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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one.

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction.

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else.

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play?

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

#replies tag #dracula #horror tag #bram stoker #charles dance #sebastian stan #mads mikkelsen #castlevania #raul julia #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #nandor

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0xo · 2 years ago

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okay nobody asked but here's the story:

so my mum grew up catholic but isn't particularly tied to that. when i was younger, like maybe eight or so, she was exploring different churches to see if one might interest her.

well she ended up going to the fucking church of scientology. one of her friends gave her the dianetics book and she found it so interesting that she decided to go to the local branch and see what was up. me, being a hyperlexic bookworm, also read the book. i found it... interesting, but i wasn't really buying it.

so she went for a few services and after a few weeks she decided to bring me, as the general services are "child friendly." by all accounts, the whole thing was pretty unassuming, and even nice. a big building and a little gathering hall with live music, snacks, and extremely friendly people; it honestly wasn't so different "normal" church services i'd been dragged to after saturday night sleepovers with religious school friends.

so since my mum was new to the whole thing, and it's a cult, people were paying special attention to her. two of the "leaders" offered us a tour of the building - it's a beautiful victorian-era renaissance-style building, genuinely an architectural marvel. they told us about how it was a boarding school, the oldest of its kind in our city to survive to the modern era. i was thrilled to be shown around such a place, as i was/am very into architecture. (if you're interested, it's the nashville scientology center. gorgeous place, DO NOT VISIT.)

the tour leaders were super nice to us, too, and spoke kindly and directly to me instead of through my mum. i appreciated this, as i thought myself smart enough to be spoken to as an equal. at that point, i liked the place and the people.

this all crumbled when we got to the final stop on the tour - an octagonal room in an underground floor, which they called the "library." there were shelves on every wall full of books, dozens of each title, all still in shrinkwrap. i loved books, wanted to read anything available. being me, i asked a simple question.

"can i read these?"

the two men looked at each other, then back to me. one spoke. "well, you have to purchase them first."

"well, then, this is not a library." it seemed extremely obvious to me; words have meaning and a library is where all books are free to read at any time. not a place you buy books. that is a bookstore.

"no, no, it is! it's where we keep all the books, so it's our library," one of the men insisted, looking at his companion instead of at me. i could not tell what that glance meant, but i was irritated that he didn't seem to understand my statement. my mother did not cut in at all; in hindsight, i think she wanted to see how it would play out.

i tried again to make my meaning clear. "no, this is a bookstore. libraries are free. you can pick up anything you want and look at it."

"well, why don't we move on!" the other man said, moving back towards the door. they talked briefly with my mother, not to me, and i was flummoxed by this. nobody had acknowledged that there was no true library in the building, and they were chatting like i didn't exist.

we left shortly after. in the car, my mum told me i was right, but also that "you don't have to be right all the time." something about being rude. in my mind, i was not at all rude, i was asking to read. and when denied that, i had to point out the error in naming. it was wrong and nobody else would say it! (looking back, i realize how my tone of voice could be seen as rude - i tended towards flat affect and blunt statements. again, autistic child.)

some time later, my mum got a "friendly" call from one of the guys who gave the tour. i was not present for the conversation, but according to my mum, it went something like this:

he said "we'd be very happy to have you back any time, but could you arrange alternative childcare?" so she said "are you saying my kid can't come to service with me?" and he said "well, yes, that would be preferable." so she asked why, and he said i was "a little too obtuse." big mistake.

you probably don't know this, but my mum raised me alone for the first few years of my life. we were attached at the hip, a package deal. i was a quiet and mostly well-behaved child, so i went almost everywhere with her. our relationship has had its flaws, but also? i fully believe she would fight a bear for me.

so hearing i wasn't invited for asking to read, hearing me called obtuse, set her off. she might've told me i was rude in how i said it, but she knew i was right!

so she said something like "if you think i'm going to attend a church where my child isn't welcome, you're entirely off your fucking rocker. the kid was right, it's a bookstore. i will not be returning, take my number off your list."

and that is how having an autistic eight year old got my mum to dodge joining a cult! she was genuinely into it until she was told i wasn't invited back for asking one question. i wasn't even trying to ruin her experience there, i was one hundred percent upset that the "library" was a sham. i wanted to read!

every day i think about how me being an autistic smartass got my mum basically kicked out of a cult

#long post #i just. think about this a lot.#scientologists HATE this: one simple question to crumble a cult

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rudystopit · 3 years ago

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Looking for Someone

[aizawa x f!reader]

summary: aizawa is a PI looking a missing person. he notices a young women looking around the places the missing person was last seen. he starts following her.

warnings: nsfw, eating out, brat/tamer, unprotected sex, and overstimulation.

wc: 5k

He sat inside his car. He would never the noticed the nasty smell of rotting food and his own body order. Old coffee cups, fast food wrapping and Chinese take out littered his passenger seat. He sat deep into the seat with a camera to his face.

He took pictures of a 19 year old girl, walking down the street. See that sounds weird but Aizawa Shouta is the best PI in the lower boroughs. His greasy hair is always tied up and his scuff leaves unshaved until he found it annoyingly long. He never seemed to smile. He always working on some case and buried himself his work.

This case was a missing college junior. Her black hair and deep brown eyes are plastered all over the city. The host parents contacted him after the police said it was likely she was dead. he never liked the police, that’s why he never became one after high school.

He clicked a few more photos of the girl before exiting his car to follow her. Her hair bounced as she walked down the busy street. She had been visiting the last places the missing girl was at. A small cafe, an old bodega, a drug store, and a bookstore. She had been down here five times in the last three weeks. She ordered the same green tea and walked to the other places. Aizawa figured out her name is y/n l/n. she’s a student at the local college. Art major. She had some pretty good pieces in the local art show last year.

He followed her into the cafe. She ordered her tea and walked to the other end of the cafe. She pulls out her phone and scans the cafe. Her deep e/c set on his. She smiled and went back to her phone.

“Black coffee,” his deep, raspy voice rang out. His eye contact never leaving the young woman’s figure. He soaked in every inch of soft small body. Her eyes darted over the screen.

“She’s pretty, right?” The young kid on the other side of the counter said. This snapped Aizawa out of his daze. “She’s been coming here more often. I hope she’s single,” the kid laughs, looking at the young woman. “$3.50”

He gave the kid a five and walked over to the other side. Her tea was done and she thanked the worker and walked out the cafe. His coffee was done a few seconds later. He didn’t want to lose her so he swiftly walked out as she quickly turns around and runs square into his chest. Her hair smelt like vanilla and it was softer than what he imagined. She backs up and apologizes profusely. She asked to buy him a new drink and grabbed napkins to clean off the tea and coffee.

“It’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” he jokes. She looks at him not laughing. after awhile of silence, she checked her watch.

“Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry again,” and with that she was off.

Aiwaza climbed back in his nasty car and drive. She doesn’t know anything. It’s just a coincidence. He went to a small diner on the outskirts of the city.It was an old ma and pop diner with the old red paint and faded sign saying “jersey’s.” The ring above the door rang to announce the new arrivals. He sat in the old booth by the front windows. A woman in a yellow dress uniform walks over.

“Good morning, Shouta,” the young woman’s voice rang. He smiled and looked at her. “The usual?”

“Good morning Anne, yes, Ricky in the back?” He asked.

“Sure is. we were just joking that we were gonna put a ‘Shouta Special’ on the menu,” she laughed, scribbling down his name. Ricky knew what that meant. Black coffee, eggs, hash and hot sauce.

“Ha, no one wants what I eat,” he laughed as Anne walked into the back. Aizawa pulls out a notebook and a case file. He flips open his notes to scribble off Y/n’s name.

The pencil hovered over the beautiful name. Something about her perfect hair and shining eyes that put a weird feeling in his chest. She feels familiar to him yet also new. He had felt this before but never this intense.

There are never coincidences in this line of work.

He looked over his papers and shoved the food into his mouth. Anne sat down in the other booth. She liked watching him and today was slow and the other waitress said she needs the tips.

“So Shouta, tell me about this one,” she said.

“Missing person,” he mumbled scanning over the papers. His face stayed in a scowl and his eyes were dull until he thought he found a clue.

“Sometimes it helps thinking out loud,” Anne said, pulling the papers out of his face.

“Saito Yui, she’s a college student. Straight A’s. Pre-med. She’s top of her class. Barely parties. No boyfriend. But she misses Saturday brunch with her family. Then misses a hang-out with her friend, then classes on Monday. Police say she left. There’s no evidence that she was taken. No enemies. No stalkers and she never got on any one’s bad side,” he says. “There’s this girl though. She’s been in all the spots that Yui was before she went missing,”

“Do you think she knows something?” Anne asked, leaning in.

He pulls out his camera. He clicks through the photos and turned it to her. She took the camera in her hands. she looked at it with focus. Like she was trying to read her.

“I hope she’s innocent,” Anne finally said, handing the camera back. Aiwaza looked at her puzzlingly. “She pretty and has a lot to live for.” Anne always knew what to say, even if it wasn’t correct. She slides out of the booth. “See you tomorrow Shouta,” she waves and disappears into the back.

He looked back at his notes. The only connection between Yui and y/n was that they had a class together on Thursdays. Intro to sociology. He decided he would go and sit outside the class and wait for her to come out.

He watched the college kids walk around him. A lot of them didn’t notice him and the ones that did shot him a dirty look. The wide doors open and a young woman comes walking out out in a tennis skirt and a pull over with the college name printed on the chest. Aiwaza watched as she walked away. Her h/c bounced with each determined step. he leans off the wall and makes his way to her.

“miss l/n.” she wipes around and stares him down. her eyes held such intensity, it took aiwaza back. “i have some questions for you.” he says.

“aren’t you the guy from the cafe? are you following me?” she beginning to walk away from him. he reaches out and grabs her soft wrist.

“please it’s about yui saito,” his grip tightens as she pulls away.

“let go creep,” she spat. “i barely know the exchange student. she lived in my dorm, that’s all i know,” and she turn away.

aizawa sat on a bench and pull his head in his hands. “god i know this job is hard but i know she knows something.” he mumbled to himself. he got up and walked to his car. the young y/n was leaning against it on her phone. he walks up to her.

she looks up at him. he unlocks the car and climbs in hoping she was gonna move. she opens the passager side door. he looks at her with a questioning look.

“you’re right i know more but i wasn’t gonna tell you in the middle of my college campus,” she says with her attitude. he moves all the trash to the back seat and she jumps in. “your car reeks,” she says rolling down the window and pinching her nose.

“shut up brat.” he pulls out of the parking lot and goes to jersey’s.

“do you want to know what i know?” he glared at her. “then be nice,” the whole drive y/n was staring out the window. she watches the old victorian buildings turned small business fade into the american suburbs to a ratty diner in the middle of nowhere.

“jersey’s? never heard of it” she says sliding out of his car. she stretches her arms and heads to the door. aiwaza glares at her as she walks in and talks with anne. she shows her to his usual booth and pulls aiwaza aside.

“she’s way pretty in person,” she laughs. her tone drops to a serious one quickly, “reminds me of someone,” aiwaza knew exactly who she was talking about.

about 10 years back, he was working a case and meet a spunky accountant looking for something fun to do. she somehow became a target for some under organization and sadly she didn’t make it. but aiwaza had ready fallen in love with her. how her brown hair flowed in the wind as she always rolled down his windows. or how she always insisted that if he wasn’t going to dress professionally that she was. and she stuck to it. always wearing pencil skirts or dress slacks. aiwaza missed her but the woman sitting in front of him definitely had her attitude and curiosity on life.

he stay there and watched y/n look threw the menu. she mumbled to herself and pointed at some names. she twitches her nose and scrunches it up as read the descriptions. Anne comes over and takes her order which was just a plate of fries.

“are you sure?” anne asks. y/n just nodded. “black coffee i’m guessing?” she looks over at aiwaza.

“yeah,” he lets out. anne rushes away. “what do yo know,”

“well i was going through her stuff and i saw a necklace from this weird jewelry store downtown and it’s 100% a cult. i think they took Yui,” aiwaza sighed and leaned back.

“i know and they didn’t. i talked to them and they said they remember her buying the necklace but she didn’t join their pray list.” he rubs his eyes and looks at the woman.

her eyes looking over every inch of him. he felt his cheeks heat up a little. he pulls his hands on the table as she about the grab them anne comes with her food and his coffee.

“her host family said she didn’t seem like the type of girl to just leave without telling anybody,” he said bring the cup to his mouth.

“do you shower?” she asks in such a cheery tone. aiwaza chokes on his coffee and coughs. “maybe that’s why your not married,” she takes a fry into her mouth. “because you stink.” he hears anne laughing behind him.

“i shower and i’m not married because i don’t have time to meet anyone,” he glared at her.

“well the waitress seems to know you really well. you should ask her out,” aizawa’s cheeks gets red.

“shut up brat,” he puts down some cash and starts to get up.

“i’m sorry, please let me help you,” she asks.

“no,” he makes his way to the door.

“please! i promise i can help!” she follows him.

“no, do you need a ride back or can you walk?” he asks before getting in his car.

“yes i need ride. and i’m sorry for asking if you shower and saying you stink. please i want to help you. i’m really smart. i can help you,” she begs.

“fine,” he says driving back to the school. y/n talked the whole way about things she noticed about yui saito. like one time at a party she didn’t even drink or how she always showered super early in the morning.

“what’s your name?” she asked before getting out.

“aizawa,” he answers, staring at the students watching a young woman get out of his car. his cheeks flushed at the thought of what they were thinking.

“aizawa,” the way she says his name. silky smooth and he wished he could hear it again. “aizawa!” she yelled. he snapped to look at her.

“what brat?” she held her phone out. he took it and quickly punched in his number. He hands back the phone. She quickly sends a little hi.

“I’m guess you already know my name, but I’m y/n,” she smiles and walks away.

Aizawa drives home and flops onto his couch. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about today’s weird events. he thought about her h/c and how her eyes sparkled with curiosity. she is a smart girl. she beautiful in every sense of the word.

he didn’t even realize his hand slide down his pants. he was hard. he let his hand drift up and down the outline of his member. he thought about y/n’s voice and how she said his name. he thought about her spunky personality. his hand slips into his boxers. He closes his eyes and thinks about her small hands and pink lips. his hand moves across his hard cock. he inhales as he picks up the pace. he thinks about how soft her lips would feel against his. he thinks about if she was virgin and how tight she would be. his hand quickens. light moans escape his lips. he thinks about how she would look on her knees. he imagines her sucking him off. he clenched his jaw as his cum rolls down his knuckles.

he gets up and washed off his hands. his phone buzzes.

he rolls his eyes and opens the message.

he rolls his eyes and tosses the phone onto the table. he liked the little banters. he liked how she’s willing to speak her mind. he turns on the tv and flicks through the channels. NCIS. sure yeah not. he goes and makes himself a small dinner and sits at the table looking over the papers for the case.

‘yui didn’t seem like the girl to just leave without telling anyone,’ the host parents said. maybe she did tell someone or at least write a note. y/n said she went into her room. he wonders if she found something in there besides the necklace.

aizawa didn’t go to bed till early in the morning. so waking up and going to deal with the ever so cheery y/n was going to be a fun treat...

he threw on a tattered black t shirt and some jeans. his jet black hair pulled into a messy ponytail. the bags under his eyes could have held a weekend vacation worth of clothes. he got into the nasty car and drove to the cafe.

he saw her standing outside on her phone. her thumbs texting away. he was always so amazed at how fast teens can type. he got out and walked over to the distracted y/n.

“let’s go in,” he says in his deep raspy voice. it makes y/n jump slightly. his voice sends a shiver to the butterflies in her stomach. she follows in behind him. he orders his coffee and waits for y/n to order. he looks over his shoulder at her. his dull eyes looking into her bright ones.

“oh umm a chai tea,” she said walking closer to him. her shoulder brushes up against his. he looks down at her. her eyes dart around the cafe. she soaks in the area and walks to the pick counter.

“what did you find?” he asked while they wait for y/n’s tea.

“oh, yui used to write poems in her free time. one of them talks about a heart broken girl dropping everything and moving to colorado and starting new. she mets a wonderful man and they feel like they’re living the dream until one day he gets violent.” the guy calls out her name and she goes to get the tea. she drops her sleeve for her cup. she bends to get it, completely showing off the light blue panties. aizawa coughs and turns away. “sorry,” she says and sits down, “why is your face red?”

“nothing,” he shakes his head. “how is that a clue,” he watched as she brought the hot cup to her lips. she slowly sipped on it so she wouldn’t get burned.

