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smoochkooks · 4 years ago

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—chapter one: the beginning of an end

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

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You’re positive your favourite sound in the whole world is the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Everyone has a different approach when it comes to coping with stress and anxiety. Some people drink away their unwanted emotions, some drown themselves in work, some watch yet another, mediocre Netflix show. But your solution, your little panacea has always been writing.

You’re not the best when it comes to expressing your true feelings. You can struggle with saying ‘I love you’ to your mother and then write a long, affectionate letter for her birthday that makes her eyes turn glossy. You may stutter and tumble on your own words while trying to order coffee and then complete academic essays with ease.

Whenever you feel like you’re overwhelmed, boiled up with mixed emotions, you do exactly what your school counselor told you many years ago: you let it out. She never mentioned any specifics, simply encouraging you to find your own way. And that’s exactly what you did – you picked it up yourself. First, it was writing a diary. No less than two weeks into it, you got bored. Turns out describing in detail every single mundane day of your life was never your forté. You threw away your old notebook, bought a new one and decided to write there whenever you felt like you really wanted to, not out of obligation.

And you continue to do so, these days you opt for a use of modern technology often. You open your laptop and pour your feelings onto a digital sheet of paper. It’s cathartic, in a way. Getting rid of what you feel like is weighing you down.

Jungkook however, your dearest best friend, has always been on the other side of the spectrum. Loud, obnoxious, a life and soul of the party who happened to miraculously befriend the most quiet introvert in class. Sometimes you still wonder how your friendship has managed to survive almost twenty years. You’re two polar opposites. Fire and water. Storm and chilly breeze. A confession screamed in the middle of the night and handwritten love letter.

You’re a dichotomy. Made of the same atoms, pulling in and pulling away. And if the phrase ‘opposites attract’ held any significance, maybe you would’ve ended up together. But in your case, it’s yet another platitude. Something that seems to work out only in books and movies. Because, if that was true, he would never fell in love with a female version of him, just graced with a sprinkle of pure sweetenes Jungkook sometimes lacks.

Soojin is everything you will never be. Polite, outgoing, sociable and so likeable you hate yourself for despising her. Truthfully, there’s nothing bad you could say about her. No wonder he’s fallen head over heels for her, not you.

What’s there to love about you, if you willing chose to pin for a boy that’s so out of your league? It’s actually hilarious to even dream about him returning your feelings.

You stare at the screen with half-lidded eyes. The clock reads quarter past midnight, letters start to blur into nothingness. Yet another chapter of your miserable life is completed as you save the document and slam your laptop shut. You don’t bother to shower or take off your clothes. Sleepiness hits you right when you close your eyes.

You dream of wedding halls and never spoken love confessions.

You read once on Twitter that being an adult means checking your e-mail as a part of your morning social media routine and since then, you haven’t quite related to anything more in your life.

At the very top of your inbox there’s yet another e-mail from your Creative Writing proffesor, Kim Namjoon. He’s a very stubborn man, you decide, as you scroll through the contents of his message. He still wants you to consider what he told you a few days ago after class, it seems.

“Miss ___? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” you replied and awkwardly walked up to his podium.

You might have been madly (and miserablely) in love with your best friend, but Kim Namjoon has never failed to make you feel like a silly teenager with a crush on her older teacher. To say Kim Namjoon was intimidating was an misunderstanding. His presence was thoroughly electrifying. You remembered a very disappointed sigh the girl sitting next you let out when she noticed a ring on his right hand. You couldn’t judge her. His wife had scored probably the finest man on this damn planet.

“I read your latest assignment and I must say, your novelette was outstanding as always. Dare I say the best among others,” Namjoon said. You bowed your head in acknowledgement, praying he wouldn’t notice your rose-colored cheeks. “Regarding that, I actually have a proposition for you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “What kind of proposition, sir?” you asked.

He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to you. It was a flyer, you realised, and read it through quickly. VARIETÉ Publishing was organising an annual contest for young poets, which you had heard about before. Your English Literature proffesor mentioned it during her lecture a week ago. However, poetry had never been your strong suit. As much as you enjoyed reading it, you weren’t really fond of creating your own poems. So why did Kim Namjoon decide to tell you about this all of a sudden?

“I know what you might be thinking right now, but I’m not actually encouraging you to take part in this competition,” As he smiled, two dimples appeared on each side of his mouth. “Do you know anything about VARIETÉ Publishing?”

Slightly confused, you gave him a nod. “It’s one if the biggest publishing companies in the country.”

“That’s very much true,” Namjoon agreed. “VARIETÉ's vice-chairman, Lee Jongi, is actually my old friend. We used to study together here, at this university. When I chose a teaching career, he got a job in a foreign publishing company, climbed up the ladder until the very top and now he’s vice-chairman and I’m a simple college professor,” He chuckled. You were too stunned to form a coherent response let alone laugh along with him. Lee Jongi and Kim Namjoon being buddies? It was a small world, after all. “Jongi has always been very fond of young, aspiring writers. When I discover a student with huge potential, I send him their works. If he finds them interesting enough, he might even take a risk and propose a publishing deal. This doesn’t happen quite often, but I want you to know that you have a pretty big chance to impress him.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed because holy fucking shit, did he just say he can help you publish your first book?

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’m shocked.” you responded truthfully. You had heard people complimenting your skills before but this was extraordinary. “Let me just process all of this: you know personally VARIETÉ'S vice-chairman and you want to show him my works?” Even said out loud, it still sounded surreal to you.

“Correct. But of course, I won’t do anything without your consent.” Namjoon said. “That novelette you sent me recently was amazing. I’d love to show it to Lee Jongi one day.”

The task was to incorporate a hidden, symbolic message into a story. You decided to use your favorite flowers, magnolias, and its meaning. They represent eternity, because once they bloom they will continue to bloom for a long time. In your story, a girl gave her best friend magnolia's seeds, wishing her love for him to be everlasting. A day later, she received a pack of seeds from the boy as well. She happily planted them in her garden and when they bloomed, she discovered they were yellow tulips. A symbol of love that will never be reciprocated.

“You make people feel things with your words, ___, and that’s a very rare gift,” You heard Namjoon add. “Promise me you’ll consider my proposition.”

There was thousand thoughts per hour running in your head, but you gave him a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”

As you’re staring now at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, you think about the girl whose only dream was to be loved by her best friend. Maybe it’s finally time for you to move on. Bury the past and plant a seed of new life. Because, loving Jeon Jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

With shaky hands, you start writing a response to your proffesor.

#jungkook smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #an ode to a broken heart

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years ago

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let's talk about severus snape. he's one of the most controversial characters the internet has to offer, with several blogs, channels and pages dedicated specifically to hating him, despite him having one of the most—if not the most—intriguing character arcs the series has to offer. so, as a result of me coming across far too many of said blogs, channels or pages, here's an extremely detailed explanation of why i like him and think he's easily one of my favourite characters :)

1. he's not that bad of a teacher.

just so you know, i'm a teenage girl fresh out of high school. so, my experience with teachers? still keeps me up at night :)

my family is pretty strict about religion. you can guess what that means. anything that was magic-adjacent, especially something that, god forbid, had an entire school dedicated to witchcraft and wizardry was a hard no if i wanted to have any sort of freedom over the media i paid attention to, and any opportunity to go about my life without being monitored to make sure i wasn't suddenly possessed or something. thanks to this, i ended up secretly reading the philosopher's stone in my last year of primary school. i would've been 11 at the time, just about to turn 12, so a little bit older than harry and co. going on what i'd heard from those who had already read the series, i went in expecting to absolutely despise this man. i went in expecting to read a demon. i finished the book and came out thinking... that really wasn't that bad.

my mom found out, so i didn't get to read the rest of the series until i ended up on the executive committee for my school's book club and my friends were appalled that i'd only read the first book. at this point, i'm still expecting him to get worse and... he just doesn't. when i was in primary school, i had multiple teachers break wooden meter-long rulers across my classmates' backs. the first time it happened, i was in infant year 2 (about 6/7 years old). i had teachers who would insult us, based on anything from hygiene to behaviour to intelligence if you looked at them wrong. my sister (who was three years ahead of me) had a teacher who kept her in hours after school was over because the teacher had a written a note in her workbook upside down, and when my sister corrected her, the teacher made her rewrite it, turning the book each time the note was written so it would never be done the correct way.

in secondary school, i had teachers who would actively humiliate us in front of the class if we didn't do as well as they wanted. i had teachers who would throw markers and whiteboard erasers at us if we did something they didn't like during class. i had a teacher who looked for a friend of mine who was petrified of attention and then mercilessly picked on her until she went to the bathrooms to cry. these are the kinds of teachers that i was used to. so, when i read harry potter and read snape, who would have probably been one of the nicer teachers i met in my lifetime, i thought to myself, he's really not that bad. he's just... strict.

antis claim that he traumatised every kid that ever went through his class, that he straight up abused them and... no. he didn't. all of them are comfortable talking back, they talk during his class, no one trembles when he walks past, except for neville, who usually bore the brunt of snape's anger because he was consistently messing up in a potentially lethal class.

after school, i hated the thought of formal education, so now i'm working until i feel ready to do university. coincidentally, one of my jobs is teaching maths and english to kids writing the end of primary and secondary school exams. given the sheer amount of annoyance i feel sometimes, i actually respect him for not being more harsh with them, especially when they're all running off into danger or exploding cauldrons.

he really isn't that bad of a teacher, and we know this, since his classes' owl results are said to be consistently good.

plus, he was written in the 90's when all this was okay behaviour for teachers. hell, compared to some of the teachers in text, given that he goes out of his way to make sure the students are always protected, he's a lot better than most people give him credit for.

2. i relate to him.

come on, the man grew up to be a dramatic, queer-coded, petty bitch who wears all black all the time and likely has at least one mental disorder. i'm a petty, emo bisexual with (actually diagnosed, don't worry) depression and anxiety and I'm in a theatre group. what did you really expect from me?

on a serious note, both of the schools i went to were considered "prestigious". i got into my primary school because of a teacher's recommendation (she was a family friend). the second school i got into was because i scored ridiculously high on the placement test that would determine which school i went to. in primary school, i was the poor, really awkward, really smart kid who got left out of everything, and my best friend was the only kid who was worse off than me.

in secondary school, i was just as smart as everyone else... but i was still poorer, and still more awkward and still got left out of everything.

i got that isolated feeling, that feeling of not being good enough, that feeling where life always seems to have it out for you and that's even though i still got dealt a better hand than snape ever did. so, i get it. i'm never ever going to have it as bad as he did, but i acknowledge what he went through and i sympathise, because i have a chance, but it only ever got worse for him.

3. i genuinely enjoy his character.

this dude went through absolute hell for basically his entire life. the best years he had were probably when he was neck-deep in the group of people who hated witches and wizards like him, but somehow managed to treat him better than the good guys.

all of that, and he still manages to be one of the most entertaining motherfuckers in the whole series, with one of the most interesting character arcs ever. it's the witty lines, the sheer dynamic of his character, the change from the twitchy, hypervigilant kid from the slums to the adult that managed to spy on the Dark Lord himself and save the wizarding world in the process, while still being a hot mess of a person. it's the managing to get shit done while everybody hated him and everything was going to hell. it's the everything, and i haven't even talked about how badass he is.

come on, potions prodigy turned master, exemplary duellist (cough, cough, winning 4-on-1 vs McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, and leaving a scratch on nobody, while managing to not take a single hit himself, cough, cough), spellcrafter, spy and one of the only wizards to ever figure out unaided flight. dark arts master, proficient at healing (dumbledore would've been dead a lot sooner, if it weren't for him, most likely). he's one of the most powerful wizards of his time. i've said that any universe where he's actually a bad guy—or just legitimately loyal to the death eaters—is a universe where voldemort wins and this is why. if he was motivated by literally anything other than lily, the wizarding world was more than likely fucked.

the point is, i just think he's neat.

4. spite.

every time i appreciate snape, a snater feels like someone is walking over their grave. every time i appreciate snape, a snater turns blue out of sheer rage. every time i appreciate snape, a snater loses their mind looking for their non-existent reading comprehension.

the spite in my veins is tempered only by the broth of instant ramen and ungodly amounts of sugar, and i'm going to use them all in my mission to cause antis pain when they refuse to acknowledge their lack of critical thinking and analysis skills.

so, yeah. why do i actually like snape?

tl;dr: he's not that bad. for a teacher written in the 90's and compared to teachers i've had within the decade, the guy's just strict. sure, he's a dick (who i personally think is hilarious), but he always makes sure the students are safe and he didn't leave any lasting effect on any of the students. he's really not that bad of a teacher. and hell, he's not even that bad of a person. i fully admit that he was an asshole and i entirely believe he was prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he still tried to atone for his mistakes and he did, is the thing, even though the odds were stacked more or less completely against him. i like him because he entertains me, and because i relate to him, as a teen who went through some shit and probably would have joined up with some bad people if it weren't for my friends and family, and as a teacher who really can't stand my students sometimes. i also like him because it irritates people who don't like him :)

also, istg if any of you respond to this with "bUt hE was ObseSsED with LiLY and just WAnTEd to FUCK hEr," i'm crawling into your bedroom window with the most unrealistic, mangled interpretations of your favourite characters and making sure they haunt you in your dreams. meet me in the fuckin' pit, babe. reread the series, actually think about it and come with receipts that aren't Voldemort, because i don't think you want to have the same opinion as the character who canonically doesn't understand love, now, do you, sweetheart? when you do that, then, and only then, will i consider entertaining your bullshit :)

that's about it from me, thanks for reading!

#severus snape #pro snape #why do people like snape?#i can't speak for anybody else but here's me #i probably left something out since i haven't written a good essay since my literature exam #but it's fine #let me like my chaotic bastard son in peace please #snape #snapedom

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super-secret-sick-fics · 4 years ago

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hii you said that requests were open so i was wondering if you’d want to write an iwaoi sick fic? like it’s a middle of a practice match agaisnt some school and oikawa feels sick but doesn’t tell anyone beforehand?

Hello and thank you for the request!! I hope this is kinda what you wanted. I tried :) sorry it took me a minute!

An Off Day: an IwaOi Sick fic

Pairing: Sick Oikawa, Caretaker Iwaizumi

Words: ? (I didn’t get a count sorry—longer though)

Warnings: fever, passing out, cursing

————————

It was a dull day.

Oikawa sat in class, his head resting on his palm, and everything just felt faded. Existing as a human today seemed like entirely too much work.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but his entire day, his surroundings, his overall demeanor— none of them were as vivid and bright as usual. Things were just...off.

He felt off.

A lethargic and overall blah feeling clung to him like a thick winter coat, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe and leaving his head muddled. He didn’t know what was going on with his body and it was incredibly frustrating.

Oikawa scoffed to himself, ignoring the curious side eye from the girl next to him, and resolutely decided to ignore the dull, blah feeling. Surely if he willed himself to feel less blah, then that would put the pep back in his step. Besides, this was his last class of the day and then it was time for practice.

They were playing some no-name, no-skill team in what Oikawa deemed a “charity” practice match. For the other team, it would be a learning experience. For Seijoh, it would be another victory to add to their running total.

Class finally ended and he stood up to head to the club room. Immediately, his knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. A small hand grasped his upper arm and held him steady. Once the spots cleared, he saw the small girl who sits next to him looking up at him, concern etched into her face.

“Oikawa-san? You look pale. You should go home and rest. I’m sure they’ll be okay without you at practice today.” He shook his head.

“I just got up too fast. Thank you for helping me out,” he smiled and she hesitantly let his arm go. She nodded, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom.

Oikawa, much to his dismay, was still dizzy though. He placed his hands on his desk and ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut while he waited for it to pass.

In the club room, he met up with Iwaizumi and chatted with his other teammates here and there, resolutely ignoring the fatigue thay plagued him.

Warm-ups came and went and their coach went over the rotation for the practice match. All the while, the lethargy he felt never went away like he thought it would. In fact, it seemed to be increasing and there was now a dull, consistent thudding in his head. Maybe it was more than just an off day? Maybe something was wrong?

He didn’t get much time to explore the new thoughts, because the other team arrived and their practice match began. Oikawa was right; the other team wasn’t a challenge in the slightest. The fact that it was any easy game didn’t make him feel any better about his complete lack of game.

Nearly every single one of his sets was wrong. Too high or too low. Too far left or right. The ball wasn’t settling in his fingers the way he needed it too and it all irritated him to no end.

He couldn’t concentrate. Every now and then, the court tilted dangerously sideways and he had to consciously ground his feet to bring it back to equilibrium. He was starting to feel weak. His limbs weighed about 1,000 lbs, making every lift of his arms to set the ball or movement of his legs to cross the court a Herculean effort. All he wanted was to curl up on the ground and take a nap.

“Hey, you okay?” Matsu walked up to him during a break between serves and put a hand on his shoulder. He was frowning. Oikawa glowered at him.

Was he okay? No. Of course not. He was 98% sure that he had a fever. Would that stop him from playing? No. Of course not. This was an easy team to beat. If he couldn’t push through this, then he wasn’t worth anything to his team.

“Yeah. Fine.” He snapped. Matsuhana put his hands up and backed away. Play resumed.

It was just a cold. He could shake this feeling if he just pushed through it hard enough. If Oikawa was confident of anything, it was his ability to ignore negative feelings and punch through bad moods.

That confidence slowly drained out of Oikawa along with any energy and focus he may have had the longer the game continued.

The two teams switched sides of the court and Iwaizumi appeared at his side.

“Hey, what’s the deal? You okay? We should have taken this set a long time ago,” he grumbled, his usual grumpy tone setting all of Oikawa’s already frazzled nerves even more on edge. His lip curled as he glanced over at his best friend.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan, I didn’t realize,” he sneered. Iwa’s eyes widened and he blinked comically. Oikawa would have made a joke if he wasn’t feeling so shitty.

“Don’t take it out on me, Trashykawa,” Iwa’s eyes narrowed, “your sets have been off all match.”

Oikawa felt like he was slapped in the face because he knew that. Of course he was more than aware that not a single one of his sets hit their mark yet. It was eating away at him and it made his stomach churn. He could do this though. He would not let his team down.

“I know,” he muttered. Iwa’s face changed again, but Oikawa’s vision blurred and he couldn’t make out what expression the ace had. He walked away.

“Oi, come back here a seco—“ Iwa started but was cut off by their coach.

“Iwaizumi! You gonna stand around and talk all day or are you gonna let us resume the match?”

He glanced one more time at Oikawa before getting into position. Oikawa thought maybe he looked concerned or upset or something, but he honestly didn’t have the energy to figure it out. It was all he could do to stand up right.

The set continued and each passing second was an eternity to Oikawa. Black spots popped up more frequently and he had to squeeze his eyes shut quickly and exhale to keep himself from passing out. It was a losing battle.

The dull thud in his head grew into a steady pounding that took up residence behind his eyes, leaving him vaguely nauseated. It was getting harder to breathe, even though he wasn’t running around like he normally would be. The gym swirled and he blinked several times, but it wasn’t going back to normal. The sounds of shouting and squeaking shoes faded away, replaced by a strange roaring sound.

Oikawa realized very quickly that he was in serious trouble.

“Oikawa!” Wataru’s shout cut through the roaring and sent a sharp pain through his head. As quickly as it left, the roaring in his ears returned and with it, his vision completely blacked out. It took all his effort to call out for help.

“Iwa-cha—“ the sound got caught in his throat and his body crumpled to the floor.

The next thing he knew, Oikawa was staring at the ceiling. He blinked a few times and groaned. The lights beaming down on him reminded him of the migraine he definitely had and he shivered. Why was he on the ground?

“Tooru? Oh thank god,” Iwa’s face entered his field of vision (and blocked the light, thankfully). His voice was shaking and desperate, adding to Oikawa’s confusion.

