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heirloomgem · 3 years ago

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Bakugou’s Silly Crush Part 2

Bakugou x Reader Silly crush Part 2

Sorry for the long wait.

As December come, I always get sick because of winter every year added to that I have been spending more time with my family as I have to go back again to work after vacation, the reason why I couldn’t continue writing the second part and post the continuation and I know lots of you wanted this part so I’m really sorry for the delay.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story.

Reader POV

The moment her explosive classmate challenge her the first day she entered U.A, she can’t help but differentiate him from the rest of her classmate ever since.

The first thought that went through her mind after her fiery blond classmate challenge her was how arrogant he was but as they fought tooth and nail, she have to admit he has bite behind his bark.

She had like the exchange she had with him as he have turn her thinking of what she thought of him. She have thought of him as nothing but someone who is cocky just for having a strong quirk and yet he proved to her as someone who would gives everything he has to achieve what he want. He has a standing and she can’t help but respect him even if he’s a little cheeky in her opinion.

However because of her reserve attitude and how frustrated he seems after their training, she have decided to keep her distance from him but one by one, unexpected events led her to finding herself as a part of his gang.

Even though, she knows it’s not his intention to help her at all and he’s only force to teach her because of others, she’s still thankful at how it helped her mingle more with her classmate given that she have only met them.

From studying for her Japanese literature to just hanging out with him and their friends, slowly she can’t help but notice little things about Bakugou.

It’s all started once when he was hit by a quirk to which she have made fun of him nevertheless inside her, she realize she prefer Bakugou being the normal Bakugou Katsuki.

How hardworking he is in his goal of being number one, the confidence he have to not waver in any situation even his usual spitefulness and his brashness or bluntness at times. She can’t help but prefer them more than anything else even if others might see it as weird for liking them.

But at the end, it seems she have teased him a bit too much as it resulted in him ignoring her.

She could only chuckle and apologise before offering to treat him for some food to calm him down.

Once weekend came, she treated him for some spicy ramen and mapo tofu since she saw how he has a taste for spicy food.

Watching as their food was place in front of them, she has to admit that seeing Bakugou enjoying it, she quite like the sight and can’t help but smile even if by the end of the day, she has to secretly buy milk just to calm the stinging in her tongue and the oncoming stomach-ache throughout the night.

She have to admire her explosive friend for his extreme palate while hers are more notably milder even so that didn’t stop her from buying spicy snacks and stacks them in her room just so he could eat something while they’re studying together.

Well, thanks to it, her tolerance for spice got a bit higher even though she still finds them spicy.

She also learned how talented he is at cooking when she witnessed him cooking in their dorms kitchen.

Wanting to have a taste since it rare for him to cook, she pestered him for the next 20 minutes, much to Bakugou’s annoyance but with much pestering, she got a bite that ended with her knocking her forehead on the counter with such a defeated feeling.

He’s more wife material than anyone else with how delicious his food is, she lamented.

“Bakugou, are you trying to be someone wife or something? If so, can you become my wife instead your foods are delicious.”

“HAH!?”

Needless to say, it earned her a smack in the head.

Sitting in their dorms dinner tables, she decided to continue watching her blonde friend cook. Bakugou just gave her the cold shoulder as he continued stirring and adding seasoning on the food in front of him.

“...”

“Bakugou”

Her explosive friend stood rigid, waiting.

Oblivious, she blurted, “You should turn on the fan. Your face’s red like an octopus from cooking, even your ears.”

...

Let’s just say, it ended with her adoring another bump on the head.

As the year goes by and as they entered they’re last year in U.A, she did notice her feelings for her explosive friend change but the turning point really happened when an unexpected event occurred.

There once was an accident that happened in their hero internship that resulted in her hair being cut off however she has to cut the other excess as well as it got too damaged to salvage, resulting in her looking like a boy after.

Opening the door, she entered their class dorm, thinking how she wanted to take a bath quickly because of how tired she was and wanting to sleep right away and yet noticing the silence that surrounds their usually noisy dorm, she blinked as she saw her classmate look at her.

“What wrong?” She asked, raising a brow at them before all of them erupted, getting up from their sits and coming to her with a worried look.

“No! That’s what we should be asking you?! What happened to your hair?”

That when she remembered.

