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dimonds456 · 4 years ago

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Gem Steven’s gem is flipped upside-down. (Theory/Speculation time!)

SPOILERS FOR @spudinacup’s SU AU “Gone Wrong”!

Also WARNING: long post!

So recently, someone pointed out that Steven has a scar on his torso going across his gem’s location, which I found interesting in and of itself. Makes sense, since he wasn’t able to heal it since he DIED and his gem was shoved out of his body before it got the chance to heal him. That slash mark is there now. Wow, neat! Nice detai-

Wait.

Hold on a sec.

Is his gem... flipped upside-down? Well, it’s been like this for a while, maybe it’s just a creative choi-

...oh.

This is VERY intentional.

So I did some digging, and found much more symbolism and possible foreshadowing, and now I want to throw out my theory about Gem Steven here, including his potential arc and character development. I’ll try to keep everything brief while still blowing your minds, and I’ll try to get across what my jumbled mind has come up with.

Spud please notice me.

I will not be uploading photos to go with everything I say (go reread the comic after this and verify for yourself what all I’ve said), but I’ll show visuals when they’re necessary. I do not claim ANY of this art as mine (I wish my art was this good ;u; ), all of it belongs to Spudinacup and their SU AU, which has all kinds of hidden symbolism, foreshadowing, and visual cues we haven’t picked up on yet, as I’ve just learned while researching this theory. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill AU, everything in here is intentional. Scott Spud doesn’t do coincidences. So I’ll point out that stuff in screenshots.

Okay let’s go.

SO! To begin with, let’s talk about why his gem may have flipped, and to realize that, we have to know when. We don’t see the gem much, but we do see it constantly through Chapter 1, where it is normal. The pentagon is pointed upward. However, in Chapter 2, this is where we see it flipped upside down. When did that happen? We didn’t see it. I believe it happened in that first scene in the bathroom, right after we left. The butterflies were swarming angrily, and Steven was very lost in thought.

Notice whenever those butterflies appear. They seem to show up every time he thinks about who he is. Is he still Steven, or is he someone else now? Steven is dead. Everyone is mourning him, trying to heal him, but Gem is still here. So if Steven is dead, but Gem is still alive, that must mean he isn’t Steven then, right? But then that undoes everything we learned in “Change Your Mind.” He IS Steven. He’s always been Steven. But that’s when they were together...

...And so the butterflies swarm.

Notice how the first one shows up when he looks at himself in the mirror. When you look in a mirror, you should see yourself, right? But who IS he? In the show, butterflies represent thoughts and ideas, mostly dark ones, disturbing ones, or ones you don’t want to think about. Well, he already spent WAY too long proving who he was, so now to do it again sucks.

But he isn’t Steven anymore. He’s on the couch being mourned. But he’s already proved he IS Steven before, and it’s this uncertainty that is making his mind swirl. I believe this is why he flipped his gem. Just upside-down, so it’s a small thing no one will notice, while he tries to figure it out. In doing so, he’s separated himself from “Steven”, as they’re not one and the same anymore, and the flipped gem shows this. He’s someone else right now. Maybe. He’s not sure.

So what do we call you for right now? Steven. He already proved he was Steven, so until he’s proved otherwise, Steven it is. Now he just has to figure out what exactly that name means and wether or not he still fits that quota.

Flipped gem/Pink Diamond imagery is EVERYWHERE, mostly hidden in drastic shadows or in panels. It’s things you don’t notice at first, until they’re staring you in the face. See if you can spot them from the 3 screenshots below.

There’s probably more hidden throughout the comic, these are just the ones I’ve found that I feel confident enough to show as hard evidence.

So, what does it all mean? We’ll talk about the screenshots in order, left to right.

First, the Diamond is hidden as the panel in the center. In it, Human Steven lies upside down while the gem-panel is technically upside right. This can be interpreted in a few ways, but what that means to me is that something isn’t right here. If you flip Steven back around so he’s upside right, the gem is now upside down. Notice Gem Steven looking towards his human half on the bottom panel there, clutching his shirt over his gem. It’s a motion we’ve seen Steven do a TON throughout the show, anytime he’s thinking about Rose/Pink, who he is, or complicated gem stuff as a whole. Because early on, his identity was always shrouded in shadow. THAT is Steven, on the couch, without his gem. So for Gem Steven to call himself Steven is inaccurate, but also not at the same time. It’s all swarming in his head, and thus, the gem is flipped.

Next, he’s just broken the rejuvenator. This was probably the hardest to spot of the three, but if you look at the panel where Bismuth asks “feel better?” you will see, in the background, a white line cut through the soft pink hues. Look closer. It’s the outline of the gem, but it’s flipped correctly this time. This is because Bismuth seems to be the only person NOT saying Steven is dead, and treating his gem half one and the same. Is she unnerved? Yeah, but who WOULDN’T be? This is still Steven we’re talking about, as emotionally blocked as he is. He’s aware of why everyone is being weird around him, so to see Bismuth trying her best to treat him with familiarity instead of a completely different, new, dangerous stranger is really calming and helps to calm the storm a bit.

Notice the gem is flipped correctly. This is because he feels like Steven right now. Bismuth has been constant confirmation that he is still Steven, no matter the circumstances. Notice how his eyes dialate back to a larger size. They do that a lot in the comic, articulating his emotions without changing the rest of his face. It’s a clever detail to keep track of. His eyes grow more relaxed, dialating bigger when she pats his shoulder, asking if he feels better after destroying the weapon that killed him. It’s a huge relief for him to hear. So, the gem is correct.

Finally, we see Bismuth telling Greg that his son is dead, which is very contradictory to what Bis was saying earlier (in Steven’s eyes). Where is the gem on that frame? Look at Steven’s shadow. There it is, facets and all. To us, the gem is correct, but think about it this way: if Steven were actually replaced with the gem in that frame, what would it look like, Pink’s or White’s? That’s right. The point is coming from his feet, meaning it would look more like White’s, meaning it is back to being flipped upside down. Again, Bismuth just said Steven is dead, meaning he’s back to questioning his whole entire identity. So it’s back to being flipped upside-down.

It seems that the orientation of the symbolic gems hidden throughout panels show quite clearly where his head is at in terms of who he is. If it’s upside down, he’s separating himself from the cold meatball on the couch, whereas when it’s normal/upside right, he is associating himself WITH the cold meatball on the couch.

Notice he’s been grabbing at his gem a lot recently, too, all things he does while in turmoil over who- or WHAT- he is. He cannot heal right now. He can’t use his powers. Some powers are new and unfamiliar (see the more recent pages where Lapis struck out with water and he blocked with those hexagonal shields/walls). “Steven HEALS people.” He can’t, so who is he?

This is something he’ll need to have an answer to by the time the comic is done, and this is a mission for Gem Steven and Gem Steven alone. If his human half were alive (and content without his gem), he’d probably call himself “Steven” no questions asked, since he GOT his answer already, two years ago. But Gem can’t do that, not when everyone keeps drawing all these lines between the two. He needs to learn what being “Steven” means, and know that he is a part of a greater whole, but on his own, he is STILL Steven. Everyone else needs to realize this, too, and stop separating the two. It’s gonna be rough, since it may feel like replacing what they lost, but is it really? It’s going to be a tough road to trek, and I don’t know what anyone’s answer is gonna be (that’s the big mystery here, after all), but I’m here for it.

Remember, all of this has been speculation on what may happen based on facts and clues Spud has presented us with. I’m not claiming to know how Gem Steven’s arc will end, but I am throwing my hat into the ring on where I THINK it will go. Either way, the foreshadowing, symbolism, and unspoken characterizations here have been excellent, and I’m looking forward to seeing everything play out. Spud, your mind is incredible, and whatever you’ve got planned over there, I’m confident the answer will be satisfactory.

I’ll shut up now. Thank you for reading this huge meta post, and go read Spud’s comic. You can find it at @suaugonewrong or on Spud’s Tumblr, which was linked above. If you think I’m wrong or have a counter argument, bring it. Let’s talk, cause this is genuinely interesting and fun to dissect. I wanna talk about it OwO

Thank you. You may now continue scrolling.

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kayte-overmoon · 3 years ago

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"Slow Cherry" Chapter 4

(cross-posted on AO3)

Tags: Mild Depressive Episode, Drinking (everyone is of age; no alcohol abuse), drunk texting, accidental face reveal

Snippet: A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

Read Chapter 1 Here

Read Chapter 2 Here

Read Chapter 3 Here

No sexual content in this chapter.

Dream spent the next few weeks losing himself in his schoolwork.

Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of George, heard his voice, saw his smile. It was wreaking havoc on his attention span. His feelings toward the older man were confusing to say the least. It was easier to hyperfixate on school than to try and sort out why he felt this way about a man he’d never even met face-to-face.

Knowing they were only a few short weeks away from living not only in the same country, but the same city made it very, very hard to think about anything else.

Luckily, he had a hardcore coding assignment coming up, so he locked himself in his bedroom with the lights off and drowned himself in Python.

Sapnap noticed something was off and made sure to text Dream whenever he got food (conveniently always with a little more than one person could eat alone). On the rare occasions Dream emerged from his cave, Sapnap looked at him with concern written in every corner of his face, but he didn’t ask what was wrong. He just pushed a bottle of water or a granola bar across the counter to him and told him he looked like shit.

Dream was sure he was right. It was winter, so he hadn’t properly been in the sun in months—for a Florida boy, that was too long. He’d skipped a few showers, and the only time he’d eaten was when Sapnap made sure he did. He shuffled into the bathroom to scrutinize himself under the fluorescents. He squinted in the bright light, so used to the darkness of his room. His hair was a mess, several days overdue for a wash and unbrushed for longer than Dream could remember. He also needed to shave, not liking the scratchy growth around his jaw. There were dark circles around his blood-shot eyes and his skin was paler than it had been in years. He scoffed at himself before stripping and jumping in the shower.

The hot water burned his skin, but it was a religious experience. He hadn’t realized how far he’d pushed himself and how deep he’d let himself fall until it was over. His last final was the next morning, so he was almost done. Thank God.

As it usually did when he had a free moment, his mind strayed to George.

They had still been snapping back and forth, which soothed some of the ache. But it felt like he was looking down the barrel of addiction: he knew that taking one more hit, one more drink, would land him far beyond his limit, pushing him past the fabled Point of No Return. He considered ghosting George, but just thinking about that made his stomach turn. Sex workers got enough shit as it was without their clients pushing boundaries, trying to make something real out of their arrangements, or dropping them outright without warning.

Dream was so fucking pathetic.

He emerged from his shower scrubbed raw, physically and emotionally. He didn’t feel great in his head still, but at least he didn’t stink. He brushed his teeth to cover all his hygienic basics, put on a clean pair of pajamas, and went to bed.

And just like that his semester was over. He did well on his final—not as well as he’d hoped, considering how much time he’d spent studying, but well enough to stay on track to graduation.

He emerged from his final to find a snap from George waiting for him on his phone.

The older man was sitting on his bed, throwing a peace sign to the camera with a huge, cheesy grin. There were boxes stacked around the bed, the only thing left in the room being his bed.

Good luck on your final! Getting ready to put my stuff in the shipping container. Only a few more days.

Despite himself, Dream smiled at the message.

Dream and Sapnap celebrated the end of the semester that night in the only way college kids knew how: by buying as much beer as they could afford and inviting over as many people as they could fit into their apartment. Someone connected their phone to the sound system in the living room, blasting hip hop music over the subwoofer. Dream knew they were going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors, but he was too excited—and drunk—to care.

He got a few drinks in him and danced when he was pulled from the couch. Faces blurred before him, but he knew almost everybody there, so he didn’t mind whenever someone pressed up against him. Someone else pressed another beer into his hands. He was sweating, the heat in the apartment still fighting the December cold even with a few dozen people packed into the cramped space. His jacket came off at some point, so he was only in his beer-stained t-shirt and jeans.

He could happily say he had nothing on his mind. He was just happy, done with school for the next month and surrounded by his favorite people in the world.

But not his favorite person in the world.

No, that person wasn’t here.

He stumbled to the bathroom at one point to piss, wobbling a little and struggling to aim. He washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked much different than he had the previous night: he was flushed from the alcohol and dancing, for one, but he also felt lighter. Maybe it was the beer talking, but he felt good. He always liked life better when he wasn’t in school. And that message from George made him so, so happy.

Only a few more days.

George.

Just thinking about him made Dream smile.

He pulled out his phone just to look at the photo, which he’d screenshotted. They’d agreed they could save anything they sent each other except for nudes, which they had to get permission to keep. But innocent little messages like that one were free game. Dream was thankful for that, since it let him get a fix whenever he needed it. He found himself pulling out his phone to look at pictures of his camboy whenever he had a free moment to twiddle his thumbs.

He wrote a message to George, not really paying attention to what he said. Mainly he just wanted George to think of him while Dream was thinking of George. He sent the message and pocketed his phone. The music became unmuffled as he opened the bathroom door and someone immediately grabbed him and pulled him back into the fray.

Dream had… many regrets come morning.

Before he even opened his eyes, he knew how much of a doozy this hangover was. His head was pounding with the beat of his heart, his mouth felt packed with sand, and his stomach was turning. He felt like he needed to puke, but he was too numb to get up. Besides, he had a feeling he’d only end up dry heaving.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, debating going back to sleep. Something on the bed shifted next to him (much bigger than Patches), alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

After some coaxing, he squinted his eyes open and blinked against the scarce light peeking around the curtains—it wasn’t much light, but it was enough to make him want to die. He turned to see someone’s back facing him in the bed, a dude. Dream sent up a silent prayer of thanks that both the dude and Dream himself were fully clothed. He levered himself onto an elbow to see who was next to him. It was Skeppy, of all people, and he wasn't alone. Puffy was there too, curled up against Skeppy’s chest at the edge of the bed. Dream had no clue how neither of them had fallen off yet, so tightly wound together on the ledge. But they were there, snoozing happily.

Someone was snoring, but it wasn’t either of them. Dream sat up further and poked his head around to find Bad sprawled on the floor beside the bed. It seemed he’d wanted to get in with Skeppy and Puffy, but there hadn’t been enough room with Dream there as well. Skeppy’s hand was dangling off the side of the bed where Bad was; they must have fallen asleep holding hands. Despite his head and his stomach trying to remove themselves from his body, Dream smiled. They were all so sweet together.

He extracted himself from the bed slowly, not wanting to disturb them, and grabbed his phone charger from the power strip at his desk. He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself carefully. His phone was dead in his pocket, so he plugged it in at the bathroom counter as he set about cleaning himself up. He contemplated trying to throw up but decided against it. It might only make him even more sick. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes, but he didn’t have the energy for it yet.

A soft ding told him his phone was back on. He dried off his hands and picked it up. He had a couple of missed notifications. Karl left one saying he was taking Sapnap back to his place because someone had already taken Sapnap’s room. There was one from his next-door neighbor asking him to turn the music down or they would call the cops. Dream assumed that was a bluff, considering he didn’t remember the cops showing up at any point.

The last notification caught his eye.

It was a Snapchat message from George, received around 3 a.m.

Dream, call me when you get this. I don’t think you meant to send that. I need to talk to you.

Dream’s heart sunk.

What had he sent George? Had he drunk texted him? What had he said?

Oh God, he hadn't told him anything... incriminating, right? Had he said anything about wanting to be more than a sugar daddy, a friend with benefits, a casual observer?

There wasn’t anything saved in their chats above George’s most recent messages. The last message before that was Dream’s response to George’s “good luck with finals” message.

Wait. No it wasn’t.

The time stamp was wrong.

Dream had sent George a picture around 2:30 last night, when he was several drinks deep. He remembered going to the bathroom and texting George, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said no matter how hard he’d tried. He thought it had been a typed message in chat, not a picture.

Maybe he’d sent a dick pic? He hoped not. He had been too drunk to get it up at that point. If that’s what it was, it had to be horribly unflattering. And if not a dick pic, what had he taken a picture of?

His blood ran cold.

He was hitting the “call” button before he could overthink it.

George answered a few rings later. “Dream?”

��What did I send?” His voice was rough. He was trying to keep quiet so he didn’t bother his guests, and his mouth was dry even after brushing his teeth. He sounded like shit.

George sounded uncomfortable when he spoke. “Dream, I’m sorry. I don’t think you meant to—“

“What did I send, George?”

He knew the answer in the silence before George spoke. His stomach dropped when he said it anyway. “You—you sent me a picture of your face.”

Dream hung his head. Perfect. Of course. He’d had grand plans to pick George up from the airport and reveal his face then, or he’d at least make it sexy over their video calls or something. He wanted to make it a spectacle. Instead he’d drunk texted him a selfie.

“It wasn’t bad,” George tried to reassure him. “I couldn’t see it too clearly anyway. It was in the mirror, and you were very drunk. You were a little blurry.”

“What was I doing?”

“You were, like, leaning on the counter. You were smiling. You had a, uh…”

Dream frowned harder. “I had a what?”

“You had—have—a hickey on your neck.”

“What?” Dream stood up straight and pulled the collar of his shirt. Sure enough, there was a dark red mark on his neck, barely hidden by his shirt. “Huh. How the hell did that get there?”

George snorted. “Sounds like you had a fun night.” There was something bitter in his tone.

Dream scrambled for a response that wouldn't put him in the metaphorical dog house. “I don’t—I didn’t sleep with anyone. I would know. It just—my friends are super touchy. One of them probably did it while we were dancing.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dream,” George said softly. “I’m a big boy. I know I’m not the only person in your life.”

“I do have to explain myself, though.” Dream ran his hand through his hair. “I care what you think about me. I don’t want you to think I sleep around. I don’t. Not really. Not anymore, at least. And I wanted to surprise you when you saw my face. I wanted it to be a thing.”

“Dream, calm down.” There was something calming about the British man’s voice, especially when he used that tone, like he was soothing a spooked animal. Which, for all intents and purposes, Dream was. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. I was just worried about you. I know it’s a thing for you, people seeing your face.”

“Oh.” Dream’s heart was thundering in his chest. It was making his head throb harder, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment. “Thank you. That’s—you’re really considerate. And did you—I mean, did…”

“You’re very handsome, Dream.”

Dream was dumbfounded. That wasn’t what he was going to ask, but he’s glad George said it. He wasn’t really concerned about that particular aspect of this whole ordeal, but it was nice to know. “Oh. Thanks. That’s… you too. I mean, I think you’re—fuck.”

George’s laugh echoed across the line, settling Dream’s frazzled nerves. “I know, honey. You’ve told me before. But let's continue this conversation when you’re not so hungover, yeah?”

Dream hummed in agreement. “You can tell?”

“You were sloshed last night. I could tell just by looking at you. Partied hard, hmm?”

Dream snorted. “Just a little. I don't even want to see the state of my living room right now. And there’s, like, two-thirds of a thruple in my bed right now.”

“Oh?” Amusement and interest tinged the older man’s voice.

“No, not like that,” Dream laughed. “They passed out in there. Their third is on the floor. They’re good friends of mine. No clue when we all fell asleep though.”

“Sounds like you need to get started making coffee for everyone, then. Be a good host.”

“Probably. I thought about ordering pizza. I have no clue how many people stayed over though.”

“Celebrating the end of term, then?”

A yawn worked its way out of Dream. “Yeah,” he said. “We all finished up yesterday so we just bought a bunch of beer and invited folks over.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ll invite you next time,” Dream said, his tongue loose from his hangover. Oh well. “I think you’d like my friends. They’re all… absolutely insane. But they’re the coolest, nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

#fanfic #dnf #dnf fanfic #dreamnotfound #dreamnotfound fanfic #camboy au #historians will say they were close friends #:)#very close friends #slow cherry #kayte overmoon

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hyuniepot · 4 years ago

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the butterfly effect. || chapter 3

chapter word count || 1,763

genre || thriller, angst, drama

members || mark lee, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, zhong chenle, park jisung

warnings || mentions of death, implications of depression

pairing || fem!reader x jaemin || slight fem!reader x mark

synopsis || you never thought you’d be able to play with fate so easily, especially not through some shady app. but you suddenly must say goodbye to what you know and hello to a new world where everything seems perfect.

taglist || @gothboyjisung @jeongyoonohs @doiewonu @huanginjoon

a/n || please read the replies to see what was removed from the beginning! luckily it was only one paragraph :-)

previous chapter

Wednesday, September 13

The past week had been great. You had gotten used to your new schedule and friends. You were starting to think maybe you could get used to this. Granted, doing something after school everyday whether it be practice or hanging out with friends, got pretty exhausting. But you didn’t mind. In the long run, it helped you sleep better.