“Iwa-chan?” He said feebly.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Fuck, Tooru. You scared the shit out of me,” Iwaizumi was frantic, his hands cupping Oikawa’s face, making the sick boy cringe. Touching was no good. He didn’t want that right now.

The corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth pulled down and his eyebrows scrunched. He moved one of his hand’s to Oikawa’s forehead and the other to his own. His eyes blew wide.

“Holy shit, Tooru! Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick, dumbass?”

Oh. He’d been caught.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know?” He smiled weakly up at his best friend, who scoffed in return.

“Idiot,” he mumbled before turning his head towards somewhere above Oikawa. The lights pierced Oikawa’s vision and he moaned when his head pulsated. He tried to curl up, but Iwaizumi was already trying to get him standing.

“Coach, he’s got a fever,” Iwaizumi shouted across the gym and Oikawa’s knees buckled. Luckily, Iwa’s arms were securely around his waist.

“I’m gonna take him to the club room and call one of our moms to come pick us up. Do you need me here?”

“No, go take care of our idiot captain,” their coach responded, his arms crossed over his chest. Normally, Oikawa would’ve squaked at the insult, but it was taking all of his attention to stay awake.

“We got this man. Go handle the child,” Makki snickered.

“Mean, Makki,” Oikawa managed to whine as he and Iwa stumbled out of the gym.

By the time they got back to the club room, Oikawa was sweating profusely, panting, and leaning almost all of his weight on Iwaizumi.

Iwa led them to the back of the clubroom and guided them down to sit against the wall. Oikawa shivered and immediately curled into Iwa’s side.

“How the hell did you let it get so bad, Shittykawa,” Iwa questioned. His tone held more concern than malice and it settled Oikawa’s nerves ever so slightly.

“Mmm, so warm Iwa-chan,” was all Oikawa could respond with. Iwaizumi scoffed, but threw an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder and pulled him closer anyway. The setter smiled.

“Yo, who should I call?” Iwaizumi asked, his tone still lacking its normal gruffness.

“Everyone in my family is working right now, Iwa-chan. No one is going to pick up,” Oikawa said. His throat was getting sore now. That means he’s sick sick. He frowned. Another shiver shot up his spine.

Iwa sighed, “okay. I’ll call my mom. She won’t be able to get here for at least half an hour though. Will you be okay until then? We can take the bus if you want.”

Oikawa nuzzled into Iwa’s shoulder. The smallest hints of his cologne were still present, despite getting sweaty from practice.

“No. No bus. We’ll want for Auntie, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call her.”

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa yawned. His eyes started drifting closed. Man, did a nap sound perfect right now.

“Don’t apologize, Tooru. Just scared me,” Iwa muttered and Oikawa felt the ace’s nose nuzzle into the top of his head. He relaxed further, in spite of the chills running through his body.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you when my mom gets here,” Iwa whispered and Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so soft. At least towards him anyway. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa down gently so the setter’s head was pillowed on his lap.

Oikawa fell asleep to Iwaizumi’s gentle hands carding through his hair.

#iwaoi #sick oikawa #fever #fainting #haikyuu sickfic #caretaker Iwaizumi #my fic

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httpbread · 5 years ago

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I’m back with another ask: May I have a headcanon for Teru with an s/o who at first sees him as just a normal guy who gets cranky - in their perspective- when he doesn’t get enough sleep (he exorcists supernaturals every night according to the manga), so they prepare healthy meals for him, but Teru falls for them? Thank you so much! :)

Pairing: Teru x reader

unless docs is lying to me i think this is the 20th request i’ve done :00

---

- Their first meeting was not the best.

- The resident school prince was not feeling so princely at all that day

- after a long night of exorcising spirits on top of the training he had already done, two hours of homework, three hours of paperwork for the student council, and dinner (only if you squinted)

- he was feeling drained, to say the least

- so after a full day of maintaining his Prince Charming role

- and he came into the student council

- he was expecting to relax

- not the new transfer student, who he had forgotten he’d agreed to show around the council at least two weeks ago

- (Y/n) (L/n)

- and they refused to back down or reschedule

- so, yes, he was a little curt while walking them around. Showing them the basis of what they did.

- he almost wanted to shove them onto Akane and go take a nap. And their insistent questions weren’t helping his migraine either.

- they seemed to want to know about every little thing and one question always turned into ten more

- "Do you ever shut up?"

- despite his frustrations and mountain of issues

- he did NOT mean to say that out loud.

- he honestly expected them to cry. He almost wanted to cry. Maybe his own need for tears was mostly exhaustion but he did feel horrible the instant he said it.

- until he hears a weird crinkly noise

- they’re holding out a juice box to him

- "Let’s take a break."

- Teru almost faints on the spot at the words.

- the poor boy can't even remember the last time he heard the word break

- after his snapping incident, they sat on the waiting couch. He drank the juice box. Talked a little. Then continued on with the tour.

- ...

- well, that’s what he wants to say he did

- no, what really happened was:

- he drank the juice box,,

- and then immediately passed out

- however, when Akane woke him up three hours later, at the ripe time of 5 pm,,,

- he was surprised to find himself laying quite comfortably on the couch, now with a pillow and a blanket.

- "You should’ve been nicer to (L/n)-senpai. They would’ve been great to work with."

- Akane gestures to the president's desk, "Look at all the work they did. They’ve probably done more than we have in two weeks."

- just like Akane said

- his desk was suddenly a delight to look at!

- everything put in the right place, places Teru didn’t even know they belonged in

- they even organized the once towering stack of paperwork he had, listed with sticky notes by due date, listing what could wait until another day, what was what, what was most important...

- not to mention the magic they’d dusted the rest of the student council room with

- it was heaven

- The next day Teru made it his mission to hunt the transfer down.

- which was surprisingly easy.

- turns out they had almost every class together.

- even more surprisingly,

- they actually agreed to becoming his assistant, on the student council.

- at first, they don’t talk too much. Strictly business.

- Plus (L/n) always looks so focused when they get busy. He never wants to interrupt them.

- he quickly finds himself very envious of them.

- Teru usually wasn’t one for jealousy but they made things look so easy.

- from ordering their schedule, his schedule, doing their homework, filing the mountains of paperwork, you name it

- he was sure anything he threw at them they could handle with ease, they never even seemed to trip up.

- And they always look so alive despite their calm exterior. They never look stressed or agitated. Tired. They do so much and they always wear such a peaceful look.

- "Minamoto-san, I can take care of the rest of this. Why don’t you go take a nap?"

- the first time he heard them say this he thought he was going to kneel over and die any second

- why. why would they offer that

- was he dying

- why?

- "Oh- uhm. That’s not-"

- "I’m not asking, Minamoto-san."

- he found that he didn’t need to be asked Anyways. Teru was snoozing on the wait couch almost seconds later.

- he wouldn’t say it’s exactly a habit...

- but when (L/n) smiles at him and tells him to go rest...

- he just can’t say no...

- especially when it’s ALWAYS the best sleep he gets.

- sleeping during club time is a new bad habit he never thought he’d have but one he just can’t kick under the watchful eyes of (L/n)

- the longer (Y/n) works under Teru the more they learn his routines

- sarcastic? Dehydrated.

- snappy? Hungry.

- glaring? Nap time.

- it was almost like managing a two year old, except the two year old is very tall. very handsome. And also very much their boss

- (Y/n) would never tell him, they found the situation quite humorous

- everyone always fanned over the older minamoto like he was royalty. A god among mortals.

- but one look and they could read that boy like a book.

- lack of sleep (probably from too much work)

- too much piled on his plate (poor management skills)

- frequent skipping of meals (also poor management skills)

- (Y/n) has never heard of a prince who struggled so much to take care of himself

- though, they could admit he was handsome like a prince. And quite nice when he was feeling better

- normally (Y/n) was harsher with the advice they gave their friends on getting their shit together

- but...

- they’d been rather soft on Minamoto ever since they met him.

- they weren’t sure why, but something about him tugged on their heart strings.

- plus...

- it was kind of fun taking care of someone else for once

- so, it was not very long before (Y/n) started bringing him lunch

- it was around the same time they found out Teru worked in the student council room during his lunch

- they put a stop to this real quick

- working? During lunch?

- that was like the biggest no no ever!

- and Minamoto couldn’t seem to quite grasp this when they tried to explain

- so they instead turned to distracting the president with food

- they had to look into more healthy lunches to make up for the boy. Which was... interesting

- all they knew when they first started cooking for him was that he needed protein for energy...

- the more they looked into the matter, the more it made them realize just how much effort they were putting into this

- which embarrassed them

- it was nowhere near enough to stop them though

- the first lunch they gave him was scarfed down in less than five minutes (a massive boost to their ego, not that they’d ever say that)

- Teru has had a lot of cooking. And logically... he knows Kou’s good is better than (Y/n)’s

- ...

- but there’s just something about their food that he enjoys more than anything

- their homemade lunches become his new favorite pick me up

- it didn’t matter what kind of thoughts were tangling in his head. the second he saw (L/n) holding a new wrapped bento was the same second he was the happiest man on earth.

- and between the lunches, the help in delegating his work and the council, the naps...

- Teru is feeling better than ever!

- he feels refreshed and he’s happy to admit (Y/n) has helped him so much!

- "Don’t rub it in," Akane huffs, "Some of us are still single, president."

- those were the words that made him realize

- realize that (l/n) was not just an assistant to him

- or a friend

- because Akane was what a friend was like

- a jerk. rude to him. vaguely tolerable sometimes.

- that’s what he thought of the boy

- but (L/n)

- (L/n) was an angel. they were cute. kind. amazing. he wanted them by his side at all times.

- that’s what he thought of them.

- ...

- which he quickly realized was not very platonic

- but what akane said to him haunts him now

- Teru was very single

- but was (L/n)...?

- ...

- he tries to bring the question up subtly during one of their lunches together in the council room

- "Boyfriend...?"

- they smile

- "What? Are you tired of my constant doting?"

- NO

- Teru wasn’t sure he could go back to functioning the way he did before they came along

- "I guess I could find another guy to baby."

- they meet his eyes, a teasing glint in theirs

- "If that’s what you really want."

- baby?

- no, he wouldn’t say they were babying him...

- ...

- ok maybe a little

- but

- "Now that you mention it..."

- "I guess I do finally have the space in my schedule for a boyfriend."

- knowing (L/n), even if they didn’t have the time, they could easily make space in their schedule for anything...

- "Depends.”

- they don’t look too pleased with this answer, but don’t mention it

- He leans forward to brush their hair out of their face, smiling

- "Do you think I have room in my schedule for you?"

- they smile back at him

- then swat his hand away

- "no. you don’t have room for anything."

- "Sure I do. I have the perfect place for you.”

- he opens his arms up to them, despite the heat fighting to cloud his face

- ...

- 5 minutes later their council room lunch time turned into council room nap time (snuggling included), something that would become a very common occurrence in their newfound relationship

#teru x reader #teru minamoto x reader #jshk #jshk x reader #tbhk x reader #tbhk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #headcanons

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not-delicious-milk · 4 years ago

Text

unspoken

pairing | fushiguro megumi x itadori yuuji, kugisaki nobara x zenin maki

content | um i think this counts as slow burn maybe, idk instrospection? sort of fluffy and sort of angsty? just two emotionally constipated bois and one (1) really bad wingman. or maybe a great wingman. depends on how you look at it. i think this is funny.

word count | 3.2k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 30 December 2020

author's note | i really wanted to make a joke about sukuna having 2 dicks but unfortunately there was no opportunity to. also i did all that research about heian period courtship and what did it amount to? like 3 sentences

He met Fushiguro's eyes, and balked slightly at their intensity. They always seemed to bore right through him, as if his skin was glass and Fushiguro interested himself more in what lay underneath. Not that there's anything he cares about in there.

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard."

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did.

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched.

yuuji doesn't know how to talk to fushiguro. sukuna "helps."

Fushiguro sure looks nice today.

Yuuji sighed and looked away. He really needed to focus on the mission. There was a grade 2 curse somewhere on the premises of this abandoned building, and if he kept staring at Fushiguro, he'd probably get—

"Look out!" Yuuji was only briefly aware of the curse's presence before he was aware of concrete, a dull throbbing in his side as he realized Fushiguro just saved him — again — and was busy siccing his Divine Dog on the curse that appeared while he was distracted.

This is embarrassing, he grumbled to himself.

You've got that right.

Yuuji did his best to tune out Sukuna's voice as he got up and into battle position. Fushiguro seemed to have the situation under control, so he focused on cleaning up the lower-grade curses swarming around them.

Something flickered at the edge of his perception. This time, he wouldn't be caught off guard — Yuuji launched himself at the curse on the other end of the room, intercepting it before it had the chance to so much as look at Fushiguro.

"I didn't need your help for that one," scoffed Fushiguro as his Divine Dog slunk back into his shadow. "Honestly, I could have done this alone. Don't know why you insisted on coming."

Yuuji bit back a retort. "I need the experience, right?"

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard."

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did.

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Movie night was usually somewhat less stressful than fighting a curse. Usually.

The film was something Yuuji was pretty sure Gojo-sensei had found at the very back of the clearance shelf. The DVD store probably paid him to take it off their hands. It wasn't even so bad it was good, it was just bad.

Kugisaki had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the opening credits. At first, he'd been a little confused and concerned for her health — it was only 6 pm, after all — but sneaking a peek at her phone screen when it lit up intermittently afforded him all the clues he needed. Kugisaki had been texting Maki-senpai, probably for a while, and probably all night.

Her phone screen lit up again — they were a few hours into the movie, and surely Maki realized she wasn't going to respond, right? Yuuji strained his eyes and recognized the thumbnail of what could only be described as a cursed image. Is that a floating banana? What the—

Something stirred in his chest. Jealousy? Why? Because Maki and Kugisaki had only been texting for a couple of weeks, and they already shared inside jokes that made Kugisaki laugh like a hyena in the middle of the night? Because they never needed to ask, to confirm, before sharing something — a word, a bag of chips, a seat, a jacket? Because when Kugisaki looked at Maki, with that vulnerability in her eyes that she always disguised with harsh words and thinly veiled threats of violence, Maki looked back?

Yuuji couldn't stop himself from looking at the other person on the couch with him. Fushiguro looked like he was going to cry of boredom. Or punch someone. Or both.

Should I switch the movie? I don't think he likes it.

Well, Gojo-sensei picked it. He would probably be offended.

Yuuji looked around. His teacher was conspicuously absent. No way! He's the one who forced us all to watch this shit, and he just leaves before it's over?

"Hey, um…" The question was past his lips before he could stop himself. "Fushiguro, is there something you'd rather…" Yuuji already knew what his answer was going to be. There were plenty of things Fushiguro would rather be doing, let alone watching. Reading a book, for one. Alone.

He received only a vague shrug in return. "Do whatever you want."

Yuuji found himself staring blankly at the floor. An oppressive silence blanketed the room, even with the vague sound effects and poorly dubbed dialogue coming from the TV.

This is torture. Say something already.

I would if I could, okay? Unless you have any better ideas.

That managed to shut Sukuna up, at least for a moment. Good. All that was left was to sit through the last scenes of the movie and go back to his room and scream into his pillow.

Yuuji could feel his forehead flushing and his eyes starting to burn. Oh, no no no no no. Why is this so awkward? At least Fushiguro can't see anything since all the lights are off. Or maybe he can see in the dark, like a vampire? Come to think of it, he is pretty pale… He's probably not saying anything to be polite. I bet he can see everything. I bet he's reading my mind right now with that stupid look of his.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Yuuji said, a little louder and a little higher than he intended. Fushiguro only raised an eyebrow at him and went back to watching the screen.

As soon as he was out of the dorm common room, Yuuji sucked in a breath of air.

"Coward."

This time, the cold voice he was so used to hearing came from the back of his hand. Yuuji didn't have anything to say in response. If he did, it would only be in agreement. How pathetic of him.

"You're damn right that it's pathetic. It's a miracle you can even stand up straight, given your lack of a spine."

Yuuji was almost at the door to his bedroom.

"I'll help you, just this once."

He froze. Since when did Sukuna help with anything?

"I don't believe you," he muttered.

An eye opened on his hand just to roll itself at him. "I'm the one who has to listen to your self-deprecating monologues, and I'm getting sick of it. Just tell him how you feel, brat." Sukuna's disembodied lips curled into a smirk. "If you don't, I will."

"No way!" Yuuji whisper-shouted. He practically sprinted into his room and, in the absence of a lock, pushed a chair behind his door to grant the illusion of privacy. But Sukuna wasn't done yet, and the next time he closed his eyes, Yuuji found himself ankle-deep in what he really hoped wasn't blood, and looked up a pile of ox skulls at the last person he wanted to hear romantic advice from.

Sukuna absentmindedly picked at long, black nails. "Why don't you switch with me? I'll be sure not to embarrass myself, so don't worry about that."

"That's kind of creepy. Aren't you like, a thousand years old?" Yuuji wrinkled his nose. "Do you just want him all to yourself?"

Sukuna made a face. "Oh, that's disgusting." He made a retching sound, like a cat coughing up a hairball. "Imply that again and I'll kill you in your sleep."

Yuuji was, at the very least, thankful that the murderous curse sharing his body had standards.

"Now the image is burned into my brain. Look at what you've done, brat." Yuuji only recognized the sensation of being cut into pieces and immediately restored because of how many times his conversations with Sukuna had ended that way. Still, he stumbled a little at the sudden disorientation.

"Hmm." Sukuna tapped his nails on a skull. "Brat, what have you been educated in?"

"Huh? Aren't you the one who complains about having to sit through my algebra classes? You already know what I'm educated in. Um," Yuuji furrowed his brow. "I took piano lessons when I was 8? Not that I was any good at it."

Sukuna sighed. "I don't care about your algebra or your piano lessons. I mean your courtly skills."

"Uh."

Yuuji heard the creaking of bone, and he was met with two pairs of blood-red eyes suddenly before him.

"Calligraphy? Poetry?"

"No…?"

Sukuna leaned in closer. "So, nothing then? You know nothing?"

Yuuji pushed him away. "Um, you've seen my handwriting."

"Kids these days." Sukuna clicked his tongue. "How standards have fallen."

"You know, a lot of things have changed between now and when you were alive. For one, there's this new thing called personal space."

The curse ignored him. Yuuji blinked and saw the ceiling of his dorm room, back at home in his body.

Do you at least have a brush, then?

No, weirdo. I have a pen, if that's good enough for you.

Tch.

Seriously, how are you this far behind? I thought you were starting to get this modern era stuff.

I am trying to salvage the situation you've put me in, brat. How will you write a letter to him without putting care into your calligraphy?

Nobody said anything about a letter!

This is how it was done in my time. You certainly don't have any better options.

"Fine, I'll Google it then," Yuuji mumbled. He opened his laptop, his fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, he typed out "how to tell someone you like them."

The advice was all very vague. It was awkward enough to admit to himself that he liked Fushiguro in a way that went past friendship. It was worse that Sukuna's eye was wide open on his cheek and reading everything he did, reminding Yuuji somewhat of a teacher hovering behind him in the computer lab and reading over his shoulder.

"It says you should give him a gift. I have an idea." Yuuji didn't want to hear Sukuna's idea. "You should give him the carcass of a beast you slew yourself." Yuuji didn't want to hear any more of Sukuna's ideas.

"Sukuna, have you ever actually done this before? Because I don't think that would work, even if it was a thousand years ago."

"Why would I need to do such a thing?"

That was a little surprising. "Well, you sounded so confident, I thought you had experience or something."

"Love is a fruitless endeavor. The only thing that matters in this world is the spilling of blood upon the earth, and everything that comes between. But you're so annoying that I decided to stoop down to your level so I could help you. You should be grateful."

