses across her face, along her neck, back to her face. His arms were around her, pulling her so close she thought he was trying to morph them together.

“Really?!” He asked, so much excitement and joy, Betty had never seen him like this before. She just nodded, unable to find words in this wonder. “I’m going to be a dad?” He said the last word tentatively, sorta like he was testing it out. His smile a few seconds later made Betty assume he was fine with the term, and new title. He picked her up in his arms, twirling her around a few times before setting her down once more, placing another quick kiss on her smiling lips. Jughead stood quickly, launching himself off the mattress with ease.

Then he dropped to his knees, side of his face flush against her tummy as he smiled. “My baby,” was all he said. A tear escaped Betty’s eye, words cutting off from the lump in her throat. She just sniffled. Jughead looked up at her, concerned. “Whats wrong?” He was standing in front of her again, hands on either side of her face. Betty just shook her head, a few more tears streamed down her cheeks. Jughead’s thumb gently wiped them away, kissing her cheeks softly. “You are so beautiful.” Betty just smiled, closing her eyes. “The mother to my baby.”

He kissed her then, and no matter how many times Betty relives the moment, the kiss gets longer and longer. Better every time. Their lips played a devilish dance, limbs wrapping around one another in a fight for dominance. Betty finally let Jughead take control, falling into step with his movements and just living for the moment.

Betty flushed at the memory, touching her lips with her finger and smiling. The door opened to her right, Jughead appearing from the threshold.

“Hey Juggie.” Betty said, smiling. She was making lunch, smiley face sandwiches and only the best fruit. Jughead took a step forward, placing a quick kiss on Betty’s temple.

“Hey Betts, where’s Hunter?” Jughead asked, grabbing an apple slice and shoving into his mouth.

“In the living room with Ronnie. Archie should be here soon.” Jughead smiled, kissing her temple once more before retreating to the other room, happy giggles erupting from within. Betty smiled as she continued to cut the fruit. Finishing up, she plates everything and quickly emerges in the other room, food in hand and a smile on her lips.

Before her was Jughead, seated on the floor with Hunter – their energetic 9 month old son – while Veronica laughed from the couch. Archie was walking into the room as Betty put the food down, nodding for everyone to eat while she pulled Hunter to her arms. He cooed loudly, throwing his tiny arms around her neck. Betty giggled, enveloping him with her arms.

Jughead was beside them soon after, picking up the toddler easily and tossing him up slightly in his arms, igniting fits of laughter from the tiny boy. Hunter’s green eyes bright with excitement as Jughead continues to play with him, tickling and playing airplane. Betty just watches, laughing at her two boys. Veronica comes to sit beside her, gushing about a new set of cute clothes she’s going to buy Hunter. Archie pipes up about teaching their son how to play the guitar.

“He’ll be a rock star, like me!” Archie puffs out his chest, smirking. Veronica laughs, while Betty just smiles.

“Sure Archiekins, whatever you say boo.” Jughead says coyly, making silly faces at his son.

Archie just smiles wider, laughing. “I don’t know what’s more scary. Jughead calling me boo, or the fact that Ronnie didn’t have my back!” He feigned hurt, thrusting a hand to his chest and hanging his head. Betty bursts out laughing, covering her mouth to stop herself from snorting at the poor boy.

Veronica moves to sit beside Archie, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Babe, there isn’t anything I can do to help you there.” Her smile was smug as he pulled from her grasp, gasping at her words.

“You guys are so mean to me! Why did I ever become friends with you again.” Everyone was laughing then, even Hunter, at Archie’s exaggerated expressions and flailing of his arms. Betty held her stomach tightly, the muscles in her core tense from the fits of laughter.

Once she calmed her laughter, she leaned back against the couch, watching her friends. Archie and Ronnie were talking about something, both their face close to one another and animated. Ronnie was smiling at something Archie said, leaning her head against his shoulder before kissing his cheek. Betty smiled at them, fingers tracing the scar on her wrist idly.

Jughead’s hand engulfed hers, bringing her attention to him. His blue eyes were filled with concern, looking down at Betty’s fingers then back up at her. She just shrugged, smiling at him. He mouthed the words she knew all too well, nodding before he could finish. He frowned, placing their son on the floor in front of him before scooting over to drape an arm over her shoulders.

“You ok?” He whispered, voice tickling her ear and sending a wave of pleasure down her spine. She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting her voice won’t sound heady. She notices his frown again, before leaning her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes gently.