“do you look at my underwear?” she laughs. “i knew you were an old creep,” his face drops into a scowl.

“shut up brat,” he said through gritted teeth.

“it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she said, scrolling through her phone, “here. i think she wrote that poem about him,” she shows him a picture of a 23 year from her school. he has his arm around yui’s hip. “that’s henry. they were seeing each other at the beginning of the semester, but one day yui comes in with a huge bruise on her arm and people asked he what is was about and she just answered with some vague thing like ‘oh i fell’ which is totally bullshit,” she takes another sip of her tea. “wanna try?”

“no i’m good,” aizawa answers. “do you think henry hurt her and she left to get away from him?” he watched as she typed something out on her phone.

“hm? yeah totally. i mean if i was getting pushed around by some frat boy i would totally disappear too,” she looks him square in the eyes. a little hue goes to aizawa’s face. “are you sure you don’t want to try it? you look like you only drink bitter sludge and gross greasy food for every meal,” she leans across the table.

“i’m serious. i’m fine with my bitter sludge,” he laughs. she smiles.

“i like it when you laugh. it’s calming,” she says. the phrase comes as a surprise to aizawa.

“aww you got a crush on an old man like me,” he says getting up. “come on kiddo.”

she gets up and follows. “maybe i do,” she whisper to herself.

“stop mumbling,” he says waiting at the door. they walk across the street to his car. “did the poem say anymore?” he asks unlock the car.

“i don’t know. i only got through a few when i texted you,” she said getting into the passenger side. she didn’t have her smile. he looks over at her. she stared out the window. her eyes didn’t have the spark of curiosity.

“what? are you mad at the joke? i’m sorry,” he said, started the car. she picks up her phone and quickly typed out a message and it sends with a bing. she rested her arm on the window and leaned her head against it. “y/n. seriously what happened? you were all jokes and laughing seconds ago.”

“it’s nothing, aiwaza.” with that he stopped asking. they drove in silence to his apartment. she followed him up the old stairs and he unlocks the green door. “cleaner than the car,” she laughs and flops herself on his couch.

“i guess make yourself at home...” he throws the keys on the table. he opens his laptop and looks up yui’s name. her twitter came up and he read through her poems.

‘even when he would yell

i would think about those mountains

how i could easily get lost in their trees.

how even if i never made it home,

the mountains would be there.

then i’m reminded

even the mountains can hurt me.’

“not the best one she’s written,” y/n says standing behind him. he’s snapped out of daze. she was leaning over his chair. her hair tickling his neck. her breath prickling his cheek. she smelt of vanilla.

“i wanna see you do better,” he sneers.

“hmm, your car smells like,” she brought her finger to her chin. “trash and you’re pretty much ash, and i think you have a rush, but your snash comments don’t bother me.” she laughs.

“haha real funny brat,” he rolls his eyes and looks about at the computer. y/n still laughing at her little poem. he reads through some more poems.

“did you ever check the ct tv camera or whatever?” she asks sitting on the couch again. “isn’t that like the first thing to do?”

“i did,”

“and?” she looks at him. he’s not looking at her. he was reading the poems and looking through pictures. y/n stands up and walks to him. she gets close to his ear and whisper “and?” his large hand covers her face and pushes her away.

“there was nothing,” he said as she scowls are her. he gives her a side glance. she was mad at him. “what?”

“you’re rude,” she huffs.

“what you wanted me to kiss you?” he laughs and looks back at the screen.

“maybe,” she mumbles.

“stop mumbling,” he says, not breaking away from the computer. “if you’re gonna say something, make sure i can hear it or else what’s the point in saying it.”

she moves to him. she yells “I SAID MAYBE YOU RUDE OLD MAN” he stops and his face goes pale. he swallows a hard lump. his heart is beating in his ears. y/n’s face gets all red. “um, sorry i’ll leave,” she starts to the door. tears fills her eyes.

aizawa gets up to stop her. he grabs her wrist. “don’t joke like that,” he pulls her close to him. “but please stay,” he wipes her tears.

“it’s not a joke,” she whispers. she looks up at him. he’s eyes soften. he kisses her forehead. she leans up to kiss him on the kiss but he moves away.

“i’m old enough to be your dad,” he goes back to the computer. she sits on the couch and goes on her phone.

“you cant be that old,” she says, breaking the silence. he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t want to ruin something as precious as her. “45?” he doesn’t answer. “50?” she gets up and sits across from him. leaning on her hands. she narrow her eyes. “23?” he looks up at her with a ‘really?’ look. “i know, i know, guess give me an answer,” she whined.

“no,” he scrolled along.

“40?” she says. still no answer. “100?” no answer. “fine i’ll look you up.” he looks at her. “aizawa... shit... what’s your first name?” she looks around for another with his name on it. she sees a pile of mail on the counter. she quickly lunges toward it. he gets up to stop her. she grabs a piece before he could stop her.

“y/n!” he yells.

“what no brat this time,” she sneers. she looks at the piece. he tries to snatch it way. she leans against the fridge. he quickly grabs it and raises it above his head with the rest of his mail. “give it back!” she yells and jumps for it.

“it’s my mail!” he laughs. she grabs his collar and stands on her tip toes. she reaches for it. he places his other hand on the fridge to keep his balance. “stop y/n! you won’t get it!”

“i’ll stop when you tell me how old you are!!” she says trying to climb him.

“stop being a brat. i’m not going to tell you how old i am,” he smiles as he watches her try to get the mail.

“make me,” she stops and looks him in the eye.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.” he puts the mail on top of the cabinets and walks away. she instantly start climbing on the counter. he grabs her hips and pulls her done. he bear hugs her. “STOP IT!”

“NEVER!” she bites him. he lets go, “just tell me how old you are.”

“jesus, fine, 41,” he sighs and sits on the couch. she sits next to him.

“that wasn’t so hard now was it,” she laughs.

“you’re an absolute brat,” she leans her head on his shoulder. he puts his head on top of hers. her hand plays with his hand. tracing each vein and knuckle. she laces her fingered with his. he doesn’t pull away. all he does is whisper “please y/n, we can’t-“ she cuts him off by kisses his cheek.

“we’re two consenting adults. why can’t we,” she whines. she shifts to sit in his lap. she laces both hands together. he tries to control his breathing. he looks over every inch of her body. she just looks down at him. she leans down and kisses him. she puts his hands on her hips. her arms snake themselves around his neck. he breaks away.

“are you sure?” he asks.

“yes,” she breathes out. she leans back down and kisses him. his hands travels up her shirt and he undoes her bra. she pulls away and strips off the shirt and bra. he starts kissing down her neck, leaving red and purple marks. one of his hands moves to grope the soft flesh of her boobs. y/n arcs her back against his hand.

aizawa shifts and flips her onto her back. he gives her a quick peck then he leaves trails ok quick little kisses down to the waist band of her skirt.he wraps his fingers around the fabric and looks up at her. y/n nods.

“use your words bunny,” he says kissing her stomach.

“yes, please,” she says, tangling her fingers into his hair. aizawa pulls off her skirt. he smiles at the light lacy panties. he slowly slides them down. he kisses the bottom of her stomach. y/n’s hand yanks the collar of his shirt. he quickly takes it off. she sits up and creases every inch of his body. she soaks in all the little scars and muscles. he grabs her wrist and kisses the top of her hand. he leaves a trail of kisses down her arm and to her mouth.

y/n puts her hand back on his chest and pushed him back. she straddles him. she leans down and gives him light kisses everywhere while her hand slowly drifts to his pants. she rubs the forming bulge. he sucks on his teeth. she smiles down at him.

“damn you too good for me,” he whispers.

“damn right old man,” she laughs. he rolls his eyes and sits up. he pulls her closer. her clit grazing over his jean covered dick. she moans into his ear.

“fuck,” he whispers. her hands drive in between her legs and undoes his jeans. he chuckles. “so impatience,”

“shut up,” she sneers. he picks her up and brings her to his bed. he tosses her down. he pulls down his pants. “hmm boxer briefs guy,”

“i’ll leave..” he says. she laughs and pulls him onto her. they kiss and his hand makes it’s way to her heat. he spreads her folds. she moans into the kiss. he smiles. he drags his middle fingers from the bottom to her clit. y/n rolls her hips to his touch. he rubs small circles into the bud. she smirks under him.

“aizawa please,” she moans.

“shouta,” he whispers. his finger hovers over her entrance.

“hmm?” she looks up at him. he slides his finger in. she moans and grips onto the bed. he kept his hand still, feeling her clench around him.

“my first name,” he whispers. she thinks for a second and opens her mouth to say his name, but he starts moving his fingers causing her to moan it. she hits his arm.

“you purposely did that,” she pouted.

“so what if i did,” he leans down. y/n can feel his breath on her ear. “i want to hear it again.” her face gets all flushed. he moves his finger at a slowly pace. after awhile of little mewls and light breathing moans, aizawa slips his ring finger in.

“shouta~” she moans out.

“that’s it, good girl,” he picks up his pace. she continues to moan. aizawa kisses her collarbone and attaches himself to her boobs. his tongue expertly swirls around her hardened buds. her hands tangled in his hair. she feels the knot in her stomach come undone as she comes on his fingers. he pulls them out and looks at them. she looks at him.

“don’t,” she says. he’s eyes flicker at her. “please don’t,” he smiles and sticks his two fingers in his mouth. he closes his eyes and moans.

“mmm sound good,” he teases. she throws a pillow at him.

“you suck,” she whines. he lays down on top of her and kisses her. she wraps her arms around him. he slides his hands down and brings her legs up. she wraps them around his waist. he sides his hand down his underwear and brings his harder dick out. he teases her entrance before pushing the tip in. she moans into the kiss.

“fuck you’re so tight,” he hissed into her ear.

“what? ever fucked a college student?” she laughs. until he slams his hips into her. she cried out in pain. “god, your a lot bigger than you seem, shouta,” she moans his name which makes him want to fuck her into the bed.

he pulls out them slams back in. “you better take it with out complaints. you’re the one who’s been asking for it,” he says threw gritted teeth. she does this breathing moan that sends him over the edge and into an absolute feral mindset. he holds himself up on his elbows and just pounds y/n into the bed. her moans turn into screams of pleasure as her legs squeeze around his waist.

the knot in her stomach reappears and she clenched around his dick. “fuck y/n, beg to come you fucking slut,” he groans out.

“shouta please.” he trusts even deeper. “fuck. god please shouta let me come on your huge dick,” she whimpers out, feeling the knot in her stomach snap.

“omg yes, y/n,” he moans as her pussy clenched around him. her beautiful moans escape her lips as her face shows nothing but euphoria. her pussy sucks him in, clenching around him, trying to milk him. he lets out a grunt as he paints her velvety walls white. he weakly thrust a few more times before collapsing next to her. he pants as she rolls over and puts her head on his chest. his large hand pets her hair as she falls asleep in his arms.

He whispers to himself, “you’re the one I’ve been looking for,”

#bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #shoto aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #mha #mha fanfic #mha smut #fanfiction #my hero fanfic #fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy smut #my hero academy fanfiction

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

#made a complex story with distinct arcs and heist vibes #and then released a story about two idiots raising a kid #and somehow i was surprised that people liked the second one better #i know im good at fluff its just really draining to do it all the time #but i rely so much on feedback at this point for serotonin that now I'm doing both #idk what ill do when school starts up tbh #into the unknown #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng

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joestarwhore · 4 years ago

Text

Risotto Nero - A Price to Pay

{Being the only girl in the Bucci Gang has its perks. Your familia loved you, & were fiercely protective- but what’re they supposed to do when another Capo decides to have you to himself? He’s gotta have you.}

{one way or another.}

_____________________________________

“Bucciarati were almost to Napoli, should I head straight for the city or the safe house?”

Fugo’s sharp voice woke you from your nap. You & the team have been traveling for days tracking three stand users who’ve been smuggling contraband out of Passioné’s grasp. So far, the trail has led to Napoli- and to make it worse, no one knows what they look like. But luckily, you had the name of the man in charge of the operation.

“Go to the safe house. They’re not going to move anything in broad daylight, & we haven’t been able to stop for an actual break.” Bruno circled the location on Fugo’s map. “We can spare a few hours.”

You looked to your right to see Mista asleep against the window, drool slowly coming out of his mouth. You would’ve laughed if you had any right to, with the glimpse of yourself you caught in the rear view you were surprised no one woke you up with a camera flash.

You stretched your neck side to side, your movements slowly bringing your body back to life. You could hear Giorno, Abbachio, and Narancia gently start stirring to life as Bruno continued to talk about the location, not being able to keep in their loud ass yawns. Well, honestly, that was only Narancia’s problem.

Bruno swiveled the seat to face the back, his perfect black bob not moving an inch while he does it. “Now that we’re in Napoli, it’s time to be debriefed about our current situation. Would one of you please wake Mista?”

Abbachio wasted no time to slap Mista in the back of the head, causing Mista to lurch forward with a yelp. His hand immediately went to the back of his head as he whipped around towards Abbachio. “What the hell, you dumbass!! What was that for??”

“For debriefing you idiot, pay attention.”

You giggled, resulting in a hearty “Shut up!” from Mista. After Bruno’s scolding, he started to explain the facts.

“The intelligence we received stated that the man controlling the contraband operation is a Capo. His name is Risotto Nero, the leader of La Squandra. He’s been known to defy the Familia before, so it’d make sense that he would be the one running this show.”

Bruno’s face slowly grimmed as he continued, pausing after he spoke. “While he is a traitor to the Familia, he is also one of the most powerful Capo’s in the organization. Not just because of his title, but because of his stand.”

The tension grew substantially.

“What’s his stand, Boss? Does anyone have an idea?” Narancias question rung in the air like a bell.

“No. Because no ones lived to tell about it.”

The chill that ran down your spine was unnerving. No one knows what his stand is?? No one has even the slightest idea?? How can that be?

“Boss, how’re we supposed to find this cazzo when all we have to go on is a name?” you ask, “How’re we supposed to defend ourselves against a stand that no one has ever beat?”

“By keeping your stand close. Giorno’s Golden Wind can sense life, and Narancia can track anything that breathes. Abbachio’s Moody Jazz could very well be our ace in the hole, if we can simply find where he’s been- but that’s hard to do when you’re following a ghost.”

God, that wasn’t reassuring.

Soon, Fugo’s road rage landed you at the safe house, a 3 story cabin in the middle of the woods. Mista’s excitement blossomed as soon as he saw the giant flatscreen through the window, everyone else’s did when they finally got to leave the stuffy ass van.

Abbachio helped you out of the car, letting you hang on to his arm until you’ve cracked all the bones you needed to feel relief. “Thank you Abba, I’ve been needing to do that for a while now!”

Abbachio threw you a smirk. “Yeah yeah don’t get gross on me.” He could throw up any facade he wants- you see right through his badass tough guy wall. You gave him a grin back, & grabbed your duffel bag out from under your seat. You looked back to see that the other boys had already made it inside, Bruno & Giorno already setting up the radio & laptops to start working.

Bruno def wasn’t playing around when he was looking for a place to buy. This was the nicest cabin you had ever seen, pure dark wood walls with marble flooring, a grand staircase with a BEAUTIFUL bay window?? Capo DEFINITELY had perks.

***************

[3:33 AM]

You bolted awake as thunder and lightning surrounded your bedroom. Your mind frantic as the open curtains revealed howling winds and light flashing through the skies.

You took some deep breaths and calmed yourself down. It’s only a storm, nothing to- why was your door open?

Adrenaline started to churn in your stomach as you swung your legs over your bed. You stepped carefully towards the hallway, peeking down to see that everyone else’s doors were open too. You tip toed down, peering into Bruno & Abbachio’s rooms, seeing them both empty; and upon further inspection, so were Giorno’s and Mista’s. Narancia and Fugo’s following suit.

Where the fuck is everyone, and why are you not with them?

You back tracked down the hall, your legs shaking as you slowly walked down the stairs.

Were you being attacked?

The lightning lit your path down the stairs as you kept your eyes peeled for anything out of place. As you came down to the first platform, the stench of blood overwhelmed your senses, making your eyes grown wide and your hand go over your mouth and nose. This cannot be real, why is blood in the air??

“You know when I first saw you, I thought you were an angel among the saints & sinners of Napoli.”

Your hand gripped the banister as you stood in defense, looking everywhere for the source of the deep voice. Who was that?? Where the fuck is your team??