She quickly explains to them that it’s an accident during her intern and to make sure it’s nothing to worry about since it’s just hair and nothing more.

She knew what reactions her classmates would have once they saw her and yet what she didn’t expect though was how Bakugou would react.

After assuring her friends that there is nothing to worry about, she quickly headed for her room planning to rest however she immediately stops and look back.

A little ways away from her was Bakugou and the glare he was giving her made her want to take a step back at how intense he’s looking but she willed not too instead opted into giving him a strained smile, asking what’s wrong before he stormed to her, grabbing her head and smacking their forehead together.

“You little shit. It’s because of how you’re always fucking spacing around that this happened. You should be fucking more aware of your surrounding! What if it’s your stupid head that got hit instead! And not just your fucking hair?!”

“H-hah...”

Rubbing her forehead, she watch as her explosive friend started scolding her for being stupid, unsure of what to do since making any excuses would only make him explode more than he already does even so, something within her felt warm from his scolding even if he’s cursing a lot.

“Starting tomorrow afternoon, you’ll train with me. I’ll fuck you up until it’s drilled in your fucking head not to let your guard down, you idiot!”

“...Bakugou, you might be the one who would kill me instead of those villains.”

“Fucking hell I am!”

She could only laugh in return, her explosive friend click his tongue then grabbing her hand and walking to her room, yelling at her to bath at the same time he grumpily sat down and grab a book to read while waiting.

They spend the night watching and eating spicy snack after.

After their intern, they quickly went back to school like how they normally do however because of her new looks, it causes some uproar and by the end of the week, she’s always surrounded by female students, sometimes, even getting lunch boxes and sweets more than she usually gets.

She had no choice but to share it with her classmates seeing that there is no way she could eat them all.

Even though it felt like dumping the food to them, her classmates seems to have no problem at all and notice that the males were more than happy eating the foods she have receive but when she offered Bakugou if he wanted some, he refuse them so furiously while glaring the ones that was in her arms.

She even thought that the food would burn itself from the glares he’s giving them however when she was about to eat one, he suddenly snatch it then shoving it in his mouth before taking the rest, shoving and eating them with such fervour.

She watched in a dazed before laughing, “If you want it so bad, you could have said so. I would have given them to you but now I don’t have anything to eat. Hey, Kirishima-”

As she was about to asked her friend to share some to her, her blonde friend smacks her in the head, muttering, “Fucking dense idiot.” before leaving then coming back with a lunchbox which he send it flying to her head and without a word, slump beside her, giving her a glare not to say anything and just eat.

She thought, her explosive friend could be so weird at times but looking at the lunch box in her hand, she smiled.

She much prefer Bakugou’s lunch box than the ones she have receives since she find his food more delicious than anything.

And so without a thought, she ate it happily, not knowing Bakugou’s have gone through all many troubles to cook those foods into her preferred palate.

Everything felt peaceful but as their days goes by, she slowly felt something’s wrong.

Looking like a boy doesn’t really bother her however as she’s being flattered by other female students for her looks and other male students lamenting and crying for her being too handsome to take away their female classmates attention, something inside her slowly made her uncomfortable.

This started making her brood more recently, resulting in getting smack in the head by her explosive friend also.

She could only apologise for spacing out even though her fiery friend have been helping her train.

What she didn’t notice though were the looks that Bakugou’s giving her, frowning in annoyance but a tinge of concerned in his eyes.

Once night came, her classmates decided to go to their rooms to sleep while she decided to stay, bidding them good night.

It wasn’t long before she became absent-minded again, not caring anymore what’s been playing on the television in front of her.

She can’t help but think of what has been happening lately. Although, she’s flattered on being like by other students, the thought of how they started treating her so differently somehow made her insecure for some reason.

It also didn’t help that she have accidentally witness how Bakugou got a confession from a really beautiful girl.

Sure, she has teased him after about it but something started bugging her from the back of her mind.

Remembering such a beautiful girl with unblemished white skin, plump natural red lips, long eyelashes and a beautiful figure for a woman, she immediately felt sick to her stomach, her hands quickly coming up and grabbing a fistful of her short hair, the other covering her mouth.

She didn’t like it at all.

It made her think of how unfeminine she is even though she likes being how she is, being comfortable and friends with her male classmates, no barrier separating them with gender and feeling like their equal but ever since her hair was cut, she felt that she’s being treated differently almost like a boy.