"Stoop down to my level? What, is this wounding your pride?"

"My pride isn't something so easily scarred. Hearing your constant chattering, all revolving around that Fushiguro boy, is much more painful than condescending to help you."

"What's with the flowery language all of a sudden?"

"You really are uncultured."

"Well—"

The sound of someone knocking at his door startled Yuuji out of his carefully constructed comeback, laced with a few choice words he'd learned from Kugisaki the last time she stubbed her toe.

"Itadori? The movie's over." Oh fuck. "You left your phone on the couch." The doorknob rattled.

"Uh, just a second!" Yuuji slammed his laptop shut and dragged the chair out of the way before opening the door.

Fushiguro blinked. "Itadori, were you watching po—"

"Nope! No, I wasn't," Yuuji said, fully aware that every word he spoke only cemented that conclusion in Fushiguro's mind. "I'm just going to take my phone now. See you tomorrow!"

Yuuji grabbed his phone and made a move to close the door, but Fushiguro caught his wrist. His grip was firm and cool to the touch.

"You've been acting strange lately. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine," Yuuji said automatically. His lips had probably memorized the shape of those words by now.

"No, you aren't." Fushiguro's grip tightened a little, as if worried that Yuuji would try to snake out of it. I could try. I'm stronger than him.

"Itadori, look at me."

Shakily, Yuuji turned. Blue eyes met hazel. He felt naked somehow under the spotlight of Fushiguro's penetrating gaze. Oh god, that sounds so wrong. I don't want to think about that, not now.

"Is it something I said? Or did something else happen to you? I want to know."

(It had nothing to do with anything Fushiguro said, and everything to do with what he didn't.)

Itadori. I need you.

"I said I'm fine."

"And I said you're not." Fushiguro sighed a little and closed his eyes. The flutter of his eyelashes was distracting. "I'm worried about you."

Fushiguro? Worried about him?

"Why?" Yuuji knew it was a stupid question, but he was feeling pretty stupid at the moment. "Why would you do that?"

"Why—" Fushiguro's grip on Yuuji's wrist loosened in surprise. Yuuji twisted himself away, ready to cache himself in his room, but Fushiguro caught the sleeve of his hoodie instead. Worse, he stepped inside and uncomfortably close to Yuuji.

He could already feel his face turning red, and this time he couldn't rely on the cover of darkness.

"You're seriously asking me why I worry about you?" Fushiguro's voice didn't sound quite as even as it usually did. Yuuji didn't let himself hope it was concern. "You died in front of me, Yuuji. I… I had nightmares about it for months. Of course I'm worried."

He didn't know if it was Fushiguro's sudden use of his first name, or the quiver that accompanied it, but Yuuji's blood froze. He couldn't move even if he wanted to.

Fushiguro positioned himself in front of Yuuji, and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. His sapphire-blue eyes, normally so cold and distant, glittered with repressed tears. Yuuji stared at his lips instead. They looked so soft. Fushiguro had been biting them again; they were slightly flushed and raw in some places.

"Please." Fushiguro was barely whispering now, his words only meant for the two of them. "I don't…"

I don't want to lose you again.

Yuuji opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know where to start. How could he claim insecurity now that Fushiguro had been so vulnerable with him? His anxieties suddenly seemed very small and pitiful in the face of the burden he'd saddled on his friends. It was his fault that Fushiguro was close to tears now, when he could face curses on his own without a flicker of fear. Dark, thick shame sat heavily in his throat, and all he could do was gasp for air.

You should take off your shirt.

Indignation replaced guilt in one swift motion. I am not taking off my shirt.

"Sorry, Fushiguro." The apology was too quick, too shallow. "I'm sorry. For… everything." The back of his throat stung. "I'm sorry for bothering you. Please, just…" Just go. Just leave me alone.

Just leave me to die.

"You don't have to worry about me."

It's only going to hurt you in the end.

"I'll be f—"

Fushiguro grabbed him by the back of the head, subtracting from the distance between their faces. "How many times are you going to say you're fine? Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?"

Don't say it.

"Is it so hard to consider that I—" Fushiguro's voice broke. A gentle flush crept across his neck as he seemed to realize how close their faces were.

Yuuji's vision blurred around the edges. Time crawled to a standstill, and there was nothing but the slope of Fushiguro's lips, trembling with words unsaid. Yuuji could hear his heart beating in his ears. He wondered if Fushiguro could hear it too, and if he felt some small comfort in knowing that the heart he had seen torn from its body and discarded like offal had been restored, and that it could beat and bleed and break again.

"Would you just kiss him already?"

Yuuji would have liked to think Sukuna had kept that comment for his ears only, but the way Fushiguro reeled back and turned beet red confirmed otherwise.

"Your purple prose is getting on my nerves. I think I preferred it when you couldn't string sentences together." The lips on his cheek curled. "Honestly, if you had just taken your shirt off like I said, this would have been over already. I should have done it for you."

"What do you have against shirts? Haven't you ruined enough of my hoodies?"

Fushiguro cleared his throat. "Um."

Yuuji's face burned. "Oh. Uh. Sorry about that."

"What is it with you and apologies? You don't have to be sorry for everything." But Fushiguro was laughing. His mask had cracked, or perhaps he removed it himself.

Yuuji couldn't help but smile. "I'll stop being sorry when you stop acting like you don't need anyone."

Fushiguro's face darkened slightly, as if wrapped in a shadow. "Is that what it was? I—"

Yuuji punched him lightly in the arm before he could apologize. "You're so emotionally constipated."

The tiniest of grins played on Fushiguro's lips. "So…" He leaned in closer. "What was that about kissing me?"

And this time Yuuji leaned into it, letting Fushiguro take everything he had. His eyelashes, still wet from almost crying, brushed against Yuuji's face as they breathed each other in. Yuuji found himself clinging to him like a lifeline, as if any moment he might slip away.

I'm not going to leave you behind.

He was laughing and crying at the same time. "I never thought you liked me back," Yuuji gasped when he broke away for air.

Fushiguro traced his thumb under Yuuji's eye. "You really are dense, you know that?" "So I've been told."

Is this what I was looking for?

Yuuji melted into him, kissing him like a drowning man gasps for air. How could he have deluded himself into thinking he was alone? How, when Fushiguro's body fit him like a puzzle piece, and they were embracing each other like they had never been separate?

You're welcome. Brat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You know, I thought you'd at least notice all the times I was staring at you," Fushiguro mumbled sleepily. Their rhythm had slowed and now Yuuji was small and limp in his arms, playing with a strand of his hair.

"Nope. Not even once." A sea of drowsiness threatened to engulf Yuuji, but he stubbornly resisted, if only to stay with Fushiguro for a moment more. He suppressed a yawn.

"Gojo caught me watching you train once. He tortured me about it for a week." Fushiguro chuckled softly. "Um, he takes a lot of pictures of you. If you ever find a really blurry photo of you sparring in my room, that's why."

"Mm-hmm." Who knew Fushiguro was so warm?

"Hey."

Yuuji's gaze flickered up to Fushiguro's eyes. Oh, he thought. They're so open. I can see right through him.

"I'm here. Okay?"

I'm not going anywhere.

"Okay."

Neither am I.

And there was nothing but Fushiguro's breathing, and the heaviness of sleep, and the weight of words unspoken between them.

#i spent too long on this #pov: you use too many italics #can you tell this is the first time i've written a kissing scene #normally the stuff i describe in too much detail is cosmic horror and horrible gore #don't ask #i was a troubled 7th grader #sukuna definitely noticed fushiguro staring at yuuji and also his gay panic whenever he was caught #he just didn't feel the need to say anything #tag yourself i'm is that a floating banana #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #fushiita #itadori x fushiguro #nobamaki #makibara #what even is the ship name for that #nobara x maki

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trying-write-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 1, remember

The hospital room was lonely and cold as the doctors, police, and heroes argued. It was no surprise luck would run out and get caught. Punishment would be unclear though, Y/n wasn’t an ordinary citizen. Though she may not get jail time she may get the wrath of her family which would be way worse. No words were spoken to Y/n when the nurses and doctors review her injuries. Ignored, that was what she felt. Yeah, she suffering from injuries, but her emotions were running. Her injuries were the only thing preventing her from showing her anxiety.

After a night in isolation, finally someone came in. It wasn’t anyone she was hoping for, but she didn’t really know who to hope for in this situation. She was in trouble. It was the man dressed in black that had the long dark hair that took her down. She didn’t know what his quirk was, but he didn’t know what hers was either.

“Doctors told me I busted your shoulder.” He said.

Y/n blinked. She didn’t hate the hero, yeah he captured her, but she sacrificed herself to the situation. From how far she ran, from all the blood she lost, she gave herself up so someone special could escape. She knew that last fight she wasn’t going to win, but it still sucked. She was already injured from the previous activity, but this man was the final blow to taking her down.

“I wouldn’t have used that much force if I’d known who you were.” He continued.

She scrunched her nose at the comment. All her life she was looked down upon, underestimated. It wasn’t her title, her birth, her quirk, it was a mixture of everything. This hero was afraid of her capabilities when they fought, he punched her like he meant it. She knew he was scared of her, and what potential she had against him.

“You’re not getting jail time, if it’s what you’re wondering. You are a minor, and the daughter to some important people.” He said. “Which doesn’t add up why you were a part of that crime ring.”

A majority of the reason why Y/n wasn’t talking, was her throat had felt swollen from the sedation, or the fighting. A lot had happened. She wasn’t going to snitch.

“Jail time would have been heaven.” She choked

Those bars would protect her from the disappointment of her family.

“The justice system is still figuring out what to do with you. It’s annoying how high up your family it.” He said leaving.

(First name) (last name) is the youngest child of a doctor of quirk experiments, and a government official. It’s not sure that the couple does hold love for one another, but they had common goals of making powerful hero quirk children. Their oldest child didn’t manifest a powerful quirk, but had a brain to follow their parents footsteps. There were two more older siblings. Y/n, what was thought to be the dream prosperous child with a quirk like hers, but...things didn’t go as planned. It was long before crime interested her that things went wrong.

Aizawa sighed. Today was a low point. Not only did he capture one of the criminals, that could have been dangerous for police to get involved, but she was the daughter of important people. Instead of seeing her daughter. Her mother went to yell at the man who took her down.

“What kind of hero fucks up my daughter’s shoulder! That is excessive! How dangerous could she have been!” The older women yelled while being held back by police officers. “You should be arrested you-��

“Ma’am, your daughter was part of a-“

“Did any of you see her? She’s helpless! She can’t fight, all teenagers do stupid shit and you want me to believe this muscle man couldn’t have been any more gentle to my daughter!”

Her words were deep in his brain. Aizawa didn’t feel guilty for what he did, a majority of the girl’s injuries happened before the heroes got involved. When he faced her, she wasn’t this weakling her mother thought she was, without what he assumed her not using a quirk she held her ground and was able to block him from the target. He couldn’t tell if this was an act for the mother to lessen the sentence because she would be embarrassed if word got out her daughter was a trouble maker, or if she really didn’t know her daughter. After requesting public records, he learned that this whole issue was bigger than what he thought.

(First name last name) had a decent file. She was a suspected victim of an assault when she was younger, but child services involvement concluded it wasn’t from the family. Her quirk was unclear and requested not to be use because the side effect “injury her” but lacked a labeled how it would hurt her. No combat abilities were written in there a year before the fight. The police had a record on her not as a future criminal, but a person of interest. Connected to something that was not concluded. She is currently a high school student and up until a couple months ago she was in a private school till switching to online due to illness. Her illness wasn’t even labeled. It was either a forged file or a poorly written one. She held her own for being badly injured against a pro-hero. Aizawa was playing it safe with the girl, not knowing what she would rip out. He could cancel her quirk, but at least wanted to know what it was before he suffered from dry eye. Her prior injuries were what made her lose focus. He punched an open wound and she began to shake her stance of being his opponent. He shoved her against the wall and her shoulder popped.

The lawyers met with Aizawa to discuss the girl’s fate. They were pissed that she was probably going to be paid out for the crime and go back to living her life. Aizawa reminded them she was still a child. He didn’t hate the girl, thought she was misguided, but she probably needed someone to whip her into shape.

They sat across from the angry mother and her lawyers. The father wasn’t present, but it probably wouldn’t look good if he was there, bad publicity if he was visiting a hospital which would lead out to his daughter being a troublemaker, how can he help run a country if he can’t even control his sick helpless daughter. The mediator sat at the end of the table between the two groups.

“Looking at the case, we cannot send the young Y/n to jail because she is a minor.” The mediator began.

Her mother smirked feeling confident.

“None of these offenses will be going on her record because of her youth, but we will not be sending Y/n back to her family either”.

The eyes shot open between both groups.

“Why the hell not? She is my daughter.” The mother asked.

“Looking at you and your husbands work hours, you both are not home with her anyway. The lack of parental guidance has probably led Y/n astray on the dark path she chose. Looking deeper into her file she would need to be around people to look over her illness and injuries. You guys have never even been able to lock down what her quirk is.”

“That’s because it hurts her, I wouldn’t make her use her quirk if it hurts her!”

“What is her quirk like?” Aizawa asked.

“None of your business justice freak!”

“Settle down.” The mediator demanded. “Her adult older siblings also wouldn’t be able to care for her. Which is why we came up with an idea.”

The mediator’s assistant stood up to announce the compromised punishment.

“Guilty for her crimes, (full name) will be in Eraserhead’s custody. Though he did commit excessive force on Y/n his quirk would be able to save Y/n from any self harm that could come with her quirk, and be able to provide guidance back on to a better path. He has the credentials being a teacher and a hero to help inspire (first name last name).”

It was not what he wanted, but the face of the mother was priceless because she was the most pissed off.

“I don’t know if I will be able to take on (full name).” Aizawa said being honest. He has a whole class to worry about.

“We looked at your day job, and it is true, having (full name) being considered a transfer student would not look good, but as a teaching aid she may be able to help.”

“When the hell is my daughter suppose to get her school time in then?”

“Looking at her online progress she is ahead of schedule and does have fairly good grades. Teaching may not be her choice, but consider it an apprenticeship. It’ll give her technical skill for a future job and can get credited I bet.” The mediator said.

There was more back and forth from both sides hating the compromise, but there wasn’t another coming. The minor wouldn’t be able to have a normal sentence, she doesn’t have normal parents. Aizawa didn't need a teaching aid and didn’t want that girl near his students. But he couldn’t help to agree getting her away from them might do her some good. The set up seemed to turn out even better having at UA because she was surrounded by heroes who would be able to capture her if she escaped, she would be under surveillance, and recovery girl would be nearby if she got worse with her illness. Some changes were made, her last name wouldn’t be known, she would be extra help for all the classrooms, and she wouldn’t be allowed to leave campus without one teacher.

The school board was worried about bringing a person like (full name) to their campus, but it was a perfect punishment for overkill against a minor. Though her unknown quirk was deactivated she still was able to fight. However near a lot of heroes all day she wouldn’t be able to hold her own. Principal Nezu ended up allowing it after doing his own research on the family.

Aizawa told class 1-A that he was accepting a teaching aid, they thought it was cool, but didn’t really think Aizawa needed someone.After the USJ attack, he was able to manage a class by himself after all his injuries. There weren’t many questions since the capture wasn’t allowed to air on the news. No suspicion at all.

Y/n looked at her empty dorm. It had been awhile since she felt this normal nervousness. Making her prison bearable, she decorated it in fairy lights, fake flowers, and other trivial things. Passing herself in the mirror she looked at herself. Did she look weird? Would they know how sickly she was? A bunch of hero freaks are gonna wanna save her from her quirk. Condescending worried looks once they hear her have a coughing fit. It would be so long since she would be around people her own age. She’s always been the baby of the group when she was committing crimes.

“You don’t have to come in if you’re still unwell.” Aizawa told her.

“I can handle cleaning and sorting papers.” She told him. “You guys only do mornings and then hero training in the after noon.”

“I didn’t think you would decorate your room like this.”

“What, you thought I’d be boring and treat this like a cell? If this is my new home, I might as well be comfortable and fetch looking.”

“Are you going to follow the file? Not tell my students who you are, influence them in any way that can hinder their growth?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think I’ll be talking to them much.” She said. “It’s not like I’m probably smarter than them at their subjects.”

In all honesty Y/n was expecting to get caught at some point. Maybe it was to destroy all expectations of her, but it didn’t seem that way. Her mother called her weak and helpless and that she couldn’t have done what she did. There was no way poor little Y/n could ever rebel or be bad.

Y/n didn’t sleep. She was scared to meet so many people at once, not people, peers. She was so used to how the adults treated her, that mistakes were made on her and she would never be the same. So much potential ruined, but still a perfect girl.

#Shouji Mezou #shouji mezo #shoji mezo #bnha #bnha fanfiction #xreader

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stars-in-my-damn-eyes · 5 years ago

Note

For a Jaskier prompt.... Getting revenge on a certain Valdo Marx maybe?

Excellent idea :D

Also Jaskier is immortal in this because I thought it would be Cool

•••

Perhaps the utter disdain and hatred that had festered away in the back of Jaskier’s mind for so long was the tiniest bit disproportionate when brought into comparison to his target’s actual offences, but if Jaskier started going around acting the forgiving sort, puffing up his chest and being the better man, the world might as well fall off its damn axis.

He liked to think himself a patient man, forthcoming with second chances and magnanimous with what kinds of slights he was willing to take in his stride, but when a line was crossed, a line was crossed, and that, too, was something he could hardly ignore.

Jaskier was a patient man, generally, and he was more than willing to wait for opportunities, too, to present themselves - in matters of revenge, after all, he forwent his general over-the-top flamboyance in favour of calculated expediency. He’d long since found it to be more efficient than letting his feelings get the better of him. Too, there was a lesser chance of conviction.

But, enough with the introspection. There was a point here, a reason for such a dissection of Jaskier’s own psyche.

Really, it had all come to a head when they reached Oxenfurt.

They’d arrived at the bustling city as dusk was creeping over the horizon, Ciri on Roach, Geralt and Jaskier walking alongside. It was a welcome sight, after so long spent trudging through muddy undergrowth, especially in the autumn rains - Jaskier was fairly certain he couldn’t quite pinpoint the last time he’d been completely dry.

The quiet, alluring promise of a warm, dry bed and a proper bath that Oxenfurt offered had been immediately tempered when Jaskier caught sight of him.

Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cedaris - why wasn’t he in fucking Cedaris, then? - was hurrying through the quiet drizzle, bejewelled in the garments and jewellery of a wealthy man, muttering under his breath something about lazy apprentices and unstrung instruments.

Such a disappointing sight.

Still, Jaskier took a small amount of satisfaction in realising just how much better he wore his years compared to his old rival. He was greying and balding, once-luscious black locks giving way to thinning grey, and wrinkles creased what little of his face Jaskier had been able to see under his thick spectacles. Hah. Jaskier himself could still pass for a sprightly twenty-five.

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s low voice rumbled, breaking through his thoughts.

“Oh! Oh, Geralt, yes. Uhh…” Jaskier blinked at the man, distracted. “Look, why don’t you and Ciri go to the inn - the Queen’s Herald Inn, the one with the red sign, that’s a good one - I have something I need to do.”

If Geralt was curious, he didn’t show it. He simply nodded and turned, no doubt to stable Roach before getting their lodgings.

Jaskier, then, had something to do, and he did rather have to do it soon enough - even given that Marx had not yet been struck down by apoplexy, he doubted the man had long left to live, given that he had begun to resemble, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, a large, sun-dried snail in a frock moreso than a human being.

Originally, he had planned to do the man some manner of physical harm, but Jaskier wasn’t heartless - he wasn’t about to wail on an old man, he had standards. No, Jaskier decided to go for something more… subtle. And perhaps even more wounding to his rival and most despised colleague.