“& Then I saw Ghiaccio getting in a fight with another Mafioso. I thought it was just one of Bucciaratis boys, but oh was i so close yet so wrong.”

You slowly made your way down stairs, “I guess your a big fan of mine then, quite a shame I can’t see where you are for such occasion.”

A deep chuckle resonated through the estate. “Our life together will be wonderful, I am very sure.”

“The fuck are you-“

Your stomach dropped.

The blood. The gashes. The gore.

All of the boys were hanging by their hands, bloody chains protruding from their wrists and connecting them to the ceiling. Blood oozed from Fugos mouth, while Narancias unconscious form clearly had a broken nose and extreme loss of blood. They all were simply.. hanging by a thread.

“Jesus fucking Christ.. you’re fuc-fucking kidding..”

Invisible hands hold onto your sides as your body freezes in shock, the pressure and heat of them telling you they were quite large. Your heart beater out of your chest as you felt a muscular set of abs press against your back, those hands weaving over your chest to hold down your arms.

“Do you see, Amore? Do you see how powerful I am compared to them?” Your eyes tore away from the bloodied boys, closing them as tightly as you could. “When I saw how powerful you were and how you carried yourself, I knew we were soul mates. I had to have you. I had to have your body, your mind,” His hand rubbed gently against your clothes crotch, shooting heated adrenaline to your core, “& your pretty little cunt just full of my kids.”

Your cheeks turned violently red as you staggered to breathe. “Who..are you..”

Lips pressed against your temple as a deep chuckle vibrated your body. “Darling, I’m the whole reason you’re out here.”

Your heart froze.

“Risotto?? It’s you?!”

Suddenly two black clothed muscular arms appeared around you, one of them tilting your chin back to reveal two black and red eyes staring straight at you. “Surprised, Cara?”

You started to panic, the danger of your situation settling in. Bruno, Giorno, all of the boys, were out of action. There was no help for you, and you couldn’t summon your stand like this. Was this simply the end? Was he just saving you for last for his sick fantasy??

“Please.. what do you even want from me??”

Risotto put your hands behind your back and tied them together. “What I’ve wanted since I saw you; a life. With just you & me.” He placed you on a chair, kneeling before you with his hands tracing you and your skin. Your breath hitched as he ran over certain spots, his eyes growing darker and darker the more you react. You had to do something, you couldn’t let your family be killed over someone’s obsession over you.

“I’m going with you whether I like it or not, right?”

Risotto chuckled a humorless laugh. “A smart one! Oh i like that, I like that. Maybe our kids will get that trait.”

Dread sunk in your stomach. There’s no escape, is there?

“If I go with you, willingly with no struggle- will you allow me to use my stand on them so they atleast don’t die of their injuries?”

Risotto stared at you, looking for any sign of betrayal, but he wasn’t gonna find anything. You knew there wasn’t a way out, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance in hell against him. Atleast if you can save the boys, there wouldn’t be any death.

“Fine. But one slip up, Amore, and I’ll make your condition worse than theirs.”

Risotto unbinded your arms, helping you stand up and get your balance again. You walked towards the boys until you were a few meters away from them. You could sense their shallow breathing from your powers, you knew if you were gonna do this you had to act fast.

“Iron Maiden.”

A steam punk victorian girl emerged behind you, wielding a glowing white scythe, its jet black hair flowing behind her.

“Scythes Blessing.”

Iron Maiden hovered to the front of you, your scythe glowing bright white as it swung a mass of energy towards them all. Their wounds mended together, the blood returning to their bodies. After the act was done, the boys passed out on the floor, surely to wake up in a few hours.

“Now, we start our life, my sweet angel.”

Tears silently went down your cheeks as you turned to the beautiful, evil man. His eyes showed a softness towards you as he extended his giant hand. Your dainty one took his, holding it as he led you to the door.

“Where are you taking me?”

Risotto swung open the huge doors to reveal the storm still actively raging, his matte black sports car in the circle drive. “Home, cara. Our home.”

You hurried to get in his front seat, Risotto closing your door and going to the drivers door. He got in, revving the car to life and pulled the car out of the drive way. Risotto placed his hand on your thigh as he took you away from the estate. Your heart hurt for your boys, but this was for the best, right? Atleast this way they’re safe. They’re safe.

“Say your goodbyes Cara. Your life starts over with me.”

“Only me.”

#jojos bizzare adventure yandere #n/s/f/w jjba #vento aureo #yandere jjba #yandere risotto #la squadra #risotto headcanons #risotto nero

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strong-as-a-tree · 4 years ago

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Levi x Handmaid!reader (The Handmaid’s Tale x SnK - crossover) // Part. 1

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader (also Erwin but not romantically)

Disclaimers: Considering what the Handmaid's Tale is talking about, expect to have some shocking scenes in this. If you are not sure, please look out for a summary of the show on the internet before reading. This story will contain sensible topics if you are not comfortable with the followings, please don't read this story ♡

Also, yeah the characters will be slightly OOC, because of the nature of the story I couldn’t do it differently, I know Canon Erwin would never endorse Gilead, it literally hurts me to write him as this disgusting Commander... Sorry in advance for any Erwin’s simps !

TW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Female Oppression, Minors DNI

Word count: 1,407 words MASTERLIST

- “Blessed be the fruit.”

- “May the Lord open.” responded mechanically Y/N, she listened absently to Aunt Olga who was explaining how exciting it was to be assigned to your first family. Well, ‘family’ was a weird word to use to describe the home you were going to live. Aunt Olga told you it was an high profile Commander, (that’s maybe why she chose you, as she often said you were quite the ‘docile’ one) the weird thing is that he didn’t have a wife, Gilead only assigned handmaids in families composed of a wife and an husband normally. But you guessed being an high dignitary had it’s perks.

-”Remember, the Commander is inviting you in his home, that’s an immense privilege! You are going to give him an heir, what a blessed mission to have for your first time!” said Aunt Olga as she beamed at the van’s ceiling. You were looking down, the white bonnet on your head hiding your eyes rolling at Olga, you often thought that the older women strangely envied the handmaids, you don’t really know what was to be envied, but nonetheless the van finally stopped and the back door opened.

You were now standing at the front door of an old victorian house, one step behind Aunt Olga. A Martha opened the door and leaded the two of you to the living room. The whole time you kept your head low, you didn’t know how the Commander was like and you certainly didn’t want to anger him if he was one to like protocol, considering his rank in the Sons of Jacob he probably was not the one you could get friendly with. It’s not like you wanted to be friend with the man who will try to impregnate you anyway.

-”Ah! Commander Smith, Blessed be the fruit!” suddenly said Aunt Olga, “May the Lord open” a deep voice said back. “May I present you ‘Oferwin’, your handmaid.” said Olga while pushing you softly towards the Commander, you didn't dared to look up, only seeing the feet of the man, suddenly an hand went under your chin and lifted your head up. In front of you was a very tall blonde man, he looked quite intimidating and was wearing the black uniform of the Sons of Jacob, you gulped, just by looking at the man you knew he was not going to be friendly or nice with you. He was looking at your eyes and then studied your face, he took a step back and looked at you figure “She is quite small.” said the Commander now looking back at Aunt Olga, you clenched your fists at the man’s words, you were used to being treated like an object since Gilead took over the power, but this man had the nerve to do it in front of you, and you were unable to defend yourself.

You stopped listening as the Commander and Aunt Olga were talking about you like you were the new couch they wanted to buy for the living room. Suddenly a smaller man with black hair entered the room, next to him was the Martha that opened the door earlier. The Commander placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards the newcomers, you tensed at the man’s touch, “Oferwin, this is my driver ‘Levi’ and my Martha.” You looked at the two people in front of you, the man seemed like he didn’t want to be here (you couldn’t blame him for that), like every woman in Gilead the Martha was looking at her feet, with this resigned look that you often saw among the other handmaids at the Red center. “Under his Eye” you quickly muttered.

-- TIME SKIP -- a few days later

The first few days at the Commander’s house went surprisingly fine, most of the time he was working outside or in his office, so you rarely had the occasion to talk to him. You spent your days in the kitchen with the Martha, the two of you went along very well, but you both tried to hide it. Gilead is not really found of female friendships, it’s probably because they were afraid of what could be said between women, at least that’s what an handmaid said back at the Red center. “Can you bring this to Levi?” asked the Martha, she was holding a tray with a cup of tea and an apple on it. You nodded and went to the garden, the Commander must have come back home, Levi was cleaning the black Range Rover when you stopped in front of him. The slim man took the tray and murmured a ‘Thanks’, not looking at you the whole time. You slightly frowned you eyebrows, since you arrived it seemed like Levi never dared to look at you in the eyes, you wondered if the Commander was one of those man who ordered his staff to not look at the female staff. The two men seemed relatively close and Levi didn’t behaved the same way with the Martha, so it definitely wasn’t an order from the Commander. You thoughts were stopped when a red van entered the gate. Aunt Olga came out from the van and headed towards you a huge grin on her face, you shivered at the older woman’s face, how can a smile be so terrifying?

“Oferwin! How are you? The Commander told me you behaved really well, I’m happy to hear that” said Aunt Olga with her hands wrapped around you arms. She didn’t let you answer and looked at Levi, “Oh, I didn’t see you there, Blessed be the fruit!”, Levi looked at her with no emotion on his face, nodded his head slightly and left. Aunt Olga’s smile left her lips, the older woman seemed rather taken aback by the man’s indifference, she shook her head and looked back at you. “Today is a big day Oferwin, you will have your first Ceremony with the Commander!”. Your whole body tensed at the woman’s words, you knew it would happen anytime soon, but it still came as shock to you. Your brain had convinced itself that maybe the Commander would have forgotten for some reasons.

You were now in the Commander’s office, standing behind Aunt Olga who was sitting on a chair in front the desk. Levi and the Martha were in front of you, standing behind the Commander. “Now, normally the Ceremony is between an husband, his wife and his handmaid, but considering the exceptional arrangement here, we have to make some adjustments...” said Aunt Olga, the Commander looked at her with this superiority gaze that men of high rank arbored when talking to a woman in Gilead. “Of course, the Ceremony is sacred and we should try do it in the most traditional way... Do you have any suggestions Aunt Olga?” asked Commander Smith. The older woman smiled at the man’s words, “I knew you were a fervent follower of the Bible sir, well I suggest your Martha ta-” Olga couldn’t finish her idea as she was interrupted by the Commander, “No.” simply said the man. Silence fell in the room, you could see that Aunt Olga didn’t knew if she was allowed to talk back after the sudden interruption. “A Martha’s place is in the kitchen, I don’t want her my bed.”. You flinched at the man’s words, you tried to meet the Martha’s eyes but she was looking down at the floor. You bit you lips, to try to stop yourself from saying anything. Suddenly the Commander’s lips began to form a small smile, “My driver will be perfect for this!”, you immediately looked up at the Commander, forgetting the protocol, you could see Levi was even more shocked than you, and looked at he back of the Commander’s head with an almost angry look? “B-but sir, this is a man...” whispered Aunt Olga, the older woman seemed at lost for words, “Levi is very loyal, don’t worry Aunt Olga he will be perfect for this, it’s not like this man have any feelings after all, he only lives to protect and serve me, he ought me his life...” said Commander Smith with a grin. Levi was now looking at the floor, but you could see that his body was tensed, his fists clenched at his sides. The Commander’s words signed the end of the conversation, Aunt Olga knew her place and she didn’t dared to say a word.

Part 2 If you have any questions/suggestions/request my ask is open ^^ Also don't hesitate to ask, if you want to be on the taglist.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi #aot #aot x reader #crossover #the handmaid's tale #erwin #erwin smith #imagines #stories #snk #snk fanfiction #attack on titan #shinjeki no kyojin

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chaos-is-beautifvl · 4 years ago

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A Helping Hand pt. 5

{gif found on google}

a/n: i've had this collecting dust in my drafts since i posted the last chapter, which, if i'm not mistaken, was november of last year. yes, i know, a very long time. but, i'm back and hoping to whip out more writing, so if you want to be added to my taglist, be sure to let me know!

summary: reminiscing about crime shows is fun until you see someone quite literally eviscerate two people in front of you. (that makes no sense but i didn't know how else to put it lol)

warnings: michael being mean and sadistic, murder house (yes, that place needs a warning), brief mention - murder & erasing of souls, sexual innuendos, (i think that's all, but if i've missed any, please let me know)

word count: 1.9K (i think this is the longest one)

"Come in." His repeated words rang through the somewhat quiet hallway. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you nodded meekly and stepped into the room. You could see Michael shutting the door from the corner of your eye, and when he came into view, you quickly averted your gaze.

"Let me ask you something." You didn't have the opportunity to respond before he began speaking, "What made you hurt her? The girl? What could she have done to make you do what you did?"

"I..." You were at a loss for words. After your first meeting with him, you hadn't expected him to bring her up again. More so, you didn't want him to bring her up. Something told you that he knew why you had done what you had. He seemed to know any and everything before you even told him. It was like he had a seventh sense, knowing how people truly felt. You say seventh because he had a sixth sense - knowing what one was thinking.

The one question on your mind was: Did I like hurting her? The answer, also the problem, was that you weren't sure.

You wandered around the room, trying to buy yourself some time so that you could figure out what to say. Instead of answering, you asked a question, "Do you like hurting people? Did you like hurting me?"

"You're asking me if I derive satisfaction by inflicting pain on others?" You nodded, walking over to his closet. Something was pulling you toward it. "Well, there is a certain enjoyment one can get from seeing someone cower in fear because of them."

You were about to remark on how sadistic he sounded when the energy radiating off the armoire drew you in. The doors were slightly ajar, just wide enough that you could see the plethora of dark clothing it held. What caught your eye was what looked to be leather barely poking out, almost like a snake, slithering out just enough to spot its victim.

You could hear Michael talking as you crept even closer to the armoire, a hand reaching out to grasp the leather material. Just as your fingertips made contact with it, you closed your eyes, feeling a woosh a wind fly past you. A shiver rolled down your body as you rubbed your arms, wishing you had slipped on your robe as the nightgown did little to cover you.

The coldness slowly slipped away as a warm ray hit your skin. As you opened your eyes, a bright light blinded you, causing you to blink a few times to adjust. There was a slight breeze mixing nicely with the warmth of the sun. The sun - you hadn't felt the sun since the day of the blast.

Where am I? You thought as you slowly turned around, basking in the nice weather. Chatter broke you out of your reverie, and you stopped turning to see two women holding boxes. You went to say something, but the two seemed to ignore your presence.

They strolled past you, and you followed behind them, walking into an old Victorian house, one that looked oddly familiar to you. The energy radiating off the house felt dangerous, evil even. But maybe it was that exact sinister nature that lured you closer.

Boxes surrounded the entryway, and you could only assume that the women were moving into the house. Why anyone would willingly live in a place like that was lost on you. If you had a choice, you would gladly live as far away from it as you could.

You took in the grandeur of the house. It was as if though you had walked into a modern Victorian era museum. Except, you would have never entered it if you knew what you were about to witness.

The walls appeared to be alive as if they held secrets. Secrets left behind by the unlucky souls that passed through. The decorum of the interior vaguely reminded you of one of the houses in a crime show you'd watched.

Maybe then wasn't the best time to reminisce about your pre-apocalypse life. You remembered in that particular episode, a murderer with an ax to grind (literally) killed off everyone, decorating each room with splashes of fresh, blood-red paint.

Pushing that very detailed image to the recesses of your mind, you wandered around, eyes grasping in the beauty of the house. It was beautiful but deadly - a combination you weren't all that fond of.

But, hey, what can you do when one moment you're trying not to get killed by a devilishly handsome, sadistic motherfucker, and the next, you're having a weird vision of sorts.

You weren't sure how far you'd ventured through the labyrinth-like halls, but you somehow found yourself standing in front of a door that most likely led to the basement.

A chill settled in your bones when you placed your hand on the cold doorknob. Shaking your head, you turned around and attempted to make your way back to the front.

Of course. Because watching horror movies and crime shows where the dumb characters go into the dark, scary basement has never taught you anything, Y/N.

Silently berating yourself for acting like an idiot, which granted you were most of the time, even more so at that moment, you noticed you were back at the front door. It was closed. Odd, you thought with a tilt of your head, I could've sworn this was open...

A blood-curdling scream stopped you dead in your tracks, and, with your heart lodged deep in your ass, you slowly turned around to see what happened.

The two women from before, the ones who were laughing just minutes before were now dead. And no, not just dead, but murdered by someone in what looked to be a latex bodysuit.