It didn’t help that whenever she’s beside her explosive friend, she hated feeling how short her hair and how it started making her uncomfortable and insecure.

The change makes her dizzy and it’s starting to get overwhelming. It came to the point that it’s also becoming frustrating for her.

Immerse in her own thought, she didn’t notice someone approaching her not before they grab her by the collar of her shirt, forcing her to look up and coming to face two angry vermillion color eyes.

“Didn’t I told you not to let your guard down. I’ve been calling you multiple times already you little shit.”

He didn’t yell, only muttered but the threat behind it was serious.

Blinking, an apology left her mouth in reply, not knowing what to do when the person she’s thinking of suddenly is in front of her.

Letting go of her shirt, her friend grudgingly sat down beside her, crossing his arms, leaning on the sofa before giving her a pointed look, as if urging her to speak but she didn’t know what to say, her mind a mess.

“Again, you’re having a weird expression when you already have such a shitty face.”

“...weird face?”

Did she? Crap.

An uncertain laugh escapes her lips before she clasps her hands together, quickly bending down so as to hide her eyes from Bakugou.

“I’m sure I have always looked like this, Bakugou”

Wincing, what a poor attempt to hide everything from her perceptive friend.

“No it isn’t, just fucking spit it out.”

“...like I said, everything fi-“

“Fuck it is! If you don’t, I’m going to split that mouth of yours. Just having to see that mug face of yours again, I swear I’ll- Tch”

As if catching himself, her friend angrily clicks his tongue.

“...”

“...Say, Bakugou... Are you worried about me?” She teased.

“Hah!? The hell I am!?”

Watching her friend’s face turn to his usual comical outrage look, she couldn’t help but laugh quietly then covering her mouth as her friend look at her, annoyed but that didn’t stop the smile that stayed on her lips.

Having her feelings lifted a little, she finally decided to tell Bakugou, her worries and confusion at her current state.

How she likes being comfortable being who she is with their friends even though she act boyish at times but that just who she is. Someone who wants to enjoy and had fun with her friends while trying to be the hero she aspire to be however because of what’s happening lately, how she’s being treated as a boy she felt she have to give something.

Words after words coming out of her mouth while Bakugou looked at her at the corner of his eyes, listening intently.

It’s slowly sinking in that she doesn’t know anymore what to do at all.

“Who the hell said you have to give them the expectations they want from you.”

Her eyes widen before turning her head at her friend.

Bakugou look straight at her, continuing, “You are who you are, that’s all that matter. Just fuck those things and do everything at your own pace; you don’t have to force anything. To me, there is no difference from how you were before and what you are now.”

Slowly, the burden she have unknowingly put herself these past few weeks , lifted itself from her shoulders just by hearing his words.

Quickly turning her head away, she felt her eyes moisten uncontrollably but this time a sincere and carefree smile made its way on her lips, her chest bursting with relief, happiness, and unknown warmth and flattering feelings that made her fingers and ears tingle.

“Thank you Bakugou, really.”

She heard him scoff before telling to stop thinking such stupid things again.

Such rude remarks nonetheless the warmth in her chest spread even more in her and she can’t deny, she like the feeling.

Looking at her friend, she admitted,

“Whenever I walk with you these past few weeks, I can’t help but start feeling insecure on how unfeminine I have become.”

Bakugou look at her with surprise, a flash of concern appearing on his eyes but his female classmate continued,

“But hearing your words made me realise that no matter what, I really do like walking right beside you. Now that I think about it, whether if I look like a guy or not, I don’t really care anymore because not being able to walk beside you, I would hate that even more than anything.”

She confesses with a smile, before halting, the sight before of her made her heart beat faster.

Beside her, Bakugou, who was looking at her, is wide eyed, his face completely red even his ears before one of his hands instantly covered his face and averting his eyes as if he wanted to hide such a shameful expression however to her she can’t help but find it beautiful.

Just as she opened her mouth, Bakugou quickly stood up before storming off to the elevator.

“Bakugo-“

“Shut it, shit head!”

Quickly standing up and chasing after him, she saw him quicken his pace at the same time, punching the elevator button and stepping in once it opened.

But before he could close the elevator doors, she immediately ran the distance and entered, grabbing his hand despite his protest.