So, he set about following Marx, to find his window of opportunity.

Perhaps his current little act was something of a crime, yes, but he had to get his information somehow, didn’t he? He’d worry about the ethics when he suddenly acquired the cumbersome affliction of giving a damn.

Valdo Marx had become, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a professor. Jaskier had been a professor for a year after he’d graduated - he’d found it so unbearably dry and dull that he’d all but ran from his position as soon as he could. Of course Marx would feel drawn to the job - it provided him with ample opportunity to preen in front of a crowd who couldn’t actually avoid him, given that they were paying for an education. Besides, the job was so boring, that Marx probably felt drawn to it on instinct, the utterly unoriginal peacock that he was.

Or had been, at any rate. To Jaskier’s eyes, he was less peacock, now, more plucked chicken.

It took surprisingly little time to set up his little ploy. He simply followed Marx, sticking silently to the shadows with stealth even he didn’t know he possessed, and learnt a little about him as he tailed him. What classes he taught, when he taught them… after that, it had been a matter of running up to the admissions office and pulling his best, desperate act of a boy passionate for the arts who had but one day passing through the town to use as an opportunity to learn, and please, please, please could they let him sit in on a certain lecture tomorrow? He had coin…

It wasn’t an act Jaskier had been expecting to be able to pull off at an age closer to fifty than anything else, but precious little in his life had actually gone as Jaskier had expected, for better or for worse.

He slipped back to the inn, back to Geralt and Ciri, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk.

“Something went well,” Geralt rumbled, regarding the smug bard as he ordered his own ale.

“Very much so, my dear friend! My preparations have been perfectly made for tomorrow.”

Ciri regarded him, curious. “Preparations for what?”

“Just… paying an old friend their due,” Jaskier grinned, raising his tankard.

Geralt’s brow furrowed, but neither he nor Ciri enquired further.

The night was passed pleasantly enough, indulging in warm baths with scented soaps and revelling at the soft, dry beds which were a far cry from damp bedrolls on the forest floor, and Jaskier rose early, eager to intrude on Valdo Marx’s lecture and send it, with a magnificent flourish, to shit.

Really, it made sense, Jaskier thought, that Marx would end up lecturing on the history of oral tradition. It was a topic as interesting as the man himself, what with his complete lack of originality and his copiously over-embellished ballads.

He arrived a good hour or so before the lecture, and slid into the theatre before Marx himself did, taking a seat right at the back, in the corner - the least conspicuous place he could manage, and, consequently, the most dramatic from which he could emerge.

Students began filing in one by one a while after Jaskier had taken his seat, filling the theatre with quiet chatter. The atmosphere was overwhelmingly familiar, and no one spared Jaskier a second glance, dressed as he was in a less eye-catching shade of blue so as not to prematurely draw unwanted attention.

Marx arrived after his students, of course he did - and whilst Jaskier knew a thing or two about being fashionably late, being ten minutes late to one’s own lecture smacked of a complete lack of respect for both the students and the job. In other words, it was typical Valdo behaviour.

“Alright, alright, quiet now,” Marx ground out, voice vaguely more quavery than Jaskier remembered it. “Let us begin to discuss, once more, the impact of folk songs on our recording and perception of our history.”

And then it was begun. As Marx droned on and on, all Jaskier had to do was look for a suitable opening.

“…And, whilst the ballad itself is, somewhat dry and unskilfully written, it does provide us with useful-”

“You’d know all about dry, unskilfully written ballads, though, Marx, wouldn’t you?”

A flicker of recognition flashed across Marx’s wrinkled face, though it was quickly replaced by seething frustration. “You would interrupt my lecture?”

“I would,” Jaskier grinned, knowing that Marx would hear it even if he did not see him. “But it was boring anyways, so it hardly matters.”

A tittering had broken out amongst the students, to which Marx responded by smacking his desk with a fist. “Silence! We shall continue the lecture, and you will hold your tongue, boy!”

Oh, if Marx would realise who he’d just called a boy! Jaskier was not that much his junior.

“Nonsense,” Jaskier said. “A little discussion is healthy, conductive to learning, even. At the very least it’ll capture the attention of one more of your students than the usual zero, given that it is quite impossible to have a discussion with oneself.”

“I said silence!”

The frustration on Marx’s face only served to warm Jaskier’s heart. Who’d have thought that all it took to get under his skin was ceaseless disrespect, that he could not, himself, shut down? Standing up and taking a step forward from his hidden seat, Jaskier schooled his grin to look more predatory than outright smug.

“No, no, dear Valdo, please. Indulge me. Let’s have a class discussion. Look, I’ll even make it about the lesson! Tell me, since you seem to value meaning and skill in art, how does it make you feel to know that your pieces possess neither?”

At this, some of the students outright chuckled, and Marx seethed. “I will not-”

But Jaskier did not give two licks of a shit what Marx would not do. “No, no, come on. I’m sure at least one of your students could name a bard of our times that has actually managed to create something worthwhile. Any takers?”

“The bard Jaskier!” called a voice, and Jaskier almost choked. To think that one of Marx’s own students would- it was beautiful. “I doubt there’s a soul on the continent who couldn’t sing Toss a Coin if asked.”

“The bard Jaskier,” Marx spat, “is a fool and a wastrel who wastes his life away skipping up and down the continent. Trust me, I had the displeasure of knowing him. One song does not a legend make!”

It was somewhat amusing, that the topic had turned to him before anyone had caught on to his identity.

“Still, better one good song than no good songs, eh, Valdo?” Then, as an afterthought: “Not like you’d know, though.”

“I will not tolerate such disrespect in my classroom! Sit down, boy, or remove yourself!”

“You won’t tolerate disrespect? Odd, what with the quality of your work, I thought you’d at least be used to it.”

Really, Marx had become so cantankerous and crotchety in his old age.

“Cease your prattle! You are but a student with ideas above your station, and I will not suffer this idiocy any longer!”

Jaskier hummed. “Perhaps you’re right-” and really, he wasn’t right at all- “but at least I have the capacity to create a song that’s more simply than a string of unrelated metaphors sung to the chords that you deemed the hardest to switch to at the time.”

The laughter was becoming more confident, and Jaskier took another few strides forwards. His aim here was not to hurt Valdo Marx’s pride - it was to utterly destroy it.

“Someone back me up,” he continued. “We can’t have the arrogant man believing that I hold the minority opinion.”

A thunderous cheer tore through the auditorium, and, whilst Jaskier had no idea if his willing audience was so receptive because they, too, hated Marx and his pretentious drivel as Jaskier did, or if they were just bored and hungover and eager for a laugh, but he didn’t particularly care, as long as Valdo Marx of Cedaris came out of it thoroughly humiliated.

“Really, it’s a wonder they let you teach at all, given that your work has so consistently been almost impressively substandard.”

Jaskier was moving forwards, almost at the front of the theatre, where Marx stood. He kept talking, too, continuously, determined to to give Marx the opportunity to engage with him in verbal battle and thus win back a little respect. This was to be an evisceration, not a fight.

“Still, perhaps I understand the logic. Why waste a good professor on such a boring subject when you can palm it off on a hack such as yourself? It’s a pity, I thought that, throughout the years, you’d be able to at least make something of yourself. Alas, it seems that some men are just pretentious pretenders, fated to languish in obscurity.”

He was paraphrasing what Valdo had said to him, back when they were still students, but he got the gist of it across. As he approached the podium, Valdo finally, finally recognised him.

“Julian?” he croaked. “Impossible. You’re-”

“Have fun with the gossip after this, my dear little friend,” Jaskier smiled, and exited the lecture theatre, leaving behind a pack of raucous students and a most thoroughly humiliated Valdo Marx.

#tumblr mobile let me add a read more challenge hhhhh #i’m gonna try and fix it in browser bear with me #the witcher #jaskier #valdo marx #ezzie writes #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 4

Previous: Daddy’s Favorite & The First Date

Pairing: Kim Seokjin X OFC

Genre: Light Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Light College AU

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Swearing, Very minor mention of consensual sex

Summary: Kim Seokjin meets the deciders of his fate, and the demise of his relationship.

Codename: The First Heartbreak

Winter, Junior Year

Kim Seokjin and Lee Euna began their courtship on the pretense of getting to know each other more for the sake of their economics project. What Seokjin hadn’t expected, was to fall into bed with Euna, to hold her hand on campus, to discuss New Year’s celebrations and date nights at the ballet or symphony. Euna knew how to wine and dine, sweeping Seokjin up in what he could only describe as a whirlwind romance. She wanted to ensnare him, to make her life so irresistible, he couldn’t breathe without her. The plan would’ve worked too, if Kim Namjoon hadn’t stepped in.

It was late one Thursday in the middle of January, snow had fallen across campus coating it in a freezing blanket, when Seokjin arrived at his car. Resting gently on the dashboard was a note with a simple location, somewhere up town, no signature. Terrified by the thought of what would happen to him if he didn’t go, horrified by the thoughts of what might happen if he did go, Seokjin sat in his car, hands frozen to the steering wheel, eyes wide in shock. He had no good options.

Turning his car on, blasting the heat and whatever podcast he had started in the library, Seokjin drove cautiously to the location. He could turn on find my friends, sending his location to his brother. He could call his brother, and ask to mute himself, so that he could hear whatever happened. He could just wait in his car, unmoving until someone came and got him. That seemed like the best option. Wait an hour or so before leaving and hoping to never find a note perfectly placed, with his name on it, in his locked car ever again.

The best laid plans are always turned to shit, and as the minutes ticked by, an ever-present shadow kept growing. At first Jin thought it was an optical illusion, a trick of the light, but as it moved closer and closer, he became aware that it was in fact a man. A man rivaling his height, though shoulders less broad, and lips far from pouty, dressed in all black, his eyes cast down at Seokjin.

“Kim Seokjin, glad you made it,” He said, reaching for the handle of the door, he opened it.

“Who are you?” Jin asked.

The man shook his head and nodded towards the building behind them, practically windowless, it stood stories high. How a warehouse could look so majestic confused him, never had he seen a building like this before. Exiting his vehicle, he paused.

“Do you want the note?”

“No, we won’t be here tomorrow,” The man said as he walked towards the building. Matching his strides, Jin followed. He watched the man enter a code and have his retinas scanned before they stepped into the building. The darkness was only alleviated by small lights along the floorboards, guiding them to another locked door. Jin didn’t dare speak, only watched in astonishment.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Have a seat,” The man said before following his own directions.

“Who are you?” Seokjin asked, eyes trying to make sense of the dimly lit room.

“Welcome, Kim Seokjin, to OT7,” The lights were raised and Jin gasped. Not only was he seated at a large conference table, but it was now clear that there were two other men, dressed in black, looking like the Korean Mafia.

“Um, hello,” Seokjin nodded, staring at them.

“I am Kim Namjoon,” The first man said, his bleach blonde hair neatly quaffed back, exposing his forehead and spectacles. “I am glad you received my note. This is the team,”

“Min Yoongi, head of cyber intelligence, coding and security,” Yoongi said, eyes blinking quickly.

“Jung Hoseok, forgery and documentation,” Hoseok informed.

“We have brought you here for a specific reason,” Namjoon said.

“Okay,” Jin was still confused.

“You are friendly with Lee Euna,” Namjoon began.

“Yes,” Jin answered.

“You’re a scholar of economics and finance,” Namjoon continued.

“Yes,” Seokjin nodded, nothing was connecting.

“We want you to join our team,” Hoseok said. “Want is the wrong word, you are joining our team.”

“What team is that?” Jin was still confused.

“OT7, we are a highly trained, highly specialized group of agents tasked with protecting the world from the scum of the earth,” Yoongi said, sitting back in his chair.

“We look out for the good of the world,” Namjoon simplified. “It sounds nebulous, but I guarantee it is far more simplistic than you think.”

“Why me?” Seokjin whispered.

“You have been on our radar for years, and this year you stepped up to demonstrate your skills,” Namjoon told him.

“We need a member on the team who can analyze the trade, monitor our marks and watch for any concerning trades,” Yoongi clarified.

“More importantly, we need you to help us infiltrate the Lee family,” Hoseok spoke up, eyes moving from Yoongi’s to Namjoon’s, “That’s why he’s here, we don’t need to drag this out, the guy looks scared shitless.”

“Infiltrate the Lee family?” Seokjin repeated. “That’s, how?”

“You two are dating,” Yoongi said.

“Sure,” Jin nodded.

“To be direct, we need everything you have on Lee Euna and her family,” Hoseok said.

“I don’t have much, I mean, I don’t know anything about their business,” Seokjin’s eyes widened, still confused how he had managed to find himself here.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Namjoon said. “You are going to work with us, you are going to be onboarded and brought into this organization. Then, you are going to tell us every last detail you have on Lee Euna. Finally, the second most essential part of this plan, you are going to break her heart so that Yoongi can put her back together, gain access to her computer and plant various tracking software. With the information Yoongi gathers, you will spend your days analyzing their business models, following their stock and going over every financial record we have access to. Do you have any questions?”

“She loves me,” Seokjin’s eyes were wide, this was more preposterous than anything he’d seen in the business world.

“All the better reason to end it now,” Yoongi said.

“It’s, it’s almost Valentine’s Day, she loves Valentin’s Day,” Seokjin was pleading.

“Even better,” Yoongi responded.

“Why me?” Jin asked again.

“Can you find me someone more intelligent, more equipped?” Namjoon questioned.

“I’ve never broken someone’s heart,” Seokjin said, more to himself than to the other men.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Hoseok replied, tone gentle.

“Who are you again?” Seokjin repeated.

“Who are we,” Namjoon corrected, “OT7, your new family.”

“Welcome, you’re gonna love it,” Hoseok said laughing.

“Hoseok will pick you up tomorrow after your final class and bring you to our headquarters where we will begin your onboarding process. You will finish school early-

“How?” Jin interrupted.

“Summer school. You will quit your part time job and spend every waking moment not in class at headquarters. You have much to learn,” Namjoon finished.

“I’ll have your new phone ready for you tomorrow, bring your computer so I can fix whatever shit software you’ve got on it and amp up security,” Yoongi informed him.

“Am I, am I in danger?” Seokjin asked.

“No, you’re not. Yoongi has a new trainee tailing you, so if anything goes wrong, he’ll be there,” Namjoon answered.

“Who?” Jin asked.

“That’s for us to know.” Yoongi smirked.

“In any official documents, you will hence forth be referred to as-

“Worldwide Handsome,” Yoongi suggested, a glint of terror in his eyes.

“Codename WWH,” Namjoon nodded, “We use code names for every mission, need to know basis.”

“Okay,” Seokjin said, eyes trying to focus on his new family. “What’s this mission called?”

“The First Heartbreak,” Hoseok said, “I’m in charge of naming missions.”

“Your task, before Hoseok picks you up, is to break up with Codename Cupid.” Namjoon instructed, voice harsh.