Your eyes widened as a hand covered your mouth. What the actual fuck... Your mind was racing a thousand thoughts per hour, and you felt as those you could throw up any minute.

A man slumped against the wall was speaking to the person in the suit. You couldn't even hear the conversation; blood was rushing through your ears, roaring like loud waves against the current.

You'd been kidding about the crazy ax murderer. You hadn't expected this to happen. At this point, you didn't care who the hell this psychopath was or what the hell those people did to him. All you wanted was to leave, and that's what you were about to do when something caught your attention.

A burning smell came from behind you. Even though you should've been running for the hills, your curiosity (also idiocy) got the best of you. Hesitantly looking up, your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

The carbon copies of the dead bodies curled on the floor were screaming in agony as the hot flames engulfed them. You didn't know what was happening, but you were sure that it was far from a simple murder; this was torture.

Stumbling backward, your hand grasped for the doorknob. The rush of the wind hit your neck, and with one last look, you met a surprisingly familiar pair of cold blue eyes.

A sharp gasp left you. Bent over, your hands resting on your knees, you took notice of the fact that you were no longer in the house. You were back at the Outpost, more specifically, back in the room with him.

"Are you alright? You look quite shaken up." Michael rested his hand on your shoulder, causing you to shrug it off, backing away from him.

"Get the hell away from me." Six simple words, words that someone could usually comprehend. But, it turns out Mr. Sadistic, who was walking closer to you, didn't.

"Now, now, little one. Is that any way to talk to your superior?" He tutted as if you were a misbehaving child, and he was the stern adult.

Your nose flared at the little pet name as you stood your ground and crossed your arms over your chest. "First, don't call me that. Second, stop talking to me like I'm a goddamn child. And three, who the hell are you?"

Your little act of "defiance" didn't phase him. If anything, it spurred him on as he advanced until he was standing across you.

"I'm sure you mean, 'what the hell are you?' And, to answer that question, I'll tell you at a more appropriate time."

"Listen, I don't care who- excuse me, what the fuck you are. Just stay away from me." While you weren't expecting him to give up easily (though it would have been nice), your words had no effect on him whatsoever.

He sighed, taking a single step forward. "Don't you think your language is a bit much? I'm not fond of this little attitude you have. Now, why don't you be a good girl and quit while you're still in my good graces?"

You could have just let it go, let him have his way. But there was something about submitting to someone like him that you just couldn't do.

"I'm sorry, your highness. I sincerely apologize for not wanting to be around a psycho like you." The subtle smirk that had crept on your face quickly wiped away.

His upper lip twitched before he pushed you against the wall, the coldness seeping through the thin material of your nightgown. You'd almost forgotten he was still naked until you felt his "little friend" touching your leg. Turns out it wasn’t so little after all...

With his hand firmly grasping your jaw, he peered down at you, his eyes even darker than before. It was at that very moment you realized how much you'd fucked up.

"It's like you want me to punish you." Michael paused, grinning at how you swallowed harshly, obviously trying to keep your fear down. He liked, no loved, the way it made him feel. There was something so captivating about making someone submit to him by choice or not.

His fingers, moving at a lecherous pace, wrapped themselves around your throat. "I give you chance after chance..." his grip tightened, "and yet, you still find some way to piss me off."

"I-" You paused, very mindful of the way his thumb caressed the length of your throat as he squeezed harder. "You're hurting me."

"Oh?" He asked in feign concern, "Am I? Well, maybe I wouldn't be if you learned to shut your mouth sometimes."

"I'll scream.” You forced yourself to look him in the eyes. They were void of any emotion, and maybe you were biased, but it felt like you were staring into the depths of Tartarus.

His chuckle shocked you, "You really think anyone in here gives a damn about you? I could kill you, and they would be happy because there's more food for them. Don't think for one second that you're not disposable."

Michael tilted your head up, pouting at the stern look on your face and the tears building in your eyes. It was patronizing, humiliating. This was when you wished you went ahead with your plan to shove Venable's cane up his ass.

"And, if you do scream," his free hand came gliding up your leg, pushing the hem of your nightgown up. Your breath hitched as his cold fingers came to rest on your inner thigh. "I won't hesitate to shove something in your mouth, and as much as I would enjoy that, I don't think you would very much."

"Now," he loosened his grip on your neck, laughing when you let out a breath of air, "I suggest you go on back to your room, little one."

And that's exactly what you did - no quippy remarks, no sarcastic comments. Whoever or whatever he was scared you, and you'd be damned if the thing that wiped you out was a sadistic person, if could even call him that, like him.

a/n: the ending was horrible but at least i tried. hopefully it wasn’t too confusing. let me know what you think

tags (adding some people who've read the series - if you would liked to be added/removed, let me know): @kitty4860 @chicaluna2410 @peaky-sam @ajokeformur-ray @fabunicorn262

#a helping hand series #my writing #chaos-is-beautifvl #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x you #ahs x reader #ahs imagine

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ziaxkawaii · 4 years ago

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Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 3!

Part 1 Here! Part 2 Here!

~”You’ve got another one.” Your brother announced as he came into the back room, holding another white rose in his hands along with a card tied to it with the brown string.

~You stopped writing in your planner to first look at your brother and then at the rose. You got up.

~”I’ll go and put it in the vase, thank you.” You took the rose from him and carefully untied the string from the stem and threw it into a box on the table that had numerous pieces of the same type of string from the previous roses. It would be a waste of a perfectly good string if you threw them away.

~You went to put the rose into the vase, but then you realized that you should probably change the water in it as the other roses looked a bit whithered. You picked up the vase and brought it to the back to change the water.

~As you poured the water out, the old question resurfaced and you got curious. This has been going on for awhile, and at this point you’re not sure how you should be feeling about this anymore. Should you feel flattered or should you finally open your eyes and start to worry?

~You weren’t sure since you still don’t feel threatened or that you’re being watched, nor has William.

~”What do you make of this, William?” You questioned.

~”The roses? I’m honestly kind of vary of them, or at least the person leaving them.” He answered

~”I’m starting to doubt that these are not gifts of appreciation.”

~”Yeah, there must be a deeper meaning behind them.”

~You placed the roses in the freshly changed water and walked back out to put it back on the side table. Fixed the roses to look a bit nicer and then nodded in approval, ready to start yet another day.

~”But are you exactly worried?”

~”Not really since nothing else has happened yet, but I’m keeping my guard up. You can never be too careful.” You nodded at his response.

~”You’re right.” You agreed.

~Not long after you finished your sentence, a ding sounded through the air, signaling a customer has stepped into the boutique. You turned and immediately whatever worried thoughts you had previously washed away as you recognized the dual-hair-colored male. Seems like he has memorized the time you open the store, down to the minute.

~”Welcome back Todoroki!” You greeted Shoto.

~”How are you feeling this fine morning?” William joined your greeting. Then noticing he came alone this time. “Oh, roaming around alone today?”

~”I’m quite well, thank you. And yes. My butler has quite a lot of duties today, so I let him attend to them instead of coming here with me.” You both nodded in his direction. William nudged you on your arm.

~”Well, I’ll let you handle this one, I’ve got other work to do.” William called as he walked towards the backroom to finally start completing orders. You called him a quick goodbye and then turned to the other male in the room.

~”Well, how can I help you today? Last time you mentioned something about another commission?” You recalled his words from a week ago.

~”You are correct, so I’ll just get straight to the point.” You listened to what he had to say.

~”I would like for you to make a dress for my partner that will be attending the ball with me.” He said and your eyes widened from the request. Not only because he was ordering a dress without this partner of his, but also from the uncomfortable and unknown feeling growing in your chest.

~”I didn’t know you had a significant other.” You commented while trying to sound normal.

~”I don’t.” He said.

~”You don’t?” You lifted your eyebrow confused.

~”I’ll explain.” He breathed as though he was encouraging himself. “It might not seem like it at first glance, but the underlying purpose of this particular ball is for nobles to try and get their children to talk to other nobles' children, in hopes that the pair would get married.” He explained.

~”As the son of the steam train factory owner and founder, avoiding these balls are not an option. With the facts mentioned above, I’m bound to get many entitled women's attention if I come alone.” You started to understand where he was going with this.

~”To prevent this, I’m going to attend with a partner so I can avoid most of the excess attention.”

~You listened to him with interest but also you felt a bit bad for him, him having to go to such lengths to just be in peace.

~As a child, you’ve always heard wonderful stories about extravagant balls and how they are for the rich to have fun, but as you got older you started to realize that those seemingly magical balls actually had more purposes to them than to just have fun.

~They were also the perfect place to snag yourself a husband or a wife if one was still unmarried, or a woman’s father would pick a husband for their daughter if he saw someone suitable.

~”I see. So I’m going to take a wild guess and bet that your partner doesn’t have a dress that would match your very attention-grabbing suit?” You’ve been in these situations more often than you could count, so you had a hunch why he came here.

~”It would be better if I and my acquaintance would wear similarly styled clothing.” You nodded along to his words. Agreeing that it would look kind of odd if his partner had a completely differently styled and colored dress than him.

~Of course it wasn’t uncommon for a pair to not match ‘at all’, but the ball Shoto described he was going to, indicated to you that the pairs should at least wear something matching, be it the pattern of the fabric, style of the clothing or accessories.

~”Of course, I’m sure I’ll be able to make a dress for your partner in a couple of weeks. Do you happen to know her favorite style of dress or her size? Then again It would be even better if they could come to the boutique and tell me themselves.”

~You hated the feeling in your gut, the fact that you felt slight jealousy towards the unknown person who would have the pleasure to spend time with someone like Shoto Todoroki. Not because he was rich and handsome, but because he was genuinely polite and kind. He treated the noble and not-so-well off the same because he saw them all as people.

~You shouldn’t feel this way. It’s none of your business who he’s going to be dancing with. You’re just his tailor, nothing more.

~”Actually, I have not asked them yet.” He said pretty stoically but you could catch a hint of nervousness and embarrassment. You stood there for a moment, going over his words a few times until you found your voice again.

~”...You want me to make a dress for a woman,... who isn’t even aware that they’re going to a ball with you?...” You inquired, speaking every word clearly in case you’ve somehow heard him wrong and he would correct you.

~Again, it’s not uncommon for people, most commonly men, to buy their partners dresses as a surprise. But those dresses were cheap summer dresses that were only slightly modified to the receiver’s liking, not perfectly fitted and sewn gowns that cost more than someone's whole month's rent!

~”Yes.” He confirmed. “You see, every time I attempt to build up the courage to ask them, I shy away like a small child behind their mother's dress.” He explained a bit bashfully. So that was the case, huh. “And the ball is only a short while away, so if we start the dressmaking process any later, it might be too much work on your end.” You silently appreciated his thoughtfulness.

~It was kind of hard to believe. Shoto, a very stoic man with power and good looks, felt nervous asking a woman to attend a ball with him. Then again, everyone had insecurities about literally anything one could imagine, he was no different you supposed so you had no right to judge.

~”I’m sure they would love to attend the ball with you. If they know you the same way as I do, I’m sure they’ll accept the invitation from someone as kind as you.” You reassured him, pushing down the feeling in your gut and focusing on helping, dare you say, your friend. He deserved it.

~He give you one of his rare smiles that made your heart melt for some unknown reason.

~”Thank you for the advice.” He bowed his head to you slightly. You shook your head.

~”No need to thank me.” You said with a smile. “Anyway, would you like to discuss more about this dress that you’re ordering?”

~”Yes.” He answered simply.

~”Alright, what kind of dress do you think she would like? Any references you can think of she might find appealing?” You asked, bringing out your trusty notebook.

~”I do not know what she would like.” He boldly said and you sweatdropped. This is going to be very hard…

~”Do you know her measurements?” You tried again but he just shook his head.

~”Not an exact number.” He said a little bashfully, it was improper for a gentleman to talk about a lady’s size.

~”Y-You must at least know something, I can’t do a dress with little to no information! I need references here!” You said half-panicky. This was already stressing you out and you have barely even begun.

~How are you supposed to make a dress not knowing what the receiver wants? What if they don’t like the color or the style? Or what if the gown is too small, too big or the hem is too long? So many things can go so wrong here, it’s not even amusing!

~Just as your soul was about to leave your body, Shoto brought back your attention.

~”May I look at you for a moment?” He asked. You blushed slightly from the bold request.

~”S-Sure, but may I ask why?” You asked in return and he gestured for you to come from behind the counter. You walked to the front and stood in front of him and he started to eye you up and down. You felt slightly nervous under his gaze as he circled around you and compared your height to his, but you kept your unmoving stance. After a moment, he nodded.

~”Yes, your measurements are going to be perfect.” He announced and you took a double-take. Is this man serious?

~”Are you certain!? You want me to use my measurements for the dress?”

~”The measurements will do, you are the same height and size.” You almost wanted to tell him to reconsider so he wouldn’t be making a big mistake, but you figured he wouldn’t be changing his mind, so you relented.

~”If you say so. Then how about the style?” You inquired again, in hopes that he would now have something in mind, but you had a feeling he didn’t.

~”As I said, I know next to nothing about style.” He reminded you calmly and you thought for a second when you came up with a solution.

~”How about I show you different styled dresses and then you can see if one of them catches your eye?”

~”We can do that.” He agreed.

~You asked if he was fine with coming to the backroom to look and he said he was fine with it. You said quick hi to your brother as you entered the room and brought Shoto to a clothing rack full of finished gowns that you have not yet mailed or given to the customers that ordered them. You skimmed through them and each time you explained to him what style it was and the price, which he didn’t seem to be too concerned about.

~”All of them are good in my opinion, I think I should just leave all the designing to you.” He spoke and you started to sweat again from anxiety. He can’t possibly be dumping this on you.

~This wasn’t a discussion about his suit. Shoto had little references or wishes when he ordered his clothes, so it was fine for you to design them for him.

~Right now you are discussing about a dress that a woman was going to be wearing to a ball, and women tend to be very selective about what they wear even to the market. So you are basically screwed in this situation.

~”Todoroki, I understand that you are nervous about asking them, but I’m really about to faint from anxiety over this dress over here!”

~”You don’t need to take so much stress over it.” He hopelessly tried to help you.

~”Do you really think that’s going to help me calm down?...”

~”What I mean is… No matter what kind of dress you sew, I know it’s going to be fantastic.”

~”Todoroki, many women are picky about their clothing. Even if one dress is pretty, they might still prefer a different one.” You explained. He seemed to be in thought for a minute. You turned back to the rack while you let him in his thoughts. ‘How am I going to resolve this?’

~”How about that dress?” You heard him ask. You turned around to look at him and saw him point at a draft of a dress that hung on the wall next to your desk, your eyes widened a smidge. You walked over to the draft and admired it.

~”I have never done this dress before.” You admitted as you traced your eyes over the simple but beautiful dress that you had drawn. “No customer has ordered it before.”

~”How come?” He asked again.

~”Well, they never come to the backroom for instance so they don’t see it.” You stated as you started to run your fingers over the worn parchment. Your dream dress. Your perfect dress to meet a kind prince in a flower garden at night, while the stars twinkle and bare witness to the two people falling in love, as they dance the night away under the moon light.

~”Do you plan on one day making it?”

~”What for? It’s too expensive for me to make a dress for a chance that it would be one day bought. I never go anywhere where I would need to wear so formal clothing. It would only be a waste of perfectly good fabric.” You said solemnly as you looked at the drawing again. Which Shoto seemed to notice.

~It was pretty quiet for a moment, you went over your options in your mind briefly. Maybe you should just do one of your more popular styles and hope for the best. You were about to suggest your idea to Shoto, but he beat you to it, and boy were you speechless after that.

~”Would you be willing to make this dress if I ordered it?”

~Will this man ever stop surprising you? Probably not, but you’re pretty sure you’ll always react the same way as you do now, Staring him down and looking for any clues in his body language that he’s pulling your leg.

~”You want this design made?”

~”Yes, I think it’s a very beautiful gown and it would be a shame to just leave it as a draft.” He reasoned.

~”You’ll never cease to amaze me…” You breathed out, not sure if you, once again, should start to second guess his decision. “At this point I would be asking you to reconsider, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be changing your mind.”

~”You would be correct.”

~”But why Todoroki? Why do you have so much trust in me?” You inquired.

~”Because you’re my friend,” He answered with no hesitation. “I would go as far as to say that I trust you more than some of my family members.” He admitted. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Alright I was not expecting that.’

~”I literally have no words.” You said dumbfounded.