Seeing his flustered state, his cheeks red, eyes moist and trembling, something in her snap and made her realise something that she have been denying until now.

Grabbing the back of his head, she pinned him on the wall with such force before he could push her away and without a word, she connected their lips and kissed him with everything she have buried for so long.

‘Ah, I’m a fool. I have been in love with him all along.’

Thank you for reading. Sorry for the wrong grammars and the ones that I have miss.

Man, at first I didn’t know where this was going but as I finish this chapter, I can’t help but feel satisfied but at the same time, this really made me think too hard for these past few weeks and now my brain is fried.

But I hope you have enjoyed it!! See you again in my next post.

I might do some extra cute chaps for this.

Please do leave some review as I want to know your opinion.

THANK YOU!!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

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the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter Three: return states Words: 3.3k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Nightmares

Work Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Chapter Summary:

Daisy's mug rests beside her, emptied and with a small ring of tea leaves at the bottom of it as the three of them sit around the kitchen table and try to work out what, exactly, the state of the world is at present and what it means for them.

Apparently, Daisy tells them, things are “rough.”

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of death and blood)

Daisy takes her tea with no milk or sugar, oversteeped enough that it sticks to her tongue and the roof of her mouth when she drinks it. Jon recognized the faint twitch of Martin’s nose when she told him this, the one that meant he was trying to hold in a look of displeasure, and smiled to himself, burying his grin in his own mug of tea. Now, her mug rests beside her, emptied and with a small ring of tea leaves at the bottom of it as the three of them sit around the kitchen table and try to work out what, exactly, the state of the world is at present and what it means for them.

Jon has his notebook now, which makes things easier. Still, it remains mostly closed and set to the side as Daisy explains, in greater detail, how she found her way here. How the farmer who had found her offered her clothing and, hesitantly, a meal and a ride. “He said I couldn’t stay,” Daisy says with a sigh, rubbing the handle of the mug between her fingertips. “Makes sense, I suppose. Everyone’s still scared, unsure what’s next. I don’t think he was particularly keen to take in a stranger. Especially one covered in blood, waking up days after everyone else. Still don’t know why. Wonder if it didn’t want to let me go or something. Don’t know if it matters much, though.”

The radio had been on in the kitchen when the farmer had slid a hastily-made bowl of soup in front of her before settling across from her with his own. They hadn’t spoken, so Daisy had listened instead.

Apparently, she tells them, things are “rough.”

“Rough,” Martin echoes, curling his hands around his own mug of tea. “What does that mean?”

Daisy shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “It means they’re rough.” At his sour expression, she sighs and continues, “There’s a whole world of people who have memories of horrible things but who opened their eyes a few days ago to find themselves sitting back at their desk in their office or lying in their bed or in the middle of walking their dog.” She laughs, a small exhalation through her nose. “The radio host tried to claim it was a ‘mass hallucination.’”

Jon taps his fingers on the cover of his notebook, trying not to let the sick feeling in his stomach bleed over onto his face. He tries to focus on Daisy’s words so he doesn’t get swallowed by the swirling mass of guilt and regret and frustration and self-loathing that’s currently forming in his chest. He’s only partially successful.

As far as Daisy’s been able to put it together, the situation is this:

When the Fears exited this reality, it reset itself in space and in time, putting people back in the places they had been when the first eye in the sky blinked open. Like turning back the hand of a clock, Jon thinks, except in the time it had taken the hand to traverse the face of the clock, it had seen and felt and experienced irreparable horrors that stuck with it even as it was adjusted back into place. People still have their memories; he still has his scar, the one that Martin won’t look at.

But Daisy is alive. And as far as she can tell, she’s not the only one.

The farmer who had found her had been trapped in an End domain. He’d only told her because he’d asked if she’d been in “one of the death ones as well”—said that she had the same glassy-eyed, confused look of someone who was sure that they’d died only to find themselves very much alive and well again. She’d said no and had left it at that, and he hadn’t mentioned it again. On the drive to the safehouse, he’d had the radio on again, and one of the hosts had talked at length about return states. People who remembered being twisted and reformed had woken up humanoid once again; people who had forgotten which face was meant to be theirs had looked in the mirror and recognized the version of themselves that they thought they’d lost. And people who had died opened their eyes just like everybody else, hearts beating one again.