“By tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Namjoon answered.

~~~~~

Seokjin drove until his gas tank was on empty, fear and confusion coursing through him. They, OT7, hadn’t given him much information, only his task: break up with Euna. Seokjin had never broken up with someone before, never watched the realization that the two of them weren’t building something come crashing down, gloss forming over their eyes as they tried to remain calm. He’d never hurt someone. He’d also never had a code name or been in some secret government organization. Was it a government organization? They hadn’t said. That was even more worrisome, expecting Hoseok to pick him up to take him to his first of what he assumed was many onboarding sessions. These men, the four of them, must be child prodigies, must be highly intelligent or bred to be in these positions. He couldn’t figure out how he fit into their plan, only that he had to.

Barely sleeping, he trudged through his classes, absentmindedly taking notes, counting down the hours until he had to break up with Euna, and then promptly hop into a car with a man he barely knew, Hoseok. Euna texted frequently, concerned over his lack of communication, and was excited to see him over coffee.

“Jinnie,” Euna called as she stepped into the coffee shop. Seokjin, having turned on voice recording, set his phone face down on the table.

“Euna,” He said, refusing to call her by any pet name. It was a trait about him she found frustrating, his inability to verbalize his affection. She loved him, she could say it, she could identify the feeling within her body, but Jin? Never said, never tried to say it, just grateful that she wanted to spend time with him.

“How are you? Where have you been?” Euna asked.

“Just really busy,” Seokjin shrugged, closing himself off to her.

“Oh?” Euna could see through his lie.

“Yeah, and I’ve been thinking,”

“I made reservations for Valentine’s day, it’ll be our 5-month anniversary too,” Euna sipped her latte, eyes bright but questioning.

“About that, Euna, I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Seokjin said. On his long drive around town, he practiced his speech. The words, written by Namjoon, had been kind and direct.

“What?” Euna’s voice dropped. She hadn’t been expecting this.

“I need to focus on my work, and with Dr. Cho asking me to TA this semester and next spring, and with the option to TA two sections next year, I need to focus. All my time needs to be directed at my work. I am graduating early, and I just don’t have the time to be in a relationship. I’m sorry, Euna, I really am.”

Euna sat silently, eyes boring holes in the tabletop, her coffee forgotten. Hadn’t they been falling in love? Weren’t they planning a romantic Valentine’s Day weekend? Roses and chocolates and champagne at one of the hotels her parents owned, overlooking the city? Wasn’t he going to tell her that he loves her?

“I can’t believe this,” She whispered, a tear dropping from her eye. “I thought we were moving forward, falling in love.”

“I don’t know if I was,” Jin said.

It was in that moment that Euna felt herself shattering. She wiped the stray tear away before setting her eyes on her now ex-boyfriend.

“I trust you’ll be cordial in social situations,” Euna said.

“Of course,” Jin nodded, his gut reaction to reach for her hand gone as he took in her downcast features.

“Goodbye Seokjin,” Euna stood, staring into her full coffee cup.

“Goodbye Euna,” Seokjin responded.

On the drive to headquarters, Seokjin blindfolded, he listened to the droll of the radio. Hoseok didn’t say much as they meandered through the streets, onto the freeway and off. It was hard to tell what the actual directions was and what Hoseok was doing to throw him off. If only he knew how poor Seokjin’s sense of direction was.

“WWH, you can take your blindfold off,” Hoseok said, putting the car in park.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Seokjin asked.

“For the first month or so, then you’ll prove yourself and get to drive,” Hoseok responded.

“How did you get into this, group? Organization?” He was unsure what to call it, unsure what it even was.

“Ah, that’s a story for another time,” Hoseok guided him towards the elevator. Having his retina scanned, the doors opened, and they stepped in.

“Namjoon’s in charge?” Seokjin asked.

“Yes,” Hoseok nodded.

“He’s younger than me,” Jin stated.

“Yes,” Hoseok replied.

“Is he-

“A genius?” Hoseok smiled.

“Yeah,” Jin nodded.

“Yes,” Hoseok nodded again.

“Are all of you-

“Gifted?”

“Yeah,”

“Yes,” Hoseok looked at him, knowing full well his response answered the unaskable question.

“How did you-

“All in good time, Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok winked and stepped off the elevator, glancing at the empty reception desk before turning down a hallway.

“We’re briefing you before Yoongi takes over.”

“Yoongi?”

“Did you bring your phone and computer?” Yoongi asked, making his way towards the men.

“Yes, I did,” Seokjin handed over the devices.

“I didn’t ask if you have any other devices, iPad, tablet, anything,” Yoongi was busy looking over the material, not paying Seokjin any attention as he pulled off bar codes and shut down the machines.

“No, no tablet,” Jin answered.

“You do all that economics work, on this singular computer?” Yoongi questioned, disbelief in his voice.

“I have a monitor-

“Fuck, bring it tomorrow,”

“Ah, Worldwide Handsome, have a seat,” Namjoon said entering Yoongi’s office. “I trust it you slept horribly?”

“Absolutely horribly, worst night’s sleep,” Seokjin shook his head.

Eyeing the dark circles adorning Seokjin’s face, Namjoon spoke softly, “You didn’t go straight home yesterday.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t.”

“Did you follow through on your orders?” Namjoon questioned.

“Yes,”

“Yoongi, send the voice memo and print the transcription,” Namjoon directed.

“I’ll listen and transcribe it, give me 5 minutes,” There was no further discussion, Hoseok stood and moved to his office across the hall.

“Mm, let’s talk about Lee Euna,” Namjoon led Seokjin into a conference room on the opposite glass wall of Yoongi’s office. The exposed brick was laced with a variety of greenery, plants of all species crawling up the walls and windowsills.

“Alright,” Seokjin sat down, his heart moving his center of gravity to easily meet the cushion of the office chair.

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asked.

“I’ve known of her since freshman year, but only became acquainted with her this fall when we became partners in Dr. Cho’s class.”

“Who asked who to be partners?” Namjoon pressed.

“She asked me,” Seokjin replied.

“Any idea why?”

“No,” Jin shrugged, he’d been wondering the same thing since she asked.

“When did you begin dating?”

“November,” Jin answered.

“Two and a half months after the project began?” Namjoon clarified.

“Yes,”

“How is she, as a business partner?”

“She knows a lot more than she lets on, about everything,” He shrugged.

“What did you know of her family before you started seeing each other?”

“They are one of the most elusive and public family’s in the world,” Namjoon started, “They have billions, donate to charity, and have hands in every aspect of the financial system, both in the states and globally.”

“What do you know now?” Hoseok asked, setting the transcription in front of Namjoon.

“Euna doesn’t talk about her family much…”

“What do you know?” Namjoon asked again.

“Dae-Seong is the devil incarnate, angry and vindictive, abusive to all three siblings. Jun-Seo is flirtatious and rambunctious, takes his job very seriously. Kwan-Min is much like Jun-Seo, and the two are inseparable.”

“How does Euna relate to them?” Hoseok wondered.

He took a seat next to Namjoon and stared at the greenery. Seokjin hadn’t spent enough time with him to understand the full duality of Hoseok, but he had the feeling there was more to him than met his eye.

“She doesn’t, Dae-Seong has made it clear that she is the golden maknae of the family, and everyone should bow at her feet. He hates her and has made it his mission to turn the other two against her as well. When they announced she would take over the company –

“They didn’t announce that,” Namjoon interrupts, eyes darting to Hoseok.

“I thought they-

“YOONGI!” Namjoon yelled, voice rattling the glass separating them from the coder.

“Aye, what?” Yoongi asked, stepping into the room.

“Lee Euna is set to become the next CEO of Lee Enterprises,”

“Says who?” Yoongi shot back.

“Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok said.

“Is that really how I’m going to be addressed?” Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Hoseok smiled.

“It’s not in any papers or reports, no internal memos, nothing. No one has that information. Are you sure, Lee Euna is set to become CEO?” Yoongi stared at Seokjin, wondering if this string bean was holding the key to the gates of paradise.

“She said it one night, we were talking about the future and jobs,” Jin informed them.

“Did she offer you a job at Enterprises?” Namjoon demanded.

Seokjin glanced from man to man, anger and frustration in their eyes. “Yeah, but I said that would be weird… We haven’t been together that long.”

A pause filled the room, air the only thing exchanging between the men. Jin couldn’t tell if he had just fucked up, or royally fucked up.

“Did she say when?” Yoongi asked.

“No, probably a few years after graduation, her dad wants her to spend more time actual in the company before she takes over,” Jin answered.

“Mm,” Namjoon nodded, his rage ebbing as he broke down the information. “What does that do for our plan?”

“What’s the plan?” Seokjin asked.

“Oh, Worldwide Handsome, you have so much to learn.”

Next: Searching for Seokjin

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sero-sphere · 5 years ago

Text

Fucked Up Love ‘Triangle’

so, i started working on this thing back in april ( hence bakugous birthday and the cherry blossoms ) it just took me a while to edit it. srry

anyways, this is like so self indulgent but w.e, still figured id share!

(f reader x kami x sero, seroxmina) it aint a threesome tho

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Slight angst, finger banging, weed, idk im bad at tagging (also were saying everyone is aged up so y’all can relax. like you were so innocent in h.s)

You were currently huddled up on the hammock with your favorite blanket, as Kaminari gently pushed you back and forth. There was music playing in the background, and a video game that had long been forgotten still displayed on the T.V. It was Friday night, and as usual, you and your friends were all in Seros room smoking together. Bakugou, and Kirishima had already retired to their rooms for the night, so it left just you, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. The relaxing atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by Mina, who jumped up and startled everyone.

"BITCH, don't forget we’re getting our nails done tomorrow! I'm going to head back to take off my nail polish so it’s easier for them. They always claim they don’t charge extra for that, but I swear I think they do.”

"Ok! Text me!!! I probably will need a wakeup call after tonight!"

"Oh, I bet you will!" Kaminari said with a giggle.

"Hush, I'll see you tomorrow cutie!" You said to Mina with a wink. You couldn’t even bat an eyelash before she was skipping down the hall, off to her room for the night.

"Why don’t you call me cutie?" Kaminari said as he got off from his position on the floor, and motioned for Sero to slide over, so he could claim Mina’s old spot on the bed.

"Because dipshit seems to suit you…"

"Well she’s not wrong" Sero added, laughing just as hard as you were.

Kaminari leaned back and sighed. “Whatever, I won’t be such a dipshit after my next study sesh with Yaoyorozu….when was that again?”

“Tomorrow morning……she literally just texted you like an hour ago to make sure you wouldn’t forget? You’re not helping your case man.” Sero replied as he lit up another blunt and passed it to Kaminari.

“Oh fuck! You’re right dude. I’m good for tonight I guess, I should head back so that way I don’t oversleep tomorrow…I might not make it in time for tea.” Kaminari was sporting his best puppy dog eyes, and pout. He motioned for you to sit down on the bed, and take his spot. He took one last hit, before he passed it to you and left, ( peering around the corner for Aizawa first ) heading to his room for the night, leaving just you, and Sero behind.

You were seated over by him on the bed at this point passing the blunt back and forth. Both of you completely zoned out in your own little worlds. Sero leaned over to grab his water that was on the floor beside you. At first you didn’t really notice how close he was, but as he leaned over you again to put it back, his eyes caught yours. His face was so close, moving closer and closer, until it was like the two of you were moving in slow motion. Your body was just moving on its own at this point, and the next thing you knew you were in the middle of a heated makeout session. His hands started to caress your thighs, and you could feel the ever growing situation happening between his legs, his jeans were growing tighter and tighter. Your mouths were still too preoccupied to speak, and your hands still wandered up and down his body. Your fingers moved from underneath his shirt, back towards the straining bulge in his pants. You felt as his fingers moved your panties to the side, and he started to stroke you.

“You’re already so wet….is this ok?”

You barely managed to mumble back that yes, it was indeed ok, before his mouth was on you again, kissing your neck ever so slowly. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed, or if Sero was really that skilled because not too soon after he got to work, you could feel your body start to tense in pleasure. After you reached your peak you pulled away to speak.

“Thank you Sero…let me…” You reached for the zipper to his jeans when you were both interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Y/N, it's past curfew and I can already smell what you guys have been doing. Go to your room for the night please, and next time you want to indulge in these types of activities, make sure it’s after I've already made my rounds. I’m giving you both the benefit of the doubt by not expelling you.”

------

The next morning you groaned as you heard your phone ringing. You forgot you told Mina you needed a wakeup call.

"Hey. Cutie...dream about me?" You answered as you rolled out of bed to get ready.

"Heh, maybe, you dream about me?"

Your eyes widened, and you pulled your phone away to make sure you heard correctly. The voice on the other end was definitely not Mina.

"What...Kaminari?"

"Yeah! I figured I'd call and wake you up. You and Mina have a thing and I didn’t want you to oversleep...."

"Thanks! I’m glad you called. I’m assuming you got up in time to study today?"

"Yup, bright and early! Oh, and Sero told me what happened last night, you got lucky… "

“Wait Sero told you what happened last night?” You were definitely confused. You hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him about it yet and he had already told Kaminari? With your luck the whole class knew by now.

“Yeah, he said you ended up staying for a while, and Aizwawa caught you two smoking while he was making his rounds.”

You were relieved, maybe he didn’t say anything about it after all. You decided to ask just to be sure. “Oh, yeah…that’s all he said?”

Kaminari giggled. “Mhmm, guess we’ll just have to make sure we have Bakubro’s birthday thing a little later tonight.”

"Oh fuck. I completely forgot about his birthday!"

“Well, I didn’t get him anything yet either. Wanna come with me after you have your nails done with Mina? We can get some ice cream from that place you like on the way back?”

"Are you trying to ask me out on a date Kaminari?"

“Maybe…”

“Took you long enough...”

---

By the time you had made your way down stairs after getting ready Mina was already waiting for you.

“Jeez took you forever!” She gave you a once over before she licked her lips and chirped “Wow, you look cute, whose is all that for?” You shot her a look and bumped your hip into hers, as she grasped your arms, and you both made your way out of the dorms.

“Yeah, I uh…. I'm going out with Kaminari after this, I'm a shit friend and forgot it was Bakugous birthday.” She knew just by your lack of eye contact something more was up.

She decided to test the waters. “So Kaminari huh? I knew you liked him, you were low-key jealous when he asked Ibara out at the sports festival.”

“Uhm, I was not!!” By the blush on your cheeks you both knew you were full of shit. “But in the meantime I have a lot to tell you about last night…..”

“Oh yeah, I heard that Aizawa caught you and Sero. You’re lucky you’re not expelled, girl.”

“Yeah. Well about that……”

You explained everything that had happened to Mina on your walk to the salon. There was a lot to tell. You were so confused. You really had never thought of Sero that way before. Honestly, you really did have a huge crush on Kaminari, but you were sick of him never asking you out. He would flirt with everyone all the time, you were no different, but he never actually asked you out before. You figured there was no way he actually meant it this time. You weren’t sure if it was all just a joke to him.

Sero was hot adamantly, and clearly you didn’t regret what happened between the two of you, it was just that, even after all that, you still didn’t think you liked him...at least not in a romantic sort of way.

“I think I was just horny more than anything else..”

Mina laughed. “Yeah, Seros weed has a tendency to do that. That’s how Bakugou and Kirishima finally got together after all…”

---

You and Mina arrived back at the dorms just in time for Kaminaris' study session to be over. Mina caught you as you licked your lips, watching as Denki winked and headed over to greet you.

“Oh, girl, you got it bad...I'll leave you too it..”

“Mina, I swear I'm never going to tell you anything again!”

Your ‘date’ with Kaminari went well. He walked you to a nearby shopping center, stopping for drinks along the way, and you both successfully managed to find Bakugou something he wouldn't blow up. On the walk back, Kaminari insisted you both take the long route, which ended up being the best choice. It lead straight through a park where you just so happened to catch the last of the blooming cherry blossom trees.

“Oh, Kami! I’ve never seen the cherry blossoms before...this is amazing!!”

“I told you the extra mile would be worth it!”

With him paying for your drink, and the walk through the park, it was actually starting to feel like a real date. Before you got your hopes up, you decided to ask him. You wanted things to be cleared up between the two of you, so you could then figure out the whole Sero thing.

“Uhm, Kami...is this like…. a real date? I know you said it was, but I didn't know if you were joking or not…”

“I know I joke around alot, but this is real...I mean, it's real to me! Why would you think it wasn't?”

“I dont know, you've just never asked me out before...you've asked plenty of girls...just not me…”

“Yeah, I get it. With them it was easy… I didn't really care if they said no or not...with you, I was nervous….”

So Kaminari did indeed ask you on a real date? You tried to push the whole Sero thing to the back of your brain and forget about it for the time being. You were having a great time with your longtime crush and didn’t want to face the aftermath of last night quite yet.

---

That only worked for so long. As you and Kaminari made your way back into the dorms, you both rounded the corner and ran smack dab into Sero. Who looked like he had seen a ghost. Your memories came flooding back and you immediately glanced down at your feet, hoping Kaminari wouldn’t sense the awkwardness lingering in the air.

"Hey dude, whats up?"

"Oh hey whats up?" Sero wouldn't even glance in your direction. He seemed to be ignoring you completely.

“Nothing, me and y/n just went out and got Bakubro some sweet gifts for tonight!”

“Oh...yeah I forgot about Bakugous birthday...I better go find him something...peace” Sero chucked up the peace sign and fucked out of there faster than humanly possible.

“Well that was awkward….I wonder what's up with him?”

“Yeah I wonder” You managed to mumble back.

---

All night at the party Sero was actively trying to avoid you. All you two did was get a little touchy touchy...it's not like friends weren't allowed to do that or anything. Hell, you and Mina even kissed before. Even you and Kirishima. (maybe that was just on the cheek but still) At one point he went out to smoke on the balcony, you took that as your chance.

"Wow, so I must really be a terrible kisser huh? You've been avoiding me like I have covid or something?"

“Yeah sorry...it's just…” He was cut off by the sound of the sliding door opening.

Mina went to follow you out there, but realized Sero was out there, and turned right back around. He waited awhile to make sure there were going to no more interruptions before he continued.

“It’s just... that shouldn't have happened last night and I'm sorry.”

“It's OK. It’s not like I wasn't willing...you don't have to feel guilty or anything. We're friends Sero I don’t want this to change anything....” You moved closer, and he actually looked at you for the first time all night. You could tell he was feeling guilty about something.

“That’s the thing...”

“What's the thing?”

“That we’re friends....”

“Yeah and??”

“And....I have a "friend" who really likes you and I should have been a bro, and fucking respected that. Fuck.” Sero hung his head low, and put out his joint, glancing out into the night sky over the balcony.

“Oh....” The two of you stood there in awkward silence. “Yeah...is that friend Kaminari?”

Sero looked back at you “Maybe….”

“Well I really like him too...we went out today, and I kinda realized he's even sweeter then I thought.”

“Oh, then what about last night?”

“Just because I like him doesn't mean I regret what happened. Ya know? I can't take it back. I get why it sucks for us though....I didn't really think about what he would say if he found out.” Now it was your turn to sulk.

“Yeah me either. I don't want to hurt his feelings, or break up the squad.”

The two of you were too wrapped up in your conversation to hear the door open this time. You both jumped when you heard another voice coming from behind you.

“Damn...break up the squad, this sound pretty serious!” It was Denki, as if right on queue, he joined you both outside.

With a quick glance to Sero, the two of you decided it would be best to tell him together. At first he just stood there silent.

“Denki?” You waved your hand in front of him. With no immediate response, you thought you broke him, your heart fell right into your stomach.

“You like me?....” He finally managed to mumble out.

“Uhm, yes...I went out on a date with you today didn’t I?”

“But, you also made out with Sero…”

“Uhm...Yes.” You dropped your head low, too afraid to look him in the eyes for this.

“And he fingered you?” Denki took a step closer to you at this point.

“Mhmm….” You felt so stupid, right when Kaminari decided to finally ask you out, you had to go and do something dumb like hookup with his friend. You were utterly defeated. Until he stepped closer to you and grabbed your chin, making it so you were looking him in the eyes.

“OK.”

“OK what??” You were confused.

He smiled, and moved a stray strand of hair from your face.“Just OK…”

Sero decided to speak up. “Uhm Denki? I don't think that's a valid response bro..”

Kaminari turned back towards Sero while you still stood there silent, feeling like you were hit with Todorokis ice.

“Well ok, it happened...You guys are just friends and I know you wouldn't try to date her or anything. You like mina anyway…”

“Wait Sero...You like mina???” Hearing that broke you right out of your trance.

“Well now that the cats out of the bag….” Sero sighed.

“What a fucked up love triangle..” Denki muttered.

“More like a square but...” Sero seemed relieved.

You glanced over at Kaminari who seemed a little confused. You leaned in closer to him and whispered “because they have four sides…”

It was like a lightbulb went off inside his head. “Yeah so, like you guys kissed, and finger banged. No big deal.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No...just as long as I get to do that tonight?” He smirked and walked forward to wrap his arms around you in a hug. “ I just want my turn is all…”

You returned his hug, and shouted as Sero was about to go back inside and leave the two of you there alone.

“Wait!!!I have another problem?”

Sero stopped. “What’s that?”

“I kinda already told Mina what we did...but she’s not dumb, she knew I liked Kaminari before i even realized it.”

“OK....” Kaminari chimed in, not following where this was going at all.

“OK, so now I know Sero likes her!....And she knows what we did, I don't want her to think he's like off limits or anything…”

“Oh yeah fuck!” Sero stomped his foot to the ground in frustration.

“Why is your weed too dank dude? Swear it makes everyone horny as fuck.”

The two boys stood there smirking at each other while you actually put your brain to work. “Let me think…”

---

After a few drinks you ran up to Mina. "Hey! So I don't want you to think I'm a total slut or anything… but..."

"Never girl! You do you!...You and Sero " She stuck her tongue in her cheek and motioned with her hand to make it look like she was doing something else.

“Oh my god Mina! No! So that’s the thing….I like Kami…”

“I fucking knew you did girl!”

“I told him that, and I told him about me and Sero and he's cool with it.”

“Oh... So now you're going to get finger banged by sparky?” She took another sip of her drink and looked at you expectantly...she was not going easy on your love life huh?

“That's besides the point..” You joined her in taking another sip.

“What is your point then chick?”

You decided to finish off your drink before answering her. “I'm not trying give you my seconds or anything... Cause I swear the whole me and Sero was like an unexpected thing....But…”