“So who’s paying?” Hyuck asks, sliding into the booth seat across from you. Mark sat next to you.

“I can,” you say. “I have some extra money.”

Hyuck nods. “Good enough for me. When was the last time you paid?” he teases.

“I don’t know,” you say, grinning. “It’s not my fault you guys like to pay for our food.” you didn’t even know if that was true.

“You guys? More like just me. When was the last time you paid, Hyuck?” Mark asks. You internally cringe at your slip-up.

Hyuck puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t get mad at me! I pay… sometimes…” he mumbles.

A waitress takes your order and you pull out your phone as Mark and Hyuck talk about something that happened in their science class. The ButterFly app is still there, almost taunting you. You ignored it and opened instagram. Finally, your social media was back to normal. No unsettling ads to be found.

You liked some pictures from your classmates -- Yeri’s selfie and a screenshot of her listening to Ariana Grande. Sihyeon, one of your new friends, posting a candid photo of her outside of a store. Suhyun, showing off a makeup look she did recently, looking cute as usual. A boy named Xiaojun posted selfies as well. You didn’t really know him, but you both had the same history class. You quickly scroll past a selfie of Naeun and Jaemin, trying to ignore it entirely.

“Do you remember that?” Mark asks you, laughing.

You put your phone down. “Remember what?”

“When you were scared of butterflies.”

You smile. Finally, something from this universe you already knew. “Yeah… I remember,” you reply, laughing. “Why do you ask?”

“Because our friend Hendery said he used to be scared of them too. It made me think of you.” Mark says, glancing away from you. “And then I took you to that butterfly garden and you suddenly loved butterflies. It was kinda cute, watching your feelings towards them turn from fear to love,” Mark tells you. You ignore the warmth in your cheeks.

The waitress returned with your food, putting it down on the table. You dug in, realizing how hungry you were. You, Mark, and Hyuck just talked about random subjects like the shows you’ve been watching on Netflix, things that happened at school and practice, and how good the food tasted until you were all ready to head out.

“I’ll go pay,” Mark says, scooting out of the booth.

“What? Mark, I said I was paying,” you argue, quickly scooting out after him.

“It’s fine. I’m used to paying.” he replies.

“Oh my god,” Hyuck groans. “You better not complain about me not paying ever again. You’re the one always volunteering.”

Mark shrugs. “I’m feeling generous.” he starts to walk towards the front counter.

“No. I said I was paying, so I’m paying.”

You go to follow him, but Hyuck suddenly grabs your wrist. “Hey, can I use your phone real quick?”

You stand, stunned, for a moment at the question. “Uh, yeah. That’s fine. The passcode is 7492.” Hyuck nods and lets go of your wrist, and you turn to catch up with Mark.

He’s pulling out his wallet. “Mark, I’m not giving up. Let me pay, please?”

Mark grins. “Okay. Since you’re so adamant,” he puts his wallet in between his arm and his side. “Rock paper scissors? Best out of 3.”

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Fine.”

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.

You cheer as you beat Mark.

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.

Mark wins.

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.

You return to your table, dejected. Damn it. You didn’t even care about paying, you just wanted to beat Mark. “How is he so good at every-”

Your heart nearly stops as you see Hyuck on your phone. You recognize the familiar layout of ButterFly. And he was looking at what you sent. You snatch your phone out of his hands, your face growing hot with embarrassment. How the hell were you going to explain this to him?

“You downloaded it?” he asks, softly.

“Yes. But it’s… I just,” you try to speak, but nothing would come out.

“I knew it,” he breathes. “I used it too.”

You’re stunned again. You don’t even know how to respond. You weren’t even sure if you understood what he was saying.

Hyuck stares ahead. “I wished for something too,” he tells you. “And it put us in the same universe.”

You’re suddenly lightheaded. So this Hyuck was the one from your old life. The one who annoyed you and Jaemin everyday. And he knew you were the old you.

“Listen,” you say. Your voice is trembling. “We will talk about this later.”

“Talk about what?” you turn and see Mark.

“Homework. I used her phone to call my mom and when I hung up she got a text from a friend. We all have literature together and we just found out we have a project due on Friday.” Hyuck says, nonchalantly. “It’s a long story, but now we only have two days to do it.”

You nod, thanking the Gods above that Hyuck was a good liar.

“Damn,” Mark picks up his drink and drinks what’s left. “That sucks. I hope you guys get it done in time.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to work on it tomorrow. We don’t have practice, how about you?“ Hyuck gets out of his seat.

“I don’t either,” you reply. You all exit the restaurant start your walk home.

Mark and Hyuck talk again. You wonder what Hyuck could have wished for that put you in the same universe as him. Maybe it was the same thing. You just tried not to be too freaked out by it and tried to mentally prepare yourself to talk about it with Hyuck. You had just started to feel normal here, and now everything was turned upside down.

You make it home safely and try to relieve your stress by hanging out with Jisung and Chenle, who had come over after school. You watch them shoot hoops outside for a bit.

You wonder where Jisung’s love for basketball came from. He wasn’t really into it in your old life -- he was more into dance, although he was starting to become more and more uninterested in it. You knew Chenle was always into basketball, so maybe he was able to keep Jisung interested in it.

Then you remember that here, Mark and Hyuck were both on the basketball team. You start to think maybe Mark helped Jisung and Chenle get into it. You make a mental note to try and get Mark or Jisung to talk about it with you soon.

Once the sun started to set, Chenle went home and you went inside with Jisung. You did your homework with him. “Hey, (y/n?)”

“What’s up?” you respond, not looking up from your paper.

You hear Jisung shift in his chair. “Did you and Mark break up?”

You almost break your pencil out of surprise. You look up at Jisung, who is staring back. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Were you dating Mark? In the past week you’d spent with him, there was nothing that indicated you were dating him. He never referred to you as his girlfriend or anything like that. So surely, Jisung had to be confused right?

You took your chances.

“Jisung,” you chuckle. “Mark and I were never dating.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Really? But you guys spend so much time together… I just kinda assumed…” he continues working on the assignment in front of him. “I just thought you didn’t tell me because it’s none of my business,”

You sigh in relief with a smile. “But why do you ask? Mark and I are still great friends.”

“Well,” Jisung puts his pencil back down and closes his notebook. “He never comes over anymore.” he says softly.

Your shoulders drop and you sigh. “He’s just really busy,” you reply. “He’s busy with school and he has practice after school. He doesn’t have a lot of free time these days.”

“I know…” Jisung says softly. “Which is why I feel so dumb complaining. I just… miss hanging out with him. But he’s your friend, not mine. I don’t think he wants to be hanging out with some kids,”

“Hey,” you say firmly. “He’s your friend too. Trust me, Mark doesn’t care about his friends being younger. You’re only what, 2 and a half years younger than him? That’s nothing!” you say. “Seriously, you’re too in your head, okay? Don’t overthink it. Mark doesn’t hate you or anything.” you tell him.

Jisung avoids eye contact with you as he picks up his things, standing up from his spot.

“But… don’t feel dumb for being worried about things like that. It’s normal. Don’t be afraid to talk to me if you’re ever feeling sad, alright?” you tell him. He gives you a small smile before nodding and leaving the room.

It was awkward to tell him that. Jisung never talked about his feelings to you, and you definitely didn’t do it either. That just wasn’t how your relationship was. Jisung was 10 times happier here than he was in your old life, but even now he still had worries. All you could feel was guilt; You had been sacrificing Jisung’s feelings for the sake of not feeling embarrassed.

You shake the feeling off and try to finish your homework. You had enough to feel stressed and guilty about, there was no to go back and fix things now.

Or so you think.

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years ago

Text

Initiates -- Original AC OC Fic

8//12/2020: Okay so yup here’s my OC espionage story that I’ve adapted for the AC universe. I proofread it once and will probably edit it again when I reread it in like two days lol. Thanks to @alexiios for solving my temporary naming crisis lol. If you want me to post OC fact files (if you enjoy this), then hmu/lmk! I loved writing this (like months ago) and I want to give you guys SOME content, so I hope you’ll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! Tagging people that might enjoy it? (plus @/alexiios lmao don’t want to spam you with mentions)

Hard to believe that this is only 2242 words but ok go off i guess

Feedback greatly appreciated, as always!

WARNINGS: Violence, car crash, hospital mention, blood mention

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @britishhotassassin // @rahdahleigh // @iceboundstar // @sofiewithat // @mythandmagik (I’m guessing your url changed aha)

“I think I’m gonna check,” Jake lightly knocked his knuckles against the wooden table.

Zoe lifted the corner of her hand. “I raise thirteen.”

The last card was placed onto the table. Last chance to bet. “Twenty-six,” Jake gazed through his eyelashes, raising the bet once again.

Groaning, Zoe threw her cards onto the pile of chips in the middle of the table, two fives staring her in the face. “Fine, you win.”

“As per usual!” Jake laughed as he slapped a pair of kings down in front of him and collected his chips.

“Jesus! You always get the good hand!” Jake flashed a look of offense.

“No I do--” He was briskly interrupted.

“Name one time you’ve lost! I bet you cheat.”

Before he could reply, someone walked through the door of the lunch room. “Nick?” Jake’s voice laced in confusion as his smirk dropped.

“Break’s over. We need you both.”

Startled, the two followed their boss into a briefing room. “What’s the problem?” Zoe asked, leaning against the table. Jake sat down on a chair next to her, kicking his shoes onto the polished wood beside her. He popped some gum in his mouth before undoing his top button of his checked shirt; the two of them opted for a casual office day. Zoe and Nick both declined as he offered them each a piece. “Really? It’s strawberry…”

“Not now, Jake. We have a missing agent. You are two of our best trackers; no one else in the whole department is as… experienced. We need you to find him before it’s too late.” A picture was brought up; blond hair and brown eyes.

“He was last seen at these coordinates-- get on it.” Nick left the two in silence as he dropped two files on the table and left the room.

Zoe picked one up and slid the other one Jake’s way, hitting his shoes. Sitting straight, he leaned forwards to take a closer look. “I have the agent.”

“I’ve got the leads…” Zoe mumbled with a frown, sifting through the relatively thin file that had been accumulated over the past few days. CCTV screenshots, cases previously solved that could harbour motive for revenge, and a few other documents referring to things she had never seen or heard of before. “Hey, Jake?”

“Hmm?” He looked up with interest, his chewing paused.

“Have you ever heard of Abstergo Industries?”

There was a silence as he thought. “No; is it one of those massive corporations?”

Zoe’s eyes roamed various images of murder scenes, all having one thing in common; jewellry in the shape of a cross, circled in red ink. “Something like that…”

Did Nick mean for us to see this? It feels classified…

“So his name is Matthew Anderson. Twenty-six, unmarried, single child, no children. There is literally no record of him anywhere; no school record, no criminal record, no family record; nothing. Only things like “Favourite coffee shop”. The man’s an enigma. Why would anyone want to kidnap him? There’s no evidence to justify a ransom or leverage of any sort…”

“It does seem strange, but it might have something to do with this Abstergo place. Let’s go to that coffee shop and see what we can find.”

Jake followed Zoe towards the armory; full of necessary gear and equipment. The pair grabbed what they needed, namely the issued pepper spray and tasers. Their badges waited for them, along with any IDs they may need. “Ready?” Zoe debated bringing a firearm, but decided against it; there was already going to be one in the glovebox.

All Jake did was wink and smile, donning his jacket. “Always.”

----------

They spent the rest of the afternoon searching for answers in the coffee shop. Social media, local news posts, Police records-- even private databases -- all with the keyword, ‘Abstergo’. Jake left to the counter after a while to buy more coffee for the two of them; their eyes had begun to sting from staring at a screen for so long. Zoe was writing some information down in her notepad when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced to see someone dressed in a grey hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. They had hidden their features under their hood, but Zoe could tell that they were looking in her direction. Hiding behind fallen hair, she rubbed her palms against her jeans.

Jake returned with her latte, placing it down before sitting to nurse his cappuccino. He noticed how unsettled she had become. “You okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” After he spoke, he licked the milk mousse moustache from his upper lip.

Zoe smiled, his actions calming her slightly. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just…” She lowered her voice. “There’s a guy over there. He’s just… staring.” Jake quickly flitted his gaze over in that direction and then back at his partner, his head unmoving.

“He is a bit creepy, isn’t he?” he mumbled. “Feel like getting out of here?”

“Please.” Jake left to get takeaway cups as Zoe started clearing the table.

The sun had already begun to set as they left the coffee shop and got into an unmarked van designed for undercover work. As they were driving down some narrower country lanes, Jake noticed something out of the rearview mirror. “Uh, Zo’?” She hummed in reply from the driver’s seat, preoccupied with the road. “I think someone’s following us.”

“What should we do?” she asked, turning left. For the second time that day, Jake was interrupted. A bullet shattered one of the back windows.

“Not much!” Jake took the pistol out of the glovebox and began firing back. Zoe stole a glance behind her.

“Look out!” Jake grabbed the steering wheel and pulled. The wheels veered out of control and the van tumbled. It rolled off the road.

The vehicle eventually stopped, lying capsized on the grass. Footsteps approached the door. “Yeah, boss; we got ‘em,” a gravelly voice stated. Jake, barely conscious, never moved a muscle. “Roger,” the voice said again, and footsteps started to recede.

“Zoe,” Jake groaned. He got a quiet mumble in response. His nose alerted him to the imminent danger they were in; the smell of petrol. Trying to move, he winced at the sudden throbbing pain in his head.

And his torso.

And his back.

He took a step to remove his seatbelt, bracing himself as he hit the roof below him. He groaned as his upper back collided with the ground. “Hey, Zo’.” Jake crawled below her and tried to unbuckle her seatbelt with a sense of panic. “Damn,” he cursed. The seatbelt wasn’t going to loosen willingly. He searched for any solution and found a glint in the half opened glovebox by his feet. He had rediscovered his pocket knife.

Quickly, he pulled it open and stuck it in the seatbelt box, jiggling it around; waiting for the click.

After a few painstaking moments, the restraint opened. He ripped it off and Zoe fell onto Jake’s torso, immediately winding him.

“Come on, Zo’; we need to get out of here.” His arm clung to her waist and he wriggled out as fast as he could from the flammable scrap. He was relieved as he inhaled fresh air; flushing out his lungs from the scent of leaking petrol.

Once they were clear of the vehicle, Jake laid Zoe out of sight and began to lightly touch her face. “Wake up, Zo’. We need to leave!” There was a minimal groaning response; but she was still conscious-- with her eyes half open. “That’s good enough for me.” With difficulty, he scooped his partner into his chest, stood up shakily, and tried to walk in a straight direction.

“FREEZE!” He stopped, closing his eyes. His arms were trembling in exhaustion, and his heart begun to palpitate. “Turn around—slowly.” He listened, clutching Zoe tightly.

“Come on, mate,” Jake tried, making earnest eye contact. “You don’t want to do this.” His eyes scanned the gun pointed at the two of them worriedly.

“I don’t think that you’re in the position to tell me what to do.” The same voice, body turning in the shadows, triggered his radio. “Sir, they’re still alive.” A static grumble was all that could be deciphered in Jake’s ringing ears. “Yes, boss.”

The gun began to aim. “Don’t move.”

The safety clicked. “It would be in your best interest to close your eyes.”

Jake waited, watching the trigger, steeling his already hardened glare.

Nothing happened.

Until, in a split second, the gun moved from Jake’s chest to Zoe’s.

“NO!”

BANG!

Bodies were sent flying down the hill Jake had painfully trekked up. They rested at the bottom of the hill; lying still-- breathing stiller. “They’re finished now, boss,” the voice quipped.

There was a sound of car doors slamming and a car engine starting, and it began to drive away.

It was still for a moment…

Until Jake grimaced. One of his arms were trapped under Zoe’s body This time, she was out cold. Jake wiped the grime off of his forehead, before being engulfed in a stabbing pain. He let out a broken cry. Zoe was unharmed; a concussion was assumed, at worst.

But Jake was shot. And he was bleeding out. He choked on his words; the pain kept swallowing them.

What he needed was an ambulance--and fast.

He only had one arm to move his body, and it caused him the most pain he had ever felt.

“Argh,” he groaned. “Z-Zo’.”

He had to find something-- anything-- to call for help. He searched his pockets, but he knew that he wasn't prepared for situations like this.

… But maybe Zoe was.

“Zoe,” Jake attempted to shake her awake. “Please, wake up!”

There was minimal movement.

“Help me out here, love...” He pressed against his side with his hand, whilst his other worked on slipping out from under Zoe’s body. Eventually, he managed to retrieve his trapped limb.

There was no blood on Zoe’s clothing, and Jake reassured himself that she was unharmed-- relatively.

He placed both his hands on his side, focusing on stopping the bleeding as much as possible. A wave of nausea overcame him; the heat from the flaming vehicle caused his stomach to churn almost endlessly as he glanced down. Blood was seeping through his fingers, and Jake’s vision was becoming increasingly blurred; he allowed himself to close his eyes, wanting nothing more than to pass out. He felt his mind begin to cloud over, but there was a certain buzzing in his ears. It was faint, but it was there…

The last thing he heard was his name being called by a half familiar voice.

He only hoped that it wasn’t too late…

------

Beep after beep after beep… his ears would explode any moment now. He tried to inhale through his nose, and quickly had the urge to itch as something constantly prodded inside his nostrils.

Task 1 -- open your eyes.

His eyelids felt content to stay obstructing his vision, yet his instincts said otherwise, and they obstinately broke apart.

It was dark. That was his first observation.

Being in what he assumed was the hospital, the stereotype inclined him to believe that bright white lights would be the first thing he would see. That certainly wasn’t the case. The moon cast through the half open blinds, the entire building held an air of kenopsia.

Jake, still feeling drowsy, decided to wait until the sun rises to make any moves; all he knew was that he was safe, and he could allow himself to let go.

----------

He closed his eyes for a second, and the sun was up, being met with a familiar face.

“Hey,” Zoe smiled, tension relaxing her shoulders.

“Hi,” Jake replied, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I’m not the one in a hospital bed.”

“Just making sure.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Jake chuckled. “You know me; I’m full of surprises.”

There was a calm silence that clouded over the room. “They said you were lucky, you know. You’ve been out for three days.” Zoe looked over at the IV drip that was taped to his arm.

“The best three days of your life, I bet?” he chuckled.

“No, no; Jake, they were the worst days I think I’ve ever had. Don’t pull a stunt like that ever again -- for both our sakes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. A few rapid knocks on the door interrupted the moment, and Nick came through the door. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Not bad.”

He sighed. “You probably have some questions.”

“So many questions…”

“You don’t even know…”

He raised his hand, silencing both voices. “Once you’re both ready, I will answer them. But for now, you’ll rest and recover. I apologise for… all of this.” He turned to leave, but stopped as if he forgot something. Without a word, he pulled out a coin, flipping it in Zoe’s direction, who caught it automatically. He nodded intently, and left. She shared a look with Jake, turning the now recognisable token in her hand. It wasn’t any form of currency, but instead had a certain insignia minted in the centre; a rather obscure looking ‘A’. If it was an ‘A’ at all…

“What do you think it means?” Zoe asked.

Jake shifted, slightly groaning. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, will change everything.”

#assassin's creed #oc #original character #zoe grant #jake riley #ta da #meet my AC babies #feel free to ask about them #ask and you shall recieve #enjoy!#I'll cringe at this tomorrow but I'm too tired to edit it a third time #deal with it for 12 hours pls #thx #i'll fix it

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eury--dice · 4 years ago

Text

history, huh?

chapter 3: propius

(check the rb for chapters 1 + 2 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Adam was woken at 5 o’clock on the dot with a series of sharp knocks on his door. “Up and Adam,” Gansey’s voice called, making the one stupid dad joke that always set Adam’s blood to a boil. He was too tired to react, however.

“Kindly leave until a later time,” he called, his voice heavy with sleep. “I don’t have class for another three hours.”

Gansey opened the door anyway, striding in with more pep than anyone should have in the morning.

“You’ve made the tabloids, my friend. Your weekend with Ronan finally hit.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Nope,” Gansey said cheerfully. “‘From America, With Love: Ronan and Adam flaunt friendship.’” He turned on his heel once he’d crossed the length of the room, which Adam could never forget was formerly Malia Obama’s, and seated himself in Adam’s desk chair.

Adam had never been closer to considering strangulation. He elected to shove his hearing ear into his pillow instead.