It makes sense, Jon thinks as he scribbles two words in the notebook and holds it up for Martin and Daisy to see: dream logic. At least, it makes as much sense as any other outcome he might have expected. A reset button of sorts. Reality stretched and warped, snapping back into place as the things warping it were sent away.

It would explain how they’re here, at least. How Jon woke up unbleeding and Martin found him and held him and sobbed into his shoulder and neither of them quite remembered the transition from being unraveled and undone to being solid once more. Maybe he did die, standing in the center of the Panopticon with tape spilling out of his mouth and the wound in his chest, and he was simply reborn.

“And that’s all I know,” Daisy says with a small shrug. “Remembered that I had a safehouse in Scotland and got a ride. Didn’t expect to find the two of you here, though.”

Jon scribbles quickly in his notebook as Martin says carefully, “We had a… a bit of a rough time of it and needed somewhere safe to stay.”

Jon holds up the notebook, which reads pulled martin from lonely hid from el jonah didn’t work. Then, while still holding it up, he writes messily, like it here. And then: shitty books though.

Dryly, Daisy says, “I didn’t come up here to read, Jon.”

Jon rolls his eyes, then settles the notebook down on the table so he can write, more legibly and in complete sentences now that he’s not rushing, Yes, I gathered that much. The pulpy romance novels were a nice touch, though. Then, he hesitates, his pen hovering over the page for a long moment. Daisy and Martin are patient, though Daisy cranes her neck to read what he’s already written, laughing under her breath as she reads the words. He shoots her a glare without much heat, then turns back to the page and writes, slowly and carefully, We I like it here. Do you Would it be all right if I would like to stay.

He doesn’t bother holding up the notebook, given that Daisy is already reading the words as he writes them. Instead, he sets the pen down in the center of the notebook and looks at her, not quite able to write the last sentence. The one where he asks her if she’s going to stay.

He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer. And the answer, for now, is yes, which is all that matters.

“Okay,” Daisy says with a small shrug. “I’m not kicking you out if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s really not. But Jon gives her a shrug anyway, because that’s as easy an answer as anything else, and writes, I mean, it technically is your house.

Daisy snorts at that. “Sure. And it’s my pictures hung up on the fridge and my vegetables planted in the back and my clothes in the bedroom, then?” She laughs again, quieter this time. “You can have the place. It’s got a draft.”

“Speaking of,” Martin says, “I should go get some more wood for the fire. And, um. Probably some supplies from town.”

He looks a bit uncomfortable at the thought, and Jon understands. They haven’t been to town yet, having had enough supplies to last them the past few days, and after what Daisy’s told them, he imagines Martin isn’t keen to face whatever situation is outside the safety of the walls of the safehouse. Jon is about to offer to come with—for support if nothing else—but he’s not halfway through inking the words on paper when Martin shakes his head, placing a gentle hand on Jon’s shoulder to prompt him to stop writing.

(The first day, when Jon had been getting used to writing down his thoughts and Martin had been getting used to waiting for them to appear, Martin had placed his hand atop Jon’s to interrupt him, and the words had smudged across the page. Jon had looked at the marred sentence, something twisting and choking spreading in his stomach and throat, and he must have looked distressed because Martin had stammered out an apology and held his hands up in the air, his mouth twisted into something equally as upset. There was just something about seeing his words sat upon the page, smeared and ruined, that Jon couldn’t stand to look at.)

“I’ll be quick,” Martin promises. “We don’t know what it’s like out there, and I just… I think it’ll be best if it’s just me. For now.”

Jon wants to argue. Instead, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth and then nods, twisting the pen back and forth between his fingers. “Okay,” Martin says, sounding relieved. “I’ll go get the wood, and then I’ll be off. We’re, um. We’re all out of tea.”

Jon remembers the thing that was not tea, and even though it’s not particularly funny, he still finds it within himself to laugh, albeit a bit humorlessly. He nods, and Martin leaves, and then it’s just him and Daisy, sat at the table with three empty and tea-stained mugs. The yellow daisies in front of them sit directly in a beam of sunlight, bright and cheery.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Daisy says at length, standing and making a displeased expression when her back pops. She looks at Jon for a moment, forehead pinched as if trying to make a difficult decision, before saying, “You can come. But only if you stop making that face.”