“But what!?”

“But I've been told that Sero might have a thing for a certain someone…”

“Who?”

“You! You dumb ass!”

“Sero...He likes me?” Mina looked like Kaminari did when he overused his quirk.

“Yeah! I hope you don't mind. I didn't know that when he had his tongue all up in me yesterday or I wouldn't have done it.”

She thought for a bit before whispering “This is one fucked up love triangle!”

You just rolled your eyes and watched as she downed the rest of her drink and bounced up off the couch.

"Where you off to?"

"Uhm? Do you expect me to just sit here after what you told me? Imma go get me some tape face action!"

You flopped to the couch laughing "Oh my god Miina...So you're not mad?"

"You didn't know. Plus you're hot, can't say I wouldn't makeout with you."

“I’d pay to watch that…” The two of you turned towards the voice that rudely interrupted you.

“Mineta!! Go away!” You and Mina shouted in unison.

Yep this really was just one giant fucked up love “triangle”

#sero x mina #sero x reader #kaminari x reader #bnha x reader #sero hanta #denki kaminari #mina ashido

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

Text

God of Sarcasm - Challenge

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Cussing, negative criticism/demeaning, violence/fighting, death, fluff. Maybe some innuendos and hinting towards sex but nothing explicit. A/N: I’m rolling around in wonderful challenges and this is a one-shot to a brilliant challenge by @serpienten. Due March, sure, but I once I got the idea (based on a dialogue prompt which is highlighted in the text) I just had to write.

The blue sparkles flare from your fingertips to condense into a blossom. So pretty. The light flickers as soon as your mind gets distracted by the appearance of the magic. Desperately summoning the Focus within, you try to re-establish the flow and sustain the illusion, but in your rush, you cause the blossom to flare up in an explosion that sends you hurling backwards into the mound of pillows strewn about for just this reason.

“Tsk,” the cold voice utters beyond your closed eyes.

Gods, you hate that sound. Day in and day out you have been training under the condescending yet watchful eyes of Loki at this cottage far from anyone and anything. Ever since your parents realized your skills, they have pestered the Avengers to take you in, train you. Well, Superheroes are busy. Rather than have Wanda or Doctor Strange become your mentor, you are stuck with a pompous bastard on parole.

“Get up!”

At least he can’t see your eyes roll behind the lids, but you know delaying the inevitable will only make him worse to be around, so you get onto your feet. How much longer today? It feels like you have been stuck in the barren room for ages…unfortunately the clock on the wall claims it’s only been a few hours.

“I expect more of you,” Loki sneers, “a simple Illusion yet you manage to mess it up? At this rate you will never even master Projection!”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to say anything he could take the wrong way. Sure, the others claim that he is good now…better safe than sorry, though.

Okay, calm down. A slow inhalation to fill your lungs before exhaling through your mouth in a carefully controlled pace which you follow with your arm as you stretch it in front of you with a bent wrist, fingers delicately pointing to the floor. Flower from earth. As if stirring slowly, you imagine holding a seed between you fingers to soak up the energy around it needed to grow (here, you flip you palm up to present the still invisible seed). Grow and glow. The words aren’t an incantation but simply a way to remember the movements, and again you feel the tingle of magic connect each outstretched finger and condense into the flower from your dreams. You do not dare to look at the result.

“Finally. Keep holding it,” Loki hisses.

You can hear your own breathing and the soft whistling from the air conditioning. There’s no hint of what the greasy-haired maniac is doing. Probably about to scare the shit out of me. You have half a mind to drop the magic and look for him…problem is it would make him insult you for the millionth time and you really aren’t sure how much more of it you can take. The only option is to keep calm and allow the Focus to survive anything Loki will throw at you.

Despite stalwart resolution, the Illusion falters and fades when the building shakes from an explosion and something heavy barrels into you. You try to get your bearings amidst scattered pillows, dust, and the green cape Loki insists on wearing. The Asgardian has thrown himself at you to shield you from the blast without a care for the shrapnel.

“Why did you do that?!” Your voice is shrill with anger and shock. “There’s a billion ways to test my Focus but tha-?!”

A cold hand clamps your mouth shut. Green eyes with a hint of red give you a onceover before scanning the surroundings. “This was not my doing, pet.”

You nod demurely. “Mm.” Wait, pet??

“Now be quiet.”

It’s not like you have much of a choice with his hand still covering almost half your face. That’s when you realize just how the two of your are positioned, chest to chest as he sort of straddles you, but because he still has worried about covering your legs…well, pelvis to pelvis is also a way to get to know someone.

You don’t have time to worry about it, though. A creaking, groaning noise of tree splintering makes both of you look up to see the ceiling caving in. Without thinking, you grab hold of Loki in the hopes of rolling both of you out of the way. With a crash a mass of debris and limbs lands where you just were, and the god is off of you with his daggers magically appearing together with his full armour.

He deflects the spear flung from the dust cloud, returning the greeting with a steely weapon of his own. You see what he does next only because he has shown you each part of the gesture that calls forth a host of clones of him and you perched on any surface of the place. Why not just…lock them up with magic? In the heat of the moment your brain forgets what class of magic Loki excels at until the laughter of the intruder makes your skin crawl.

“Trickery won’t help you, snake,” the voice cackles, “I see through your lights and smokescreens.”

You can make out the shape of a man most pro wrestlers would be envious of.

“Then make a move,” all the Loki’s in the room cajole.

The ground shudders by the weight as the enemy leaps into action, lunging to the left at the last moment. Steel meets steel, proving that he faultlessly has picked out the real Asgardian even though you were fooled (which in reality isn’t unheard of because the asshole loves to mock your lack of skills by showing off).

The man is partially naked, the broad chest exposed to display a blond patch of hair and a few scars from injuries that with any fairness should have killed him. His trousers are not unlike those harem pants that were all the rage (again) a few summers back but tied together around the calves before disappearing in a pair of heavy boots. Whoever this guy is, he has faith in his own abilities. Regardless, the attack is a glancing blow, allowing Loki to slip sideways in an attempt to skirt the attacker.

“Impressive.” Of course Loki still sounds mocking but he drops half of the Illusion, leaving only the copies of you milling around.

You get the hint. Leaping into action, you mimic the imagined crowd in the hopes of being harder to target.

Too bad it doesn’t work.

As if in slow motion, the attacker grabs the horn on Loki’s helmet, yanking it harshly backwards and causing the normally slippery guy to go flying into a wall that absolutely isn’t an Illusion. Meanwhile the intruder has continued the spin to his advantage – using the momentum he hurls the spear towards you. It’s only a perfectly aimed knife that saves you even if the larger weapon skewers your sweater and pins you to the floor. Heart frozen in your throat, but speed back to normal, you try to get free by yanking at the oversized “nail” with sweaty hands. No good.

The men are in each others’ faces again, both formidable fighters using the surroundings to their advantages. Still, it’s an unbalanced match because the slimmer of them keeps trying to draw the opponent away from you, forcing the enemy to have his back towards you. The enemy has no one to protect. His jabs and sweeps are methodical, each step countering the effort Loki makes to keep you out of the danger zone.

He can’t keep going like that! Bitter realization sears your stomach.

Wiggling and twisting, you crawl out of the sweater and onto the knees where instinct takes over and brandishes your hands in a flurry of weaving movements. Blue sparks shoot from the fingers, forming a rope as they speed towards the unidentified enemy and snake around his wrists. You feel the pull from him through the conjured restraint and have to use physical strength to hold him back.

Focus! Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight to follow all the instructions Loki has been drilling you with. There’s a grunt of surprise.

Must…use my…Focus! But the magic breaks, leaving you tumbling backwards once more.

“No!” Shooting back up, your breath stops at the sight of the two men apparently embracing each other. “No…no…”

Only a fool would think they actually are hugging. Did he…? If the attacker has managed to kill Loki, then you are done for too, and your heart screams with a million fears as the naked arms let go of the smaller man. Crap. But the man goes limp, sliding to his knee with the groan of the dying. Loki, now visible, pulls out a blade from between the ribs.

“A Conjuration…” Unreadable eyes study your face and hands before returning to the situation before him. “I’m impressed.”

As if. Turning to find an intact pillow, you feel the bitterness well up. Loki doesn’t give compliments. Loki doesn’t praise efforts, only perfection, and the attempt to bind the attacker had not lasted.

Yeah, well…I’m proud. “Even though that’s dripping with sarcasm, and definitely isn’t genuine, I’m gonna take it.”

“[Y/N]…I push you because I know what your potential is, and I have faith in you.” Somehow, he’s come to stand right in front of you, hands clasping your shoulders gently. “I mean it. You are amazing and it’s because of your magic that I could strike him down.” Oh. “Thank you, my dear.”

First pet and now dear? And he…?

Nothing makes sense, least of all when the Asgardian tilts your face up by your chin and kisses you hesitantly. No logic. Only a warm tingle, but this time it’s in your chest and has nothing to do with magic and you find yourself giving in to it.

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luninosity · 4 years ago

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Working on the last (?) Character Bleed bonus story, today...

James Parr, clutching six bottles of wine, stared at the door. He hadn’t knocked or rung the bell yet, partly because of the armful of wine and partly because he was busy telling himself to remember to breathe.

The door gazed back, pale blue and noncommittal. Maybe it didn’t approve of his choice of shirt, or his hair, or his sudden complete panic. What if Colby Kent’s door didn’t approve of him?

He shifted weight, did not turn and flee, and murmured, “Knew I should’ve worn the blue shirt…”

He didn’t know why he was here. More accurately, he knew why he’d come: Colby and Jason Mirelli had extended an invitation for dinner. And no one in any sort of right mind would turn down that invitation. Between Colby’s sweetness and Hollywood power, as movie star and writer and producer, and Jason’s muscles and family legacy, interwoven with the whole history of the industry, anyone would say yes; they might also say yes out of sheer curiosity, as Colby tended to be adorable and precious but private, and any glimpse inside was an honor.

Also, industry legend said that Colby was a genius cook, and Jason wasn’t half bad either. James’s stomach suggested pointedly that he go ahead and knock.

He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. Could he?

He knew they’d asked him. He didn’t know why him, why they’d taken an interest, what’d prompted the invitation. He’d never even met Jason, though they’d been at the same events on occasion; he had met Colby, briefly, during the auditions for Steadfast. James winced, remembering.

He’d wanted the role of Stephen, as quite a few people had, and he’d been lucky enough to get a call to come in. Colby Kent was non-negotiable as Will, obviously, as producer and—though the world hadn’t known it yet—scriptwriter. James had done the scene with Colby, and it’d been a gorgeous scene, lush and clever and full of first meeting anticipation on a balcony. He thought he’d done all right, but he also knew he hadn’t been quite right; he’d wondered even then. Colby was so very good—the awards attested to that—and had balanced Will’s privilege and sarcasm with delicate unexpected vulnerability, and James had possibly been just a little too flirtatious, treating Stephen’s lines about choices with not quite enough weight. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to do it again for real; he could take director’s notes readily, with humor and without argument.

He hadn’t had the chance, of course, because Jason Mirelli had walked out of formulaic action-hero thrillers and right into Stephen’s Royal Navy boots and also into Colby’s heart. Jason had shown the world that he was brilliant, and James knew he’d been the right choice; everyone knew. No resentment possible, not with that performance. Only admiration.

He’d be seeing Colby again tonight. If he managed to knock on the door. He did some more silent communing with it. That wasn’t the only reason for his nerves.

Jason, on the phone, had said casually, “Oh, there might be four of us, you know my friend Evan, he’s been the stunt choreographer on all your superhero movies, yeah? He’s in town too, so he might drop by, if that’s cool with you.” And James had squeaked out some sort of embarrassing high-pitched affirmative, and collapsed back against his front door, because he’d just walked in from the gym when Jason had called.

Evan. Evan Richards. Who had, yes, been orchestrating and choreographing and training everyone for all those stunts, for all four films so far. Who was devastatingly competent and patient and gorgeous in every conceivable way, as far as James could tell. Who was, in fact, the man James’s pathetic heart had fallen head over heels for, literally, because he’d walked in to meet their choreographer and learn the first-ever set of moves for his super-soldier character, and then he’d tripped right over a mat, because holy shit the muscles and the motion, fluid and flexible and fast and smooth as silk, on display and glorious…

Evan, who’d been practicing some more complicated moves that he himself would be doing as James’s double, had spun around and run over and been at his side in a flash. Had held out a hand, while James sat on the floor and stared up at strength and power and big brown eyes and, oh god, dimples.

Evan Richards was kind to everyone, even actors who forgot their own names while ogling him. Evan when not working on a film taught Krav Maga and self-defense classes at a local LA place, and offered classes for all levels and ages. Evan never seemed to be upset about anything, not even when someone hadn’t practiced enough or wasn’t getting a move; he’d just calmly explain it all again, with demonstrations, without making anyone feel guilty or inadequate. Evan tended to look at life that way, with calm good humor and excitement about challenges; he possessed a level of self-discipline that James’s impulses could only dream about, from morning workouts to the literal three alcoholic drinks James had seen him consume in nearly six years to consummate professionalism on set, but he managed all that in a laid-back sort of way, never judging anyone else for different decisions, which was good, because James himself had very definitely made some terrible ones regarding vodka and fluffy pink feather dusters, on occasion.

Evan made all their movies better; he made James’s life better, and James’s heart had never recovered from that first tumble into pink billowing clouds. He’d thought it might; he’d thought it would get better, with time and Evan’s apparent lack of need to stare at him in turn.

Nearly six years in, it hadn’t.

He’d tried flirting with Evan. James knew he personally wasn’t some sort of heaven-sent sculpture of male athleticism, definitely not compared to Evan in a clinging super-suit. But he thought he was reasonably attractive—thick dark hair, blue eyes, good chin, what an ex had called “that wholesome young Superman look”—and he was pretty good at sex, and he was—he hoped—a decent guy to have around. That might be something Evan liked, right?

He’d always loved falling into bed with friends, making people happy, any and all genders welcome, sometimes all at once. He could be, and had been, up for just about anything, and he liked people who were enthusiastic and kind and confident about what they wanted and liked. He’d thought, well, if he’s interested—I’m interested, and maybe—

He really had tried. Complimenting Evan’s skill. Complimenting Evan. Asking Evan out for dinner—not drinks; James had noticed that—which had gotten a yes, but a complete and baffling immunity to flirtation over excellent sushi, as if Evan thought he really just wanted to be friends. Learning some good massage techniques and offering to give Evan a backrub had led to, well, him giving Evan a backrub, on set, both of them fully clothed, and Evan had thanked him after. Pretending to not understand a tricky bit of choreography had worked to the extent of getting Evan’s hands on him, but they’d been profoundly professional hands, and James had finally given up and pretended to get it at last.

After that one he’d gone back to his co-star’s trailer, flung himself dramatically across her couch, and despaired, “What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Am I unlovable? Elizabeth, help me.”

Elizabeth, who’d known him for years, had moved his legs, sat down, and patted his hip. “To be fair, darling, you’re kind of a slut. Perhaps he’s not into that.” In that amused years-faded English accent, the affection shone.

“I am,” James had said, “but I just like making people happy. I want to make him happy. How do I make him happy?”

She’d patted him some more. “Perhaps don’t throw yourself at him quite so hard? He might be shy.”

James, who’d seen Evan welcome a new pair of stunt guys to set by running over and immediately diving into a recreation of the famous fight scene from the third John Kill movie, which both guys had jumped right into while grinning, had said doubtfully, “I don’t think so…”

“Perhaps he’s not in fact into men?”

James had sighed. And had drunk far too much of his hotel’s mini-bar, later that night; had winced at sunlight, on set, and had opened eyes to discover Evan holding out Gatorade and painkillers and a protein bar.

He really had given up, or mostly. Stopped trying to flirt. Dated a couple other people, not seriously. Started trying to get used to being a friend, resigning himself to making Evan happy that way.

He’d noticed that Evan liked travel and exploring new locations; James had made sure to do some research and to mention historic sites or local marketplaces or neat old castle walls they were allowed to ride bikes on. Evan had an astonishing sweet tooth for someone with those abs, and James found a tiny ice cream shop in Prague that deserved every bit of its reputation and brought him there, and loved the way Evan’s eyes lit up and the way Evan wanted to try every flavor and the way Evan licked a sample spoon.

He’d wanted to hold Evan’s hand, walking back to their hotel along medieval cobbled streets under a low-hanging moon. He’d wanted, and he knew he was still and maybe always would be in love; he knew that like a stab to the heart. It felt like the moonlight and tasted like cookies-and-cream, sharp and sweet.

He’d called Evan after they’d wrapped, after they’d all come back home to LA. He’d tried not to. Not being pushy or needy. He’d made it three days. He’d just wanted to hear that voice, calm and happy, talking about an upcoming martial arts class or ideas for changing up some heroic choreography. Evan had answered promptly, and they’d talked for two hours before Evan had headed to bed, having an early morning. After, James had started looking up the address of a secret jazz-themed speakeasy he remembered—they had a good non-alcoholic cocktail menu, too, and to-die-for chocolate cake, and spot-on historic recreation—because he thought Evan might like it, and then he remembered that they weren’t actually dating and they weren’t on location and Evan had no reason to put up with his company day after day.

He sighed again, in the present. Clung to wine. Tried not to drop any. Evan might be here and see it.

He hadn’t managed to knock, but the door opened anyway. James almost took an inadvertent step back, because muscles, but caught the reaction in time.

“Oh, good,” Jason Mirelli said, grinning at him, “you’re right on time. And you brought, like, all the wine. Here, I can take those.” Boulders shifted and mountains bulged; the sleeves of Jason’s shirt stretched outward in forest-green despair as big arms collected all of James’s offerings. “Come on in.”

James shook himself out of fascinated speculation about how Jason ever hugged Colby without crushing adorable blue-eyed slender height. “Um. I didn’t know what you, um, liked? So I just…brought a lot of things?” Good god. He was an actor, a successful veteran of press and publicity tours, and a grown man of thirty-two years. Surely he could talk. “Thanks for, um, inviting me? I mean…yeah. Thanks.”

“Hey, we’re fans. We’ve loved all the Star Captain movies.” Jason sounded sincere, too. Honesty in craggy features, deep velvet-brown eyes. Casually upending the world: in what universe were Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli fans of James Parr? “By the way, Evan’s already here.”

#character bleed #bonus scenes #fic in progress #soon

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221bshrlocked · 5 years ago

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I Put a Spell on You

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2256

Warnings: fluffff. So much freaking fluff.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short drabble but things got outta hand quite literally and now I have this. I couldn’t not write something for Halloween so I hope you enjoy this :)

You assumed Wanda understood that you felt uncomfortable by her invitation to the small halloween party she was having when you continued to say no but then she barged into the coffee shop a few hours ago and demanded you get off your shift a little early and grab your costume.

“For the last time, I really don’t think that’s a good idea Wanda. I’m like an outlier and it’ll be very obvious and I’d rather not have anyone think I’m there because-”

“Y/N shut up, you’re coming. Literally everyone knows you by now and I’d highly doubt anyone will think that way. As a matter of fact, someone was super excited when I said I invited you.” Wanda grabbed her coffee from your hand before you even placed a cover on it.

“You’re lying...who was it?” You tried not to sound too excited, hoping she’d tell you it was a certain introvert who spent most of his afternoons in your little cafe writing and doodling. When she didn’t respond, you turned around and saw her already smiling at you.

“Y/N, go sign out.” You heard your boss yell out from across the shop and you knew Wanda had already spoken to her.

“Fine, but know that I don’t like any bit of this.” You took your apron off and walked past your boss, shaking your head at her when she told you she couldn’t deny any request by any of the Avengers. Quickly grabbing your things, you walked towards your place with Wanda and refused to wear the costume she brought for you.

“Why not? You’ll look really cute in this.”

“You mean I’ll look desperate. No thank you I already have one.” Throwing your things on the couch, you walked into your room to freshen up and grabbed the home-made costume before putting on some light make up and walking out.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? That could barely pass as a home-made costume.” She complained about the shirt and your lack of ideas to which you ignored before exiting your apartment

“I’ll have you know, I wore this to class yesterday and pretty much everyone was triggered. That shit is terrifying Wanda. I’m serious.” You attempted to convince her that your sense of humor was spot on but she ignored you all the way to the tower. Once you got there, Wanda handed you a special tag to wear so no one would stop you when you try to go anywhere.

“This will get you anywhere you want...actually, no. Anywhere you’re allowed to be in.” She sipped her coffee before pushing you towards the elevator, already hoping that everyone was on time so you wouldn’t feel awkward.

When the elevator rang, Wanda walked out and turned around, only to see the nervousness seeping through your clothes. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just us Y/N. Pretend we’re at the coffee shop.” She smiled at you and you wished her assuring words would work but your nerves got the best of you.

As soon as you stepped out, you heard screaming and yelling from the opposite end of the room. Walking behind Wanda, you watched a bunch of middle aged men and women screaming at each other while carving pumpkins, laughing to yourself when you saw how invested Steve was in his own pumpkin. You didn’t announce your arrival right away, wanting to watch them in their “natural habitat” before things got awkward.

You were doing a fairly good job standing on the side and sipping some of the green juice from the large cauldron when you felt something pull on your shirt. Looking down, you saw a young boy staring at you with chocolate all over his face and his hands, which were now on your jeans. You laughed at his carelessness before kneeling down and smiling at him.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