Unfortunately, the muffled sounds of Gansey speaking still made their way in. “‘Photos: Adam’s Weekend in England,’ oh, that’s boring…ah-hah: ‘New Bromance Alert? Pics of FSOTUS and Prince Ronan.’”

Adam resigned himself to his fate and mentally promised himself a giant cup of coffee. “As long as I’m getting fewer death threats on Twitter, I’m happy,” he mumbled into his blankets.

Gansey ignored him. “Why are you so tired? It’s the hour of kings, time to be awake and alive.”

“I’d settle for dead if it meant I could sleep at this point, to be frank.”

“Please don’t be frank. Be Adam.”

Adam sat up, eyeing Gansey in his wire-framed glasses with disdain. “Any more puns and I suffocate myself with this pillow.”

“Please don’t,” Gansey said, but his eyes had already returned to his screen. While he read through the articles, he continued his line of questioning. “Working on the campaign late last night?”

“Not really,” Adam admitted. “I had a Press and the Presidency paper to write.”

“Just write ‘I’m Adam Parrish’ on a piece of loose-leaf paper to turn it in and you’ll probably get an A. You live it every day, for Christ’s sake.”

“And yet I still need to cite sources in Chicago Advanced.”

“You’d think nepotism would work out more in your favor.” He flicked to a fresh article, a gesture Adam only recognized from all the other times Gansey had done it. “Luckily, I think the press is eating this one up.”

Adam grimaced. “Fantastic.”

“Not-campaign-ruining, you mean.”

“That too, I suppose.” He wanted nothing more than to flop back against his pillows and get the sleep his body so desperately craved after being jet lagged for a week, but he fought the urge.

“That _ People _exclusive takes the cake, I think. I didn’t realize how much you cherished your relationship with Ronan.”

“Fuck off, please. Or end my misery.”

“No to both. Why are you even taking that press course?”

Adam slid out from under his blankets, rolling his shoulders to try and wake up more. “Curiosity, I guess. It never hurts to learn more of what not to do.”

Gansey looked up from his phone to level a glance at Adam. “And what have you learned so far?”

“…Don’t have a sex scandal?”

“You _ would _need someone to tell you that.”

_ “Hey,” _Adam said, affecting outrage.

Gansey lifted his thumb to run over his lower lip, tilting his head consideringly. “One of us three will probably have a scandal before your mother’s second term is up.”

“If there is a second.”

“Chin up, young padawan. With you working on it we’re guaranteed.”

“I don’t know, Gansey,” Adam replied. “I don’t think I’m the good luck charm you believe in.”

“Of course you are,” Gansey said. “We won the first time, no?”

Adam glanced exaggeratedly around the room and to the phone in Gansey’s hand. “I’d say so. That or we’re about to get questioned very thoroughly about the the events of last three years.”

“Don’t make me cut you off on the true-crime videos.”

His eyes narrowed, focusing on Gansey. “Don’t you dare.”

“Blue agrees, anyway,” Gansey said, successfully deflecting topics. “Said there’s a ninety-four percent chance you’ll get into a sex scandal before the general.”

“Both of you date more than I do, why am I the one who’s supposedly having a sex scandal?” Once his initial outrage passed, disbelief crept in at the time of day. “Did you just text Blue at five AM and get a response? How the hell did you manage that?”

“She’s been up,” Gansey dismissed. Adam stared at him for a moment, and then Gansey seemed to feel the weight of his stare. His eyes widened almost comically. “Oh, Christ, no, not that. Nate Silver asked for another set of eyes on the Superbowl predictions, and she’s trying to get a shoo-in with them before the primaries begin. I just brought her some coffee.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?”

“You’re the only one of us who hasn’t been up all night. You need coffee the least of all of us.”

“Don’t blame me for your bad decisions.” Adam squinted at Gansey. “Were you working on an article all night or something?”

He snorted. “Hardly. They’ve been blocking all of my pieces. Too far from my mother’s politics, too far from your mother’s, too controversial, too critical, all in that order.”

“Thought you were liking the _ Post _gig?”

“On paper,” Gansey dismissed. “I’ve defaulted to writing about Welsh history.”

“Sounds like it’s right up your alley, then.”

“Once again, on paper.”

“How do you even connect the Welsh to the hellscape of American politics?”

Gansey waved a hand. “‘Eternal spirit,’ ‘fighting for honor,’ ‘remembering Glendower and others who set a pristine model,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

“People read that? That just sounds like you in high school spouting off again.”

“Yes, Adam. People read it.” Gansey squinted at his phone again. “Twitter _ really _likes you and Ronan together.”

“We’re exciting,” Adam said dryly, reaching for his laptop. He scanned over his most recent paper while Gansey dramatically narrated replies to the gif of them on _ This Morning. _

“‘Either of them could stab me and give me one of those smiles and I’d thank them,’ Jesus Christ,” Gansey read, “They really love your fake smiles… ‘name a more iconic duo, I’ll wait,’ hm, maybe any other duo? ‘Oh my God, just _ kiss already.’” _

Adam choked out a laugh as Gansey punctuated the last one with a dramatic and uncharacteristic hand wave. “At least it’s working,” he allowed, shutting his laptop once he felt secure about his essay. “Now get out. _ Some _of us have places to be.”

Adam’s phone buzzed on his way out of his cursed Presidency and the Press course.

Somehow, the interest of those around him seemed to pique even higher when he looked at his phone instead of in front of him. It wasn’t a new sensation by any means; ever since starting at Georgetown, he’d felt eyes on him constantly, but the intensity increased tenfold each time his classmates thought he was too occupied to see them staring. He noticed every time, but of course nothing could be done about it.

The name _ HRH shitty bird boy _ popped across his screen. How strange - in only a week, he’d almost entirely forgotten that the name he had (quite maturely) given Ronan in his phone was… _ that. _As he swiped the notification open, he felt a certain amount of trepidation as to what a technology-averse prince would ever text him about.

His harassment and emergency fears flew out the window with the body of the text, simply a screenshot of their tabloid appearance with the added caption of _ youre the nerd and I’m the cool jock. _

_ Competitive yachting? _Adam asked in response, nearly tripping over his own feet while typing.

_ ffs i told them to stop writing that as my preferred sport. _

Adam felt his lips twist against his will.

_ I’m sorry, this is a common problem? _

_ you can’t even imagine. _

_ I appreciate that they consider competitive yachting a regal sport. _

_ status symbols and faux athleticism are the core of the monarchy. _

Adam blinked down at his phone, stopping short abruptly. Persephone, from behind him, adjusted accordingly.

He…hadn’t been expecting this. Any of it. The text, the almost-joking response, the casual statement about the monarchy being ridiculous despite him being in it. Their conversation ended there, and it was probably for the better. He resumed his pace, trying to get to his next class. He almost forgot about the texts, too; save for a rogue screenshot Adam sent him of speculation on Ronan’s presence in Majorca, nothing else went between them.

Sometimes, Adam could _ just barely _ get away with being on his phone during briefings with Maura. He hated to be distracted during them - they were _ important, _he knew that, but all the same occasionally she spent a particularly long time covering an obscure dignitary’s comments and he’d gotten too few hours of sleep to truly focus and someone or other was blowing up his phone.

Maura’s topic of conversation this week appeared to be a series of Buzzfeed articles run on the lack of pets in the First Family, complete with a power point dissecting their points

The glamorous side of politics, truly. Discussing a clickbait series in the West Wing briefing room.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 30 October, 2019, 1:47 pm _

_ if you want a pet chainsaw dragged in a mouse the other day _

_ Ah yes, the mouse. A pet eternally beloved by constituents. _

_ we can’t all have a raven, that would be unfair _

_ Your heights of cool and goth are truly dizzying. _

_ im glad you agree _

_ Modest, too. _

_ it comes with the wealth and fame _

_ As long as you’re being straight with me, feel free to be as ‘modest’ as you like. _

_ i’m the prince of bloody england. i’m straight all the damn time _

_ That’s the biggest lhxemxlp_

His phone slipped from between his fingers, landing with a dull _ thud _onto the wooden floor. Adam stared helplessly at it, a sleek black rectangle hiding between types of oak. But Maura repeated his name, and he suddenly remembered what had made him drop his phone in the first place. He dragged his eyes up, staring at a spot on the sterile white wall just beyond Maura’s head.

“Adam,” she said a third time, but he refused to look her in the eyes. She conceded immediately. “What the hell?”

He felt his cheeks darken as blood found its way up. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips thinned just like Blue’s did, turning into a dark line on her brown face. “Do you even remember what I was saying?”

“Er…” he scrambled. “Don’t mention animals in any public setting?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then picked up a mug of coffee and took a controlled sip.

“Get out?” she said once she’d swallowed her sip.

“I-”

She pointed to the door. “I am impossibly busy. Take your phone and go laugh in private.”

He nodded once, finally, ducking under the table with his spine pressed against the bottom to grab his phone. His fingers closed around it, grip the edge of the wood, and he was up in a second.

He couldn’t regret it.

Because - well, here was the weird thing.

He wanted another text from Ronan.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 31 October, 2019, 12:03 am _

_ it’s finally spooky day in your hell country _

_ Isn’t it 5 am in England? _

_ Do you ever sleep? _

_ bold of you to ask that question _

_ halloween, bitch _

_ it waits for no one _

_ I’m really going to have to advocate better habits. _

_ I understand, you’re enthused for Halloween. _

_ do you even care at all _

_ I enjoy halloween like everyone else. _

_ Though your level of excitement feels a little pagan? _

when the skeleton army rises Jesus will forgive me

_ appreciate this glorious day parrish _

_ I have enough fear in my daily life, thanks. _

_ I filed my own taxes all throughout highschool. _

_ And payed rent. _

_ The horrors of early adulthood. _

_terrifying _

_ terrible i’ll never deal with that shit _

_ You’re the prince, we know. _

_ Do you also not have enough horror in your life? _

of course i do

_ but parrish. listen. _

_ this is the one day a year all the monarchy and parliament dress as they are in life _

_ hideous monsters _

He laughed a little harder at that than he should have.

_ You’re telling me the monarchy plays dress up. _

_ ronan_frankensteins_monser_costume.jpg _

_ matthew insisted. did this on me an hour ago _

_ oh my god _

The makeup _ was _really good, and the monstrous look suited him, but hell if Adam ever said that to him.

He may have saved it to his phone, though, to glimpse Ronan’s green-paint covered skin and crooked, drawn-on stitch smile on his perfectly blank face.

Although Adam certainly didn’t intend to make a habit of texting the Prince of England, when he saw a funny bird or a stupid article or an obscure meme his first thought became _I should send that to Ronan. _And Ronan, clearly, was thinking along the same lines. The sheer number of sole emojis that seemed to tell a Ronan-centric story he received at all hours only affirmed that. And somehow, between all the pictogramme and jokes, he started to learn snatches of information. Declan was a better storyteller than Ronan, Matthew was the only person who could make Ronan attend family dinners ever since their father died, and his mother - the Queen of England, Adam had to remind himself sometimes - drew further away every day.

The problem became that he always wanted to know _ more, _and Adam didn’t know if that was due to his rampant curiosity or something else buried deep inside of him, and he was too afraid of what he might uncover by digging to look.

Adam had very few friends.

Most of that came with the territory of being part of the First Family; nothing made casual acquaintances drift away quite like being constantly surveilled by Secret Service agents and trailed by NDAs. Adam didn’t have time for small talk and coffee, a fact which he sometimes lamented and often loved. Part of this came from the type of friendship he became accustomed to with Gansey and Blue, the all-encompassing type of friendship that took over their minds in spare moments and forged ties stronger than steel between them. He’d probably forgotten how to have normal, casual friends, not friends an outsider would think he was completely in love with. And, perhaps more than anything else, it came back down to Robert Parrish and his heavy hands and ringing words. Adam’s memories of his first few years were scattered and inconsistent, but they filled up a too-large corner of his brain all the same. Blue, who entered his life at the tender age of 5, had won his trust with greater ease than their other peers, and Gansey had done the same in high school. They knew him and what he’d been through, and so they could (platonically) love him for all that he was. When campaigning and political office came into the mix, that full truth of Adam Parrish became a secret to guard like any else.

But, oddly enough, Adam had a third friend: Noah Czerny, the thirty-three-year-old baby of the Senate.

Noah and Adam met through an Aglionby networking event while Adam was a student and Noah a recently-elected congressperson, both green as grass in different ways. Adam, thrown neck-deep into a Presidential campaign, had questions, and most of the time Noah had answers. Although all of the professors had warned Adam to proceed cautiously with Czerny, Adam found nothing to fear. Noah had mellowed out quite a bit from his high school days, becoming a familiar face at political events and a surprisingly-wise piece of advice always at the ready. Despite Adam’s near hero-worship of this brand-new politician, half-Mexican just like him and just as frequent to lose sleep rewriting policies that unjustly taxed communities of color or defunded children’s education, they’d formed an improbable bond. The summer before his sophomore year, Noah let Adam closer to the politics process than even his mother had as he ran for the Senate, and Adam took to it almost at once. A politician twelve years his senior was perhaps not a conventional choice of friend, but Adam seldom remained conventional.

It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for Adam to arrive at Noah’s congressional office unannounced, either with business or without, and so when Adam rounded on Noah’s stark, bright, white office, he wasn’t at all surprised to see him ducked over an obscene number of papers.

“It’s Friday night,” Noah said without looking up, barely before Adam had even crossed into the office. As always, the tiny burst of color in the Pride flag deposited in a tourist mug drew Adam’s eye for a long moment before Noah himself did. All Adam could see of him was his brown curls, resolutely held in place even as bent over a desk. “Go party or something.”

“Damn, I didn’t _ think _ this looked like a frat. I knew something was off.” Adam slid into one of the seats across the desk. He had several inches on Noah, but he always felt smaller in those chairs across from the most important legislators in the country. “What’s got you here at eight PM?” Off of Noah’s brief, incredulous look, he amended to _ “this _particular time, I know. You’re salaried. Shouldn’t you…ever go home?”

“I’m trying to get something done so that there’s at least a hope of banning fracking in our lifetimes.”

Adam scoffed quietly, though not for lack of faith in Noah. “Let me know when you’ve cracked the code.”

_ “If, _but sure, I’ll be in contact. Now, why are you here?”

“You didn’t answer my leaving-the-building question.”

Noah’s eyes flickered shut briefly. “Jesus, Adam, I am salaried by the taxpayers of millions of Americans. I’m not going to slack on them.”

“Fine, but don’t make me drag Gansey in here to make you take a long nap and drink some hot soup.”

Adam’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it; despite it being almost 1 am in England, Ronan could presumably take the blame. Noah asked, “Did you catch the Fox town hall last night?”

Adam grimaced. He’d seen part of it, trying to multitask with his macroeconomics homework at the same time, but instead he’d fallen asleep with his head on the laptop screen. “Part of it. It was a shitshow.”

“You can say that again.”

“I honestly thought that Whelk would pull more support from the extremists. He just seemed desperate last night.”

“Oh, he definitely was.” Noah leaned away from his desk, appraising Adam as though considering his words carefully. “We went to school together.”

“Aglionby?” Adam asked. He knit his eyebrows together. “How did I not realize he went there?”

“The school doesn’t exactly love toting him.”

“He’s older than you, though, right?”

“Yes, Adam,” Noah said slowly. “I’m thirty-three. He’s already announced a bid for President. How old do you have to be to run for executive office?”

Adam scowled. “I just came from class, I can’t use my brain. He was a senior when you were a freshman?”

“Yep,” Noah replied. “We were paired in upperclassmen-lowerclassmen bonding.” His lip curled a little. “He outed me.”

“Wait, _ what?” _

“He outed me to the school,” Noah repeated. He looked back down to the papers on his desk, his voice softening to a barely audible level. “I trusted him, which was a dumb thing to do, but I was a really stupid freshman. Scared, too. He was a friendly personality.”

_ “Fuck,” _Adam said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, that’s…”

“Terrible?” A bit of Noah’s life returned to him. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It was years ago.”

“But then…Whelk, he was the reason you…?”

“He didn’t make my parents react the way they did. They did that on their own. But no, they wouldn’t have known without him.”

Adam shook his head. “I thought it wasn’t possible to like the guy less, if only because of his politics, but he’s done it.”

“Done what? Received the full wrath of Adam Parrish?”

“He very well may.”

“Don’t worry about him. Whelk will be out soon, believe me. I know him. He may have his parent’s money, but he’s barely old enough to hold office and he’s running on fumes.”

“If he’s not, I’ll convince Blue to skew stats until he is.” Noah knew just as well as Adam that that wouldn’t change anything, but it lightened the air anyway. “It seems kind of pointless to entertain any of them. Greenmantle is probably going to win no matter what.”

Colin Greenmantle: former antique collector, congressperson from Massachusetts, and millionaire with the funds to take over the Republican primary, and very possibly the whole election, before any papers were even filed.

“It’s early,” Noah said. “Too early to worry about it. Too early to even be _ talking _ about it.”

Adam slanted a half-smile at him. “Never too early to worry about an election.”

Noah looked back to his papers before broaching the next topic. “I hear you’ve got a job on your mother’s re-election campaign.”

“Once I graduate, and maybe a little earlier, yeah.”

Noah cast a glance around the office. “Are you sure this is the life you want?”

Adam knew he was referring to the constant bustle, the fear of disappointing and harming instead of helping, and the ever-evolving media scrutiny. He knew it was the closest Noah would give to a warning. “I’m sure.”

Noah sighed. “Fine.” He pointed to the door. “But I won’t let you throw your youth away, not this early. After you graduate, Parrish. Go get drunk and make out with someone.”

Adam stood, his frame unfolding and standing tall. “You are a terrible role model.”

“Can’t hear you over the loud music.”

“You and Blue and Gansey - if I die of alcohol poisoning, it’s all your fault.”

“Feel free to blame, so long as you’re out there and not here.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. You’ve made your point.”

“Finally,” Noah called after Adam’s retreating form. But Adam could hear the amusement in his voice all the same.

For someone so allergic and averse to technology, Ronan sure seemed to share a lot with Adam.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 13 Novemeber, 2019, 8:38 pm _

_ bird.m4a _

_ she wont stop nuzzling my head?? _

_ Picking for lice, probably. _

_ God knows you have so many. _

_ my scalp is perfectly clean _

_ Forgive me for abstaining from running my hands over it all the same. _

_ I’ll leave that to her. _

He didn’t always respond, though.

Adam tried not to read into it.

(He mostly succeeded.)

Adam never tired of stepping into the Oval Office. On the Wednesday right before Thanksgiving, he stepped in with the same amount of awe he always had, allowing himself a single moment to glance around at the wide windows and perfectly upholstered furniture. He sat on one of the couches without preamble.

His mother looked up from what was in front of her on the desk and smiled, albeit a tired one that frayed a bit at the corners; Adam had seen a few particularly troublesome foreign dignitaries be escorted away not long before, so he didn’t have to guess at the reason. Ana looked like she belonged to sit right there amongst all the history at that desk, from the sun dipping just beneath her halo of hair straightened within an inch of its life and her stick-straight posture. It might have been a lot at times, but seeing her was a reminder of all the good that came from her position.

She rose and walked to join him, her heels clacking lightly at the ground before she sank onto the cushion beside him and pulled him into a loose hug. Adam had overtaken Ana in height some years before, but there had been a long gap in there as he grew - like one day he was three and a half feet tall and wrapped tightly in her arms and the next he was off to Georgetown and several heads taller. She pulled away after a minute, slowly and bit-by-bit as though savoring her moments as a mother rather than a president. Her hand reached to muss his hair a moment later, and Adam ducked away instinctively before exchanging an identical grin with her.

“God, I forgot how light your hair looks in here,” she said, leaning back a little. “Almost golden.” She tilted her head as though examining him. “Nah. Still brown. But much lighter.”

“How could you forget? The photo here was in _ GQ, _the same article that first declared me the family golden boy.” At the corner of their conversation was the knowledge of where he’d inherited that hair color, as it sure as hell wasn’t from Ana. But he let the thought stay buried, patting the dirt back down with the shovel himself. Their relationship always had an absence in it, and he didn’t particularly feel like deepening it in the Oval Office.

“Ah, so that’s the one I have to blame for your big head,” she responded, reaching for a piece of fruit from the little coffee table. It was a familiar half-jest, borne from Adam’s constant contradicting confidence and imposter syndrome. Idiosyncrasies were just Adam’s style, never one to make things easy for himself. He sometimes wondered if so much of himself conflicted because he tried to walk the middle road so often, balancing his weight over all sides to minimize the damage if the rug was yanked from beneath him, like lying down on a bed of nails: a thousand tiny, dull pains over one sharp, potentially fatal puncture. She smiled again. “Is Noah doing well?”