~”There’s no need for any, I’m simply trusting you because I see you’ve got a good taste, and it would be an insult if a customer didn’t trust their tailor.” He flashed you his million dollar smile, and you almost collapsed to the floor right then and there. Cheese… You swear you’re soon going to have a heart attack from how hard your heart was pounding.

~“R-right, then I’ll make this dress if that’s what you wish, Todoroki.” Damn you and your stuttering.

~”Please, call me Shoto.” You looked at his heterochromic eyes seeing nothing but certainty in them. Your cheeks grew slightly pink.

“Sure, Shoto it is.”

~~~~~~

~You eyed the dress on the mannequin probably for the millionth time as you circled it, brushed off non-existent dust, or rearranged the hem of the dress to look better, even though it was already perfect.

~Saying you were nervous was an understatement of the century. You just couldn’t stop yourself from fidgeting and pacing around the back room. You have been walking around so much that you swore there is a clear path marked on the ground from where you have walked.

~”Just calm down will you? He asked you to make the dress from your drawing and you did just as he had asked.” William followed your pacing form with his eyes, and has been doing so for 10 minutes when the clicking of your short heels on the wooden floor became too distracting.

~”I’m not particularly worried about his opinion and you know it.”

~”I know dear sister, but why should you worry about a one woman’s opinion when you have not even met them?” William leaned on his desk and folded his hands over his chest.

~”They could complain to Shoto of the design or fit and then I would get a mouthful from him.” You imagined horrified as you pulled on your hair.

~”My gods..” He breathed out. “Now that is ridiculous. If his partner does not like the dress then it is not your battle, it’s Shotos and he can’t blame you for it.” He attempted to smack some sense into you. “And I doubt he would be that kind of person.”

~You finally stopped your mindless wandering. Breathing in deeply, and then exhaling. William eyed you. You turned to him.

~”I’m still nervous.” You admitted.

~”I’ll be alright.” He got up to rub your shoulders comfortingly. “Why don’t we calm your nerves with a cup of tea before he arrives-” He was cut off by the ding of the boutique bell. You tensed up.

~”I guess not then.” Your brother hummed. “Good luck!” He gave you a shove towards the doorway and immediately went over to his sewing machine to pick up from where he left off. You sighed and pushed your way to the main area.

~Shoto stood at the entrance, and he smiled as soon as you appeared in the room. You admitted, his smile did ease your nerves a bit, who wouldn’t feel comforted by that gentle smile?

“Welcome back Shoto.” You greeted your friend.

“Hello (Name). It’s relieving to be back, my father has been driving me mad.” He expressed as he hung up his jacket. You laughed lightly at his words.

~”I can imagine. Didn’t you mention he has been pestering you about some matter for some time?” You recalled the last time you spoke, which was a couple of days ago.

~”Yes, however this day has to be the most annoying of them all.” He walked over to the front counter where you stood.

~”How so, did something happen?”

~”You could say that, my father and I got into an argument over the most foolish thing. But I won’t ruin your day by complaining about it.” You felt bad for him that he must put up with his demanding father so much. Anyhow, it was not really your place to snoop into.

~”Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” You inquired.

~”Definite.”

~”Then I will not pry.” You announced, defeated. “The dress is ready, you want to have a look?”

~”I most certainly do.” He answered, with what you could’ve sworn to be excitement.

~”Then I’ll go get it, just a minute.” You disappeared into the backroom to go retrieve the gown. You took a moment to admire it for the last time. It was your dream dress. The dress you dreamed you would own once you grew up. The perfect fairytale dress for a magical ball.

~And now it was going to be someone else's dress for a ball.

~You tore your eyes off it. Not wanting to get too attached to it than you already were. You gathered up the hem of the dress and started pushing the movable mannequin to the main area.

~At least you actually got to make it in the first place.

~You rolled the mannequin over the threshold and over to the mirror. Spread out the skirt once it was in the perfect spot. And brushed out any odd creases. You stepped back and looked at Shoto’s reaction. He was speechless. Eyeing the gown with the most careful and amazed look you’ve ever seen. Even going over every ruffle and gem sewn on it with a delicate touch.

~”What do you think?...” Your question snapped the man from his daze as he turned to you, still a bit blown away.

~”It’s...It’s gorgeous, there’s nothing else I could possibly say.”

~”T-Thank you Shoto, I appreciated it.” Why were your cheeks getting warm, you get acknowledgement from customers all the time.

~”I like it very much, can you pack it for me, please?” He asked.

~”Of course I can.” You playfully answered and he rolled his eyes. You skillfully pulled the dress off the mannequin and carried it to the front counter to fold it neatly and pack into a big brown box.

~”Here’s the exact amount.” He handed you a check, and you took it just as you finished tying a dark-green ribbon around the box.

~”Here you go, feel free to stop by whenever.” You said your usual line as you expected to see him take the box and leave with his usual goodbye, but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

~You questionably tilted your head to the side, wondering what he was up to. Shoto then pushed the big box towards you and simply said:

~”Here, this is for you.”

~You blinked… Then twice… and after the third time you did and he did not move from his spot or do anything, you allowed yourself to once again question this man’s actions. This occurrence is starting to become a routine… It probably already is.

~”What is the meaning of this?” You inquired dumbfounded, thinking this was one big joke. Staring at the just tied up box on the counter like he wanted to return it.

~”It’s for you. For you to have as your very own.” But it was the opposite. He wanted to give it to you. For you to have as your own.

~”Wh- what are you..?” You stopped yourself before you started speaking total gibberish.

~”I understand this may come as a bit straight forward and unexpected, but would you like to accompany me to the ball this weekend?” He inquired while he looked at you with hope and nervousness in his heterochromatic eyes. Despite this, you still had to ask.

~”Are you tricking me?” Shoto flinched a bit when you didn’t answer immediately, then again, why did he think you would? He breathed to calm down his own nervousness.

~”I am not, I assure you, I’m most definitely serious.”

~”But why would you… ask me? What about the partner you’ve been talking about?” You fired question after question. Did his partner turn him down? Are they unable to attend? Are you his last available option?

~”I will gladly explain myself… if you let me.” Shoto said meekly while fiddling with the giant ribbon of the gift box.

~You allowed him to begin explaining, curious and, should you say, eager to hear what he had to say. Part of you still believing that whatever he was going to say, was going to hurt you one way or another.

~”When I first came into this boutique or rather was forced in here by my father, I thought that this suit tailoring process was going to be just like the previous ones I’ve been to. So bland and emotionless. Most of the tailors I’ve worked with were always driven either by money or leverage, not really caring about what or how they were sewing as long as they made the most profit.” He wasn’t looking at you, but at the smooth green ribbon between his delicate fingers.

~”When I came here, and we started the designing process, I was kind of taken off guard how much you cared about what you were doing. Always asking me if I was alright with what you had planned, in such a gentle way.” He squeezed the ribbon a bit more tightly.

~”I didn’t think too much of it at the time. By the second time I visited, I really started to see the passion in your eyes and hear the fire of enthusiasm in your speech. It showed on the clothes you made, managing to make so much more of the measly fabrics that you use, proving that you don’t need the best of the best to make something brilliant.” He let go of the ribbon, letting it slip from his grasp.

~“This side of you caught my attention like a shooting star on a cloudless night. I became interested in your passion and wanted to observe it more.” You tried your hardest not to blush, but your body betrayed you as your cheeks felt a tad bit warmer.

~“Every visit I would learn more about you and I couldn’t help but be captivated. You are so different from me that so many things you talked to me about were things that I have never even thought about. It’s refreshing to hear such things when you live the life I do.” He admitted.

~”Then… what was going on when you set the order for this gown?” You clearly could see his cheeks turn a shade darker.

~”At the time, I couldn’t build up the courage to ask you. So I made up an explanation that I had not yet asked my partner to the ball and needed the dress made before it was too late. Actually, I wasn’t technically lying.”

~”So… I… Was the partner you were planning on asking, this whole time?” You had a hard time wrapping your head around it.

~”From the moment I asked you to make this dress.” He confirmed.

~‘Oh how romantic.’ You thought with a slight laugh. These types of occurrences only seemed to happen in fairy tales, it was unbelievable. You noticed the white rose that poked out Shoto’s breast pocket. It was exactly the same looking as the ones you’ve received for weeks now.

~”That rose!” You suddenly exclaimed, startling both yourself and the male opposite of you. Your demeanor then immediately changed back to your meek demeanor when you realized that it could’ve just been a coincidence. a Really, really weird coincidence.

~”You finally noticed.” He commented. “What did you think of the roses that I left you? Were they a bit too much?” He nervously scratched the back of his neck. Why did he feel so nervous this whole time?

~”So it was you who kept leaving these in front of my front door and not some random guy who kept on mistaking the address.” You made quite a bold move and pulled the rose out of its previous sitting place and started to play with the petals of the flower. Gently feeling the velvety surface with the pads of your fingers. What a satisfying feeling.

~”That’s what you thought they were?”

~”Well I didn’t know what else to think. I didn’t really consider that they could’ve been from you though.” You looked at the delicate bloom in your hands. “But I’m glad they were from you, they really made me feel special.”

~”Do you know what will make you feel even more special?” He leaned closer to your face, so close where both of your breaths mixed, but you did not pull away.

~”What?” You inquired like an innocent maiden as you bravely peered into his miss-matched eyes, no-longer with shyness but calm anticipation.

~Boldly, Shoto closed the already small distance between you and gave you the most gentle and affection-filled kiss you’ve ever had in your life. Your knees would have buckled from under you, had you not taken a firm grip on Shoto’s shoulders, and Shoto taking a hold of your waist. Rose falling from your grasp, and onto the floor.

~He deepened the kiss even more and you gladly accepted it, embracing him with warm and welcoming arms. Soon, the need for air forced you to pull apart but you remained in each other’s hold.

~”Well, what do you say? Will you come to the ball with me?” He inquired again. You smiled again.

~”Of course I will.” He smiled and leaned in to give you another, shorter kiss.

~You suppose William will have to manage without you for a while.

#Shoto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #xreader #x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #part 3

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lifesabe-ch · 5 years ago

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jump the gun - aaron h.

summary: you’re struggling to figure out how to use your firearm before your test. after not getting anywhere with Emily, Hotch decides to help you out... in more ways than one (based loosely off S1E6)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: gun use

a/n: I really really love hotch. I have smut written for him too so... if y'all like this and want that pls let me know. also if y'all want some Spencer Reid stuff... let me know that too. I'm watching criminal minds right now and I love

As the shot fired, you winced, the bullet missing the bullseye entirely.

“Did Elle teach you that?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing lightly as you stare at the target in front of you, “That’s misogynistic.”

“I wasn't saying—”

You cut him off, a sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face him, “I’m not going to pass. I’m never going to get a gun.”

Hotch scanned your features, a sympathetic smile being flashed in your direction, “Profilers aren’t required to carry. You don’t need a gun.”

“You carry two!”

Almost as if on cue, you watch as Hotch leans down to grab one of his weapons from his ankle holster, firing twice and hitting the target dead center both tines.

“I hate you.”

He laughs. It’s a cute laugh. A cute manly laugh. It makes you laugh, even though you’re not really in the laughing mood.

“You don’t.”

He moves you out of the way, shoulder pressed up against yours as he aims, breathing slow and tactile. You watch one of his eyes close, his hands steady.

“You watching?”

Oh yes. Yes you were.

He fires one round, makes note of its placement, and then fires two more in the same spot. He moves up toward the head of the paper target and lands another two right to the face.

“Keep breathing when you shoot.”

You pay special attention to the way his shoulders move, the way his hands grip the glock.

“You breathe out, and slowly pull the trigger—”

His face is steely.

“—and just when you can't breathe, you—”

The shot scares you from your concentration. Sure as shit, he made his mark.

“So a murderer is running at me and I’m going to sit here doing yoga and breathing techniques?”

He exhales, endearingly annoyed.

“No, but you need to know the basics before I can teach you the cool stuff.”

That piques your interest.

“Cool stuff huh? Like what?”

He puts the gun in his suit pocket which can’t be safe. He takes a steadying breath, levels his feet, and in two seconds it was in front of him, firing and hitting his mark one-handed.

You pout and nod, impressed.

“Well I’d hate to be that guy,” you say, gesturing to the poor dummy who was elected for target practice.

“Watch this,” he says, clearly loving the attention, moving it into his nondominant hand, and doing the exact same thing. It’s a little more dispersed over his mark, but still lethal nonetheless.

You tried to get it. And you tried. And you tried.

You didn’t think you’d ever get it.

It’s so all over the place. In the whites of the target, some above, some below. But never hitting it. It was frustrating.

“Breathe,” Hotch reminds. It pisses you off.

“I’m not just gonna stop,” you lash, turning to him, gun pointed at the target, unmoving. You sigh and focus.

Hotch comes up from behind you. He places your hands on your shoulders and lets out an exaggerated breath. You imitate him. A few rounds of breaths and you’ve calmed down. He’s so close to you, and though it’s hard to hear him, you can feel his breath on your neck. So close you can imagine his lips on your throat, hard and passionate. With Hotch's hands gently lingering on you, you fired. The shot was centimeters off from a bullseye.

Excitement shot through you, immediately placing the gun down carefully and pulling off the earmuffs, turning in Hotch’s grip to look back at him.

“I did it!”

He chuckled, pulling his own down to around his neck, grinning as he looked down at you, “You did it.”

As your eyes fell briefly to his lips, you realize how close the two of you were. At some point after you had moved, his hands rested on your arms now, holding you to him. You had one of yours on his chest.

He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down your arms, almost as if in a trance, before returning back to your shoulders, awkwardly patting you there.

Clearing your throat slightly, you pulled back from him reluctantly.

You give him a sheepish smile, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He nodded, “Of course. Here to help.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Neither one of you knew what to say.

In typical Hotchner fashion, he gave you a curt nod, holstering his weapon and heading towards the door, “Good luck tomorrow. You got this.”

YOU did indeed have this. You had passed. And you made sure Hotch was the first person you told.

He answered your call almost instantly.

“Y/N?”

“I did it!”

The line was quiet for only a second before he responded, and you could practically hear the smile through the phone, “I knew you could.”

“Only because you helped. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Let me take you out.”

Your smile faltered for only a second, but your voice didn’t as you teased, “What, with a sniper or on a date?”

His laughter filled your ear, “The latter would certainly be less messy.”

“So you’re asking me out?”

You were both quiet. You, waiting for a response, him nervously debating his.

“To celebrate. Just two colleagues having a drink.”

Right. Colleagues. He was your boss.

“Sure,” You masked your own disappointment, nodding despite yourself.

“Does eight work?”

HOTCH was already there when you arrived. He was wearing jeans and a button up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Am I late?”

You smile as you slip into the booth across from him, ignoring the way his eyes raked over your frame as you sat down.

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m just early.”

You nod, glancing over him once more. You’re sure he notices, the smile tugging on his lips evident, so you nudge him playfully with your foot.

“I thought you didn’t like jeans!”

“Why would you think that?” He chuckled.

“Because! You never wear them. When someone doesn’t like something, they usually stay away from it.”

“You’ve never seen me outside of work,” he points out, “I don’t wear jeans at work.”

“Right, but isn’t this a coworker thing?”

The blush dusting his cheeks was so light you almost missed it. Almost. The blush on his ears was a little brighter.

“Well, it’s an us thing.”

“Like just us?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

You nod, pulling out your phone very quickly, and hopefully not too late, to text the other colleagues you had invented to the outing, telling them it was off and that you’d explain later and that you were, “so so so so sorry. bout to get some. tell you later. DON’T COME.”

Glancing at the front door behind Hotch, with almost perfect timing, Morgan pushes the door open. In one swift motion, he glances down at his phone, holding the door open for the person behind him, reads your message, surveys the room, and walks back out. You would have to buy him flowers later.

Hotch follows your gaze.

“Was that Morgan?” He questions.

You panic, playing dumb.

“What? No. Did you invite him?” You claim, accusitorally.

“No—” he goes to say, but the barmaid is over by your table, taking your orders.

You drop the conversation topic quickly, opting to bring something else up after she leaves, not wanting to bring too much attention to your lie.

“I was serious about before. I really appreciate the help.”

“So much so that you wanted me to take you out with a sniper?”

You laugh loudly, “Listen, sometimes the idea is appealing.”

He chuckles, “It was nothing really. I’m just glad you learned from me, Emily said you were having a hard time focusing.”

“Well, I mean it was kinda hard to not focus.”