“I’m ok Juggie.”

He cleared his throat, Betty feeling his head move in a nod. She keeps her eyes closed, unaware of if she’s falling asleep of just lost in thought. She’s brought back to reality when Jughead moves away from her, causing her head to dip painfully to the side. Rubbing her neck, Betty just opens her eyes. Hunter was sleeping on the couch behind her head, snuggled closely with his toy monkey named FP. Looking around, she stands.

Jughead was watching Archie and Veronica closely, waiting for the signal. When Archie finally looked over at him, a slight nod was all he got before Archie stood.

“Ronnie?” Veronica looked up at her name, concern filling her perfect features.

“Yes Archie?” She stood, sparing a glance at Betty, who just shook her head with lack of knowledge. “What is it?”

“Veronica. Ronnie. You’ve been by my side for longer than I can remember. You’re my biggest fan, and truest supporter, you’re one of the reasons I even continued with music when I wanted to quit.” Veronica was watching him, a charcoal tear trailing down her face. Archie reaches behind him, grasping something, then drops to one knee. “Veronica Lodge, will you marry me?”

“Holy shit!” Betty’s voice broke the silence, causing Jughead to chuckle. Veronica stood silent, tears streaming down her face, smudging her makeup. She had a hand over her mouth, nodding furiously. Archie shot an eyebrow up, confusion all over his face.

“Yes!” Veronica finally shouted, a choked laugh following. Archie smiled huge, standing up and enveloping her in his arms. “100 times yes, Archie. Oh my god.” Archie kissed her then, while Betty whistled, laughing at the two of them from her side of the room.

“Betty?”

Jughead’s voice broke through the noise, Betty turning on her heel, still smiling. Then she halts. Before her is Jughead, down on one knee and navy blue eyes burning bright. A hand comes up to her mouth, strangling the gasp that escapes her closing throat.

“Betts, I don’t have a fancy speech like Archie does, but I just have one question.” He pulls out a tiny box, opening his with a click. Inside is the most beautiful ring Betty’s ever seen, engraved on the side is a J, opposite of that is a B. Tears flow freely down Betty’s cheeks as she inhales sharply. “Elizabeth Cooper, will you marry me?”

“Oh my gosh.” Veronica’s voice rang out, a shrill sound in the silence that followed.

Betty doesn’t respond, just launches herself into his arms, tears flowing quickly as she wraps her arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around her torso easily, holding her tightly. She could hear his small sniffles, indication of his own crying.

She pulls back slightly, leaning back on her knees. “Yes.” His face lit up at the one word, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss so full of passion, it was a wonder the whole world didn’t shatter. Betty wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his messy hair. His arms came around her waist, pulling her as close as possible. They stayed like that for eternity, or at least it felt like it to them.

Pulling away, out of breath and flushed, Betty leaned her forehead against Jughead’s, biting her lip.

“I love you, Elizabeth Cooper.” She opened her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Jughead Jones. I love you.”

#Bughead #bughead fanfic #riverdale #riverdale fanfic #betty cooper #jughead jones #archie andrews #veronica lodge #betty x jughead #betty and jughead #bughead fanfiction #riverdale au

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celestivbys-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1: Forgotten?

A Picture when Pile, with her dogs, coincidentally meets Ucchi

As soon as Pile enters her home, she’s greeted by 2 toy poodles that were standing, jumping and softly barking.

“Aww you guys ♡, hihi”, says Pile as she lovingly hugs them.

Right after, she heads straight to her bedroom and decides to lay her bag on the bed.

She looks back and gazes upon the clock

‘It’s 9:15 p.m. already? Wow, I didn’t expect it to be that late...’ Pile has thought to herself,

but then she blinks quickly in realization-

“HOLD ON! That’s still, in fact, early for me! I have no bedtime!”

As Pile sorts out her bag, unexpectedly, a light shines out of nowhere in the side pocket, causing her heart to skip a beat.

She places her right hand on her chest and lightly sighs as she realizes right away that it was her phone.

“There’s A LOT of notifications. How’d it get to such amount? Have I not checked my phone?- Oh that’s right, I had set it on silent since I had a live today~ must have forgotten.”

She sits down on the side of her bed and scrolls through all of her missed notifications.

You can see how much happiness she’s filled with, as she laughs and smiles, reading through all of her birthday greetings.

But when she looks up at the ceiling and sighs in a sign of disbelief, right there and there, the atmosphere has changed its mood.