“For Noah he is. He would barely look up from some new reports on fracking, seems hopeful he’ll be able to garner enough support.”

Ana snorted. “Good luck with that. I’ll be shocked if it reaches the floor for debate.”

“That makes three of us, then.” He nodded towards the desk. “Bad meeting?”

The frown lines on her face deepened. “Don’t get me started,” she drawled, falling back fully against the cushions. After only a moment, she _ did _ get started regardless of what Adam did or didn’t do. “We received the memo a few days ago that a delegation from Sweden wanted to be in contact, right? Fairly standard stuff, Maura gets back to them quickly because they worded it like it was an urgent matter, and there’s a back and forth for a while about scheduling and accommodations. We’re of the belief they won’t be out here until Monday at the earliest.”

Adam knit his eyebrows together. “It’s not Monday.”

“You fuckin’ tell me. Anyway, I’m halfway through a meeting with a few UN representatives when Maura has to interrupt. They arrived at the White House, claimed they had a meeting, and just…didn’t leave. Evan Maura couldn’t get through to them, which is the thing that scared me a little.”

“You should have put Calla on it.”

“Believe me, if she were here, I would’ve. But as it was, I had to hurry out the UN members to deal with decidedly more antagonistic foreign relations.”

“Why were they even here?”

“They wanted to discuss the military relationship between our countries-”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she said, waving one hand in dismissal. “Any points they were trying to make went straight out the window when they started pulling out cue cards, to be honest. I might have to call Löfven to smooth things over.”

“Well, there’s never a dull moment,” Adam said fairly. His mother snorted.

“Sure isn’t. Anyway,” she said, glancing at her watch, “it’s now Thanksgiving, so no more meetings for twenty-four hours.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

She pulled a face in dismissal. “We take our patriotism seriously, darlin’. Don’t want our home state gettin’ too mad.”

“Of course.”

Ana checked her watch again. “The turkeys will be on their way to the Willard by now, so we’re not ruining any American traditions today.”

“Wait,” Adam said. “Where?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “The Willard. They stay there every year.”

“What? No. _ No. _You cannot give the turkeys five-star accommodations with taxpayer dollars. You’ve been doing this every year?!”

“It’s public knowledge, sugar. Every news outlet mentions it.”

“How did I not-” Adam cut off. “There is no way you can do that! They’re turkeys! It’s a waste!”

“It’s precedent, Adam. I’m not sure if there’s anything to be done at this point.”

Adam stood quickly, pacing back and forth, and his mother stood behind him. “It’s a _ blatant _waste of money, I’m shocked we haven’t already been-”

“Hon, every president so far has done the same-”

“Imagine the story if we broke the tradition! Even conservatives would have to applaud your frugality-”

“We can’t play games with tradition, you know they already call us disrespectful-”

“-we can’t be using _ taxpayer money-” _

“-by all means, if you have the time to find lodging for two forty-pound turkeys-”

“Put them in my room!” Adam blurted. His mother stopped short.

“You’re not serious,” she said. “We’re not putting the turkeys for me to pardon in your bedroom.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Adam-”

He shifted his feet, coming to a stop. He lifted himself up to his full height. Debate Captain Adam, six-time Best Delegate Adam, and First Son Adam converged into one. His mother barely looked phased.

“Oh, God,” his mother said. “I can’t listen to another sales pitch.”

“Madame President,” Adam began, “I’d like to echo the sentiments of the forebears before me-”

“Nope,” she said, making double-time back to her desk. “You’re not going to filibuster me.”

“In 2018 alone, at least forty-three articles in the Wall Street Journal accused the sitting administration of wasting tax dollars. This came on the heels of a tax increase for Americans making more than ten million dollars per year and the subsequent pushback from a more conservative electorate in Congress.”

“Fine!” Ana said, her hand falling to the desk with a thump. She brought it back up to her head to massage her temple a moment later. “I’m too tired to hear my own history read back at me. You win.”

He sat back down on the couch, crossing his legs primly. “Perfect,” he said, allowing himself to smile once again.

23 notes · View notes

mcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Starstruck (7)

I’m back again and so quickly! Ha! I’m getting soooo close to finishing this but now I’m distracted writing my other series lol.

While writing this I thought a lot about how much Tom actually curses vs. how little I put in andddd it’s pretty disproportional. I mostly just don’t speak like that so it carries over into my writing, but whatever. I’ll stick with it.

Anyways pls enjoy

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: Mostly LA, a little bit of South Korea in this one, but it doesn’t really talk about it

Word Count: 2146

Warnings: Mild language as per usual

Rating: K+

__________________________________

You tore apart your room looking for your favorite swimsuit, an olive green bikini top that accentuated your chest and a pair of black high cut bottoms that lengthened your legs nicely.

It had been a few days since you went and stayed with b/f/n and she now wanted to go to the beach with you. You hadn’t gone out much since due to the paparazzi, who still hung around your house sometimes.

The suit was nowhere to be found, every drawer and cabinet searched high and low.

And then you spotted something in the corner of your eye.

A beach bag slumped over the chair by your desk.

Could it be?

Unless…?

You stepped carefully towards it, dreading opening up the bag and the subsequent memories attached to it. The hurt of what Tom did was still fresh, but better than before.

Neither of you had had contact since his final message to you, which was something you weren’t sure if you were happy, sad, or mad about.

You’d thought about what Caroline had said in the past few nights, losing sleep over her words.

There’s no way I’ve caught feelings for the guy, right?

I mean, sure. He’s handsome, nice accent, great muscles, smells good, dancer, good sense of humor. The list could go on, I guess.

Oh wait. Shit.

Those thoughts flooded your mind as you dumped the contents of the bag onto the carpet, something landing with a heavy thud underneath the swimsuit you’d been searching for.

You peeled away the clothes and things to find a yellow glass bottle, Tom’s stupid unopened cologne now rested on the floor of your room. You stared at it for a few seconds, not knowing what to think.

You’d pretty much forgotten about it since the incident, pushed far from every other thought you’d had since that day.

A buzz suddenly sounded from your phone on the bed, revealing a text from b/f/n saying she was on her way.

Not wanting to run late, you sat the bottle on the desk and ran to the bathroom to change before she arrived.

__________________________________

Photographers followed you and b/f/n at the beach, probably wanting to write a gossip piece about how you were “moving on.” Neither of you cared.

Instead, you both actively posed for the cameras for a little bit, laughing at the men’s persistence. Eventually, however, another of many celebrities in the area caught their eyes and they left, giving you much needed peace.

After a couple hours spent swimming, taking selfies, and tanning, the two of you gathered your things and headed for lunch at a nearby cafe.

As you sat and ate under an umbrella, you found an article that had already been written containing photos from the beach earlier. It was titled “Moving on? Y/l/n spotted in spicy bikini with pal,” something that made you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we reposted some of these pictures?” you joked to b/f/n.

“Yes oh my gosh! That would be hilarious! Send me the article,” she agreed.

You both screenshotted some pictures, picking your favorite to be the cover of your next Instagram post and intermixing some of the day’s selfies, too. Each of you hit post, tagging one another, and went back to your food.

__________________________________

The day had been long but perfect.

B/f/n dropped you at your house late that afternoon, both of you tired from sitting in the sun most of the day. Since then, you’d spent the evening with your family and now prepared for bed.

You hadn’t checked your phone much since posting the photos, but you opened instagram to find that tons of Tom’s fangirls had liked and commented on your picture, most of them pretty supportive.

Your caption had read “Apparently this is a spicy swimsuit and somehow it’s helping me move on from drama. Either way, today was a much needed beach day with my fav!”

Other of your friends commented inside jokes, adding fire and pepper emojis, and called you spicy.

You spent a few minutes replying to comments when you decided to look at the likes. You searched “Holland” in the bar, wanting to see how many fans were liking it, but the first name caused your stomach to drop.

Tomholland2013

There was a blue checkmark signifying it was him, too.

There was no way he’d done it earlier, so you went back to the comments, where you found a new comment from only a minute before that read “OMG TOM LIKED!”

You were shocked to say the least. Was this some kind of a joke to him? Or was this his way of reaching out from a distance? Your thoughts became frequent and jumbled, and finally you decided to put up the phone and truly get ready for bed.

On the back of your desk chair was draped your favorite sleep shirt. As you went to grab it, the cologne bottle caught your eye once again.

You stared at it for a minute, then did something you’d probably regret later.

You ripped off the plastic wrap off top and uncapped it. You took a heavy breath, and then spritzed the scent a few times over the sheets.

It wafted up around you, filling your nose with the musky sweetness you were familiar with.

After changing, you crawled into bed, the smell overcoming you, relaxing you. Surprisingly, butterflies filled your stomach as warm memories of yours and Tom’s night together came to mind once again.

Ah shit. Caroline was right was the last thought to cross your mind as sleep overtook you.

__________________________________

Stan Twitter and Insta had blown up overnight as Tom’s fans speculated about him liking your post (and of course it just had to be one in a swimsuit). You tried not to think about it too much as you once again went to dance and tried to let off steam.

After class came and went, a parent came to let you know that once again there were dozens of people outside waiting for you with cameras and whatnot.

Your friends offered to help walk you to the car, but you were honestly angry. Enough was enough.

“I knew things would get crazy but this has gone on for too long. Celebrities might have to put up with this, but I don’t,” you spat, shouldering your dance bag and heading for the door.

A few people tried to stop you but you just shrugged them off.

“Y/n, y/n!” the people began yelling, fighting to see who would get to your first. One woman beat out the rest and shoved a microphone in your face, the cameraman blocking your way.

“Tell us about your time with Tom Holland! We only want the truth!” she exclaimed with her feigned enthusiasm.

”You don’t want the truth, you want a story,” you began. Seeing the way people already looked uncomfortable with that statement, you continued.

“You take a good, normal person and turn him into your own little reality show. You build him up into a big celebrity just so you can tear him down in public.”

You were beginning to feel your face heat up and eyes threaten tears, but still you continued, looking out at the rest of the crowd.

“Just so you can sell magazines and TV shows? That’s really sick. And Tom Holland’s just one example. He’s talented and successful. He’s all the stuff lots of kids dream of having.”

Nothing you said had a hint of sarcasm or disdain, but rather it was a defendant tone. Now you took on an accusatory one directed at the reporters.

“But thanks to you, he’s had to give up some of the best things in life. Freedom. Privacy. Honesty. So congratulations, you’ve created a celebrity. But you have wrecked the human being inside. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

You finished the tirade, a tear slipping onto your cheek as you remembered the night he spent at your house telling you about how he often missed normal life. There was a heavy pause but cameras continued to flash. The reporter turned to her cameraman.

“Did you get that?” she asked. He nodded, so she turned back to you.

“Y/n, y/n just one more question. In your opinion, who is Tom Holland really?”

You looked at her, taken aback. Your blood boiled.

“Who is he? I don’t know. The Tom Holland you’re all so obsessed with…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I promise you I never met him. And I wouldn’t want to.”

With that, you pushed through the crowd and to your car, hoping they were satisfied.

__________________________________

On the other side of the world, Tom was becoming stir crazy. By the time Tom had awoken, videos and transcripts of your speech were already circulating the internet and he was overwhelmed and frankly angry.

He was supposed to be getting ready for another press day, but how could he do interviews when everyone would just want to hound on him about you?

“Tom, we need to talk,” Harrison said sternly as Tom paced his hotel living room. Harry and Sam stood behind him in the entryway..

“Alright what on?” he asked as though nothing was wrong.

“Tom. Tell us what’s got you acting like this, saying what you did, and her making that speech through tears. You obviously liked that girl and something happened with her,” Harry stated.

Tom paused and turned to the group.

“What are you talking about? There was nothing going on between us.”

They all looked at each other and then Tom like he was an idiot.

“Look mate, you have no reason to lie to us. We always have your back and we’ll probably understand,” Sam added. The group took a few steps forward.

Tom was becoming more agitated and avoided eye contact with all of them. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“First off, I’m not lying. And secondly, if I were, you all wouldn’t understand anyways because you aren’t me! None of you get what it’s like living my life and you never will!” Tom exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

The group was taken aback at Tom’s explosive statement and now Harrison was mad too.

“You know what, man? We came here to talk because we care about you. You’ve been a real dick the past few days and it’s getting old. All we wanted to do was help you out but instead you decided to go all movie star on us,” Harrison blurted. He turned to the twins, “Let’s go guys. He’s obviously beyond us.”

The three boys turned to walk out the door and Tom felt a weight drop in his stomach. Harry was just starting to open the door when Tom stopped them.

“Wait!” he paused and took a deep breath, “I’ll tell you all what’s really going on, but you have to let me tell the whole story first.”

They reluctantly turned back, eventually making themselves comfortable around the living room and letting Tom vent out the whole story, including how his management had made him cut ties with you.

“She was so honest and kind and I blew it. The more distant from her I can make myself, the better. I couldn’t let myself bring you in on this secret and feel bad too. She deserves to just hate me.”

The boys were all shocked and angered at what was going on.

“Tom, I love you, you’re my brother. But you are such a div! And I mean that in the most extreme manner possible,” said Harry.

“Yeah, come on mate. Just fire them! Why are you letting them control your life?” asked Sam.

“You guys don’t get it! Singleness sells! I can’t jeopardize my career just because I found y/n to be the most beautiful and incredible and real person I’ve ever met. I mean, right?”

Harrison piped up at that.

“You really are more stupid than you look. Tom I’m gonna tell you straight. They’re living in some figmented reality where your relationship status determines whether or not you get hired. I mean, you’re Spider-Man for God’s sake. That has to count for something, right?”

Tom bounced his head back and forth in contemplation.

“I mean I guess-” he started when Harrison cut him off again.

“You guess!” he stood up in disbelief. “You guess? Come on! Directors don’t care who the hell you’re dating if you’re giving them Oscar worthy performances and box office hits! And even then, who cares about your career when you’re putting your heart on the cutting board for it. Just go after the damn girl, Tom. And fire those assholes while you’re at it.”

__________________________________

A/N: Still can’t believe I got this out so quickly. Anyways, thanks for reading and as always, send me a message or ask if you wanna talk since I can’t respond to comments! (And keep an eye out for “the best revenge,” my new series)

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004

#starstruck #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland dancing #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #Harry Holland #harrison osterfield #sam holland #spider-man #spiderman #spider man

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pandawritespoorly · 5 years ago

Text

With Time: Chapter 37 - Alya

Author’s Note: Happy St. Patrick's Day! 🍀 Today's the day that every American tells anyone who'll listen about how they're actually kind of, sort of, partially Irish, if you, like, go back far enough to their great grandmother's cousin's half-sister who married some guy who...

Alright, that's enough of teasing my country. This chapter being posted on a holiday is purely coincidental, so there's not really any mention of it in here, also it wouldn't have been relevant.

I don't know about you guys, but the state I live in is taking the self-quarantine thing pretty seriously. I hope my chapters can help you from going too stir-crazy. I have been writing and baking like crazy (and playing Plague Inc, because, come on, I can't not). Several colleges in Michigan are moving online.

Stay safe you guys! Be sure to disinfect whichever device you're reading this on if you haven't recently.

That's enough about the coronavirus. You're all here for Alya, and I'm prepared to deliver. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Alya and Marinette have a very important (and long overdue) talk.

First | Previous | Next

Chloe: I heard that fake reporter was coming over to ‘apologize’ today, so here’s some stuff to really drive your point home.

Marinette: wait where did you get those pictures

Marinette: have you had them this whole time???

Chloe: I have my ways. Don’t question me Dupain-Cheng.

---

Adrien <3: Alya wants to know if it’s a good time for her to come over.

Marinette: yeah

Adrien <3: I can tell the others, we can come over.

Adrien <3: Make sure she doesn’t try anything.

Marinette: kitty.

Marinette: she won’t try anything

Marinette: she just wants to talk i can handle myself

Adrien <3: Of course, I know you can.

Marinette: adrien

Adrien <3: Anyway, she’s headed over. I’ll let the others know so we can wait in the park and glare at her. It’s the least we can do.

Marinette: or you could go about your day as usual and not bother with needless interruptions

Adrien <3: We were already going to hang out, now we’re just coming by earlier. You can’t run from our love and support.

Marinette: You don’t need to do that.

Adrien <3: I’ll make plans that have nothing to do with that then.

---

Hug This Boy: So who wants to go to the park outside of the bakery for reasons completely unrelated to the fact that Alya is coming over to talk to Marinette. It’s just a coincidence if we go to check on Marinette afterward and maybe hurt Alya if need be.

Hug This Boy: Completely unrelated.

Patisserie Princess: Adrien.

Hug This Boy: It’s so fun watching the grass grow.

Kid Mime: o absolutly

Kid Mime: its so green

The Mom Friend: yep

Melodie: So fascinating.

Felix: Most definitely.

Patisserie Princess: …

Patisserie Princess: this isn’t necessary

Melodie: Well how else are we going to look at the grass that happens to be right outside your house?

Kid Mime: yea mari

Patisserie Princess: oh she’s here ive got to go

Patisserie Princess: all of you are to go about your day as usual

Hug This Boy: Wow, the next event on my schedule is ‘watching grass grow at the park that happens to be outside of Mari’s place’.

The Mom Friend: wat a coincdence same here

---

“Alya,” Marinette states, opening the door, “Let’s go to my room.”

She nods numbly, and the pair make their way upstairs, ignoring the glares from Tom and Sabine.

They both sit on the floor of her room, and they sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Alya breaks first.

“Mari- Marinette. I’m sorry. I was supposed to be a reporter and I didn’t even bother to fact check! I just believed her because I was so- so- so infatuated with her stories! She sounded so cool! She’d been everywhere and met everyone, and then… she hadn’t. It was all a lie. You were right. When the slides changed during the competition it felt like everything stopped. I couldn’t even process that everything she’d told us seemed to be a lie. Everyone apologized to you yesterday, and I should have the moment I knew the truth, but I wanted to process it first because… well I mean now I’m trying to avoid acting before thinking- Not that I’m suggesting that you made anything up, or something like that! I’m not! I just wanted to make sure I had all my thoughts in order. I’m so sorry,” Alya says hurriedly.

“You’re not wrong,” Marinette agrees, “You completely threw me out for someone you didn’t even know. The whole class hurt me, but Alya… you hurt me the most. More than Lila - sure, she tore me down enough that I was definitely in a bad place… but you?” she sighs, “Do you even- Alya, do you remember the first week of school? Do you remember Thursday? Can you just… go through it with me? How did we go from making plans to… that?”

Alya is tearing up, but nods. “I didn’t know anything was happening until I got there. Lila was sobbing hysterically, and she looked awful. A few of the class were already with her, and she said she had something to tell us, but wanted to wait for everyone. She said she’d already talked to Adrien. When everyone got there she said that she was being bullied. Regular insults, cyberbullying, attempts at isolating her, so much and it was all so awful. Afterwards, we were all obviously furious and spent at least five minutes convincing her to give us a name. All she managed was to say your name and then she started sobbing and wouldn’t speak anymore. Then class started, and you came in like everything was normal and just made me more mad, I absolutely hated you,” her voice cracks, “So when class was over we all confronted you. We thought you were lying, we thought you threw yourself down the stairs for pity points. We figured if Chloe was coming to your defense, then you must be a bully, and when you left and didn’t return we just took that as you running away. Going to start over in a new place.”

Alya is openly crying now, staying as quiet as she can.

“That’s not how I saw it. You know, to this day my memories of it are vague, and there’s like half of it I can’t remember period. I spent hours just dead, staring at nothing,” Marinette takes a shaky breath, preparing herself. That day is still the hardest part to talk or think about for her, even all these months later. “I went to school in a good mood, you know, because we’d talked for the first time in months and were making plans to hang out. Lila had been gone for a while and I figured that she wouldn’t be back and I could have more of a break. Everything seemed normal in class, I was worried about being late, especially with Adrien gone. Then class ended. You were yelling at me, maybe Nino too? I couldn’t breathe right, and I tried to leave. You grabbed my wrist and suddenly everyone was yelling, and then the door slammed. You were surprised and I twisted myself away, falling down the stairs. By then I’d realized the door slam was another person and I was scared, so I ran. Chloe and Sabrina found me in the bathroom, and from there I don’t know, but others have filled me in. Chloe brought me home and apparently took pictures. Then Maman must have had me go to my room. Chat Noir said he saw me on my balcony and I was completely unresponsive. He sent me to bed, and then it was the next day.” Somehow, Marinette manages to get through the story with minimal voice cracking and tears.