“Why?”

You feel his stare burn into you.

“I mean… nevermind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I said, nevermind,” you huff, “You’re supposed to nevermind it.”

“I just want to know what you were going to say.”

“Well, I said nevermind. Let’s not—let’s not talk about it. I… No. Nevermind. Nevermind it. Wow,” you mumbled, swirling the alcohol you had been brought around in the glass, “This is some strong shit.”

Hotch leans forward on his forearms, his eyes practically boring into your soul. The button up is so carefully, meticulously rolled up at the sleeves. You feel like a 14th century victorian widow, drooling over his arms like that.

“No, come on, what’s wrong.”

“Little personal, don’t you think?”

“No. I don’t.”

“What’s wrong with you then?”

“What?”

“If it’s not that personal. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well, there’s this young woman sitting across from me who won’t talk to me. And if she doesn’t talk to me for the entire night, I think… I think it’s going to be a pretty boring night.”

“I dunno,” you say, melancholic, “sometimes boring is better.”

“Alright. I’ll drop it,” he says, hands up in defeat.

You stare at him sadly. You don’t mean to, but you’re a little tipsy and every single consequence you’re not thinking of is a charlatan.

“This would be a lot easier if you weren’t my boss.”

“So pretend that I’m not.”

He says the words so quietly, you almost don’t hear him. His eyes never once leave yours, pupils dilating as he glanced down to yours lips.

Every rational part of you was telling you that this was a bad idea. But God were you irrational.

You slip out of your side of the booth and into his, slipping a hand against his chest, as one of his finds its way to your waist. The position is all too familiar, almost mirroring exactly what the two of you had whilst practicing. But this time was different.

This time, you two were working on something else.

“Well then, not-my-boss… is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

PART TWO HERE

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner imagine

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doodleimprovement · 4 years ago

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A Hat in Time :: The Nutcracker AU :: Setup and Rising Action

This post keeps getting too big for me to post all at once, whomp whomp

Enjoy the buildup to the first climax of this fun little AU!

There’s basically two main plots to this! One for Hat and one for Bow.

Here is your reminder that this is based on the Ballet

Here we Gooooo!

Setup:

Clara and Francesca:

These two met at the orphanage when they were 4 years old, and decided that they were sisters and would never be separated. This led to a constant issue where Clara would be fostered separately from Francesca (For… reasons that you can put together in your head :/ ) and Clara would become the world's most difficult problem child, going so far as to run away - back to the orphanage and insist that if they wanted to take her, they had to take Frannie too, and every family said no.

One family attempted to sue the orphanage for her misbehavior but lucky for them, Ludwig stepped in and convinced them to just give Clara back to the home and leave well enough alone. Ludwig asked her why she did what she did, and when Harriet explained that She wouldn’t be separated from her sister and expected to be scolded, Ludwig took her hand and told her that he completely understood.

On Francesca’s end. She put up the same fight for Clara, sometimes sneaking out of the orphanage to help her. She was mostly resigned though, starting to anticipate that the girls would probably only ever have each other, despite Ms. Stahlbaum’s best efforts. She had started sneaking into the lawyer’s office looking for what the law was like for when they grew up so she could find a way to make sure that her and Clara would be able to take care of each other once they “aged out of the system”. That was how she met Ludwig, who took pity on her - understanding her desire to be prepared for the future.

Then, the night before Christmas, Ludwig offers to host both Clara and Francesca at his home so that they weren’t cooped up in the orphanage (the building itself was close to capacity and it was easier for them to be somewhere else) on Christmas - he’d also started to grow find of the girls, rambunctiousness and all.

Lukas and Ludwig:

When Vanessa saw Lukas buying her flowers and talking with the florist, her paranoia immediately assumed infidelity, and in her delusion, she found a spell, - her intent being that if he wished to “toy” with her emotions, he’d have to take it literally. Her intent warped the spell, and while cursing him over his bed while he slept, her ire seeped into it, and caused further issues for the poor prince.

When he realized what happened to him, he struggled to move, but figured it out and found his brother, who was bewildered, but knew that his brother needed help, and, a few days later, the two disappeared, assuming anonymity.

2 years passed with Ludwig traveling and researching, only ever able to speak to his brother in the wee hours of the morning near dawn, only hearing about the war with the Queen of the Cats second hand - any time he tried to remain awake, the miasma of the magic would render him borderline catatonic, and he would be unable to assist his brother in any way - only ever fixing him if his nutcracker body was damaged- though despite the stories that his brother told, he never seemed that badly damaged.

When he started working for the orphanage, he was beginning to lose his muster, worried that his brother would forever be rendered a toy. But then, he met Clara and Francesca, and seeing their dedication to each other, their sisterhood despite their lack of blood relation, relit the fire in him, and he started to feel like he was on some kind of track. When he heard from Stahlbaum that the orphanage was over-capacity and she was worried about being able to take care of all of the children, he offered to take in the girls for the week of Christmas to New Years, and the girls came with him to his modest townhome.

Rising Actions:

Arrival at the home:

Ludwig helps the girls get settled, and tells them that dinner would be served at around 4 PM, and to feel free to explore the home, but to not touch anything without asking first. They agreed and started their separate ways. Clara went over to his parlor, where a strange-colored nutcracker was sitting on the mantle. She remembers what Ludwig says and calls out to him- asking if it was okay to touch the nutcracker - seeing that it’s jaw was damaged. She also asked if he had an old kerchief. He came into the room from the kitchen, asking why. She says that she wanted to help fix his jaw. He agreed, and helped her, ripping the old kerchief and fixing it around the jaw, setting it more properly. He thanked her, and when she asked what his name was, he awkwardly said that he didn’t think it was his place to name it.

Clara wasn’t sure what that meant, but asked if he did anything to get his jaw broken, like stealing candy. Ludwig cracks a joke about him being capable of snatching the candy right out of your hand, and Clara christens him “The Snatcher”, Ludwig had to try very, very hard not to laugh too hard at his brother’s new name. He told her that it was okay to play with him, but to be very careful. He quietly apologized to Lukas before leaving to find Francesca.

Frannie, meanwhile, is looking through his books, reading the titles but not touching them. Ludwig asks her if she wants to read anything, and she points to one of the books he’d borrowed from a town in south Belgium. It was a book of Pagan and Scandinavian rituals. Because this is the Victorian Era and adults didn’t actually care all that much, he said sure, and told her to be careful and not to be afraid to ask him questions. She nodded to him, and took the book gratefully, asking when dinner was going to happen. He suddenly remembered he had the oven going and rushed downstairs rather comically.

He calls the girls in for dinner, and they have a lovely time! Clara brings the Nutcracker and sits him at the table, occasionally talking to him and assuring him that she’ll use the metal nutcracker and not him. Francesca asks Ludwig many questions about the book, which he answered in as child-friendly a way as he can manage, and after dinner entertains them with reading from a few holiday books, retelling old tales that he and his brother used to love. He can’t help but think that his brother would love these girls, and his eyes kept glancing at the nutcracker being carefully held by the brunette.

He then sends the girls to bed, and they thank him for his kindness.

In the Middle of the Night…

Clara finds that she just cannot sleep, and, while she thinks that Francesca is asleep, she goes downstairs and into the parlor, where there’s a strange heaviness to the air. It doesn’t make her sleepy like it does for Ludwig, and she stands in the doorway, watching in bewilderment that she seems to have stumbled upon a … war! She takes a step into the room, absolutely amazed at the small cats fighting toy soldiers, said soldiers being lead by… a Nutcracker?!!

Clara is worried for the nutcracker, but as she steps into the room further, vertigo overtakes her, and when she opens her eyes after the dizzy feeling, she finds herself shrunken down to the size of a toy! She can’t seem to figure out what’s happening. But the largest cat starts monologuing at the damaged Nutcracker, and she realizes that she has to do something ….

Meanwhile…

Francesca also cannot sleep, as something in the book was sticking with her. So, by candlelight, she grabbed the book from her bedside and turned to a page that was written in, with underlining for a certain, bizarre spell with some kind of wording clause- she thought that it was very interesting, and wanted to read more. Curious, she got herself out of bed and snuck back into the man’s study, finding a collection of letters and books on the desk, which she just decided to look through because children are nosy, finding letters about someone missing- Ludwig’s brother.

She then sees a letter from Vanessa to Ludwig, seeing that Vanessa seems to know something about what happened to the missing brother - her details seem to be too exact, too… oddly specific.

Seeing that there is a mystery here, and unable to satiate her curiosity, she lights up several more candles, and starts looking through things on the desk…

#a hat in time #ahit #a hat in time au #ahit au #hat kid #bow kid #moonjumper #snatcher #ahit hat kid #ahit bow kid #ahit moonjumper #ahit snatcher #cooking cat #ahit cooking cat #antonia writes

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fantastic-bby · 4 years ago

Text

Avia

Pairing: (F)Reader x Jeongin

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: Guardian Angel!Jeongin || Modern Witch!Reader || Fluff || It’s kinda crack

Warnings: Demons || Mentions of death || Passed spirits

Masterlist || Chan - Maive || Minho - Kira || Changbin - Skye || Hyunjin - Nova || Jisung - Blair || Felix - Lia || Seungmin - Raisha

“More magic?” The voice questions in your head. You nod silently, your mind purely focused on the spell jar you were making. “What is it this time?”

“A protection jar for myself,” you mutter in response. You hear the voice hum softly in your head, a small sense of validation filling your stomach. You’re aware of the guardian that lingers around you. Ever since you got more in touch with the spiritual world, you realised that an angel was protecting you. The more you got into witchcraft, the more you were able to speak with him. Blair’s ability to see spirits had also helped you into visualising his presence before he had revealed himself to you.

“Wait,” the voice moves closer. You feel the familiar feeling of him revealing himself to you. “You’re not going to try and buy a cursed object, are you?” Your body freezes in the middle of the spell and you slowly turn in your chair to see Jeongin staring at you with squinted eyes. You let out a nervous laugh before turning your attention back to the spell. “(Y/n).” You can tell just from his tone that he’s warning you.

“Jeongin, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it,” you wave your hand at him. It doesn’t please him.

“(Y/n), you can finish the spell jar, but the cursed object will backfire.” You whip your head around to look at him.

“You can’t do that!” you exclaim.

“You’re right. I can’t,” he clarifies, “but I’m here to protect and guide you, and as your guardian, I’m telling you that it’ll backfire.” Jeongin stands over your altar, his hands on his hips as he gives you a warning glare. “Finish the spell and don’t buy the object.”

“Okay,” you sigh.

Despite Jeongin’s warning, you bought the object.

“(Y/n)?!” Jeongin booms the moment you step out of the antique store. "I told you not to!" You give him a sheepish smile as you pull the tall bunny statue out of the paper bag in your hands.

“Okay, but you have to admit,” you hold it out in front of him with a wide smile on your face. “Jeongin, it’s cute!”

“It’s cursed!” he argues. “Why are you the way that you are?” Jeongin grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you feel the energy yet?”

“I definitely can,” you nod enthusiastically. “That’s the whole reason I got this statue.” The guardian looks up at you and lets out an even louder groan.

“There is literally a demon behind you, (Y/n).” His eye twitches with annoyance as you turn around, being faced with a very unamused looking demon.

“Hey,” the demon waves. His dark suit would’ve deceived you if you didn’t know he was already a demon. He looked like a well dressed businessman who could easily trick an unknowing human into tragedy.

“Can we just discuss this at home and not in public where people will stare at us?” Your suggestion makes Jeongin click his tongue in annoyance, agreeing nonetheless because he knows that bringing unwanted attention to you would only put you at risk of more otherworldly harm. You make your way home, both Jeongin and the added presence of the demon following behind you.

“So what are you?” The demon questions your guardian.

“Her guardian angel,” he mutters, not really wanting to speak with the demon.

“A guardian?” You glance over your shoulder when you hear the excitement in the demon’s tone. “If I bring a guardian and a human down with me, I’ll definitely be able to get away from that damn bunny statue.”

“No, you will not!” Jeongin scoffs. “(Y/n) is under my protection and I won’t let you put your grimey hands on her.”

“Is your magic strong enough to set me free?” The demon’s lips quirk into a smirk. “Let’s make a deal, angel. If you can set me free from that object, I’ll leave your precious human alone.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m not making any deals with any demons.”

“Well, then you’ll have to protect her from the other two spirits that are tied to the statue.”

“Two?!” You whip your head around and stare at the demon in shock. He only nods, the smug look on his face never disappearing.

“You’re some kind of a psychic, aren’t you? That’s the whole reason you chose the statue,” his eyes look you up and down.

“I’m a modern witch,” you claim.

“Well, witch,” he snorts; it seems the idea of you being a modern witch is laughable to him. “You need to get better with your whole spiritual connection if you didn’t realise there’s more than one being attached to that thing.” He points to the paper bag still in your hands. “Even if you try to throw away the statue, it’s bound to you now, witch.” You turn to Jeongin with wide eyes.

“I told you,” he says through gritted teeth. You let out an awkward laugh as you turn around, making your way into your apartment building with the beings following.

“How many demons are in here?” you question once you’re in the safety—well, somewhat safety—of your home.

“I’m the only demon. The other two are just dead people.”

“Must you refer to us that way?” A voice scoffs before a spirit appears beside the demon, her arms crossed over her chest. The demon throws his hands up in front of himself in defense.

“It’s the truth, Amaris,” he shrugs. You stare at the new addition with wide eyes. The woman looks to be only around her late twenties, dressed in an old victorian gown with her blonde hair tied into a loose bun.

“You are unbelievable,” she huffs. “At least have some respect for us.” The spirit turns to you. “Don’t mind him. Neo can’t really do anything even though he’s a demon.” She raises an eyebrow as she turns to him. “Such a demon can’t even release himself off of a spell a human casted.”

“Human witches were powerful back then,” he growls. “It doesn’t matter anyway since we found ourselves another ‘witch’,” he air quotes with his fingers, “that could probably set you, Rose and I free.”

“Hello?!” Jeongin snaps. “She will not set you free at all!” he turns to you. “(Y/n), you’re getting rid of that statue and the spirits along with it.”

“Jeongin, if I set the two spirits free, it’s not a bad thing!” you shake your head. His eyes widened in disbelief. “If only one of them is a demon, then I can set the two spirit who aren’t demons free instead!”

“You will not!” he scoffs. “You don’t even know if they’re truly spirits or not!”

“Can’t you figure it out? You’re my guardian anyway.” He blinks a few times, staring straight at you before turning his attention to the two beings standing in your living room.

“Where’s the third one?” Jeongin didn’t need to ask twice. The third spirit appeared behind Amaris the moment he asked; a young woman dressed in what looks like a hospital gown, her dark brown hair tied into a loose ponytail.

“This is Rose,” Amaris introduces. “Poor girl barely got to live her life before being tied into the statue thanks to the likes of you,” she throws a glare at Neo who shrugs.

“She was the one who was attracted to the statue in the first place,” he chuckles, his smile sending shivers down your spine.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” you repeat, shaking your head while you try to process everything. “Who was in the statue originally?” Neo raises his hand.

“I was tied to the statue because a human didn’t want me to pester his mother anymore,” he starts, “the little bastard tied me to the statue when I wasn’t paying attention and threw me away. Our lovely Amaris here found me when she was trying to find a decent gift for her king only to be repaid with death. Young Rose found me while she was trying to find things to pawn off for cash. She wasn’t that hard to bring into the statue.”

“That is exactly why you should show Rose some compassion,” Amaris nags.

“Oh, please,” Neo rolls his eyes. “I show her more compassion than I do with you. You wanted to bed the king knowing he had a queen.” You glance at Jeongin, noting how annoyed he looks while the beings start arguing among themselves, Rose watching silently as though she’s completely used to it. You take a few steps closer to Jeongin.

“What do we do now?” you ask, voice a whisper.

“Since you thought this was such a good idea,” he turns to you, “you’re banishing the demon. I’ll figure out what to do with the ghost girl and the victorian lady.”

“Why can’t you take the demon and I take the spirits?”

“Because you bought the statue even though I clearly told you not to.” He doesn’t say anything more before disappearing, leaving you to tend to the new spirits. You let out a heavy sigh when you realise Amaris and Neo are still arguing with each other. You take a few steps closer to Rose, pulling her aside.

“Are they always like this?” you ask softly. She nods silently. “Not much of a talker, huh?” You turn your attention back to the bickering pair, realising that it was a good idea to have your bedroom more protected than your entire home. At least then they won’t be able to bother you while you’re sleeping.

“I know what to do with Neo,” Jeongin announces softly when he returns. “The deities are a bit iffy—I wonder why,” he rolls his eyes, making you punch his shoulder in response. He scowls at you. “They’re having a word with the big guy downstairs. They said if the king won’t take Neo back, then we’ll just have to banish him ourselves. In terms of the spirits, Amaris isn’t dangerous, but something’s a big off about Rose.”