“I’m Nathaniel. Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” He asked in all seriousness and you had to stop the laugh from erupting so he doesn’t think you were laughing at him. “I am actually wearing a costume. This is what some grown-ups are afraid of.”

“You’re afraid of a chocolate bar?” He asked again and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh at his innocence.

“Oh no sweetheart, this is the Bar Exam. It’s a little different from a chocolate bar. It’s like a test, a really very hard test that I have to take.”

“Well, if you study for it, won’t you pass?” He tilted his head to the side and you pouted at how cute he was

“I wish it were that easy buddy.” You ruffled his hair and watched as he smiled up at you before taking a chunk out of the chocolate frog in his hand.

“Hey little guy, didn’t I tell you to make sure you wipe your hands before grabbing anyone?” You knew who it was instantly, and wished you tried a little harder with how you looked. Looking up, you saw the one and only Bucky Barnes smiling down at you, the expression growing wider when he saw the way you reacted to him.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t hold back the starstruck expression you held. This was Bucky for god’s sake but his costume made it worse; his long hair was slicked back in a ponytail and not covering his face anymore. And my god, those eyes were such a vibrant blue, especially with the glasses adorning his sharp features. Then there was the cardigan and jeans that were both at least one size smaller. You didn’t know what he was supposed to be and you honestly didn’t care. All you paid attention to was how absolutely breathtaking he looked

“Wanda didn’t tell me you were coming.” Bucky asked as he grabbed the chocolate out of Nathaniel’s hand so he could clean his hands.

“I- umm, well, I initially said no but you know Wanda. She doesn’t take no for an answer.” You stood up and didn’t know what else to say, watching as Bucky grabbed a wet wipe and rub the melted chocolate from the little boy’s hand before telling him he couldn’t have any more chocolate.

“Hey hey this is your sixth chocolate frog and I’d rather not have Laura come after me. Now, go and see if Steve finished your pumpkin or not.” You watched as the kid ran to Steve and jumped on his lap to see his pumpkin, almost yelping when you felt something rub at your upper thighs.

“Hold still, there’s some chocolate here.” Bucky said as he knelt behind you and rubbed your jeans with a wet towel. “Damn, this kid really went for it huh?”

“Haha uhh yeah, yup. That- ahuha.” You didn’t know what to say, torn between wanting to focus on the hand holding onto your hips while pretending Bucky touching you wasn’t a huge deal.

“There, I got most of it out. Nice costume by the way, really funny.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Wanda.” You turned away when you saw how intense holding his gaze was and pretended you were getting more juice.

“Wanna carve a pumpkin with us?” Bucky was already walking towards the corner table where Clint’s other kids were sitting.

“I’m not really that talented to be honest, I’d just end up ruining your pumpkins.”

“Nonsense, we have a lot. And no one here is talented...except maybe Steve and I. And I’m definitely not biased.” Bucky smiled at you before motioning for you to follow him. You did silently and ignored Wanda and Natasha’s stares.

Sitting down, you introduced yourself to Lila and Cooper before turning to watch Bucky work his magic.

Within minutes, you were so focused on watching him carve the pumpkin that you didn’t notice when he stole glances at you. He was so talented with the knife and a part of you, the slightly inappropriate one, wished he was using those skills in a different way but you brushed the thought aside. Almost fifteen minutes later, Bucky was giving Lila her pumpkin and smiling when she screamed from how perfect it was.

“My god how did you do that?” You asked, holding the pumpkin up for Lila to take a picture before setting it down to look at it. In the middle of the pumpkin was a flying Tinkerbell with fairy dust all around her. It was both beautiful and on point that you couldn’t help but praise him.

“What can I say doll? I’m talented with my hands,” he watched as you flushed at his comment, knowing fully well you caught onto what he meant. Bucky winked at you before getting up and walking over to Steve to see his pumpkin.

“Now, how about Y/N judges which is the better pumpkin?” Steve asked Bucky and you immediately said no, not wanting to have any kids crying because you favored one super soldier over the other.

“We trust your unbiased opinion Y/N!” Clint said and laughed along with Sam when they saw your semi-angry expression. You honestly couldn’t tell which was better because as precise and beautiful as Bucky’s was, Steve’s was straight up art. He managed to carve out Van Gogh’s Starry Night and use correct shading on a pumpkin and you couldn’t tell which was better.

“Guys I honestly cannot decide. They’re both so unbelievable.” You turned and saw Lila telling you to choose the other one so her brother doesn’t cry and you ended up doing just that. “But I think Steve’s wins because nothing beats Van Gogh.” As soon as you said that, Nathaniel started jumping up and down and stuck his tongue out at Bucky before grabbing another chocolate frog and running to you.

“Here, the winner was supposed to take this one but I’ll give it to you because you’re not a meanie head like Bucky.” You hugged the little kid before taking the chocolate and walking out to the balcony to get some fresh air.

Seconds later, you heard someone clear their throat and asking if they could join you.

“Of course.” You motioned for Bucky to come and didn’t bother to look at him because you knew you’d look away immediately.

“Not gonna lie, I thought you were going to pick me doll.” When you said nothing, Bucky took a deep breath before stepping closer to you, his shoulder brushing your own and causing you to stop chewing on the candy.

“Hurt a man’s feelings darlin’, first you refuse my invitation then you choose Steve’s pumpkin over mine.”

“What invitation? I didn’t refuse your invitation!” You turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was.

“Yeah you did. I asked you weeks ago if you’d wanna come to this party but you said no. Then I asked Wanda to tell you and you still said no. Thank god she’s annoying when it comes to these things.” Bucky watched as realization dawned on your face, smiling when you shyly looked away from him.

“Y/N, look at me.” Bucky whispered, turning around to rest his elbow on the railing while trying to turn your chin towards him.

“N-no.”

“Please.” His request was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“You make me nervous Bucky.” You didn’t mean for those words to come out but once they did, you felt embarrassment wash over you.

“I don’t mean to. I swear I don’t.” He managed to turn you towards him, smiling down at you when he saw the little pout aimed at him.

“I really like you darlin’, and ‘ve been trying to talk to you for weeks but you just get so busy at work and I don’t mean to bother you when your shift is over. But...is this okay?” He leaned down and whispered those words against your cheek, making you shiver from the close proximity and his cologne.

“This- is m-more than okay.” You responded and Bucky didn’t give you a chance to say anything else, slowly capturing your lips with his and pulling you closer to him until you only felt him. His hands rested on your waist and when he saw you responding to his touches, he dared to grab your neck and push you aggressively to him.

“Goddamn, what’re you doing to me doll? It’s like you put a spell on me and I- shit, I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you baby.”

“I c-could ask you the same thing, especially with those glasses.” You laughed at his boyish grin, noticing the way his neck started to blush at your comment. “Well, you have to thank Wanda for that. She told me you liked men with glasses and I don’t need to wear them on a daily basis. But I could during halloween.”

It was your turn to blush, knowing you needed to both thank and kill Wanda when you saw her.

“Wanna have dinner with me?” Bucky asked, refusing to put any space between the two of you.

“I would love that.” Almost immediately, you heard loud screams and swears coming from the door, looking past BUcky and watching as Steve took money from Tony while Natasha aggressively grabbed the fifty dollar bills from Clint and Sam.

“You just couldn’t wait till Christmas could you?” Sam yelled at Bucky before heading back inside and you couldn’t help but laugh at the happy and annoyed expression on everyone’s face.

“Good thing I listened to Wanda.”

#bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes/tony stark #halloween fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky halloween #sebastian stan

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thelonelymonths · 4 years ago

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Social Anxiety Adventures: Shaky Hands Make For Shaky Words

Living with social anxiety is a cruel reality for those who are forced to endure it. However, it is a large part of my life. Ever since I was little, I would constantly shy away from meeting new people, occasionally running to the nearest bathroom in tears, and locking myself away in hopes that if the people left, my fears would leave with them. (This is a true story: Upon meeting my brother’s Tae Kwon Do instructor, I really burst into tears. My parents laughed it off.) Everyone would pass it off, saying that I was just a little shy and that I would grow out of it. If only it was that easy...

When I got to middle school, though, it only continued to get worse. I would fake sore throats to get out of speaking in classes, make up aches and pains so I wouldn’t have to go to swim lessons, refrain from asking my parents for anything and everything. I still have flashbacks of going into my mom’s room once to ask her for something and her getting mad because this was my third time within the hour in there, working up the courage to finally ask.

High school was a series of losing points on oral presentations for not presenting well enough, or getting a fail in participation grades even if the other aspects of my learning were fine. Each time I was called on, or up in front of the class, my heart felt like it was about to beat right out of my chest. Between shaky hands and even shakier words, sometimes I'd think that a life of tremors would be easier than what I was being forced to endure.

Physical education and chemistry were two classes in particular for which I can call myself out. Before being switched to an alternative gym class, I spent my 9th grade year in a regular class that would sometimes be co-ed depending on the sport. I didn’t care for the male gym teacher that accompanied us during these times and he was annoyed with my lack of skill. I almost failed gym that year due to skipping, not dressing, or making snarky remarks back when sarcastically asked if I’d like to join.

With my chemistry class, I just stopped showing up after my teacher made me cry. He had discovered that I was made uncomfortable being called on at random to answer questions, so one particular day he kept making a point to call on me. This was a double period and we had 4 minutes in between classes to do what we wanted. I went to get a snack with my lab partner and immediately started crying. By the time I arrived back to the classroom, I was hyperventilating. I asked to go to the bathroom and Mr. Campbell replied (in an amused tone, may I add) asking if I’d rather go to the counselor. Since the counselors were shit and I was full of rage I declined and sat in the bathroom the rest of class. I returned occasionally for quizzes and whatnot and my friends would drop off my homework so I didn’t fail, but that was still an unfair situation to be put in.

That same year, though, was luckily when I had the greatest English teacher in the world, who helped me discover my love of the language. (Shoutout to Hilary Domencic.) She would occasionally have discussion circles for the classes and I think we compromised that I would get points if I spoke even once. (It was here where she discovered that my fascination with the written word trumped my inability for spoken words and recommended that I go into Honors English my senior year.)

Not only did social anxiety have an impact on my education, but it affected my relationships and abilities to perform simple tasks. Ordering food is a risky move and there have been times where I opted to not eat rather than try to speak my order to someone. I usually request friends help me out by doing the speaking, but I don’t always have the luxury of having them around. If they do it, it leaves me feeling as if they're annoyed with me not being able to “grow up” and talk to others. This happened as recently as last semester when I had to have my friend order Subway for me as I stood there near tears with my heart inching toward my stomach.

Phone calls are another thing that fuel my nightmares. In a text-savvy world, this may not seem as bad, until family members wonder why I won't return calls, or I’m forced to schedule my own doctors appointments. I'm accused of my lack of reciprocation being because I “don’t care.” I do care about them; they just don't understand the irrational fears in my head. Usually when I have to make important and adult phone calls, I write down how I will begin and if I know how certain parts of it will go, I write those down, too, so that I still have them when I inevitably lose my train of thought. I had to do this during the phone portion of my job interview, where I wrote down answers to the usual questions they ask, which I got from a list off of google. I didn’t even use half of them, but my brain had to be prepared in case of a mental shut down.

Speaking of work, I work at a hybrid gas station/made to order food store that rhymes with let low. I started there last summer and was to be trained both in the kitchen and at the registers. I spent 2 days being trained on the register, after a week training in the kitchen, and then was forced on by myself. 8 hours of having to socially interact on any given day really made me feel like I was inching closer to death. I ended up having to ask my assistant manager for kitchen shifts only, after coming in having a panic attack because I was scheduled on register. I luckily got my coworker James to switch with me so I could be in the kitchen and he even came to check and make sure I was okay. I apologized over and over for crying to him and I think called myself a weenie, but I haven’t had to work register since.

Social anxiety has limited me from doing things that I’ve wanted to do. I cannot paint it as a beautiful picture, because it’s not. It has caused tears, panic, and disdain for things that should be enjoyable. But it has also made me stronger, and I’ve grown with different experiences from others. I am empathetic and tolerant to others struggling, maybe not with my exact experiences, but similar ones. I am patient with kids who are nervous about doing things, and I am loving to those who cannot do things. Nobody is ever alone in this life, even when it feels like we are. My 10-year-old self had support through friends, books, and television. My 20-year-old self has support through friends, writing, plants, and colleagues. My hands may shake when I speak, and sometimes I just may not speak, but I am powerful through other means.

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thesalemsaga · 5 years ago

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𝟭 — 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿

— 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.8k words

𝙨 : salem, the mistress of evil, has been made aware of a resistance group being made within the walls of the empire academy, valhalla. meanwhile, young seren has a bit of an epiphany.

the most unfortunate thing about the mistress’s palace, is that nobody will ever hear you scream.

in the black mountain, the darkness hardly distinguishes day from night. and they say that after losing a track of time, of days, going on without gazing at a clock or a calendar or even getting a peek at the stars, can drive a person to mere insanity. that was what many claimed happened to the witch when she was confined into this palace and was left to her own accord.

although light never shone once through those tainted, ebony windows, life still continued within the monolith. although not the healthy life that one might expect, not the life with clear morals or allowing a faith to carry you through your good doings, not even that flicker of passion towards pass-times and careers that keep you up and moving, nothing of the sort was ever seen in these walls. rather, it seemed like everything about humanity had abandoned the creatures from within.

the seemingly natural and human way of living had been lost within their countless decades here. time was not even a concept, they weren’t sure what use it was to count the hours and days and years you spend there, you’d just make it worse for yourself within the hope that tomorrow you will escape. and if not tomorrow, then in a week. and if not in a week, then in a month, two months, three. upon realizing that time might never come, you peer at those tallies drawn on the dark cobble walls and sneer and scream into an empty vacuum of space where nobody will hear you and save you.

it’s no use getting out either, not without the witch’s permission.

but even if you go out and are asked to return, you must pray to whatever deity remains on this cracked crater of a planet, in hopes that you return with good news. if not good news, decent news. but never bad news. bad news like, the fact that soldiers from the empire front seemed to have located the traces of one of salem’s henchmen.

yeah, good luck getting out of something like that.

inside one of the many halls of the dead palace, a sudden sound erupted. the scout wheezed and coughed as his head was lifted from the pool of water. tangled through raven locks and pulling and yanking, the gloved hands of the witch minded him like a puppet. they leaned over what could have been a pool, but the water was far from pristine or blue, it was a sea-weed green and at certain times, you might just spot a fin breaking through the surface before submerging once more.

this had been going on for nearly five minutes, but it felt like hours. having your head being forced down this certain pool would attract something ugly that lies in the deep end, the mere scent of your blood will put you in danger. but one could hardly care for the life of a mere scout when the mistress of evil has some minor, and by that, major problems on her hands.

“ m-my lady, please, show mercy! ”.

when she forced his head back down, salem’s eyes appeared fit to kill. two vermilion spots lacking any source of previous humanity, but even with the eyes, you wouldn’t take her for having been once a beautiful woman. the horns on her head were curled with ends as sharp as a double edged sword. her complexion was as lifeless as ash clouds summoned by an erupting volcano. salem hardly looked like a witch, she seemed fit to be a demon, a horned one, at that. and perhaps a part of her had some relation to the beings dwelling in the fiery pits below, especially once glancing at the limits of her ire.

minutes prior to this, the same scout she had sent out with about a dozen goblins had returned with news she had not been expecting. news regarding the empire, the people who have tried to take her down for the past two decades. there had been no success although salem was hardly an idiot, she was not one to underestimate the passion of vengeful humans, she was a vengeful human herself. it wouldn’t be long before they charged in with torches and pitch-forks to burn the witch.

resistance groups were growing within the walls, according to the chatter of some military men wandering between the boarder of what was the ukraine. the scout, a good fighter as well as an idiot, could have escaped without alerting the men of his presence and that of the dozen goblins he had brought with him, but he did not. the mere rustle in the bushes alerted the soldiers of a darker presence listening into their banter, and although killing was not on salem’s demand, it had to be done.

what could have been tyrants avoiding giving their status and identity away instead became an altercation that left one soldier cubed to pieces whilst the other fled, and to add salt to the wound, a stupid goblin who went after him was seen by the patrol ship they had parked in the area. checkmate for the empire soldiers.

to make a long story short, salem was fucked.

salem’s berserk force yanked the man’s head out from the mermaid pit and just a small flicker of pleasure manifested in those dead eyes. if there was one thing that she did love doing ( and she doesn’t love many things ) it was ensuing a well-taught lesson on consequences. and she was a rather strict teacher when it came to that.

“ listen to me, you filthy pig ”, she spat, sneering as the man found to catch his breath. her grip on his hair only tightened. “ you had clear instructions. you had them fucking written down, i even took some remorse since you have a god-awful memory and you want to tell me to have mercy, when you just fucking gave a major clue away to those empire fuckers?! ”.

the man continued to cough and wheeze as salem’s spat pure venom, “ what is it with you men, huh? can’t take orders from a woman? is your superiority alarm blaring so hard that you just won’t adhere to the fucking orders because a woman gave them to you? answer me, you pig! ”. he couldn’t. “ d-do you know how fucked i am? well not in the best way, i’ll tell you that. all of my efforts to make my location have gone to shit because you couldn’t keep your lousy ass out of trouble for five minutes. five years! five years stuck in this cold shithole and you gave it all away, you filthy animal. oh, i’m not going to show any mercy at all. ”

although the currents were disturbed by the abuse brought upon the scout, the waves did not fail to suddenly grow rampant, as if enraged. and around the same time, salem shoved his head down far enough for the water to engulf his shoulders. and it was not her who pushed him into the water, rather it was an unseen force yanking him into the depths.

as the witch rose and paid one last glance at the pool over her shoulder, she took note of a red hue that rose to the surface. after that, silence.

elsewhere . . .

principal arthur armsend was a man of honor.

being a principal and leader to a new era of the world, leading boys and girls and what lies in between into a new age, a renaissance period that would take the world from being a dark and bleak place that they were no longer familiar with, into the peaceful planet they had known it to be a hundred years ago. and he did so by a sharp discipline he gave to all of his students.

classes started at eight o’clock and go on until about four, and every day, something new is taught. from alchemy and martial arts, to care of mythical creatures and history. three meals were held every day at the immense cafeteria, free time started after classes in which students were able to enjoy the open-air yards of this floating monolith in the sky. in fact, they were so high up that you might reach over the edge and touch a cloud.

as opposed to many schools, the academy of valhalla was not one to waste time fooling around. third-year students and first-year students alike worked around the clock in order to harness the best skills in their arsenal in case the possibility of being sent out into missions came. and usually, when you were prepared, you might end up having the best results. students were told to be precise, to never make foolish mistakes, and to always remember why they were here.

although, nobody got it as bad as the principal’s daughter.

you’d expect the privilege to be very obvious; the ability to skip classes, to get out of trouble, to be an immediate social magnet, to be allowed out of the school and into the city to enjoy what it means to be young. any good parent with a somewhat loose way of raising their kids would spoil their child when they had the position they had. but for her, it was anything but that.

“ back straight, seren! ”.

she’s been at this for three hours. not joining her peers in the usual classes would mean that she would have to be doing something a little more different, a little more suited for her, and whilst many might role her eyes, they’d feel their stomach drop when they see the state that seren armsend is reduced to when brought into these private lessons.

at this point, her knees scrapped and legs clearly trembling, fatigued to the core, anyone could tell that seren was going through hell. these lessons tended to last three to four hours, but every time she so dared to look at the digital clock on the wall, her tutor would threaten to extend the time to fifteen minutes. ‘you wouldn’t take your eyes off your target in a real fight to see how long you’ve been at it’, he had said many times. and although it pained her, she had to agree.

her tutor, however, was none other than her old man. at the age of fifty, arthur still managed to maintain a certain posture to his stand whilst in battle that would trick anyone into aging him down a couple of years. he was a petite man, shorter than his daughter by two inches, and that most definitely did not stop him from butchering his daughter and bringing her to her limits in these training lessons.

how many times would seren have to be here a week, you ask? five times. fridays were generally the days in which she would have two of these sessions, one in the morning and the other placed right after lunch and she would only be back in her dorm at seven o’clock in order to crash, rest, and prepare for more lessons on a saturday morning.