Alya makes a choked sound, more tears falling. After a moment she croaks, “Can I see the pictures?”

Marinette looks at her. “What? Why?” “I deserve it. I was the reason you fell and I need to see what I did.”

Marinette pauses. She didn’t intend to show anyone the pictures, they were obviously upsetting. She’s sitting on the counter, slumped and staring downward. She had expected her eyes to be haunted, or sad, or something like that, but they were just… empty. Nothing at all. Somehow it’s worse that way.

Her red-rimmed eyes and dried tear tracks are proof of her earlier crying.

Marinette is covered in fresh bruises, on her arms, legs, and the one on her face. She got scratches near most of them, the angry red of the skin outlining and accentuating the bruises. Her wrist is clearly sprained - swelled and bruised. Her Maman is in front of her, cleaning her up as best she can, applying bandages and putting an ice pack on the wrist.

“Are you sure? You don’t need to see them. They’re-”

Alya nods. “I deserve it.”

So Marinette turns the phone to her.

Alya covers her mouth in horror, fresh tears coming to her eyes. She won’t let herself look away. She flips through each picture repeatedly, growing more and more upset. Her expression changes momentarily, confusion to sickened understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, “I’m so so so sorry. I never- There’s no excuse- I- I’m so sorry.”

Marinette takes the phone. Seeing the screenshots that Chloe sent, she winces. She still doesn’t like reading them, somehow the pictures of her are more bearable so she switches back to those before shutting the device off.

“Why?” Marinette asks, “What on Earth was going on that day that you thought I deserved to hear those things? I wa- n-need to know.”

Alya shakes her head. “There’s no excuse. I… I was having a bad day, and then Lila told us that Ladybug had sided with you and I j-j-just got so mad. It felt better than just wallowing in self-pity. You s-sent that text and I just u-used you as some sort of p-personal punching bag. I t-t-texted you for a while, and then Adrien, Chloe, and Sabrina showed up. I guess Sabrina grabbed my ph-phone when I was d-distracted with Chloe and deleted your contact. I sp-spe-spent the rest of the day mad at you.”

Marinette stares at a corner of her room, her voice soft. “I was at lunch. I was already having a bad day, and I had found out you deleted the Ladyblog so I was thinking about you and wondering where I went wrong and how much you guys hated me, which was honestly the usual, but moreso.” Alya barely stifles a cry. “I meant to text Allegra, but I’d taken the wrong phone to school. I made myself read each text, and it was everything I’d been t-telling myself, so that was…” Marinette looks away and takes a deep breath. “My friends found me, and somehow I got to the library. I don’t…. I don’t really remember much until I got home, and Adrien was there and I decided to tell them why I transferred.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

Marinette shakes her head. “I didn’t have you come over so we could compare events. Alya, you were my first friend, my best friend, and you just… left me. I don’t understand.” Her voice cracks.

Alya reaches toward her slightly, then remembers herself and draws back. Guilt claws at her inside, and it feels like it is coursing through her veins. “I- always thought that you had deceived us. That you had somehow faked kindness and that Lila was finally showing us the truth. I was d-disgusted with myself for ha-having ever called you my friend, and I just wanted t-to d-d-do everything I c-could to make it up to Lila for it. I thought- I started avoiding you near the end of school because you seemed like you were changing for the worse. Then that first week back just seemed to prove it. I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

Somehow, something about her words angers the designer. She’d been doing her best to stay calm, but something in her wants to make Alya understand how she was hurt and hurt her back.

“Oh?” Her voice is scathing, and she fakes disinterest, exaggeratingly inspecting her nails. “See, to me, I felt like I was losing my best friend. I had been so sure that Lila’s threat to take all my friends away would never come true. I told myself that sure, we weren’t as close, but you didn’t hate me. Then I returned to school. Wednesday we made plans to hang out, do you remember? I was so hopeful after that, and then you were the first to turn. All of you just threw me out - do you have any idea how badly that messed me up? How long it took me to believe I was worthy of being cared about after that?”

Like someone watching their neighbor’s house burn in the night, Alya stares as Marinette continues.

“I still haven’t recovered properly! My anxiety is so much worse now, because come on, look what Lila did in less than a year! Who knows what could happen! A part of my mind is still constantly waiting for people to leave me again, and while I no longer believe it- thank goodness- actually no! Thank my friends, because they stayed. They cared about me, when I didn’t even care about me and I would never have recovered without them! So yeah, while I no longer think that they’ll leave me, there’s a part of my mind forever wondering ‘what if they do’. I thought I’d lost them before. You met them after an akuma attack and Lila was with you, and I saw them talking to you and I was so sure that they would find out about everything and then they’d start looking at me in disgust too, that I’d be forced to watch more people drift away, to lose people again, and then I’d be alone again! They didn’t even know what happened yet! They found me having a panic attack and the first thing I said was that I’d prove to them that I wasn’t lying! I was so desperate! I didn’t want to lose them too! And…” Marinette exhales, fury dying down and giving way to exhaustion. “Look. We used to be so close, but no matter what, that can’t happen again. There’s a rift now. I don’t hate you, and I’m not saying I never want to speak to you, maybe years from now, we could maybe be some sort of friends, but we can never be best friends again, if we ever were.”

Alya nods. “Th-th-that’s fine. I don’t deserve you. Y-you’re b-be-being too nice as it i-is.”

Marinette’s heart breaks. She wants to comfort her so badly, but she won’t lie, and she’s beginning to feel that maybe it’s okay to think someone doesn’t deserve her. She has value, and if people don’t treat her that way, then she knows who isn’t worth her time. She won’t agree with the statement though, that just feels too mean, and she can’t bring herself to say it to her face.

The two sit in an awkward silence for some time, interrupted only by Alya’s barely stifled sniffling and sobbing. Marinette grabs her phone.

Marinette: would you be up to talking with alya?

Adrien <3: What did she do?

Marinette: r talk went fine i meant for the way she treated u.

Adrien <3: Oh.

Adrien <3: Sure.

Marinette: well be on r way down

“Alya? I think you should talk to Adrien. The way he was treated at school is inexcusable,” Marinette says coldly. She flips up on the messages app as she turns off her phone.

The other girl nods shakily, and they head downstairs. When they reach the entrance to the park, it’s not hard to spot her group of friends. The five of them are out on the grass, chatting with each other. Marinette walks over to them, staring down at them. “Watching the grass grow, huh?”

They all turn to look at her, there are several cries of ‘Mari!’ from everyone but Felix who just remarks, “Oh yes, it is indeed very intriguing.”

She can see the barely concealed smirk on his face, and she just rolls her eyes. “Goodness, you guys.”

“How did it go?” Allegra asks, eyeing Alya warily.

“It went fine. She’s here to talk with Adrien.”

Adrien nods, standing to give Marinette a quick hug before walking with Alya to the other side of the park.

“...I feel bad. She’s so upset,” Marinette mumbles.

Allegra hugs her tightly, and Marinette can tell she’s scowling. “As she should, after what she did.”

“Still.”

“You care too much, that’s all,” Claude justifies, “Too much empathy, which isn’t the worst trait to have.”

“We can hate her enough for you,” Allegra growls, still watching Alya.

“She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t want her to hate herself for this, that’s not good.”

“Oh, ‘Nette. I’m sure she won’t hate herself, prob’ly just be pretty guilty for a while.” Allan reassures.

Felix adds, “Even if she did, it would not be your fault in the slightest. You cannot control what other people think.”

Marinette frowns, unconvinced.

Claude musses up her hair, earning an affronted squeak from the girl. He ignores her, saying, “Anyways, do you want to hear about the grass we’ve been watching? I swear it’s grown a whole one thousand twenty fourth of a millimeter.”

“Did you actually watch grass grow?”

“Well, that’s what we said we were gonna’ do, isn’t i’?” Allan teases.

Marinette shakes her head, sighing.

“Actually, it’s technically spring right now, how are you doing?” Allegra asks.

Marinette grins. “I’m back to normal, but in a few weeks? Once flowers start blooming I’m going to be a little hyper, so prepare yourself.”

“Wonderful,” Felix mutters, “Two Claudes.”

“You love meeeee!!” Claude flops towards him, teasing.

“I suppose.”

“So, is that from the same thing that makes you try to hibernate?” Allan checks.

“Yup! I really like spring! Flower crowns incoming.”

“I am all for flower crowns!” Claude crows.

“I’m guessing Adrien knows about this?” Allegra says, “He seemed to know something when spring was brought up, but decided he was going to be all cryptic about it.”

“It’s just more fun that way!” The boy in question returns, going next to Marinette.

“He’s not wrong.”

“Oh, of course you would agree with that, Claude.”

They bat their eyes innocently. “Why, Allegra, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Pfff. Yeah, you’re definitely the picture of innocence, buddy.” Allan rolls his eyes.

Claude gasps. “Allan! You’d betray me like this? Does our friendship mean nothing? Et tu, Brute?”

The boy puts the back of his hand on his forehead, falling backwards.

“Oh no! Claude feign-ted!” Adrien cries.

It takes a moment, but Claude is the first to get it, cracking up. Marinette just sighs wearily, soon followed by Felix. Allan and Allegra understand at the same time, the former laughing, and the latter groaning.

---

Author’s Note: How was that for a chapter? Originally, I was going to have her friends see the pictures, but it didn't quite fit in, and it wouldn't have led to anything big, so I dropped it.

Were you surprised there wasn't a strong language warning? I was when I was proofreading.

Hey, who wants to see the results of the survey? Do you want them later today or on Saturday (to give it a full week)? Also, there's some great extra responses from that bit at the end, so do you guys just want to see all of them or have me find some highlights? If you haven't taken it, please do, because I'm having a blast. Also, should I do another survey for a dumb debate like this, because I already found another great question.

(Can you tell I've been cooped up inside only leaving to walk the dog or get groceries? A little stir crazy here. My dog is just happy I'm home more.)

Regardless, I look forward to any and all comments you have for me! You guys make me smile!

P.S. I haven’t done a ‘things I’ve overheard’ in a while. I’ll probably post one soon.

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#miraculous ladybug #with time #fanfic #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #quantic kids #ml felix #text interactions #apology #apologizing #alya screwed up #and she knows it #everyone stay safe #wash your hands #disinfect stuff #stay hydrated #I should chill #my mom friend is showing

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umi-tama · 4 years ago

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September 30th 2011

Music Star

I could finally unpause Noda-chan again! Yay! 🎉

His Majesty, the Tamagotchi King, still keeps on sending my little one food and once in a while a little gift. I wonder if he cooked all that stuff himself... and if he's a big fan of Noda or if this is a common service on the Tamagotchi Planet o.o

Aside from that, nothing interesting happened.

Since I paused him for a couple days, he didn't have any concerts today. He spent most of the time happily practicing, which forced me to regulary play a game with him or at least give him his beloved toy rocket, so his stress level stays as low as possible.

Here his stats after he went to sleep:

3 yr, 33 lb

hungry ❤❤❤❤

happy ❤❤❤❤

stress: 00

tone: 999

rhythm: 999

original: 999

genre: Jazz Music

star ranking: 4th

tama fans: 318,223,818

Wies'n Goscherl

Before I start my "Goscherl Log", here's a link to the English instruction manual, that came along with it (there were also manuals in German, Spanish and French, btw).

Apparantly my first assumption was right and it's really a little kitten ^^

I didn't pull the tab, but opened it up and removed the batteries (and cleaned up the (thankfully only small) corrosion they left), replacing them with new ones.

Success!

The Goscherl played a weird little melody, a black curtain appeared on the screen, opened, and I'm confronted with a tiny beating heart.

Setting the time.

And waiting...

Since I'm such a creative person, I decided for it to be a girl and named her Kitty XD'

Looks pretty Nano-ish, doesn't it? At least the little lamp and the tiles(?) on the floor remind me of the Nano Kitty screenshots I've seen on the web so far. I never had a real Nano pet myself, so I don't know, if it's a good or a bad rip-off. Maybe one of you guys can tell me?

Anyways, I just fed my littly Kitty some bowls of cat food...

... and a bottle of milk, which made her beam at me. And then she went back to do... well... typical cat stuff. Sneaking through the little appartement, she apparantly lives in, rolling around on the floor, staring at me for no obvious reason, expecting me to read her mind...

We also played a little. There are two games: guessing the direction into which she will point and rat chasing. Latter seems to only require the right button getting pushed a couple of times, and that's it, while the first one is pretty much the same as on the vintage tamas.

Oh, and it took me a while to figure out, that the milk isn't a snack but in fact some kind of important meal, too. Sometimes Kitty will beep at me, even though all hearts are filled, and not disciplining but feeding her some milk makes the attention icon go away. Duh. Good to know o_o

So far I think Kitty is kind of a cute little creature to take care of. I expected way worse *lol*

Now we just have to wait and see 1. if/when Kitty evolves and 2. how long it'll take me to grow bored of her again ;P

Tama-Go

Lookie lookie what arrived today :D

It took me a while to open it (because my screwdriver has the wrong size), so i could put some batteries in it, but after a while I did it ^___^ *hehe* I made a new faceplate, entered the date, time, my birthday and username...

... and shortly after, I was already proud mommy of a little mushroom baby boy~ I'll call him Till from now on. I fed the little one, attached the included Mametchi figurine to play with him, to also fill his happy hearts and... Wow. I assume they made the game on that figurine as boring and nerv-wrecking as possible on purpose, huh? So that no one would even dare to consider not buying more figurines :/ I think I'll retreat to feed snacks instead of play a lot *lol* At least for now... The sound is pretty funny, btw. I mean, I already read in other logs, that the Tama-Go sounded somewhat muffled, but I didn't expect it to sound like this XD' Anyways, I also made Noda and Till meet each other! Yay! Noda took the little one out for some bowling (just to beat him there in every single round >_>') and later he showed him how to play the piano ^^ Till was quite exhausted after all of this and soon went to bed. A while later he woke up again, just to evolve (into Ahirukutchi) and go back to sleep *lol* Here are his stats (of which I'm not all too proud, but meh): 0 yr, 10 lb hungry ❤❤◌◌◌ happy ❤❤◌◌◌ train [ ] friendship ❤❤◌◌◌◌ gotchi points: 1630 So far so good. That's all for today. Let's end this post with a photo of all three of my tamas sleeping!

#Tamagotchi MusicStar #TamaTown TamaGo #Wies'n Goscherl #Tamagotchi #archived post #2011 #long post #Tama Log

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iguessilovebakugou · 6 years ago

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Happier || Bakugou x F!Reader || Jealousy Prompt { Long Post }

.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,l0000,56coc - Benny, 2018, walking across the keyboard like an asshole while M was trying to write

@fandomsblogs

// I am working on the other one! Time has not been my friend lately lol. ALSO HOLY FUCK IS THIS ONE LONG I’M SORRY. Also my love for Shinsou is growing.

Part 2 Here! Part 3 Here!

Hitoshi Shinsou was a strange kid.

You had run into him the first day of school and despite everyone else around him being weary, you didn’t seem to have the same sense of self-preservation. Instead, you found yourself nestling down across from him at the lunch table and talking his ear off. He just stared at you over his spoon, letting you ramble on to your heart’s content. It wasn’t the last time you would sit with him for lunch. It wasn’t too long after that he would wait for you so you could stand in line together. He stopped being entirely quiet and would actually interject with some of his own thoughts. After that, it was meeting you at your cubby and walking you to the train station.

It was nice to have someone you could complain with, even if he would only laugh softly to himself or agree with whatever you were saying. Shinsou had become a dear friend, one that you were able to trust with your secrets and let in on everything that was happening in and outside of class. School eventually lead to meeting him during off days to study, then grabbing something to eat. He was saved under your phone as Shin with a frog emoji next to it, mostly because he gave you a look when you added it. The emojis that followed after have grown long and usually are added as proof that you are upset with him.

‘I can’t believe that you actually ate my sandwich’ was quickly followed by a screenshot of a snake being added after the bear.

‘You’ll survive. Didn’t you buy two of them anyway? 🤔 ’

‘It’s the morality of the matter, Shin. Everyone knows that.’

He was the first person you met at UA. He was the first one you called after getting home from the USJ - though to be fair, he did call you to make sure you made it out with all your limbs attached. He was the first person you saw after you lost during the sports festival and you were the one who cheered him up with ice cream after the events were over. You made sure to help him with his make up during the culture festival and he stayed over your house to help you prepare for any final exam you’ve both had to come across.

...he was the first one who told you that Bakugou had a crush on you...

To be entirely and one hundred and ten percent honest, you had never looked past Bakugou as more than a classmate and sometimes a friend when he wasn’t being absolutely horrendous. Anything after that was foreign territory, unexplored and unprecedented. You were friendly and he was not, that was the end of that discussion as a whole. It didn’t bother you, not in the least - you saw how he treated the others and they fared no different, especially poor Izuku. You had never expected to be anything other than just...that. Just one more of the “indiscriminate”, one more of the “same”, another of the “everyone else”.

It didn’t help, of course, how abrupt and bluntly your friend decided to drop that bomb on you. It was just another part of the idle conversation over lunch, hardly as interesting as the rice and pork he was currently chewing on. You had almost mistaken it for just answering your question from earlier - though what that question had been was completely wiped from your mind as he spoke.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

You paused, staring at him for a solid minute, a spoon full of soup poised and waiting in front of your mouth. “Uh...what?”

He glanced up at you, then back over your shoulder. You could see the line of students in the reflection in his eyes, though they were muddled and shadowed. You stopped, sitting up straight and feeling your consciousness arguing with itself. Turn around don’t turn around turn around don’t turn around turn around.

You twisted, trying to find the face in the crowd that perhaps Shinsou just mistook for Bakugou. You prayed you couldn’t see his face. Pleaded that his wild blonde hair and sharp red eyes wouldn’t make an appearance in the line. Though - as fate would have it - there he was on the outskirts of people. His attention was on your table, hard and focused and...when he noticed the two of you staring at him - he tensed. His back straightened and just as quickly as you had noticed him, like a lion in headlights, he started yelling at you to turn back around. The people standing next to him visibly recoiled and you yourself were taken aback.

...yeah...yeah you were shocked by his outburst. That’s why your heart jumped a little bit. That’s all it was.

“...I think he was staring at you,” You finally said, turning back around and swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. “You did almost beat the kid he hates most in the entire school, so I don’t doubt that he’s-”

“I can tell when people are staring at me,” Shinsou smirked, cutting you off and running your blood cold.

And that was the end of the conversation. You spent the rest of the lunch in silence, alone with your spiraling thoughts.

[ Outgoing Txt:: Shinsou ] He can’t like me. he doesn’t even know me. i have spoken maybe 8 words to him. 10 tops. I mean, we did survive the usj together and nothing brings people closer together than almost dying but to like me? to say he likes me is just false and it’s not funny and its probably just people starting rumors because he yelled at me once in public probably

[ Incoming Txt:: Shinsou ] I’m in class.

[ Outgoing Txt:: Shinsou ] And even if he did like me, it’s not like I like him, you know? like...what would we talk about???

[ Outgoing Txt:: Shinsou ] How mad he is all the time??? I couldn’t deal with the screaming. 👏

[ Incoming Txt:: Shinsou ] You’re going to get us both in trouble wait until after school...

[ Outgoing Txt:: Shinsou ] You can’t just unload this onto me and go ‘wait’ I am freaking out here, Shinsou!!!! [ Read 13:56 ]

Oh, it was just like him to make you wait. To let you stew in your own misery while you waited for him to cut you free. You needed answers. You needed Shinsou to pull the “lol just kidding” card. You needed to have him say he was joking, this just a prank, bruh. More than that you needed everything to go back to normal, for the world to click right back into place.

You couldn’t think about Bakugou like that. You couldn’t think of him as anything more than your angry classmate - you needed it to just be a professional relationship at best. You weren’t good at relationships. You weren’t good at being a good girlfriend or being a good...oh god what if he tried to kiss you? What if he tried sending you a note? Oh, fuck you, what would that be like? Would he ask to meet you under a tree? Isn’t that how everyone does it? Isn’t that how secret admirers confessed their feelings???

What if Shinsou wasn’t kidding???