“Neo said she’s just a spirit, right? Then I’ll just set her free.” you turn to him. The guardian gives you a look that you can’t quite read before turning to Rose.

“You need to tell me where you came from so that we can take you back home,” he tells her gently, “we won’t hurt you, Rose. We want to help you.” The girl looks up at him and only then you notice just how dead she looks. Compared to Amaris who glows as though she’s still alive, Rose’s eyes look dead and sullen, skin pale. “If you could just tell us where you passed, we can release your soul there.”

“We only mean good, Rose,” you speak up, earning a soft sense of gratitude from your angel. The two of you watch as she looks around your apartment—as though she can sense your magic—before turning back to you. Her pale hand raises and points to the pendant hanging from your neck, signalling for you to take it off. You look down at the pendant, not hesitating to take it off when a voice enters your mind.

“Stop,” Jeongin’s voice quickly snaps in your mind. “That’s your protection. Something’s not right.” You see for a moment the way Rose’s eyes seem to flicker knowingly before she tries asking once more.

“I can’t do that,” you shake your head as you take a step closer to Jeongin. Your living room starts to feel threatening, fear slowly creeping up inside of you.

“Why do you need her to take off her protection?” he asks as he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you closer. From the way his wings wrap around you ever so slightly, you know his protective instincts are kicking in. “You’re not a normal spirit,” Jeongin claims, his wings tightening around your frame and only pulling you closer. It seems that his claim had caught the attention of Amaris and Neo, both of them turning to see what was happening.

“Stop it, darling,” Amaris smacks her shoulder. “They want to help.” Rose turns to her, giving her a silent look before the older spirit rolls her eyes. “Excuse Rose. She’s just as mischievous as Neo is.”

“Quite the guardian, aren’t you?” Neo teases, a bemused smirk on his way from the sight of Jeongin holding onto you so tightly.

“Guardian, I promise that they can’t do any harm to you or your human,” she reasons. “We just want to be set free.”

“I can only set you free,” Jeongin gestures to Amaris. “Rose has to go with the statue and Neo has to go back under.” The both of you could barely blink before Rose was standing right in front of you, her eyes wide; silently demanding be set free. Jeongin only pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his side, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Back off or I’ll send you to where Neo came from,” he growls. “Know your limits when you’re going against a guardian, spirit.” His eyes glare into her lifeless eyes and for a moment, you see fear flash in her eyes before she steps back. “You guys are allowed to be here until we figure out where to leave you. Until then, you’re not allowed to even touch (Y/n).” Jeongin pulls you into your bedroom without another word to the beings, closing the door behind him. You let out a heavy sigh as you sit yourself at the foot of your bed, taking in the situation you had just put yourself in. “I’ll handle Rose and Neo,” he speaks up, “you just have to unbind Amaris from the statue.”

“I thought you were giving me Neo to handle,” you look up at him.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a beginner,” Jeongin sits beside you. “I can’t afford to lose you just because I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

“Did I make things too difficult?” you question, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip when you realise just how frustrated he is.

“It’s okay,” he shakes his head, turning to you with a small smile. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll get another angel to come down and help us.” You give him a doubtful look, afraid that you’ve dug too deep a hole. “Don’t worry about it, (Y/n).” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Jisung said Blair’s summoning a demon, too, so now you guys have more things in common.”

“Is she?” you gasp, pulling away to look at him. Jeongin nods. “Oh god, I need to cast a protection spell for her too then.” You stand up from your bed, rushing to your altar while your guardian watches, an amused smile on his face. He knows you’re excited for your spiritual journey. With how you perk up when you get the slightest of signs and how bright you get whenever you realise that a spell is actually working, Jeongin should’ve expected that you’d get a little too excited over the idea of trying to banish a demon yourself. Jeongin makes his way over to your altar, his hands on your shoulders as he leans closer.

“Don’t forget to cleanse,” he reminds you while holding out an incense stick in front of you. Your body freezes. “It could be Neo’s energy interfering with your space.”

“Thanks,” you thank him sheepishly as you take the stick from his hand. Once lit, you sit back in your chair as you watch the smoke wisp into the air, Jeongin by your side. “Sorry for bringing the demon here.”

“It’s okay,” he hums, his hand resting on your shoulder. “It’s all for experience. I’ll be by your side until you become a powerful witch.” Jeongin gives you a wide smile. “And I’ll be here even after.”

“Thank you, Jeongin,” you smile at him.

“But if you summon a demon again even when I tell you not to, you’ll have to handle them on your own,” he warns, his eyes switching to serious. You chuckle, nodding your head.

“Next time I wanna summon a demon, I’ll listen to you.”

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victimhood · 4 years ago

Text

My TOG cast and crew movie reviews

Ok so watching TOG revived the part of me that LOVES indie-ish/European Arthouse films and I blitzed through a bunch with more to come! Idk who this review serves but I just had to explode in writing or...the feelings would go nowhere.

Love and Basketball

My movie rating: 4 / 5

Favourite parts: the conflict between a tomboy sports loving protagonist and a conventional homemaking mother. To sound cliched, this is the sort of thing only a woman filmmaker can bring out in her films. There’s so much nuance and tension expressed in all the individual women in the film and where that lies in the enforced dichotomy of woman/not a woman--thereby highlighting that IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN A DICHOTOMY all of these are in the broad spectrum of womanly behaviors bc they come from women!!! The ending where a husband supports his wife in HER basketball game? LOVE THAT. Music choices are also A++ in this film.

The film also provides some insight into respectability politics--here we have an NBA player who wants his son to do something more conventionally “respectable”. I am not American nor am I Black so someone with more insight would be able to speak to this better, but even so as an audience I could feel it!

TOG cast rating: none, bc it’s the director!! This is Gina Prince-Bythewood’s breakout film but you can palpably feel that she poured her heart and perhaps some of her life experiences in this film!

Martin Eden

My movie rating: 3.5 / 5

Don’t understand the movie, slightly put off by the Nietzschean individualist philosophy. Doubly so after I read that the author of the book (Jack London) is a socialist?? (FTR so am I so like...I’ve had enough of white male indivudalism!!) Stuff like that always reminds me of (500) Days of Summer which is anti-manic pixie dream girl and yet is beloved by aspiring MPDG-philes. Here is a quote from the author himself: London wrote, "One of my motifs, in this book, was an attack on individualism (in the person of the hero). I must have bungled it, for not a single reviewer has discovered it."

Though I have not read the book, I hope the movie is a little more pronounced, in the unraveling of the eponymous protagonist. Luca gives an impressive show of his Acting Range as the protagonist moves through life and goes through a whole bunch of political beliefs in reaction to the situation around him.

I love movies that show the impoverished side of Europe though. The movie does a good job of showing the class conflict within society--at the end of the day, the Martin Eden that has risen through the social ladder is a self-despising man. The bread mopping scene is great, and truly, there is no love for Luca Martinelli like the camera’s love for Luca Martinelli. I love Luca’s bad teeth in this too. Dental health is possibly one of the most obvious, yet most unremarked markers of social class. Nice detail.

TOG cast rating: 5/5 Luca really carries this film on his broaaaaad shoulders. Thank you Luca. Thank you Pietro, for making a movie that lingers so lovingly on Luca’s face, inspiring many a writer to pen horny paeans to the Roman nose and the Byzantine eyes. I even saw one about the lop of hair over the eyes. Yes….watching Luca is a very physiological experience.

They Call Me Jeeg (Lo Chiamavano Jeeg Robot)

My movie rating: 4 / 5

Ok this movie is quite male-gazey in the conventional action movie way. Moments where the damsel is in distress are filmed in a somewhat titillating manner. That aside, the damsel in distress does get a moment of glory, though it shortly precedes her death. The hero of the film I also found not too groundbreaking. He starts out as a thief but is given superpowers, and he’s mostly a sad loser who watches too much porn in his free time, though the damsel’s belief in him helps turn him around to the greater good. The story moves at a quick pace and with twists and turns at each corner which help the enjoyability rating.

Really, the standout of this movie is the villain. Fabio (Lo Zingaro) is fantastically deranged, in a style that surpasses the Joker. The only thing I truly have to say about this movie is that the moment where Lo Zingaro barges in on the hero and the camera POV switches from third person to first person and the hero is on the verge of fainting but all he sees is Lo Zingaro saying “Ciao”.........reader, I am speaking from the afterlife. Again, truly, there is no love for Luca Marinelli like the camera’s love for Luca Marinelli. My heart stopped when I saw Fabio’s face in such a tender, loving proximity...and yet...he is deranged...he wants to kill you….TAKE ME NOW FABIO I AM YOURS *lovelorn Victorian sigh*

Perhaps I might issue a CW that there is a trans character in the film. The character doesn’t appear for too long, and I think the portrayal is mostly neutral to borderline negative for playing to stereotypes. The damsel in distress’s story carries a huge TW for sexual abuse and incest.

TOG cast rating: 5/5 just for that 1st person POV scene alone--that was life changing. I did not expect to be greeted so intimately by a completely deranged motherfucker. I want it as my phone wallpaper.

A Bigger Splash

My movie rating: 4.5 / 5

I loooooooved Bigger Splash so much?? But this is because I love Tilda Swinton and I love Ralph Fiennes. While watching this, I don’t know why, but I just kept thinking, aaaaand this guy is also Voldemort (Fiennes). I love the implausibility and yet here we are.

Matthias is so boyfriend-shaped in this movie, I wanted to snuggle up against him and have him care for me. He’s a wonderful boyfriend, and Ralph Fiennes’s character truly, is the Most Annoying Mansplainer type ever, like, you’ve probably met that type, who thinks he’s slick and loves the sound of his own voice and I 100% related when Matthias’s character just...has had enough of Ralph Fiennes’s character. But oopsie, the rest is a spoiler.

THE SOUNDTRACK IS AWESOME also it’s got St Vincent covering the Rolling Stones and St Vincent is the lesbian guitar hero of your dreams, please give St Vincent more love.

TOG cast rating: 5 / 5 Matthias is butt naked in the opening scenes of the movie, and then he appears full frontal nude later on. But mostly he just looks so snuggly like a big boyfriend hoodie.

Rabat

My movie rating: 4 / 5

Wow ok I LOVED THIS ONE A LOT. Idk what I was expecting, but it was a beautiful, beautiful ride. It’s a perfect expression of the “roadtrip story” form. It’s got the adventure, the hijinks, the conflict and the “transformative growth” that comes out of the conflict. It’s about the MENA immigrant experience in Europe, and though from a different community as someone who’s had the immigrant experience myself I loved the part where they talk about people back home thinking they’re rich for having moved abroad. Yet--in many white-dominated countries, non-white immigrants live under an incredibly bulletproof glass ceiling and moving “upward” in society is a pipe dream. I loved when the main character Nadir mentions his dad’s taxi being a reliable source of income for the past 15 years. I think it’s such a warm and human film played by very warm and human characters, and [mild spoiler] I CACKLED SO MUCH at how Nadir “resolves” the question of marriage--I can’t go into too much detail bc the movie builds up to this but I LAUGHED SO MUCH. It’s the blend of total inappropriateness delivered in the most sincere package played to perfection.

TOG cast rating: 3/5 criminally underused Marwan bc he is not the main character. Marwan is a womanizing, alcohol-loving Tunisian friend in this story who buys a...bootleg? Hugo Boss suit for 200 Euros and then rips it up to form shorts bc the weather is too hot. The story implies he has a more complex backstory re: his relationship to his father as well as having impregnated a girl and escaping paternal responsibility for that but doesn’t give us much more. At one point, one character remarks that he would do “horrible” things (implying sexual interest) to Marwan’s character and ALAS I MUST AGREE.

...AAAAAND we’ll have more to come!! I promised a friend to watch Beale Street together so it’s gonna take a while for that to happen thx covid.

#the old guard #the old guard cast #tog cast #Gina Prince-Bythewood #luca marinelli #matthias schoenaerts #marwan kenzari #love and basketball #martin eden #a bigger splash #lo chiamavano jeeg robot #they call me jeeg #rabat

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jj-ktae · 5 years ago

Text

Papers, II

Title : Papers Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!Reader Genre : Victorian Era, Romance, Fluff, Angst, smut-ish, Words : 2484 Summary : In the merciless 1850′s, Park Jinyoung finds solace in tiny pieces of paper and their owner. Will be updated every Wednesday at 9 p.m CEST.

Prologue - I -

II,

Jinyoung wouldn’t say he is easy to disconcert. He saw too much to be concerned about trivial issues and his personality took the same way; he cannot be bothered easily.

Still, after recovering from the initial shock, his mind went into chaos. He blamed it on his overly imaginative self even as he tried to understand who the person could be.

She isn’t a student; none of them would wander the school outside of their usual schedule. They call themselves artists but their involvement with their surroundings is close to non-existent.

She can’t be a teacher. There is only one woman teaching and she hasn’t been around lately.

As Jinyoung falls on the slightly ripped couch and breathes the humid ambient air, he comes to the only conclusion he can feel satisfied with.

She has to be one of the persons in charge of keeping the school clean. He had seen a couple of women, all in their forties, walking around with their brooms.

They usually never work during class hours and hug the walls in fear of being noticed covered in dirt.

Jinyoung snorts, it’s not like they are doing the dirty work because the spoiled kids can’t take care of themselves.

So it makes sense. An old lady being bored and finding entertainment in chatting with a young gentleman is not shocking. It’s a good way to go unnoticed.

“I’m hungry,” Jackson cuts his thoughts with a grunt, “all we have are onions.”

“I thought there was bread left…” Jaebeom answers as he starts looking around the minuscule kitchen. He comes back with an old piece of half mouldy bread and tilts his head.

He hates that he even has to fill his stomach.

Money is something that comes in very little among for them. They usually take turns helping around in a small factory nearby but Jackson had to punch one the guy there.

It seems he didn’t like being called the filthy and useless orphan.

“There’s only the mine left.” Jinyoung concludes, “I will go tomorrow and ask if they have something for us. Next time keep your anger to yourself, Jackson.”

He sounds like he is scolding him but he is boiling inside. Jinyoung would have done way worse than a punch but he knows better than to let himself starve. There is only one way to survive and it doesn’t involve fighting for your own principles.

Sadly.

Jackson doesn’t say more but still, he joins Jaebeom. “Let’s just make a soup with the onions.” Jinyoung hears him cough loudly for a good minute before leaning against the couch.

He cannot stand the situation anymore.

He shouldn’t be worried about surviving; he should enjoy youth and have minor problems. He wants to worry about his future for a good reason, he wants to wake up without grimacing at how his stomach hurts.

His childhood was one of an orphan. It started with death and kept being surrounded by it. The orphanage wasn’t only a place of regular beating and fighting, it was also where they took the kids to work.

It was common until recently. Children would work wherever it was needed. The orphanages were the easiest place to find young people without family to put them to work.

From six to thirteen he, Jaebeom and Jackson wandered the coal mines, covered in dust and breathing the disgusting air. Several acts were made, but these applied to the kids with family who could report to the police.

It certainly didn’t apply to orphans whose only guardians were greedy people.

It’s a mystery how they survived, for most the other kids developed diseases or even died while working.

Jinyoung remembers how Jackson would try to protect them by working the most. He would be doing the job of three kids so that Jinyoung and Jaebeom would rest while no one was working. Back then he was already the most robust and lively of them three.

Hearing him cough so loudly puts him in such a state of rage.

There is nothing he can do about it; Jackson is stubborn and keeps on practicing swordsmanship while working an insane number of hours to bring money.

He barely lets them go in his place, explaining they have better things to do, almost begging them to make it with their intelligence and rely on his strength to take them out of here.

Guilt often adds to the number of things Jinyoung worries about.

So he fights, even though literature is annoying, even though he wants to run away and hide somewhere safe.

Jaebeom puts a worn-out bowl of soup in front of him and again, he wants to cry.

The amphitheatre is huge, Jinyoung thinks. They barely ever enter this room as most of their class are held in smaller rooms. The art department takes most of the space since many more students attend their classes.

Painting seems to be much more coveted.

He sits in silence, his shabby-looking bag now on the floor. He never uses it, mostly because it looks like a rag, but also because he hates weighing himself down with useless things. Today though, he has to go and find them a new place to earn money and he can’t risk his notebook falling into coal.

The teacher enters and starts explaining the importance of commas in sentences.

Jinyoung wants to sleep already.

It lasts for what seems like an eternity and Jinyoung ends up trying to find more inspiration. He takes the notes you had left behind in hope it would help and surprisingly it does. He writes five pages of his story. It evolved from the encounter of two people hidden behind pieces of paper to interrogations about the society and what it holds. He kept the identities secret, just like they are in reality.

Jaebeom has to nudge him when the class ends, so he absent-mindedly throws his notebook in the bag and walks away. He should hurry before the mine’s chief leaves.