She looks back at her phone for about a minute without saying anything, nor having any facial expressions.

‘Everyone seemed to have greeted me, and the only ones who haven’t are those in-

Her eyebrows furrow.

‘Mimori is the only one who has tweeted me a birthday greeting, but still....’

‘They couldn’t have forgotten, could they? Are they planning a surprise perhaps?...No, that can’t be the case since I have no plans with them, nor was I invited to anything.’

“It’s 9:38 p.m. already....Last time we chat was 3 days ago....”, Pile’s voice shifts to a nervous tone in the latter, “and I don’t even want to remember what it was about (•~•) ....”

The birthday girl grips her phone with her left hand, while she rests her chin on the palm of her right. Her mind is piled up with so many questions, choices, and decisions, as she asks herself of what she must do.

‘Shall I remind them?’

Her eyes are now starting to shift to different places…

‘Or maybe at least give a clue about it?- ’

“No No No, that’s not you Eriko! That’s a bit selfish of you...Is it even a selfish act though??

Gah, I don’t even know anymore…Why am I so desperate?”

The μ’s girls are very precious to her. Well, LoveLive! is the main reason as to why her career as a singer became successful.

Poor girl, her mind rambles on several ideas, options, and disagreements. And after the live she just had today, and with all these thinking, she just got her brain all worn out.

“Aaaagh”, she lays herself on the mattress, covering her eyes with the back of her right’s forearm.

Flashbacks then come to her mind of each of her Love Live! μ’s colleague’s birthday celebration. Last that has come in was Kussun’s, she felt a bit jealous as to how grand of a surprise it was. But even so, she lightly smiles as to remembering those moments.

“They just can’t forget…I had a live show and the fact that Mimori tweeted me, how could they not be informed that it’s my 30th birthday…”

The light brunette is now filled with negative emotions such as sadness and disappointment, but actually it is more on confusion and disbelief.

She wants to cry them all out but decides to not to and tries to recall all the positive episodes that have happened today. It is her birthday after all, she does not want to end this special day with such negativity.

9:24 a.m.

Pile opens her eyes halfway. She tries to recollect herself as she sits up, pulling her knees close to her. She hugs em and rests her chin on top.

After about 3 mins, she notices that she did not change clothes from yesterday’s live and the fact that she did not take an evening shower, she rushes to the bathroom to freshen up.

As Pile prepares her breakfast, she hears a familiar ringtone coming from the living room.

‘Who can be calling?’

As she glances over her phone,

her eyes widen and immediately answers the call-

“SU-CHAN!”

“AH! Pai-chan, you seem hyper first thing in the morning....

By the way, that’s the 100th time you’ve screamed my name whenever you answer my calls.”

“Really Suzuko? Out of all the numbers, it just had to be 100?”

“Hehe....Yes. ANYWAYS, could you make me matcha green tea? I’ll be there in a few seconds-“

“Wait, WHAT?”

“Bye Pileeee”

Mimori hungs up

‘Huuuh?! In seconds?! How close by is she???!’, Pile thinks out to herself as she prepares the necessities for the requested tea.

Even with the certain amount of confusion going about in her head, Pile’s mood has certainly shifted to excitement.

Ding dong

And there she goes dashing down the entrance hallway. Her footsteps can be heard by her friend waiting outside; she too was also a member of Love Live! μ’s.

A Picture of Mimori and Chocolat-chan

“Eh? Do I look like a ghost to you?”

“Why a ghost?”

“Because your face said it all when you burst opened the door.”

“Yes Suzuko- OF COURSE NOT. Since when was someone happy seeing a ghost?!”

“Uhm...ghostbusters, hehehe”, Mimori grins to her answer as Pile’s face turns into someone annoyed or unamused. ( ＾∀＾)/（−＿−；）

“Then maybe I am a ghostbuster, and that means to say that you DO look like a ghost.”, Pile says in a sarcastic tone.

“Correction.... A beautiful ghost“, says Mimori in reply with her signature Mimo wink at the end.

“Haha, funny-“

The kettle begins to rustle, alerting Pile.

“Oh! That’s for your tea!”, Pile runs back and asks Mimori to close the door for her instead.

As Mimori rests herself on the couch, found in the living room, she unleashes Chocolat in order to play with Pile’s dogs.

“Su-chan, why are you here anyways?”, Pile approaches with the tea Mimori asked for.