You were so lost in your own panic, staring at the three dots flashing on Shinsou’s side, you didn’t hear the snickering around you. You didn’t feel all the eyes on you...and you didn’t notice the arm snaking around your shoulder until it was too late. The first reaction your body had was to try and jerk away - to try and hide your phone as quickly as possible, despite already being caught. Miss Midnight wasted no time pulling you close, holding you tight against her chest with one arm and tugging your phone out of your hands with other. “What’s this? With the way you’re turning red, I would suspect it’s a secret admirer.”

You tried reaching for the phone, though the ‘ding!’ caused her bright eyes to focus on it instead of you, Shinsou’s name flashing on the screen with part of the message, ‘I’ll tell you after school. I was told not to say anything...’ Her expression changed, pulling away from you and leaving you speechless and on your feet reaching for your phone. “Boyfriend or no, we have a strict policy on cell phone usage during class. You’ll just have to pick it up at the end of the day.”

You faltered, face falling and shoulders slumping in defeat. You watched as she sauntered to the front of the classroom and slipped your only source of information and connection to Shinsou under the podium. You dropped back into your seat, feeling like a giant ice shard was jamming into your stomach. Great, now she probably thought you and Shinsou were an item. That’s just exactly what you needed right now. You groaned and buried your face in your hands, hating how your cheeks burned at your palms. You were thankful when the sound of scratching pencils filled the room as Midnight went back to the lesson - maybe now you could just...focus on what was going on right now. Just get back to class, everything was going to be okay. Don’t look over there. Don’t look at him...

Your eyes met Bakugou’s. His expression, though hard to entirely make out for certain, did not look good. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched so tightly you could practically hear the grinding teeth from your spot in the middle of the room. You wondered how long he had been staring at you, how long you went without noticing the heat of his glare. The silent confrontation lasted less than a second before he turned back to his notebook. He didn’t bother to write any notes down...not that it would do him any good...

What with how bad his hands were shaking.

“Why did you get in trouble?”

Shinsou shrugged one of his broad shoulders, taking a swig of his drink before tossing the empty can in the trash next to the park bench. “Probably because they caught both of us texting in class. Figure Miss Midnight was talking about our apparent sordid love affair in the teacher’s lounge.” He gave you a wide, unkind smile.

...yeah, he wasn’t too happy about that one.

You lowered your eyelids in a scowl. “Well, I’m sorry she already had the cover planned for our romance novel,” You grumbled around your ice cream spoon. “But you know how I get when I start overthinking things...”

“No, I know. Trust me.” He reached down and plucked his own cup from the spot between you two. “You’re like your own personal, malfunctioning wrecking ball.”

You could almost laugh at how accurate he was. It was enough to make you sick to your stomach. Not that it hadn’t stopped twisting for the rest of the week. Bakugou had made it a point to give you something akin to a cold shoulder mixed with a German suplex. Any time you tried to talk to him, both during class and outside, he would practically snarl and scream for you to get lost. Which had been his normal reaction, sure...but now there was a malice no one had seen before. Not even Deku. It was like burning hot syrup poured down your throat any time he snapped at you, shoving past you to just get away. It had been getting so bad that the others were asking you what was wrong.

“Why is Bakugou so pissed at you?” Asked Mina.

“Did something happen with you and Bakugou?” Sero questioned.

“If you need us to talk to him, we don’t mind.” Uraraka offered.

All of them turned away or declined. This was your problem and one you intended on completely ignoring. Though you had become hyper-aware of his stare whenever you were sitting at lunch. You could feel the heat, the rage...and something else. It was hard to pinpoint and even harder to put into words. What was even more complicated was why it bothered you. Why any of this bothered you. You had people like you before, it wasn’t an entirely new concept. But you had always been focused on getting into UA, on school and becoming a Pro. You were determined, your resolve incredible, your skill unmatched.

So..why did Bakugou stop you in your tracks? Why did he throw a wrench into the plans you had laid out since you were 4? Why was it a problem? Why did it have to change everything? Why was him liking you the single worst thing that could possibly happen?

...and why did your heart skip a beat every single time you thought about him? Why did you find yourself laying in bed, staring at his number in the group chat? Why did you go to bed thinking about what you were going to say to him the next day? Why did it hurt when he pushed you away? Why did you want to reach out and resolve this? Why did the sight of him slow everything down, make the world stop spinning? Why...why did the idea of being with him not sound half bad?

You sighed, offering your now half melted ice cream to Shinsou. “I’m not hungry anymore. You can have it.”

It was silent for a moment before the weight was lifted from your hand. You were focused on your feet, resting your chin in your palm and you were once against lost in your own whirlpool of thoughts. You were drowning so quickly, you didn’t hear Shinsou speak...at least until he tapped your cheek with his spoon.

“Stop.”

You blinked and glanced his way, before groaning and wiping off the sugary smudge with the sleeve of your windbreaker. “Damn it, Shinsou.”

“You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep thinking about it. So stop worrying.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” You snapped, “I had everything planned out and I didn’t need this right now. I didn’t need...him on top of everything else. I need to just focus on my school work and my exams and-”

“No one is saying you need to run off and get married.” His eyes rest on your face, shutting you up quickly. “If you don’t like him, just tell him and get it over with. What’s the big deal?”

You were silenced once again by his logic. Just tell him and get it over and done with. Just explain the whole situation. Just...tell him you didn’t like him like that. That you didn’t want that right now...what was big deal?

"If you don’t curl your damn fingers in, you’re going to cut them off.”

You...were not the best cook in Class 1-A. You could make a mean grilled cheese, a fantastic bowl of cereal and, sometimes when the mood was right, you could not blow up a microwave making a can of soup. But the whole point of this Summer Camp was learning how to survive during dire circumstances and you highly doubt you would find a microwave in the wilderness. You could save people from natural disasters, sure. Keep them safe while they waited for help. No Problem.

Cutting up celery? Not so much.

The owner of the voice surprised you just as much as the statement. It had been a few weeks now with general radio silence from Bakugou. You were faring no better - though you were proud to announce that you had moved on from denial to pain on your trip down the ‘Seven Stages’. So the fact that he had stepped up next to you caused your heart to stop. “Uh...what?”

“Tch.” He grunted, motioning to your hands with his chin. “Your fingers. The way you’re holding the knife and vegetables - it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, uh...” Think of something. Anything to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. “I...never really learned how to cook.”

“Well, that’s obvious.”

...so Bakugou was warm. Your brain had little time to process much else as he reached up and around you. One hand covered your fingers, curling them in against the celery stock while the other drove your arm through the motions of cutting. “If you do it this way, you won’t knick yourself.”

...he was just trying to help. He helps no one. He was just being nice. He’s not nice to anyone. He just didn’t want you to ruin the curry. Why don’t you let anyone in, Bakugou? No one wanted chunks of...celery in their curry. I want to know why you’re so determined. It wasn’t a big deal! I don’t know why you make me feel this way. Just thank him and move along. Please let me in, let me try.

You turned to look at him. You became aware of your tongue’s place in your mouth. You became aware of how much he smelled of caramel right now. He was so focused on your hands, chopping away at the stocks...though you could see how tight his lips were, you could feel the tremble of his hand, see the bead of sweat on his temple. He was doing everything in his power to not look at you, to keep his attention on your work.

...until he didn’t. Until his eyes fell on your face. Your lungs tightened and you felt yourself get lost. The past few weeks melted away in the evening. The confrontations, your panicked thoughts - all of it gone. You couldn’t help but notice the way the sun gave his wild, messed blonde hair the most beautiful of halos. His eyes focused hard on your face, though you were realizing everything about Bakugou was focus. Focus on being the best. Focus on being number one. Focus on proving yourself. Had you always been leaning against him? Had he always been so strong? So warm?

He opened his mouth to say something. You leaned in to stop him.

“Geez, Bakugou, moving in on her boyfriend’s territory, huh?”

You yanked your hand back, narrowly missing losing the skin on the end of your knuckles. The heat of his body quickly disappeared as he turned to Denki, who was smirking. “WHY DON’T YOU MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!?” Bakugou exploded. “UNLESS YOU WANT TO CHOKE ON WHOLE VEGETABLES.”

“I’m just saying, man,” He grinned, “Bro code. Not cool.”

Everyone could feel the snap of his spine. The attention was on him, the entirety of the forest, down to the ants crawling around in the dirt beneath your feet, fell to a stop as Bakugou glared at Denki. It fell silent, no one knowing what to say...least of all you. You stared at his back, a million different thoughts flying faster than your consciousness knew what to do with them.

“...” He didn’t even look at you before turning and walking back to his station. The sight of his head bowed made your stomach twist, the bile rising to the back of your throat. You watched as he went back to chopping onions.

He wasn’t looking at you. Not anymore. And he wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the night.

“I know you feel guilty, but are you serious about this!?”

You ignore Shinsou as you shove whatever clothes you can find into your gym bag that resemble your hero outfit. You know that if you say one word to him, he’ll activate his quirk, and how can you save Bakugou then? How could you stop them from hurting him? How could you ever see him again?

You know everyone else was going to visit Deku in the hospital. You know they were going to make sure he was okay. They were all probably coming up with their own plans to save Katsuki, but you couldn’t run the risk of one of them getting cold feet or ratting on each other. It wasn’t going to help you - not in the slightest.

“The Pros are searching for him!! All Might is searching for him!!” Shinsou screamed, grabbing your shoes that you just set on the bed and holding them from you. You glared at him, but just grabbed another pair of boots instead. “If you get hurt or in trouble, what’s that going to do for you!? They can’t save both you and him!!”

If they can’t save more than one person, they don’t deserve to call themselves pros. You only falter because it’s his voice. Why does his voice have to hurt so much? You fall onto your bed and kick off your shoes and slip the black boots up, working on the laces.

“Don’t do this,” Shinsou begs, and you’re not sure if it’s to get you to talk or because he’s actually terrified for you. “Please. Bakugou is the biggest asshole you and I both know. They’ll probably get sick of him and toss him out on his ass. But don’t cut your own head off to keep his on his shoulders for 10 seconds longer.”

You stare at him for a moment. He...was right. You know this wasn’t a good idea. You know that this was just asking to get murdered or worse: expelled. His words almost crawled their way to your brain, slipping into your thoughts and stopping you from finishing your laces.

But then you thought of his face. You thought about those bright red eyes and his wide smirk. The League of Villains saw his determination, his desire for the best, and the need to be the greatest as nothing but flaws, vices. Something as sinister as they were. They saw it the same way everyone at the Sports Festival saw it. They saw a monster. If they had their way, if the media had their way, the whole world would see him. They would see him as a punk, as a bully...

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked. How much he wanted to be a hero. And if they hurt him, if he refused and they...they took that away from him...?

You yanked at the laces so hard it nearly ripped the fabric and the skin on your hand clean off. No. No, you weren’t going to let that happen. And no matter how much Shinsou yelled or screamed or tried to stop you, he didn’t put himself between you and the door. Because even though you hadn’t said anything, he knew...

He knew to stop you from saving Bakugou was going to be harder than ripping heaven from God’s hands.

No one really could talk to you the first day to the new dorms. They all knew what the broken arm and bruised eye were from. All the cuts and scratches. No one else had been hurt nearly as bad, but no one else threw themselves in front of Bakugou to save him from the hit to his back.

“I DON’T NEED YOU.”

“I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!!”

“DON’T YOU SEE!? YOU JUST MAKE EVERYTHING WORSE!!!!”

“BAKUGOU JUST--”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!! DON’T YOU GET IT? I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!”

No one was stupid enough. No one else got screamed at, got told he didn’t need them...at least, not before you passed out.

You had tried to help and Shinsou had been right: you seemed to make things worse.

You tried to stand proud, tried to appear aloof. But it was hard not to stare at the cast. It must have been hard not to look at you with pity. Deku, Todoroki, Iida, Momo, and Kirishima were the worst. They had heard him and you arguing. They heard it all.

Well, so much for getting this figured out and resolved, huh?

You and Bakugou stood on the opposite side of the group, and the tension that you two created was like a heavy rain cloud over your classmates. But they didn’t say anything, not until after Aizawa made the joyous announcement that you all weren’t going to be expelled. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up at the thought or just that thankful. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Come here.”

The movement out of the corner of your eye stole your attention. The blood in your veins froze in an instant before rushing again to your ears. You turned, watching as Denki was dragged away by...ah... He didn’t really seem to want to go. Nervous and confused, but still trying to play it cool, Bakugou and him disappeared behind the bushes. It’s quiet for a minute, leaving everyone in the small group as equally nervous and confused as-

“AAAAAAAAAGH.”

Ooooo, that sounded like it hurt.

The bumbling Denki darted out from behind the branches, giving everyone a thumbs up and sputtering like an idiot. You looked around, seeing everyone’s smiles and hearing Jiro’s howling laughter. You found it hard to smile, brows furrowed as your attention focused back to Bakugou, eyeing him closely. Did he....?

“Kirishima.”

Your eyes widened at the flash of cash. Did he...no, he wouldn’t have...

“DID YOU SHAKE HIM DOWN FOR CASH!?” Looks like the redhead was on the same train of thought as you.

“NO.” He offered it again, voice deep with a subdued offense. “This is my money, you idiot. To replace what you spent.”

Kirishima was taken aback, eyes widening at the bills in his friend’s hand. “How...did you know I bought night vision goggles?”

The question goes unanswered. Bakugou shoved the money against the other boy’s chest before walking past him. “Don’t say I never gave you anything. Now I’m not indebted to you. ” He snipped, though it didn’t hold his usual contempt.

You...were shocked. He was...grateful? To Kirishima? Your eyes darted back and forth between the two, watching as Bakugou made his way towards you. You froze, holding your arm close to your chest, feeling your heart hammer against your rib cage. The sound of your classmates laughing was drowned out, the ringing in your ears was all you could hear. Was he going to say anything to you? Was he going to try and talk to you? What would you say?...did he really hate you?

Your eyes met. The world paused, stopped spinning on its axel. Hell, you could swear gravity itself gave out and the entire planet was plummeting. Your stomach lurched, your hands began to sweat. You wanted him to just say something, anything. To not just...leave it like that. To stop being so confusing, stop putting up that wall whenever you tried to get close.

And just as quickly as it stopped, the world kept going...and so did he. His eyes left your face and your stomach fell to your feet. So...he really was...

“Hey,” You heard Kirishima behind you, saying your name ever so softly. They were scared of hurting you any more than you had been. Had you really been so weak? Is that how everyone saw you? As just some little girl who got her heart broken by a guy she didn’t even know if she liked? “He didn’t mean what he-”

“It’s fine.” You say, your tone sharper than you intended. It’s not his fault. The jealousy in the pit of your chest isn’t his fault. It’s not...It’s not his fault. “It’s fine.” Your words are softer this time. You even add in a smile for added effect, though it didn’t seem to convince him. You could hardly fool yourself.

“I’ll be alright.”

You knew it was a bold face lie and trying to bury your thoughts wasn’t helping.

You sat up in your bed, having given up on tossing and turning hours ago. You gave up on trying to get any sort of sleep that night. You wanted to blame it on the new dorms, wanted to believe that it was just because you weren’t used to sleeping in new places. The sounds weren’t right, the bed was too soft, no, too firm. It just wasn’t yours. It was hard to sleep in a cast with some broken ribs, you know?

You glanced around the darkened dorm, the boxes from your old room left where the movers had put them. You didn’t have the willpower or heart to unpack them, not just yet. The others had wanted to see how you decorate, they were having a competition even. Good old, normal, run of the mill fun. Something light to keep everyone sane after...everything. But when Uraraka asked you to join in, you simply declined: you just wanted to sleep.

But even that wasn’t working out right. Nothing was working out right.

You glanced at the clock on your phone. One thirty in the morning. You sighed, figuring that if you were going to be up, might as well get something to drink. Maybe you could binge watch something on Youtube, force yourself to be tired. Everyone else would be asleep by now and with how big the dorm hall was, you doubt you would wake anyone else up. Wincing as you gathered some drive, you tossed the sheets from off your legs. You groaned as your torso stretched, the muscles tugging at the broken bones in your chest. With a swear and one good shove later, you had pushed yourself up and on your feet.

You walked softly down the hall, all the lights under the doors out. Everyone was asleep - perfect. No one to ask if you were okay, if you wanted to talk. It wasn’t like anyone had died or you were getting expelled. You just...you just weren’t quite sure why you were so upset. It was hard just to think straight and for five minutes, you just didn’t want to think at all.

You clicked on the lights to the kitchen. It was big, bigger than you were used to anyway. Would they have tea cups and tea just laying around? Something light, like a green tea or earl grey. One by one, you opened and closed each cabinet. It was a slow go, what with your one arm and all. But after 10 minutes of searching, you finally found the boxes. “Hah,” You couldn’t help but laugh, though soft and strained. You actually had a choice. That was rare.

You grabbed the closest one, it hurt to keep your arm up for too long. Your search for a cup would have to wait. You grimaced, rubbing your side. Your lungs were on fire, it was hard to take a deep breath. All at once, you felt the humiliation fall on your shoulders. The pain was just a reminder of how you ended up like this.

...you shouldn’t have been so stupid. You shouldn’t have gotten caught up in all this. You shouldn’t have lost yourself in just the idea that...you shouldn’t have been so stupid. You made a plan for a reason, you set your goals for a reason. You got overwhelmed, you got anxious and in doing so, let your emotions ruin everything.

“DON’T YOU GET IT!? I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!”

You sat down at a table, gripping your arms and staring at your lone box of tea like it held all the answers. You wanted to fix this, wanted to make things right. You wanted the pain to stop so you could just go back to normal. But how do you fix something with someone who didn’t want it to be fixed? How do you make everything right when you can’t even figure out how everything went wrong? Everything was in a fog now, you were poking holes and switching ideas around where before it had been as solid as stone.

You heard movement behind you, causing your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. Shit, maybe it was a teacher coming to tell you to get to bed. Maybe it was one of your other classmates who couldn’t sleep either and-

Bakugou froze the moment his eyes fell on your face. It was obvious he didn’t expect you down here, just like you didn’t expect him to be there. Maybe one day, the universe would come to a screeching halt the moment you two collided. Everything would actually physically explode like it always felt like it was going to. But it didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon. You got cotton mouth, trying to piece words back together to form thoughts. Talking was out of the question. For the both of you, it seemed, since he quickly snapped his mouth shut and moved to turn back around.

No...no, not again.

“Bakugou, wait.” You stood up, too quickly. You let out a choked yelp, reaching and hugging your diaphragm. Too quick, too quick...

“God damn it.” He hissed your name, walking over to you. He urged you to sit back down. “Sit before you almost kill yourself...again.”

You winced, taking deep steady breaths. Recovery Girl had taught you what to do if this happened, though it always seemed like a kick to the gut everytime you stood up too quickly or turned in the wrong way. You closed your eyes and rested your face in your hand, bracing your arm against the table. Shit...shit...

“Honey. Yes or no.”

“Huh?” You peered out through your fingers, watching as Bakugou shifted through the cabinets looking for mugs. He...he was making you tea? Why? God, he wasn’t making any sense. First, he’s trying to walk away and now, he’s trying to make you a drink. At this rate, you were going to get whiplash on his moods alone. You sat silent for a second, eying him through narrowed eyes....but finally sighed. “Yeah, please.” If he was offering, who were you to turn him down?

If he was half as good at making tea as he was cooking in general, then hell, you were going to be one happy girl. It’s silent as he works, shutting off the kettle just as it starts to boil. You watch as he moves around the kitchen like it was his second home. What a strange hobby for someone like him to have. Cooking. It took discipline, control, and passion. Three things he wasn’t lacking in that was for sure. A splash of milk later, and he sits down across from you and offers you the cup...without one of his own.

“Where’s yours?”

“Decided I didn’t want one.” He growled, throwing his arm over the back of his chair. Just like he did in class. “You’re welcome.”

His sarcasm was like nails on a chalkboard. Did he always have to be such an asshole? In a way...it was kind of endearing. In his own way, the brash attitude was starting to grow on you. You were starting to find that it didn’t really bother you as much as it had in the past. Before the argument, before the villians, before the camp...you found yourself watching him. You watched as he pushed himself farther than you thought possible. You watched as he pushed everyone away...even you.

Now...now he couldn’t even look at you. He was staring at his legs, focused intensely on the black joggers he had been wearing. You would kill for just one second in his head - maybe then you could understand what to say to make up for everything you had done. For everything that had gone wrong. You knew why you were so desperate to patch everything up between you two. You knew why you had been so desperate to just push this to the side. To push Bakugou and his feelings to the side.