iron thorn was clasped in her hand, arms tensing and aching to rest, her entire body ready to collapse the mere snap of the man’s fingers when he allowed her to rest but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. her training gear made her feel ten times heavier, and it was hot, boiling hot. but an armsend does not show struggle in the midst of a duel, they prefer to keep their enemies unsure of their condition to scare them or taunt them. you could only collapse once you’d finished what you started.

privilege, my ass. this is torture.

the clock was ticking towards the final bell which would dismiss all students but the ones in detention, and seren. “ finish what you started, come on. gaze up, for god’s sake fix that shoulder, and stop shaking your leg, you’ll stumble as soon as you lunge forward ”, she was used to receiving these comments, and she would take the feedback in an instant, because she knew arthur armsend when he was angry, a burden she shared in being his daughter.

iron thorn gave a minor whistle as she prepared to lunge once more, no essences were allowed to be used for the time being. if she did use something, the room might collapse. but she was tempted, oh young seren was tempted on pulling the trigger against the handle of her rapier and bring the ceiling to the ground. it would give her at least a minute to escape through the debris and run.

even upon lunging with a perfect posture and speed, the blade clashed against the cane her father wielded. stabbing, withdrawing, lunging, withdrawing, flicking and withdrawing. each set of movement took a mere second because of her semblance, yet her father caught everything and she was beginning to grow slightly discouraged. although not as many could fight as well as him, she knew that there would be someone out there who could. one person. and if she were to cross paths with that person, she cannot steer to being passive. even though it was meagre simulation of a fight, seren was asked to treat it like a reality. and that, she did.

arthur bore a sudden attack that left seren scrambling to get out of her thoughts, darting in withdrawal with a backwards somersault and landing clumsily on her feet, her legs nearly rendering her weak enough to collapse yet she still had a bit of sharpness left in her to know that landing on your ass would certainly mean a scolding from your father later.

this time, however, she did not have energy to raise her weapon to him as he pointed the end of his cane against her neck. she merely lifted her head and glanced upon his gaze that seemed rid of any emotion, meaning he was thinking, analyzing, arthur just wasn’t the type of man to wear his feelings on his face. he knew better than that.

seren didn’t. “ what was with that frown i saw? you know how many times i’ve taught you not to make your thoughts and emotions obvious on your face, your face has to be a blank canvas ”, he went on to say, lowering his cane and pressing the end against the ground. his posture straightened and he seemed to have dropped his defenses. she was not going to attack, however. “ seren. ”

“ m-my apologies, father ”, the girl gasped softly and blinked, verging dangerously close to the point of collapsing. something kept her awake, a part of her subconscious that wanted to keep her alive, her fight response. if not for it, then she would have perhaps been disowned or sent away just like her older sister.

now the only capable of heir in the family with the ripe age of eighteen, soon graduating from the academy, seren would have to carry the legacy of the cold armsend women who never once brought themselves close to failure. she would have to probably join the military route upon parting ways from valhalla, leading young soldiers to restore their lost land. although, if you ask her, if she had the choice, she would have picked the exploration route. unfortunately, being born in this family means that your fate is already decided for you from the moment your presence in your mother’s belly is announced.

needless to say, you have to stay on the route of perfection.

arthur sighed, it was clear he wasn’t happy. “ we’ll cut the lesson short today. you will make up for it with an extra hour tomorrow after class ”, he decided, and in order to avoid angering the man, the girl pursed her lips together and nodded. if one stared for just a moment, they would notice the trepidation in her eyes.

her tutor, father, and principal turned and left the training chamber they had been in for the past four hours. now vacant, the only sound echoing being the pants emanating from her cracked lips and although she wanted nothing more but to lay down on the floor, seren only averted her tired gaze to the immense windows giving her perhaps the best view she’s had of the world outside in a while.

although the empire had seen better days, the mountain of crete was a good place to re-build a city and make the public feel safer inside the walls. there weren’t many who wanted to venture out, probably because they had everything they could ever want in here. technology meant that they could produce food by cloning and distributing it to millions, money never seemed to be an issue as there were jobs for everyone, though it was said that there lived some people outside of the walls, in mainland greece who took care of farms and cattle and had a somewhat older way of living that would have been seen in the medieval times. they were closer to the truth of the world, and the fact that at least a dozen would apply annually to move within the walls said something.

but the talk of the wild never petrified seren as it did to others. they had returned to a time where they believed society was safer, and as soon as you stepped into a zone with no laws or mentions of morals, you’d be in danger. yet she’s read stories of people who lived just fine in these conditions, monsters or no monsters. and though she shared some fears with the general public, the wild was not one of them.

if anything, seren was infatuated with the idea of going outside, of seeing the world for what it was and not for what others claimed it to be. they hardly showed images captured by the military when they leave the walls and attend an expedition, only returning in a week after taking geographical calculations and hurriedly leaving. hardly the military you want protecting you.

seren claimed that with her father in line, things would change. the third year graduates from the year before had gotten good results, one of them had succeeded in establishing a base in almost every continent that remained. and although hardly anyone visited those bases, they were there in case you found yourself lost and in serious need of help. many other alumni valhalla students made technological advancements towards transport and population control, others went more of a political way and started working alongside governors to change the shape of their monarchy.

it was almost a guarantee that those who leave valhalla are destined for good things, but it felt as if seren would not be able to join her peers in that sense and it pained her to such an extreme where she wanted to jump out from those balconies, land in cold water and swim her way out of the city. yet she would have to return at some point, there is always a way back home after an adventure, even if it’s a short one.

seren looked down at her sword and tapped the floor with the tip for a moment, the blade had never once been blunt and yet it seemed like it was in desperate need of a recovery. it must have been caused by the countless daily training that hardly left her any time to catch up with her other subjects. her father was tempted on making a fighting machine out of her, and although she loved a good duel, seren was not a natural fighter. she was more of a diplomat, if you ask her.

lost in her thoughts, seren didn’t exactly hear the beeping sounds emitting from the door of the training chamber until it had come to her side and then began to feel a sensation against her leg. upon looking down, her frown disappeared and her eyes turned to crescents.

“ hi, ted. “

valhalla was known for having ‘familiars’, little creatures often used to advise students and although you couldn’t own them, you could befriend them. seren had known ted since he was made, which was roughly twelve years ago. he has been her friend long before he got signed up to be a companion to her school. at the age of six, ted was the robot she played with when she was alone.

smart, short and oh so adorable, ted-ee 012 mostly helped doctor lin with matters in computing lessons for those who lean more towards the technology route. but he was far from the war machine the school fabricated and more of a health robot, charged by water and able to detect sadness from students. it was probably why he had approached seren to begin with, pulling at her leg with his small hands.

he let out a happy beep as he waved at her, his eyes as pleasant and polite as always. “ i wasn’t sad, you know, i was just thinking ”, she said, crouching to his level. he stared at her, blinking for a couple of seconds with a disapproving sound. “ what, don’t believe me? ”. and then it clicked. “ oh, you got upgraded, didn’t you? ”.

ted hardly got any enhancements done to his figure, as he didn’t really have any flaws and his feedback from the students was always exemplar. but this time around, it was useful. because the upgrade enabled him to tell whether people were lying or not and it worked well during exam season where many would be asked whether they cheated or not.

seren let out a minor chuckle and shook her head, “ well there’s no point lying to you. but you never tell anyone, so i suppose it’s fine. ” she patted the top of his smooth head and then stood, holding iron thorn to her and then tucking it back into its sheath. “ care to get some fresh air? ”. on a happy note, seren left the chamber, ted hovering after her.

the halls of valhalla would usually be empty after classes were over, most students tended to flee outside and look for something fun to do, which was mostly seen in throwing frisbees, playing chess, going sunbathing. some returned to the lounge and played games or watched movies. others returned to their dorms to rest, and a small percentage fled to the library for some extra time studying.

a part of seren was almost glad that there weren’t many people to see her tired state. ted had offered her a mirror through his digital face and she was quick enough to adjust her cotton candy hair and adjust the blue bow pushing the locks of her hair back. she was boiling under this training gear, but she would be out of it sooner as her lesson was cut short, but it was clear she was going to owe her father an apology afterwards for her wandering mind. little things upset her father, but what majorly puts him off is when seren is not focused. it was the reason for most of their arguments and disagreements.

the dorms were in the lower parts of valhalla though the girl took a small detour outside to catch her breath. in the midst of a sunny afternoon, the sky was beginning to turn into hues of pink, purples and oranges as the sun thought about setting. the wind batting against her skin was all that she needed, especially as she neared to the open air yards with artificial grass, smooth concrete paths leading students around the perimeter of the entire yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. some benches and picnic tables were scattered, mostly occupied by first years who wanted to catch up after their lessons.

seren hardly steps outside, held inside by her tasks, but stepping outside was a freeing sensation, her arms folded and rested against the balcony railings, the wind was best from where she stood and she could have stood there for hours if she didn’t keep telling herself to return to her dorm and get as much rest as she could.

out of everything that caught seren’s attention, a game of football stole it in the end. most of the boys tended to be relatively active and sporty, that was a given as they had to be active if they wanted to carry heaven guns or broadswords with them in battle. seren became immersed in it for a moment, not the type of person to find kicking a ball around for ninety minutes particularly interesting but this time around, she couldn’t really help it.

what mostly caught her attention was one of the boys playing, and as far as she was concerned, she knew who he was. not the person to read the ranks too deeply, seren would only glance at the names and the pictures and this one was one she recognized. kailen cassius, rank number six, an archer. perhaps the most remarkable thing about him, however, what his height.

he had an air to him, though, that of someone who could handle things himself but also relied on teamwork and seemed to be about unity and working things out in a more collective fashion rather than being selfish all the time. he seemed like a good person, she thought. someone she’d definitely befriend and would be able to trust when faced with danger, but being alone didn’t permit her to join any teams. her father said that the only time she’d ever really join her peers in something of the sort was if she served as a tutor.

seeing as how so many of the students were set into groups, she wandered whether being in one would ensure that she would leave and tread beyond the walls, but she doubted anyone would really want to be in a team with her unless if they wanted extra credit or wanted to dump all the work onto her. and since seren wasn’t one to say no to people so easily, she might have to deal with being the one carrying all the work since she had the skills and smile as everyone got the best results despite having done nothing. it happened once in her primary school, and it was what shaped her into the timid, goody-two-shoes of a person that she is.

but say if she were to tutor a group. she’s seen third-year students do it mostly with second-year students who needed some help, but it would work and be the only time where seren might be able to use her position to get what she wants. it might make her father trust her just a tiny bit more, but she never knew exactly when it came to arthur armsend, he wasn’t one to be pleased so easily.

still, she was willing to give it a go.

when ted suddenly beeped, seren was drawn out of her thoughts once more only to realize that she had potentially been staring at kailen based on the way that well, he was looking right back at her. she had totally zoned out and had not managed to snap out of it when she felt the confused gaze of the boy on her. thank god for ted, otherwise she would have made much more of a fool of herself than she already had.

seren blinked and leaned away from the railings as soon as she began to feel her ears and cheeks burning pink. ted let out a confused noise, “ why didn’t you snap me out of it as soon as i started staring? ”. the robot tilted his head to the side with a level of confusion. “ he probably thinks i’m a total weirdo now! ”.

when ted let out an apologetic sound, seren sighed and risked a look back at the boy who had returned to his game, seeming more carefree but not before their eyes locked for a moment and she felt a wave of realization.

seren is hardly one to have an epiphany, but what she will tell you is that the feeling cannot easily be described. connecting the dots, her blank expression was replaced by that of surprise as her eyes grew in size and her pursed lips parted only for her to turn on her heel and start pacing quickly back inside, ted following in suit with some confused beeps.

the top six students are all third-years, and although the top student was often taken out of lessons to engage in more practical work outside of valhalla, that still left five people who were very capable of what she had in mind. she thought the tutoring idea would be pointless, but after her thoughts rang in that training chamber, after she stepped outside and looked towards the walls, after realizing that the world might end up caving in on itself if nothing was done, after such an epiphany, she couldn’t possibly sit there and do nothing.

seren knew her father would never let her out to do something like this on her own, but she knew she could perhaps impose an idea he could not deny. he wanted a daughter that would make changes, and after the death of one possible heir and the marriage of another, the fate settled on seren when she did not wish for it. but she could not change this about herself. but she knew that if good results came out of this, if her epiphany was right and she had perhaps hit the gold mine, that the world would somehow improve. and that was something she was taught from a young age.

her mother left when she was eight but the moral lessons stuck with her for ten years and it is probably why her thirst for knowledge of the outside world and the drive to better things was not leaving her anytime soon. the action of doing good things was deeply embedded into her, perhaps it was a genetic thing or the way her mother shortly raised her. she was a rebel without a cause, a woman who ventured out and never cared for the warnings she got or the many injuries she returned with. because at least she was helping.

so perhaps it was time to start being a little selfish on her end. seren knew her father wouldn’t be in the best of moods after their lesson that afternoon, yet her blood remained boiling, adrenaline causing her heart to race after and her steps to quicken until ted stopped following her and let her run off on her own.

her father’s office was at the top floor, and after a long elevator ride to the top, seren stumbled into the room.

the porcelain tiles she stepped in were drawn with art she had never quite been able to name before. perhaps it was a renaissance-style painting, what with the figures and halos and clouds. every time she entered her father’s room, it felt like entering a museum. he was an archaic man with older, more traditional principles despite being inclusive. but he was one to separate his inclusiveness from his professional way of working, because no matter what you were, he still extended a hero out of you.

the mahogany desk was usually empty as he would have meetings on a friday evening but she had caught him seemingly before he could prepare for said meeting. he seemed to have turned on his record player, appearing blissful whilst listening to an opera piece seren has heard all too many times. the china cup in his gloved hands saw steam rising from what seemed to be his usual chamomile tea. three cubes of sugar, no less.

the minor ding of the elevator made him raise his head when seren approached his desk. he paid her a mere glance, raising a brow. “ why are you not changed? i thought we’d be having dinner together ”, he stated, blowing the steam from his cup gently. “ don’t waste time, seren. ”

“ i need your permission for something, father. ”

arthur let out a sigh. when seren approaches him with a request as such, he often knows what it will be. permission to head to town for the weekend, permission to continue her tap lessons, permission to head to the beach. almost all of those requests were never really granted for the mere reason that he did not want her attention diverting to something else when so much had to be done. but he seemed to sense something was different, he knew his daughter well known and one thing he was unfamiliar with was the glistening pair of eyes like his wife’s staring back at him.

“ although i may be only seven in the ranks, i feel like . . . i-i feel like i know what i want to do before i graduate ”. she quickly took her seat in one of the chairs facing him across his desk. she took notice of his cane resting on the side and gulped.

days ago, he had mentioned that her older sister had one final act as a valhalla student that marked her as a significant alumni. although she married shortly after, she still made history by being the student who uncovered many lost articles and items in other continents, items rich in cultural value as they carried history of their dying planet. and she had done this before graduating. arthur imposed the idea that seren should do something similar.

seren proceeded, “ might i suggest gathering the top five students and allowing me to tutor them? ”.

“ seren. ”

“ let me finish, p-please! ”.

the girl clasped her hands together and forced a meek gaze down, “ i have all these skills in my arsenal and i highly doubt i’ll ever be able to use them because i can’t apply them to the world outside like the others. but perhaps i can let someone else take the lead for me. i-i could teach them what i’ve been taught and hope that they’ll carry it on, l-like a legacy if they choose to step outside of the walls. ”

arthur put his cup down, clearing his throat. “ is this just a reason for you to step outside? you know what i’m going to say, seren ”, his tone appeared highly disinterested, but she was not going to be discouraged this time around.

“ father . . . you and i both know that we have the people needed to do something about what’s happening to the world outside ”, she inquired, still no response. silence lingered until the apprehension faded. “ you found salem’s whereabouts, did you not? ”.

the principal, although he didn’t appear shocked, gave it all away through the way he dropped his spoon into his cup. he rose his gave with a clenched jaw and peered at her, possibly questioning how she’d come to such a conclusion. but it was no rumor, it was true. the general said the men found one of her scouts spying on them near the ukraine, meaning she couldn’t be too far. five years of hunting salem after her escape, only to finally discover the continent she hid in.

“ seren, listen to me closely ”, he warned, leaning over his desk slightly with a grave tone. “ i understand you wish to be a hero. but you will not be the hero who died trying to kill the witch that brought the world to its end. no daughter of mine will do something of the sort. ”

seren continued to fight back, “ but i won’t be the one doing it, it’ll be five qualified people doing it on my behalf because i taught them what other teachers do not. ”

“ seren. ”

“ and you act as if the years of training has been for no reason. what, am i just going to have these skills at my disposal and never use them? did i just waste nearly sixteen years of my life being taught something in case there’s a war? ”, she spat. she had never spoken to her father like this, and in a dark corner of her mostly innocent mind, she was enjoying it. she felt like her mother. “ father, there will be a war regardless. especially if we stick around doing nothing about the clear danger. i’m going to have to use these skills but i could also use them to prevent it all. ”

the man grew quiet. somewhere in his mind, he probably felt something similar. she had heard the stories, her father wanted to be the valiant one in his family to carry the armsend name, but he was the one who deeply injured himself to the point where he had to give up his heroic hopes and let it become mere fable. he didn’t want the same thing happening to seren, but he knew that this time, matters would be different. she would have help.

and sending your kid into a world that is unknown to even the smartest men in the world was a horrifying thought, but it is in like every tale, the one holding the hero back will always have to let them go. that is how the best heroes are made, the ones who were given the chance to chase after their happy ending, not he ones ho were held back. what good is a sheltered hero?

besides, she might end up finding the worthy opponent she had always dreamed of meeting. and if it was salem, so be it. call her reckless or obsessed with heroism, but seren knew she wouldn’t be able to stay within these walls for much longer.

her father knew this as well, even if it was clear he didn’t want to.

“ are you certain about this, seren? ”.

no, she wanted to say. she had hardly given any logic aside from her own hopes and expectations which could be mistaken as mere childish fantasy and desperation to be outside, but it is better not to ask her how she knew it would work out. she just knew.

“ yes ”, the girl breathed and bit her lip slightly. “ i think mother would have wanted to me to do this. i’m an explorer just like her, father. you know that very well. ”

arthur chortled, glancing bitterly at his cup of tea. “ i wish you weren’t. i wish you were more like your older sister, at least you’d stay out of trouble. but you’re the only heir. after ophelia, i’m highly uncertain that there’ll be anyone else ”, he spoke. she felt her blood run cold. but when he looked up at her, he grunted. “ but you don’t have a single cowardly bone in your body. you’re not like isabella and not like me. you’re an explorer, as you’ve stated. ”

“ father . . . ”.

arthur rose a hand and stood, cup in hand and cane in another. he brought himself up from his chair and moved steadily towards the tinted windows, peering outside into a twilight sky. “ you ask a lot of me, seren. not only might i lose my daughter, but i might also lose five innocent lives if all of this goes wrong. and i will not let it be for your fantasy and mere childish heroism. and yet, a part of me knows that soon, salem is going to find a way to harm everyone . . .”

the indecisiveness from the man was making the girl think much more deeply about the matter than she was intending. if someone got hurt, it would be her fault mainly for putting them in danger, but that was why she planned on training them. they were capable fighters, whoever they were. it was a matter of luck and precision, two opposing forces that might have to work together to make all of this work.

“ seren. ”

the girl lifted her gaze to see the man she so dearly admired and loved, the father who was a professor as well as a friend and a leader. she loved him so dearly that she would not think to ask something like this unless if she one hundred percent meant it. and she did.

“ if you can convince them to join you, i will grant your request. but be weary of the time, because it has become of the essence.”

and so, her adventure begins.

#chapter one #original writing #fantasy #magic #futuristic #dystopian

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