“Well, I wanted to hang out with you in the mall. I decided to fetch you instead of meeting you up there.” Mimori takes a sip and places the tea on top of the wooden coffee table in front of them.

Pile’s eyes starts to widen, because the first thing that comes into her mind is perhaps a birthday surprise.

“But why inform me in matter of seconds before your arrival?”

“Uhm...SURPRISE-“

“Not buying that...”

“Fineee...it was your birthday after all. You had a live show yesterday and I was pretty sure that you’d be busy and tired for the day. But really, I wanted to surprise ya of my visit. I want to celebrate your birthday, just you and me, like last year when we did with mine.”

“You shouldn’t have informed me then, that way it would’ve been more of a surprise... Plus, after your call, you had me more confused than being surprise-“

“No. You were mostly excited than being confused AND surprised.”, Mimori smirks. Embarrassed, Pile looks away from Mimori and acts like Maki by saying her famous line, “Nani sore, imi wakannai!”.

Pile then thinks to herself,

‘Could the rest of the girls be waiting for us in the mall to surprise me? They must’ve tasked Mimori to fetch me.’

“Are you really trying to act like Maki-chan? Hehe, can’t forget about μ’s?”, asks Mimori.

“OF COURSE NOT!”, Pile abruptly shouts in a way that caused Mimori to flinch.

“Woa, Pile...a-are you alright?”

She then returns to her normal self when Mimori asked her the question.

“Oh no. I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s fine, I just didn’t think that you would react that way.”, Mimori smiles in order for Pile to calm down.

“Right...Well, imma dress up now.”, Pile stands up and heads straight to the staircase.

“Don’t wear anything formal by the way, I am not treating you to a very grand restaurant or anything.”

“Awww whatt...Yea yea I know, and besides- I had planned to wear my Nishikino Maki Animal Hoodie.”

“Why not the jersey one like mine?”

“I don’t want to be matchy-matchy with your Umi Jersey Jacket. I just want us to be wearing something similar in concept.”

Mimori takes a sip off her tea.

“Pfffft...matchy-matchy? Yours doesn’t even have the exact same design as mine. You’re just shy because we would look lik- HEY! WAS I TALKING TO NO ONE?!”

‘Hmph she left me, and now I feel embarrassed because it looked as if I was talking to MYSELF.....

Although Pile,

Flashback

that was the first time I’ve heard you reply in a very sharp and serious tone, and yet the topic was about μ’s….Did something happen...?‘

“I’m done!”

The lady that was left alone raises an eyebrow, “And you’re not sorry?”

“Sorry for what?”

“For leaving me while I was talking? Never mind then...hmph!”

“Wait I did? All I heard was “pffft”, then I thought you were gonna pout and force me to follow what you want, so I left.”

“Amazing Pile, simply amazing”, Mimori slowly claps.

“Don’t worry Su-chan, I know your style heh.”

Pile winks back at Mimori and heads down to the entrance hall, where her shoe room can also be found. But then a loud scream is heard,

“AAH!”

“Su-chan, what’s the matter?!”, Pile runs back.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry...

Chocolat-chan ran and bumped into the coffee table, and then the tea spilled onto your floor. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh no, it’s okay, I’ll clean it up. This will also serve as my apology for leaving you.”

“No no, I’ll also help clean….

BUUUuuT, since you didn’t want to be “matchy-matchy”, at least let me be the one to choose your shoes.”

“Uh- is that necessary?”

“That will serve as your apology instead, hihi”

“ I trust you for choosing my shoes, but I want to pick for myself.”

“Aw c’mon, pretty pleeeeaaaseee?” Mimori does the puppy eyes since she knows it is irresistible, especially to Pile. And now Pile tries to look away, closing her own two eyes, but still opens one of them afterwards. Mimori is still doing it, and no matter what Pile does, she cannot find herself to say no.

Sweatdrop

“Mmmmmm...I should’ve seen this one coming...”, Pile lets out a sigh and smiles back at Mimori.

“Fine, you go pick. Just make sure it’ll match the hoodie I’m wearing.”

“Yey, hehehehe.” Mimori claps with her fingers rapidly as she goes to the shoe room.

“You really do act like a pre-schooler sometimes...well, most of the times.”

Mimori replies while looking back, “We both do… everyone in μ’s in fact.”

“Yea...”, the dark brunette looks at her dear friend with concern but shrugs it off before she notices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mimopai #pile #seiyuufanfic #lovelive!#pile's 30th birthday #birthdaysurprise

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