It was guilt. It was the guilt eating away at you in the park, at the camp, in your room, and it was guilt eating away at you now. You knew that no matter what, you would find a way to screw everything up. And in trying to not do so...that was exactly what you did. Only this time, you didn’t just hurt yourself. You looked up at him from over the ridge of your mug. You looked over his face and thought that maybe the reason he was being so nice now was...he felt guilty too. It was persumtuous, sure, but...

You didn’t want a relationship with Bakugou because you knew that somehow, you would fuck it all up. And yet you still found a way.

“I’m sorry.”

You said it before you even realized you were thinking it. But it needed to be out there. It needed saying, you supposed. “I’m sorry that I almost got you killed. I’m sorry that I’m screwing all of this up.”

With the silence lifted, Bakugou had no other choice but to look at you. He opened his mouth a few times, though after a minute, shut it tight. A roll of the eyes would be typical, though all he did was stare. He should have screamed at you, but all he did was sit up. He should have confirmed what he said just a week ago, repeated the words that had been eating you alive inside. You braced yourself for it. Waited for him to push you away again.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” He whispered. “Out of all those losers, I’m...I was glad you were there.”

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #mha shinsou #mha #my hero academia #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #fluff #jealous bakugou #is a good thing #change my mind #long post

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thisnerdsadventures · 5 years ago

Text

the last two weeks

Just two weeks ago, my friends and I went out to Yamato’s for the first time.

It was sponsored by our dorm, so we racked up a nearly $1000 bill. We had a great time, but the end of our brunch came, and a few of us took a walk to the common for a Bernie rally, and the others went to the BPL to study. Afterwards, we all wound back on campus, and went about our Saturday doing the usual psetting. The current source of stress was the cup of grapes situation that spiraled wildly out of control, but in hindsight, it seems so inconsequential now. Eleven days ago, my friend and I went to Harvard for the day to decompress from everything. It was a beautiful day - the sun was out, we were wearing our light jackets. We went for ramen for lunch, shopped at a shoe store, and searched hopelessly for hand sanitizer. I had promised to work on my UROP but felt I deserved a day off, as I had been working tirelessly for a while. We walked around, taking it all in, I talked about how I was excited for our dinner on Friday and going to Michigan later in April for a conference. It looked like things might get better. The next day, the rumbling started. Harvard sent an email forbidding international travel. We had heard of the situation intensifying in Italy, but we were still nervously waiting to see what would happen. There were crisis-related rumblings on top of the usual school stress and all the things that had not gone well this semester, and just like that, the next day, MIT took it a step further and cancelled all large major events and banned international travel.

This was the first shock. Just earlier that day, I argued with my friend about her decision to back out of our spring break Spain trip due to coronavirus concerns. But now, five hours later, I sat on the ground in my friend's room as the shock passed over me. Every group chat was nonstop. What about CPW? What about Senior Ball? What about Springfest? Our spring break plans were definitely in the gutter now. Every question sent chills and dread down my spine. I heard someone ask whether commencement would still happen, and I cracked, not being able to face this eventuality that I prayed wouldn't happen. The rest of the day was gone, lost to the questions and stress and emails that ensued from this notification. But there were still personal conflicts. Personal problems, academic stress bubbling up to the surface for weeks, and it was coming to a head. Our dinner just over a week ago nearly didn't happen, but luckily a few of us still went to Harvard for a wonderful time. Our conversations surrounded how Harvard followed our footsteps just a day later on cancelling major events and how changes were so drastic. We contemplated whether the policy would be extended and whether our summer plans would be affected, but decided that that was too far in the future to worry about. So we ran across Harvard in the 30 degree night, snow falling from the sky, enjoying our time, not knowing what was to come. I spent what would be the last weekend preparing for a case. I prepped nonstop and thought I did really well on it in class, just this past Monday. It was a beautiful Monday, we biked to Panda Express with nothing but light jackets and we wished that every day could be like that, feeling like summer had come early in Boston. The situation outside was worsening, and we were watching closely to see what would happen. My friends from LA were trying to convince me to go to San Diego with them for a couple days now that my Spain trip was definitely cancelled. Over Twitter, we found out Princeton closed first, demanding it's undergraduates not come back from break, but i went to bed that Monday early, to prepare for a full day of research to come Tuesday, as my Tuesdays usually go, unblocked to make progress on my research. When I woke up Tuesday, there was something wrong. I knew from the blast of notifications from every group chat on every social media account I owned. My Harvard chat was 100+ messages deep by 9:30am from their closure and eviction of undergraduate students. I sat up immediately in bed and opened the other group chats, trembling. Another group of my friends were already organizing storage and coordinating travel ideas in the case that we would also be following suit after Harvard.

I dashed to my computer to access all the other texts and call my dad, who was still awake in Taiwan. He told me to calm down and to wait. But just 30 minutes later, a screenshot leaked, confirming our worst fears - we would also be leaving campus in just a week, moving out for the semester. all classes would be online. My stomach dropped. In my attendance-based class, 2/3 of the class was present, and most were on their phone, checking for updates. We all anxiously waited the rumored 1pm email that would make it official. Everyone knew at this point, and seniors were feeling it all now, the shock, the grief, the celebration already of 4 years on campus. My friends and I cracked open a bottle of wine and took pictures on Killian with the hundreds of other students partying until 5pm. At 5pm though, the email released. It was official. All undergraduates were to move out in a week.

My floor exploded - flights frantically booked. What about storage? I called my mom and she was on it - Sunday afternoon flight booked, same one as my friend. And there was nothing to do except stare out the window of my friends room into the Boston skyline and finish off my wine bottle. And like many of my graduating peers, I realized that my senior year was done, and that I had not even a week to say goodbye to my home and to my friends. I started sobbing, nonstop. I hadn't cried like this since high school. My head of house started up a video call to the whole dorm, and hearing them talk logistics made me cry harder, and when I thought I stopped, I checked my phone and found an email from my professor berating the administration and acknowledging our irreplaceable loss. I cried again, harder. would commencement happen? Even if it did, my dad wouldn't be able to fly into the country. I continued to sob at the thought. After two hours, I eventually found my way to my friends bed where I fell asleep next to her until dinner, and with my eyes no longer swollen from tears, I wandered down to the dining hall with them. We saw other seniors, who had also been crying, judging from the redness in their eyes and cracks in their voices. The pain felt numb for me at this point. My friends stuck around for a bit, and we played some video games. No one on the floor was working, as we all had too much going on in our heads. The house team worked tirelessly to organize storage, and few of us slept that night. We stayed up chatting in the lobby about our families and going home and afterwards lied in our beds, sleepless, staring at the ceiling. The next day, I had just one class to go to, as large classes had been cancelled already. The campus was buzzing with yesterday's events. And in that class, we said our parting goodbyes, and many of us teared up yet again. But we laughed so hard too in that class, as we shared stories from our case just two days ago and for a moment, we forgot our pain. We took a class photo before we parted ways. After class, we lined up for an hour, each and every student, to personally thank our professor.

My senior friends and I shared many meals together, and we parted, saying we'd see each other once again before we left. I watched my best friend take her swim test and watched as giant friend groups of other seniors came and cheered on their friends, fulfilling their last graduation requirement. To watch everyone support each other in these trying times brought warmth to my heart. I went home and ate dinner with my floor family, as we sat on the windowsills and drank boba and ate grilled cheeses. I was exhausted though, so I planned to go to bed at midnight, but I received a message from my best friend - she no longer was leaving on Monday, she was leaving in just eight hours.

I ran to maseeh and helped her pack until 5am. We packed up her curtains and I held her as she cried because she thought her parents were going to help her pack up her last year, just as they helped her screw in her curtains at the beginning of the year. I helped her store her stuff in the student center and we threw out bounties of trash and food. After I left, I knew with a sinking feeling that I wouldn't see her again for a while. And she cried a few more times and left early Thursday morning. When I woke up, she was gone. So I started cleaning and packing. The first boxes arrived in the green living room. In cleaning out my room, I found stuff from my first days of freshman year, my 8.02 exams, my chemistry notes, old electronics projects hidden away in boxes. And it was finally the end of my road, and so it was time to say goodbye to them. I spent so long mindlessly throwing stuff out, I had forgotten to leave McCormick until I finally went down to the lobby to hang out. And I hung out there for two hours, talking to everyone and anyone. I did a boba order for the ballerz, and my floor did yet another free dinner, so we once again ate together, laughing over the copious amount of free food on the kitchen table. Five or six of us returned to chatting and laughing about studying at home with family around in someone's room. A friend of mine invited us over to play Smash at BC, so we went and played a couple rounds. We returned to slowly packing until 11pm.

Things had been looking ok, as my dorm had dropped large amounts of money in buying everyone nice food. But when everyone received the emergency message from MIT telling us to leave by Sunday instead of Tuesday on Thursday night, the dorm exploded. Group chats started going off endlessly, with rumors of students already being sick or being quarantined on campus. I ran to my friends room, where she was already on the phone with her family, rebooking her flight for Saturday. "Just two days?" I thought to myself. "Not even two days I have left now with her and everyone and this home." She hung up the phone and started spilling rumors of Boston Logan closing on Monday. I melted to the floor, having a full panic attack. The dorm’s chat, another dorm’s chat, and every friend group chat started inciting even more fear and panic with each additional rumor. My ears were buzzing and my vision was blurring as I continued sitting on the floor. GRAs were woken up and started doing rounds on each floor, even though it was well past midnight at this point, to check on all the residents, many of whom were gathered in clusters around the floor. I went downstairs to talk to my GRA when I received a text from my friend. Chills ran down my back - "California might shut down within 24-48 hours." I did the math. The flight I rescheduled to just an hour ago was in 45 hours on Saturday afternoon. I felt another panic attack creeping up on me, so I ran off to talk to my friend. I went back up to my floor, where people were still yelling in the kitchen. She was off to the side, frantically still talking on the phone. Once I had calmed down a bit, I pulled her aside and told her about these messages, and she confirmed them in another group chat, showing me essentially a screenshot of a screenshot of a message in an unnamed group hat. Speechless, I stood in the hallway with her facing me. I guess she didn't know what else to do but hug me and reassure me it would be ok, because we had hit the point of simply not knowing what to do but say "I'm so sorry" to each other, as if it would ease the pain. I stayed up till 4:30am packing. My other friend called me, imploring me to change my flight to Friday, just 12 hours from then. I asked her bluntly, acknowledging my lack of family around the country - "if I can't go home, where am I supposed to go?" She promised I could stay with her in Texas and I stared back in disbelief, that we would reach this point of possibility that we would have no place to go, but that people would be so nice to open their homes to others who simply had no other place to go. I stared at my hopelessly unpacked room, the half consumed cider on the desk, and my sheer exhaustion, which had been kept awake by adrenaline. I called my mom again, who I'm sure was also was sleepless and asked whether our neighbor had also changed her flight. She said she didn't know whether they were able to change it. The next morning, two people woke me up two different times. Early in the morning, I fought for laundry machines and finished up most of my packing. That afternoon, I hung out in the lobby with my friends again and screamed out the window on a beautiful day as we blasted BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY into the courtyard. My dorm had a senior sendoff, complete with a senior gift and confetti, and a walk to Pomp and Circumstance, which was touching, considering we might not get commencement at the end of the year. But having everyone there to celebrate our little community and watch us walk to receive our fake diplomas and take senior pictures meant a lot to me.

Shortly after, I went up to the penthouse to watch the sunset for the last time. I had watched so many sunsets on top of that rooftop, as it was my goto spot when things went wrong. And things had never quite gone so wrong as this time. I looked at Fenway, where I went to my first Red Sox game, and Prudential, where my favorite gelato place is, and over to the right where BU is, where my friends and I run along the Esplanade. Every building, I could pin a memory. I watched the cars run down the bridge, where my friend and I pulled an all-nighter and watched the most beautiful sunrise. I watched the river slowly churn along and thought about how much I would miss seeing this every day. To think that just two weeks ago we had been yelling at each other about taking grapes out of the dining hall, that we were angry at each other for doing A or not doing B or saying C, all these problems were so inconsequential now. When you have just a few days left with the people you love, you remember that being around them and laughing and smiling with them is the most important thing, bottom line. I wrote letters to my friends to thank them for being them and sealed them into envelopes for the next day, and returned downstairs to store my stuff in the storage pod and eat dinner. Afterwards, we lied on our bare mattresses and laughed until 2am. My friend returned from maseeh also late that night, her eyes red from saying goodbye to her senior friends. I said good night and see you tomorrow, for what would be the last time for a while. That last morning, I said goodbye to so many people. It didn't really feel like goodbye, or maybe it hasn't set in yet. I watched my first friend leave in her Uber, and I hung out with my other friend until she left just an hour before me. And then it was my turn to leave, as I said goodbye to all the GRAs and my area director, promising I'd be back. And I took that one last walk out the front door. Halfway down the driveway, I took one last look back at the building I called home for four years, a place that had changed so much since I entered it four years ago, but has also changed me so much too. I thought about where I met my friends for the first time, the midnight piano in the GLR, the many nights spent talking until late night in 4 and 5 west. But the car was waiting, so I turned back to my ride to the airport, and I gave my friend one last hug and watched her wave as I drove away, down Memorial Drive, one last time.

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yeppeojiwrites · 6 years ago

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biggest fan pt.3//kang yeosang

warnings: mild human captivity and swearing

once again, this story is not meant to romanticize sasaengs and kidnapping and make sasaengs look good and show a romantic relationship so please don’t think that this is what this story is about.

pairing: sasaeng!yeosang and idol!reader (non-romantic)

word count: 3,508

enjoy homies!!

this chapter is more mild so here’s a gif

“So let me get this straight, Ms. Son,” the CEO of your company said from one end of the long table.

“You’ve been sitting with this information for the past month and you didn’t say anything? Not even when it was announced that she was missing?” he said angrily. Your psychiatrist looked down at her hands that were resting on her lap before looking back up to your CEO at the other end of the table.

“Yes,” she nodded. Your CEO ran his hand down his face and sighed.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. Your psychiatrist looked at the faces seated at the table until she noticed a hand waving to get her attention.

“Before I say what I really want to say, I just want to tell you again that my name is Minami and I’m the closest to (Y/N) out of everyone here.” Minami said. Your psychiatrist nodded and smiled weakly.

“(Y/N) talked about you a lot in our sessions and she showed me a lot of photos of the two of you so I do know who you are. But go ahead, say what you need to say,” Ms. Son urged.

“Why did you wait so long to tell us this? It’s been so hard dealing with (Y/N)’s disappearance. And the police...they don’t even know where to start since there were no security cameras to catch her or anyone else and tell us where she could have gone or could be.” Minami said, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m grateful that you told us this because it’s better to know something like this later than never but...why did you wait so long?” Minami sobbed. Minhee, who was sitting next to her, rubbed her back soothingly as she sobbed.

“Please believe me when I say that I am terribly sorry that I waited so long to tell you guys.” Ms. Son started. “I’m on my vacation week this week and I was at home flipping through channels when I saw a show hosted by Heechul from Super Junior and Jonghyun from CNBlue about sasaengs and the effects of their behaviors on their idols. I decided not to the channel because I knew that (Y/N) was seeing me because of her anxiety which was caused by a sasaeng incident. About halfway into the episode, they mentioned (Y/N)’s case and that the police thought that (Y/N)’s disappearance was sasaeng related.” Ms Son paused.

“No one talked to me about (Y/N)’s disappearance other than to tell me that she had gone missing so I didn’t know the circumstances. So when I heard the statement, it made a lot of sense to me so I decided to meet with you to see what we could do in order to help find (Y/N).” your psychiatrist said. Your CEO nodded, satisfied with her response. He leaned back in his chair.

“So to recap, you said that (Y/N)’s captor’s name is Kang Yeosang?” he asked.

“Yes. (Y/N) was able to find his profiles on several social media platforms and showed me a couple of his photos.” your Ms. Son said. “I found them on my own and I have some photos of him that I was able to screenshot on my phone.” she said, pulling out her phone and entering the password.

“Here, pass this around.” she said as she passed the phone to your manager, Jaehyo.

“Wasn’t he at the fansign when (Y/N) passed out?” Jaehyo asked while passing the phone to Minami. She looked at the phone for a second and gasped before passing it to the member next to her. Minami nodded. “That was him. She started breathing really heavily when he sat down in front of her and she passed out not too long after,” she said.

As the phone was passed around the room and made it back to your psychiatrist, she slid her phone back into her purse and placed her hands on the table, glancing at the people sitting around the table.

“So what do we do now?” asked Ms. Son.

After that day with Yeosang, Yeosang gave you a lot more freedom. Of course he didn’t let you out of the apartment but he wasn’t as careful with you. He let you make your own food since you had lost a lot of weight since he kidnapped you and he let you have your phone and make secret social media accounts so you could keep up with celebrity news and news surrounding your group. Once again, you weren’t allowed to interact with fans or share any information with anyone or text or call anyone but you were grateful for the freedom.

Yeosang wasn’t as touchy with you and he didn’t interact with you as much. He spent a lot of time in the other room in his apartment doing God-knows-what.

Yeosang sat in the computer chair in the other room, deep in thought.

After that day, Yeosang knew that he had to let you go. He wasn’t as good for you as he though that he was; he was hurting you, both physically and emotionally and he saw that the day he almost did the unthinkable. Your tears running down your face and and the way your breathing increased and how panicked you became when his hand touched your waist and the way you writhed against him trying to get him off of you...he never wanted to do that to you again.

He wanted to let you go but the only problem was, how would he be able to do it without the police knowing or without you saying anything? He knew that what he was doing was wrong but didn’t want to face punishment for his actions.

He let his obsession get too far.

He went too far.

He’s sick.

Very sick.

But he needs to do something quickly before things get bad again.

You watched on Yeosang’s television as your group’s first subunit Paradigm-M(irae) performed their debut song “Ahead”.

A smile spread across your face as you heard the voices of the youngest members of your group sing over the trap music-sounding instrumental. You nodded along to the beat and tried your best to copy the dance movements that you had seen months ago when you watched the girls practice.

Chaemi rapped powerfully as she moved her arms in a whacking-style fashion. That part she had practiced for a while and you were happy to see that she had finally nailed it.

Yuki, your group’s youngest Japanese member, seemed to flourish on the stage. Her high voice danced over the other girls’ voices in the chorus. You always admired her ability to sing so powerfully despite being so young.

Finally, the group’s only mixed-race (Korean-African American) member, Natalia, began her English rap as the other girls began to surround her and move in the same direction, their expressions serious.

Her long, tan fingers pulled her mic up to her mouth as she began:

“You said you just wanna talk, but I don’t trust that.

You think if you say the right words, I’ll come right back.

You’re wrong though; I’ve finally started to hate you;

I bet you thought I would follow you around and chase you.

When you ended things with me, I cried in my bed,

But now I’m deleting your number, moving ahead.”

She crossed her arms and and she and the rest of the group lifted their chins to the final beat of the song.

You smiled in a motherly-like fashion and clasped your hands together.

“They did a really good job,” Yeosang said from behind you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your smile falling slightly.

“Did they debut because of your...residency or was it already planned?” Yeosang said. You rolled your eyes at his use of the word residency but answered his question.

“It was already planned. They were set to debut around this time anyways.” you said, leaning back into the couch. Yeosang hummed in response.

“I was gonna order something to eat since I haven’t had any takeout in a while,” Yeosang started. “Did you want anything?” he asked.

“You would be able to eat all of the takeout you wanted if I wasn’t here,” you mumbled.

“What did you say?” Yeosang asked.

“Can we get some kimchi and some japchae?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said, pulling out his phone so that he could order your food.

This was the first time you had ever been awake to see him order takeout since you’ve been here. You weighed your options. Should you:

a. snatch the phone from him, run into a room, lock it, and call the police

b. wait until the delivery person comes to deliver the food and try to run out of the door or alert them of your presence

c. wait for a better time to try to escape, or

d. continue to stay here and hope that someone figures out where you are (which seems less likely as time goes on)

As you thought through your options, Yeosang hung up the phone, immediately cancelling option A. You still have B, C, and D, you said to yourself.

“The food should be here in thirty minutes,” Yeosang said, you nodded in response. You might be able to do option B.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Yeosang said as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch, watching another group perform.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, a slight shakiness to your voice. He laughed slightly.

“Now I really know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, your voice sounding stronger than earlier. He turned to look at you on your end of the couch before pulling his knees into his chest.

“You’re planning on leaving me,” he said. You laughed nervously. Shit, how did he know, you asked yourself.

“I’m not,” you said, weakly.

“Mm, I think you are,” he said. “It’s understandable, you’ve been here for a while. You haven’t seen any of your loved ones in a long time.”