He apprehends going there but he has no choice. He knows none of them want to go back there but it is the easiest way to get money without dealing with disrespectful people. The mine is like hell but everyone is the same under the ground.

It doesn’t take long to convince the chief. He is glad to find more people willing to risk their lives as apparently, he lost a few recently. The wage isn't big as expected, but it’s enough to eat more than rotten onions and mouldy bread.

“Why do you want to take turns? I’ve got kids working all day here.” The chief doesn’t know how painful these words are.

“We are students, sir.” Is all he answers; he certainly doesn’t want to explain how none of them are going to ruin their lives here daily.

The man is bewildered but he smiles, his dirty teeth appearing. “Why do you want to work here if you have money-”

“We don’t. We are orphans.” Jinyoung cuts through gritted teeth.

The chief ends up laughing so loud that Jinyoung wants to beat him up.

“I see...we can’t have you leech off society, right? Do as you please, I want one of you here every day. Money is once a week.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath before nodding.

“Starting tomorrow, 8 p.m. until 8 a.m.” is what seals the deal. Jinyoung is absolutely not pleased as he leaves the place.

He is about to go back home when he feels his bag lighter than it is supposed to be.

When he opens it and notices the notebook missing, he runs back into the mine at full speed.

When you hear about the classroom not being used anymore your first reaction is to be relieved. You don’t know why but something seemed abnormal with this gentleman and his questions. You have no idea if he saw your answer but there is no need for you to worry about it anymore.

Life is about to go back to normal and you don’t know if it is for the best or not.

Vivienne has been teasing you about how you had been anticipating this exchange and you had brushed her off, explaining that there is nothing to be excited about.

This could cost more than it could bring.

You enter the numerous rooms one after the others, not without secretly checking under the tables.

It makes you wonder.

What would have been his answer?

Maybe he would have agreed; the rich love being flattered, anyways. He would have written about how true what you answered was, about how the wealthy are the cornerstones of the society and how everyone should be thankful for their hard work.

So yes, it’s probably for the best.

“They told me the main amphitheatre would be used for more classes now. The one where you have been sticking the notes is going to be renovated.” Vivienne announces from behind you.

“I know…” you utter.

So much for being relieved.

You open the door of the amphitheatre and start from the tables. You hate this room; it is big and it means more work for you but today is payday and you promised you would buy a cake for Vivienne’s birthday even though she told you to keep your money.

“Do they not teach them how to use a bin?” The latter is already complaining, making you smile in the middle of your work.

The sun is rapidly falling, painting the room with shades of pink and purple so you work faster. You don’t want to go back home at ungodly hours again.

Yesterday you spent an hour cleaning the stains of paint on the floor and even your skin itches from the amount of alcohol you used.

You’re sweeping between the tables when you find a notebook.

Vivienne is cleaning the huge board when you pick it up, puzzled. You look around before kneeling to grab it.

The handwriting is messy but it looks like it belongs to a student. There are notes, tiny drawings and lost sentences. Pieces of paper fall from between two pages. You pick one and your eyes go wide when you find your own handwriting.

These are the notes you left to the young gentleman.

“Sir, if you’re looking for the room being renovated, it is in the other part of the building.” Vivienne speaks loudly, making you look up from your spot between the tables.

You turn around, surprised to see a guy standing. He is breathless, his face and clothes are covered in coal and he is way too sweaty.

“Sir, I can take you-”

“I’m not here to renovate this goddamn place.” The answer startles the two of you but when you find him looking at you before approaching, you don’t need more explanations.

You get up, the notebook in your hands and the pieces of paper back on the floor.

He stops before you, his eyes so deep it makes you take a couple of steps back.

Jinyoung looks down and finds your answers, forgotten between dust. He sighs and leans to pick them up before extending his hand.

“I forgot my notebook.”

You blink, mouth opened. Didn’t he say he is a student? Why would a student be covered in coal and be this dishevelled?

“...you are...a student?” Vivienne gasps, realizing she had been speaking this way to someone who isn’t part of the school personnel. “I’m sorry sir.” she lets the dirty sponge fall back into her bucket before hurrying toward you. “We shall leave.” her eyes find the floor instantly.

Eye-contact with a wealthy person is something no sane - and poor - person should do.

She grabs your arm to take you out but Jinyoung is quick to grab your arm.

You’re done for. You are going to get fired, beaten, criticized by the whole neighbourhood for doing such a rude thing.

Jinyoung sees it, the way fear appears on your face, the way you wish the ground would swallow you. Even covered in coal, dirty and smelling like sweat and humidity, you still think he belongs to a class that you should bow to and beg for mercy.

Anger takes him, makes him forget about how absurd the situation is, blurs his vision, covers everything from the ground to your devastating beauty.

He snorts and tilts his head. “So, care to tell me what you think about the rich again?”

How did he even know it was you?

Vivienne freezes, a hand going to her mouth but before she can beg you again to leave, you stop her.

“Wait for me outside. You have nothing to do with this so leave.” You look at her with a tender smile, one she recognizes as resignation toward your fate.

“I will...wait for you.” She whispers, not daring enough to look at a fuming Jinyoung.

Once she is gone you hand the notebook to Jinyoung before freeing yourself from his grip.

“I am sorry for what I did, sir. I didn’t wish to look into your belongings nor did I think before answering the notes I found. I will leave and never find myself before you ever again so I beg you to forget about my friend who isn’t involved in such idiocy.” It is your only option. You will endure everything before leaving and pray for this incident not to spread in any way.

You know how things go when someone makes a mistake. No mistake is allowed for people like you.

Jinyoung grabs his notebook before shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer.” is all he says.

You want to cry when you bow to recite the praises.

“As I already answered, the rich are the essence of-”

“Is that what you really think? Even covered in dirt, even when you have to kneel every day, beg for forgiveness, fight for food and act like you are invisible?” Jinyoung is smiling when you get back up. “You don’t want them to disappear? You don’t want the rich to pay for the way they treat the poor? YOU DON’T HATE THEM?” He ends up yelling when he finds himself unable to control his feelings.

“No, sir.”

Jinyoung laughs, “Well, I do.” he says before turning around. His knuckles are turning white from how tight he is gripping the notebook.

It takes a while for you to process the words but when you fully grasp what he just said, you speak again.

“Why?”

Jinyoung stops. He doesn’t turn around, but you guess he is still angered by the situation.

“Because of how frightened you are. Because we must beg for forgiveness even when we did nothing wrong. Because no matter how I torture myself, I will never understand how inequitable this bloody society is. Nonetheless, you risk nothing with the filthy me, young lady.”

And he leaves.

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dianapana · 4 years ago

Text

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 1.2

I couldn’t choose between the prompts so i wrote two for the first day, i was overly enthusiastic after we go the list and i was carried away xDD please don’t mind me :) I hope you enjoy, love and kisses ~Dia

Prompt: Antique Shop

Mirror, Mirror- Part 1

“Welcome to the city of Lights” was written big on the sign just outside Las Vegas. Hinata took her first step in to the city and it felt…different. She was one of those people that pulled over by the sign so she could cross the border to the city by foot. She took a deep breath in and smiled to herself. After a few moments she returned to the car and continued driving to the center of the city. It was her first time in Las Vegas, it was her first time in the USA really. Hinata came to visit her cousin that had moved here for work a while back. She had heard so many things about Las Vegas, the nicknames alone intrigued her, the city of lights, the city that never sleeps, the city of sin. So, on her final 2 days of her USA escapade she decided to rent a car and drive to the city and see it for herself. It also helped that Neji was quite close to Las Vegas so the drive didn’t take her all that much. There were things she wanted to see and she made a list, she would start in downtown and tick them all off her list one at a time.

The energy of the city itself was addicting, Las Vegas was everything you wanted it to be, a city that fits them all, it had everything one could look for and even more. After a few hours of walking around Hinata decided to take a lunch break before hitting the main thing on her list, Las Vegas Antique Center. Antique shops were the first thing she had googled upon making her plan to visit Las Vegas and she saw there were malls filled with antiques and almost wept with joy.

Hinata was a lover of the old-times; vintage was her aesthetic from clothes to accessories and movies. Today too she was wearing one of her favorite pieces she had bought over the years, a knee length burgundy dress with long sleeves and ivory lace around the cuffs and the neckline with pearl like buttons on the front. It was a bit dressy but the material was so soft and light she adored wearing the dress. She hadn’t put on any jewelry mostly because that’s what she was looking for today, some jewelry, a bag, maybe a cute hat. Sadly, she wouldn’t be able to buy any big clothing items or furniture because she couldn’t take it back to Japan and shipping it overseas was not only extremely expensive but also quite dangerous because it could damage the item.

Hinata made her way into the first antique mall and her senses were overloaded, from the images to the smells and even the soft old music playing in the background; they were all overwhelming her. It was a good kind of overwhelming, she didn’t know where to look because she wanted to see everything. The mall had 3 floors and it was packed with beautiful things everywhere. On the first floor were the furniture and despite knowing she wouldn’t buy anything she still looked around. Everything was so beautiful and in great shape. The second floor was clothing there she spent more time looking thought the beautiful garments. They had flappers’ dresses from the 1920s to the long gowns from the Victorian age to well-worn leather jackets. The Victorian gowns were absolutely stunning, the details on the fabric were in amazing shape, the corset and soft lace were a bit yellow due to the age but they were beautiful. Hinata wanted to own such a garment but again it would not fit in her baggage. The last floor was filled with small accessories and decoration pieces and everything else that couldn’t be displayed on the first two floors. Hinata wanted to look around at everything before deciding to buy something but a beautiful hand mirror caught her eye and once she picked it up she couldn’t put it down. The handle was made out of white gold it appeared and it continued to beautiful roses around the mirror. Each rose had in the middle ruby red precious stones. Hinata turned the mirror around and written small on the back was “うちはサスケ” (Uchiha Sasuke) and next to it was a ruby and underneath it with white was drawn the handle making the symbol look like a fan. The item was so beautiful and it intrigued her that there was hiragana and katakana written on the back. With the mirror still in hand she proceeded to look at everything else but nothing was quite as beautiful or interesting as the mirror. Deciding that would be her purchase from this shop she walked back down to the register. Behind it was an old man with soft kind eyes. Seeing her approach, he closed his book and offered her a smile.

“You found something you liked?” he asked

“I did, everything here is so beautiful I wanted to buy more, but sadly I can’t transport them all back to japan” she said and placed the mirror carefully on the register.

The man looked at the mirror and the light from his eyes darkened a little, he didn’t touch the object just introduced a code in the register. The price surprised Hinata, she hadn’t checked it before but she expected for it to be quite high seeing how beautiful it was, how old it appeared to be and it also had all of those precious stones and was made out of white gold, all of these meaning its worth not only due to age but due to the materials should be quite a number. Looking again at the price shown on the register screen she frowned.

“Are the rubies not real? Is it not made out of white gold?” She asked still looking at the price displayed. It felt wrong to pay so little for something that beautiful.

“They are.” The man said, his voice was harsher and he looked impatient at her.

“If you don’t mind me asking than, why is it so cheap…?” she was aware it was a weird question. Usually when it came to antiques some of them were overpriced, she had never thought something to be underpriced before.

The older man sighed in defeat. “We just want it gone. The stories it comes with…” he didn’t continue.

“I noticed it has writing in Japanese on the back, what can you tell me about that?” She always loved knowing the back story of every item she bought. The dress she was wearing had been owned but a young lady of high social rank when she met her true love, the dress was preserved and displayed during her life in their bedroom and then after they both passed the dress found itself in a small antique corner store in Holland. Much like the mirror when Hinata saw it she couldn’t let it go.

“It is said it belonged to a Japanese family that have been erased from the face of the earth in a hell like fire. Nothing survived but the mirror. The name on the back is the name of the youngest son of the family and the fan was their family symbol.”

The tale was extremely sad but it still didn’t make sense to her why it would be so cheap. Being the only legacy of a family, it should be far more expensive. But the man appeared to be done talking, he was more on the edge by the second so, Hinata took out her wallet and paid the 5-dollar price.

“Be careful with it miss. It is known to bring bad luck.” The old man told her in an ominous way. “There is no way to get rid of it, Lord knows people have tried to destroy it.”

Hinata never much cared about curses attached to objects, they were usually stories that were exaggerated in order to up the price, after all when buying antiques part of the money you pay for the story behind it. Hinata smiled and thanked the man, took the mirror and put it in her purse carefully. Despite the man’s story about the mirror being indestructible in her hands it felt fragile. She was just about to exit the mall when the man spoke up again.

“The Uchiha curse shall not die miss, make sure you don’t either”

The man’s last words were ringing in Hinata’s ears thought the rest of the day, the following day and the plane ride back home. She was not one to be scared from such things; half of the items she owned were ‘cursed’ but the man seemed scared and his performance was very truthful. He believed what he had said, or he was a very good actor.

Upon getting home Hinata did her process of cleaning the objects she had bought with her home-made solution that does not damage the items and still disinfects them. Besides the mirror she had bought a hat, two pairs of earrings and a small pocket watch, from other various antique shops she had visited.

The earrings were places in her beautiful hardwood jewelry box that was on top of her vanity. The pocket watch was put in one of her display cases next to a teacup and a large broach. The hat found its place in her closet neatly put next to the other ones she owns and finally the mirror she placed on her nightstand.

The man’s words were still fresh in her mind, she wanted to dismiss them like she did with every other threat but it was more difficult. Even so looking at the mirror she couldn’t help but feel defensive over it, what could a mirror do? It was beautiful and fragile and it felt right having it in her hand. The handle felt as if she had held it before, as if the mirror was made for her only.

After putting everything she bought in place she started unpacking her other things, the clothes went in the basket of dirty clothes and such. Finally, with everything unpacked Hinata decided to take a shower, eat and sleep. The plane ride had been long and exhausting and she had arrived home at 7 pm, so quite late in the evening.

Hinata went to sleep around 10 after eating and watching a black and white movie. The trip to USA had been amazing and she loved seeing Neji, but it was very tiring so it took her no time at all to fall asleep.

She was peacefully swaying in an olden wood swing, wearing a white summer dress and no shoes; the grass was wet from the light shower that morning, the wind was blowing her hair away from her face, the sun was shining and warming up her face. Besides her was a man, not any man, her lover. He was running his hands up and down her arms in a loving motion. The world felt to finally be in place. Her lover leaned towards her and kissed her ear which made Hinata laugh lightly. He didn’t move after the kiss but rather started whispering her name in her ear “Hinata”.

They’d sway once and he’d say her name, each time a bit louder. The weather started to turn for the worse, the sun was covered by clouds, it was pouring rain, I started to thunder and lightning too. Hinata wanted to leave and go inside but another was holding her in place still saying her name but it now had turned into screams. “Hinata HINATA HINATA!”

Then it was quiet. The rain stopped, she was free and could walk. The first step she took forward hurt, she was still barefoot and there was broken glass on the floor, not only that but the ground itself felt as if it was burning, there was fire all around, the smoke was dark and heavy and making it hard to breath. From the quiet her name was screamed again. “Hinata HINATA HINATA!” She tried to go towards the voice but she glass was making it difficult for her to move, each step made her feet bleed more until finally she fell down and the glass cut her all around.

The next second she was alone in a dark room with voices all around her, calling her name. The voice of her lover, children voices. She wanted to go to them and took a step forward not realizing she had been standing on a stool, heavy rope around her neck. That is when Hinata woke up, still in her bed. She was sweating and breathing hard. A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

Hinata decided not to go back to bed right away. She turned around towards her nightstand to turn on the lamp. Her eyes fell to the mirror. The rubies had turned black and the mirror itself was cracked. Through the broken pieces she could make out the image of the man from her dream, her lover. A gasp escaped Hinata’s lips. She blinked a couple of times and rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. Upon opening them again the mirror was intact, not even a small scratch could be seen.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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