You stayed silent.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you over dinner,” he said, as he turned back to face the television.

“About what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“We’ll talk about it over dinner,” he said simply.

“Fine,” you said, copying his tone.

“You do know that you’re going to be in one of the rooms when the delivery person comes, right?” he asked while still staring at the tv. You turned to look at him in shock.

“Why are you surprised? I told you I know what you’re thinking,” he said. He moved closer to you on the couch and leaned over to whisper in your ear, causing you to stiffen.

“I. Don’t. Trust. You.” he said before moving back to his side of the couch. He pulled out his phone to check the time. “The food will be here in fifteen minutes,” he said. “If I were you, I’d go to the back and get comfortable.”

“You don’t trust me? I’m not the one who has some unhealthy obsession with you; I didn’t kidnap you; I’m not holding you hostage; I’m not the one who keeps trying to force some kind of relationship with you that, despite clear signs, isn’t going to and will never happen; I’m not the one touching you and making advances towards you.” you ranted as you walked to the room. Yeosang got up to follow you.

“What did you say?” he asked. You stopped as soon as you walked through the doorway and turned to face him.

“And I didn’t fucking try to force myself on you.” you seethed before slamming the bedroom door and locking it.

“(Y/N), open the door,” he said while jiggling the doorknob, trying to open the door.

“I’ll leave when the food comes so we can talk,” you said through the door.

“(Y/N),” he pleaded.

“I’ll leave when the food comes,” you said louder as you walked over to the bed to sit on the edge. You heard a sliding noise coming from the other side of the door and heard a slight grunt and a thump.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m sitting by the door,” he said, as he leaned his head against the wooden door that separated you.

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you stayed that way for a while until you heard the doorbell. You heard the floorboards creek as Yeosang pulled himself to his feet. “Could you please, please, stay here for another 5 minutes?” He asked from behind the door.

You continued to weigh your options. You sighed. “I’ll stay,” you said.

“Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this,” Yeosang said.

The two of you were seated at Yeosang’s table, a container of japchae in front of you, a container of black bean noodles in front of him, and a bowl of kimchi that sat between the both of you. You immediately dug into your noodles as Yeosang picked at his noodles with his chopsticks.

“You aren’t eating anything so I guess that what you wanted to talk about is serious.” you said as you laid your chopsticks across your container. “What did you want to talk about, Yeosang?” you asked. Yeosang put his chopsticks down and looked at you.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking ever since...the incident,” he started. “And I know how hard this is for you and how emotionally draining this entire experience has been. I didn’t think about how you would feel at all, I only thought about myself and what I wanted.” he sighed.

“I was very selfish. I knew that your hiatus was a mental break but I didn’t know that I had caused it. You’re right, I do have an unhealthy obsession with you and I let it go too far. Way too far. So before I say what I’m about to say, I want to apologize to you for everything. I’ve taken you away from everything that you’ve loved and cherished. Even before I kidnapped you, I ruined your life.” he said while looking at you. You nodded.

“I accept your apology. I’ll have a hard time forgiving you for this. It may take some years, maybe a couple decades, but there’s a possibility that it’ll happen.” you said. “So where are you going with this?” you asked him. Yeosang looked at his lap and let out a shaky breath.

“I,” he started before stopping, wringing his hands under the table.

“You what?” you asked.

“I want to, um,” he started again, sighing nervously.

“You want to do wh-”

“I want to let you go!” he yelled. Your eyes widened.

“This place is bad for you, I’m bad for you. I don’t want you to be here anymore. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, (Y/N).” he said softly. He ran his hands through his dark brown hair and put his face in his hands.

“You do know I’m going to have you put in jail, right?” you asked. “Like if you aren’t committed to a hospital or a rehab, you’ll probably be in jail.” He gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I figured as much,” he said.

“So how are we going to do this? Do you want to be caught right away or did you want some time to prepare yourself or..” you asked.

“Let me eat my noodles and we can talk about this,” he said.

“Fair enough.”

The police detective raised the phone to her ear and listened as the phone rang. Finally, the person on the other line answered. A gravelly ‘hello’ was heard by the officer.

“Sorry, I’m calling at such a late time, Mr. Kim,” she apologized.

“Who is this?” Jaehyo, your manager, asked.

“This is Detective Lim from the Guro Police station,” she said. Detective Lim heard what sounded like fabric moving against fabric as Jaehyo moved to sit up on the couch in your group’s dorm that he had been sleeping on since your disappearance.

“Ah Detective Lim. What’s wrong?” Jaehyo asked. Jaehyo heard the floorboards near the bedrooms creaking and watched as a sleepy, purple-haired Chaemi and an equally sleepy, maroon-haired Minami shuffled into the living room. “What’s happening?” Chaemi mouthed to Jaehyo. Jaehyo shrugged in response.

Minami sat down next to Jaehyo and tried to listen to what Detective Lim was saying as Chaemi sat on Jaehyo’s other side.

“Mr. Kim, I have some news,” Detective Lim said. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I have some people here with me who are still sleeping and I want them to be able to hear, so give me a second to gather everyone,” he said.

“Of course,” the detective responded. Jaehyo turned to the girls sitting next to him.

“Go get the rest of the girls,” he whispered. The two girls scrambled to wake up the rest of their members. He heard “Wake up, the police department has news!” coming from different rooms and feet running throughout the dorm. Suddenly, ten girls stood in the living room with droopy eyes and bed hair. Jaehyo waved them over to sit around him.

After a couple of seconds of ten sleepy girls trying to figure out where to sit, Jaehyo tapped the speaker button on his phone.

“We’re ready now,” Jaehyo said.

“We have some information regarding Kang Yeosang,” she said before pausing.

“Mr. Kang has a long history of visiting psychiatrists and psychologists, he was in and out of mental hospitals for years for obsessive tendencies, psychosis, suicidal thoughts and attempts, and self injury until about a year and a few months ago.” she hummed slightly before starting again.

“Mr. Kang has been on psychotropic medications in the past and he has several overdue medications according to our interviews with several pharmacies. According to his college attendance records, he hasn’t attended school in months nor has he been seen by his classmates in about two months, even when they invite him out.

“According to credit card records, he has ordered Korean take-out. You might be wondering why this matters and I’ll tell you. He ordered two noodle dishes and kimchi. ‘Maybe he just wants to have two meals,’ you might be thinking. ‘Maybe he just wants to stock up.’ I’ll tell you why that’s worrying. He ordered two large noodle dishes. Sizes that, according to the restaurant’s website, can feed a single person for two days. And to order two of those? That’s worrying.”

“(Y/N) likes noodle dishes, especially japchae,” Minami said.

“I’m getting there.” the detective said. “According to his hospital records, his stomach is unable to digest beef. He cannot eat it. The beef will just sit and rot in his stomach and he’ll either need to have his stomach pumped or if it’s especially bad, he’ll need surgery. And do you know what he ordered?” the detective asked.

“Japchae,” everyone said.

“Japchae and black bean noodles,” the detective responded.

“According to (Y/N)’s ‘Get to Know You’ questionnaire that Ms. Son, her psychiatrist, had her to answer, a lot of (Y/N)’s favorite foods are noodle dishes, especially, as someone on your end said, jopchae,” Detective Lim said.

“You guys might be wondering where this leads us. Since we’ve come across this information, we at the police department have been working towards gaining a search warrant to enter Mr. Kang’s apartment. We are sure that with the amount of evidence that we have stacked against him, we will get the search warrant later today and we will be able to enter his home as soon as possible where we will hopefully find (Y/N) or learn her whereabouts.” Detective Lim finished.

“So what do you need us to do?” Jaehyo asked.

“Please make sure that this information does not get out. You cannot, under any circumstances, tell any of your friends, co-workers, label-mates, idol crushes, news outlets, family members, anyone. You may only tell the CEO of your company and (Y/N)’s family but please make sure that they know the same conditions.”

“We swear on our life,” Jaehyo said, looking pointedly at every girl that sat in the room. They nodded fiercely.

“Get him,” Jaehyo said.

“We will, Mr. Kim.” the detective stated firmly. “We will let you know as soon as the warrant is approved,” she said.

“Okay. Thank you for giving us information,” Jaehyo said.

“Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Kim. You too, ladies,” Detective Lim said.

“Thank you and same to you, Detective Lim,” Jaehyo said before hanging up. He turned to the girls sitting around him.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up at all but it seems like this entire ordeal will end soon, either positively or negatively. Please go to sleep. Mirae team, you have a performance in a few hours and a variety show appearance not too long after. Form team, you’ll be going with me if something comes up with (Y/N).” he said.

“Let’s rest easily, girls. We’ll have closure in a short while.” Jaehyo said.

------------

here we are, after like three weeks. thanks for keeping up with this story, i really appreciate it. i’ve only had this account for almost two months and reaching 133 followers and 530+ notes within that short time,,,it really means a lot to me so thank you!!

i’ll try to post the next chapter in the next three weeks (i’m trying to give myself a time cushion so it doesn’t seem like i’m lying about when the next chapter will be out)

see you then!!

ellie <3

#ateez #ateez scenarios #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yeppeojiwrites #kpop scenarios #kpop writings

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plantbased-elise · 6 years ago

Text

Chemistry

Inspired by a textpost i saw on Instagram a few weeks ago that really inspired me to write this meet-cute. Sadly I lost the screenshots.

WC: 985

No trigger warnings

Summary: Dan relly needs pants to go to class, so adressing a stranger is the best option.

At the UCL Department of chemistry there are quite a few rules regarding safety. Most are ones that make complete sense, like wearing a lab coat and goggles. Some, when you’ve know a little about chemistry, make sense. However, the one rule that Dan Howell would have not thought of before starting his bachelor in chemistry, was that you are not allowed to wear shorts in the lab. When you wear short during a lab, you will be removed from the lab.

Even on the hottest days in the year, people kept to this rule. They would bring long pants to class, and change into them just beforehand. As a third year chem student you knew you could not miss a single lab assignment.

And on a faithful day in early June, Dan Howell woke up at 15 minutes to 8, meaning he had 25 minutes to get to the lab and sign in, before one of his final lab assignments would start.

On this particular day, Dan also woke up incredibly sweaty. It was already 24 degrees outside, and if it was going to be anything like yesterday, it would 35 by the time he would be done with his lab.

He pulled on the first clothing items he could find, not bothering to check if they were clean or not. It was a minimum 15 minute walk to the lab from his dorms, so he should be just in time, if he sprinted a bit.

Just as Dan was about to sign in, he noticed something. In the hurry to get dressed this morning, he’d put on a pair of shorts. He could not, under any circumstances, miss this lab. He debated his options briefly, and without checking for the time, started sprinting back to his dorm.

As he ran, he ran past the big clock in the auditorium. It was already 8:03. He was never going to make it in time.

He looked around desperately. At the other end of the auditorium a tall man was stood next to the coffee machine, wearing sweat pants. Dan sprinted through the auditorium, coming to a screeching halt in front of the stranger. Terribly out of breath, he blurted out: “Can I borrow your pants. I need your pants desperately,”

Just as the stranger was about to reply, to call him out for his insanity, Dan was sure, he started talking again. “I just need them for my lab. I have 5 minutes to sign in. come on, I’ll give you my number and I’ll return the pants to you, cleaned.”

Dan must have had an angel on his shoulder. The stranger nodded, albeit a tad confused. Dan pulled him into the nearest bathroom. As they changed pants, Dan laid his phone for the stranger to add himself as a contact.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Dan said as he started sprinting back to the lab.

In retrospect, Dan should’ve known that this is how fate would treat him. Of course, he would meet the cutest and hottest guy ever, and then have to ask him to switch pants. Was he ever going to have a chance to redeem himself? Probably not.

Still, he gathered the little courage he had, and opened up a new message to the guy, whom he’d just noticed had named himself ‘Pants’.

Dan (15:36): hey, this is the guy from this morning who screamed that he needed your pants. As I said, I’ll wash them and give them back to you

Dan (15:36): do you want them back soon??

Dan (15:36): like you need them tomorrow or something

Dan (15:37): oh god I sound like an asshole

Dan (15:37): I’ll stop spamming now

---

Honestly, Dan forgot about the messages. He spent the next six hours writing an entire essay that was due the next morning, and didn’t check his phone for a few hours. When he shut his laptop, worn to the bone and unable to write another word about carbon structures, he opened his phone for the first time in about 3 hours.

Pants (22:18): I liked the spam ;)

Pants (22:18): I’m in no hurry to get them back

Pants (22:19): Maybe we can meet for coffee later this week, and you can give them back then ;)

Maybe Dan stared at the winky faces for too long, and definitely overanalysed them, but he was kind of hoping that this very hot-yet-cute guy was into him.

Dan (23:56): i’d like that

-----

That’s how, on a Friday afternoon, Dan was waiting in front of the on-campus coffee shop, for some guy he only knew as ‘pants’. At least he knew he was a real person, which was an improvement from Tinder hook-ups.

Luckily he didn’t have to stand around for too long. ‘Pants’ came around the corner, still as hot as Dan remembered him to be. As ‘pants’ looked up, Dan was instantly reminded of the too-blue-to-be-human eyes. He smiled when they made eye contact, and felt his cheek dimple.

“Hey. I realised that I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Phil, or as you might know me, ‘Pants’,” he said, upon getting close enough that Dan could hear. He extended his hand forward. Shakily Dan reached forward to shake it.

“My name is Dan. Thanks again for letting me borrow your pants,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“Well, I’d always lend my pants to cute guys, especially if they might want me to take them off later.” He winked as he said it.

Dan didn’t know whether to cringe or be aroused, so instead he let himself be a combination of both. “God, you did not just say that!”

Together they laughed, and internally Dan thought, I don’t think I’m going to lose his company soon.’ As they headed inside, their hands brushed, and after a second, Phil intertwined their fingers and squeezed lightly.

#phanfiction #phanfic #the phandom #phandom #phan #university #PURE FLUFF #fluff #meet-cute

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intothedanvers-e · 6 years ago

Text

Interview Jitters (pt.2)

Word Count: 1.1k Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Summary: A few months after your previous press junket Y/N and Tom had finally started dating. Not too long into the relationship, Y/N had begun auditions for the role of Captain Marvel and luckily got it! Because you guys were the youngest members of the MCU and the hottest new superheroes everyone was obsessed with, in the months following the Avengers: Infinity War madness you guys were put together to do interviews and panels at events like Comic-Cons. You two had decided to keep a secret from the fans; you were just getting used to the influx of people who were supporting you and you feared that because you two had already been shipped so much that your relationship would be put on an unrealistic pedestal. However, of course, your boyfriend had a hard time not starting at you and smiling like an idiot in love during these things and the fans were starting to become more and more suspicious. Author’s Note: whaddup someone requested a pt.2 to this and seeing all the ugly that went down at that one event with those certain people made me want to give yall some nice fluff bc we all deserve it! also i hit bad writers block with my series young dumb and broke and didnt update when i was supposed to and i feel real bad and ill hopefully have the next chapter by the end of the week ok. if you ever have a request or something for me pls don’t ever hesitate to send it to me! Also feedback is always welcomed!! love yall <33

Here’s Part One!

Here’s my Masterlist!

You and Tom were laying lazily in bed waiting to be escorted to your designated events at Comic-Con. It was your second day there and luckily you were always put together to do stuff so you got to spend a lot of time with your boyfriend. While waiting you two were just scrolling through your socials. You were checking twitter and noticed you were getting a large amount of screenshots sent to you of Tom staring at you with heart eyes during an interview. A lot of tweets all said something along the lines of “are you sure nothing is going on between you guys?”

You smiled and pointed your phone in his direction.

“Baaabe you need to stop,” you said giggling.

“Stop what?! That’s just my face love!” he said trying his best to seem innocent.

“You know what I mean babe!”

“I’m sorry that I’m dating the best girl in the world and my face isn’t doing a good job of hiding it!”

You climbed into his lap and quickly pecked him on the lips.

“You know what I mean spidey.”

He smiled into the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Why can’t we just tell them?”

“In due time my love,” you said giving him a reassuring smile.

There was a knock at the door and the to of you embarked on your day full of activities.

After a while of photo ops and signing things you finally embarked on a few interviews. The both of you recognized one of the interviewers which was the same woman who did the interview where she showed you the clip of Tom. You both smiled at her and greeted her with a hug.

“What a small world!” Tom said as you both sat in front of the woman.

“It’s so nice to see you both again Y/N, Tom!”

“It’s nice to see you too! It’s genuinely nice to see a familiar face amongst the madness,” you said smiling.

“Now not only are you too in the same movie but you guys get to play such iconic characters in one of the biggest movie franchises in the world! Y/N, getting a role like the iconic Captain Marvel must be so overwhelming. What was that process like? How have the fans been reacting?”

“Oh my god it was overwhelming. I remember a lot of 3 a.m. phone calls to this guy over here and I was just bawling after one of the auditions yelling about how I would never get the part because I wasn’t good enough for that and now fast forward a few months and I’m here and its all getting so real!”

“You didn’t think you’d get the part? Are you insane?!”

“She for some reason always doubts her skills! Like I spent a majority of the phone call telling her to calm down and that she was genuinely one of the best actresses ever. Also she did so much research she had comics and stuff always strewn about her apartment, I knew in the back of my mind there’s no way she can’t get this part. Are you joking? Also I wouldn’t doubt Marvel would hire her based off personality alone.”

“Took a lot of trips to her apartment there eh?”

“Well no I mean we’d facetime sometimes too,” he said leaning into his hand, using some of his fingers to cover the cheeky smile he had on his face.

“Also the fans have been super nice! I was quite scared to enter a franchise like this considering the fans will either love ya or hate ya but I’ve gotten mostly good feedback! I think people were just happy to have me and this kid back in action together,” you said trying to change the subject in an inconspicuous way.

“Okay so I know the fans have a lot of questions about the two of you and your love life, but I have a question I feel I have to really get off my chest. Who do you guys reckon would win in a battle: Captain Marvel or Spider-Man?”

“Captain Marvel. No doubt about it, no questions asked, no discussions needed,” you said instantly with a huge smile on your face.

“Excuse me? I reckon Spider-Man would put up a good fight.”

“Oh yeah there’s no doubt in my mind that Spider-Man would definitely try his best, I’m just saying Captain Marvel would absolutely crush him.”

“Why?”

“Okay look spoiler alert if you haven’t watched Infinity War,” you said looking into the camera, “but who does Nick Fury contact to save the world? Captain Marvel. All the while spidey is too busy being dust in someone’s vacuum cleaner. That alone should be an indication of the sheer power that is Captain Marvel.”

You sat there looking into the camera with a proud smile on your face.

“Now that was a low blow,” he said smiling at you.

“I mean she has got a point,” the interviewer said amidst laughter.

After a few more questions the two of you finished the interview and moved on to a panel that included a fan Q & A. The two of you were enjoying answering questions and being able to have some friendly banter. Suddenly the next person asking a question was what seemed like a young mother with a child.

“Hiiii um, my 5-year-old Hunter has a question for you Y/N.”

You got super excited and even stepped closer to the edge of the stage and knelt to look at the tiny five-year-old who was dressed as a tiny StarLord.

“Oh my god hi Hunter!! You are so adorable buddy! What’s your question?”

“Hi Y/N, um, my question is if you would be my girlfriend?”

The crowd erupted in aw’s and cheers. You smiled at the tiny five-year-old.

“Of course Hunter. I would never say no to a little tiny StarLord like you!”

The crowd started clapping and aw-ing again.

“Dude did you just steal my girlfriend?” Tom said amidst laughter.

The crowd erupted in screams. You sat at the edge of the stage and immediately started dying of laughter. You turned back to look at Tom who was trying to hide his red face with his hands but who was also dying of laughter. You could tell he let it slip out without thinking about it.

“Wait so are you guys dating?” the moderator said trying to get a clear answer.

“Are we all surprised that it was Tom that let this cat out of the bag?” you said walking back to the couch and taking a seat a little closer to Tom.

He wrapped one of his arms around and pulled you in for a quick kiss, causing the crowd to go crazy once again.

“Hey, at least this one is far less embarrassing than the last time! This time people actually know you like me back” he said smiling at you.

Taglist: @smilealways19 @tom-hollands-eyelash @colourful-fandoms-ruined-my-blog @cutiepie-holland @hollandlovely (bc we talked about this and were emo)

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland au #tom holland boyfriend #tom holland cute #tom holland fandom #tom holland gifs #tom holland interview #tom holland imagine #tom holland reader #tom holland requests #tom holland story #tom holland writing #masterlist

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