What face, Jon wants to ask. He settles for a glare that lacks significant heat and that only serves to make Daisy huff out a breath and turn away from him. “Your choice,” she says as she walks away, disappearing around the corner. There’s no soft click of the bedroom door closing, and after a moment, Jon stands, takes his notebook and pen in hand, and slowly makes his way to the bedroom.

Daisy is standing in front of the bed, unmoving, a strange sort of tension in her body. Jon frowns and steps into the room, coming around so he can see her face.

She’s staring at the bed—sheets slightly rumpled from where Jon hadn’t quite pulled them taught when making it this morning, the firmer pillow that Martin prefers and had packed with him settled next to the cheap thing Jon uses and Martin insists is bad for his neck. Jon’s glasses are settled on the nightstand next to his side along with the book he’d been working his way through before things had gone wrong and a small framed picture of the Admiral that Martin had definitely made fun of him for but had admitted later he found incredibly endearing. Jon looks at the bed, then back at her, then places a hand on her arm just below the elbow, trying to convey his confused concern with his expression and body alone.

Daisy stares at the bed a moment more before sighing and turning away. “I’ll take the couch,” she says, starting towards the door. Unthinkingly, Jon tightens his grip on her arm and pulls her back. She pauses and gives him a flat look that he takes in stride, not letting go of her arm. “I’m not sleeping in your bed, Jon. It’s not…” She pauses, then says with the slightest hitch in her voice that Jon wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t heard it dozens of times before, back in the Archives, “It’s not mine.”

Jon thinks that’s ridiculous, frankly. He doesn’t mind, and he knows Martin won’t mind either, and the couch is absolutely atrocious—a threadbare, broken-down thing that Martin had glared at quite thoroughly their first night here before declaring that if they stayed here any longer than a month, they were going to have to buy a new one. Jon, pleased at the thought of staying here for the near future, had agreed readily, even more so once he’d sat on it and found that the springs sagged considerably under his weight. He pulls on Daisy’s arm, nodding towards the bed, and gives her his best come-on expression.

Daisy stares at him for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But I’m getting my own pillow.”

She does, swapping it out for Martin’s before curling up on his side of the bed and giving Jon an amused look as he crawls in beside her, sitting against the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest, and balancing the book from the nightstand on top of them. But she doesn’t say anything—just closes her eyes and lies still until her breathing levels out and she begins to snore, a heavy, rumbling thing that Jon had come to find comforting when it had just been the two of them together in the Archives. He lets it fade into white noise as he opens the book to the first page, resigning himself to starting over from scratch rather than trusting his memory, and begins to read.

Martin is still in the village when Daisy wakes with a gasp, mutters something about needing the toilet, and disappears into the hall before Jon can fully disengage himself from his book. He tells himself it’s fine—it’s not like he has any shortage of nightmares, and neither had Daisy even before the world had ended—and returns to the text, trying to get back into the rhythm of the words. After ten minutes though, he finds himself still distracted, rereading the same paragraphs over and over as he waits for Daisy to return. At fifteen, he finally snaps the book shut, slips out of bed, swaps his book for the notebook, and makes his way to the bathroom.

The door is firmly shut, so he knocks. Then, he knocks again, wishing he could call Daisy’s name but resigning himself to standing outside and affixing the door with a rather impressive scowl for being in the way. After a moment, he hears a faint rustling noise from inside before Daisy says, sounding somewhere between exasperated and resigned, “It’s not locked.”

Jon doesn’t know if that’s an invitation to enter, but he does so anyway. Daisy is standing in front of the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. She looks away when Jon enters, and at his questioning expression, she says, “Figured you were just going to stand there until I let you in.” Then: “I’m done anyway.”

Jon frowns and flips open the notebook. Daisy watches him, something vaguely amused on her face, as he writes, Are you okay? then holds it out for her to see. She shrugs—an overly casual gesture—and says, “Less than a day ago I was dead. What do you think?”

Jon frowns and writes, Can I help?

Daisy pauses, then sighs. “Nothing you can do about it.” She glances back at the mirror, then down at her hands, turning them over so she’s staring at her palms. “It’s all in my head. Just… lingering memories, I think, of what happened. Of who I became at the end.”

Not your fault, Jon writes in thick, dark lines.

“It’s not a matter of ‘fault,’” Daisy says. “I made a choice, to help you and to protect Basira, and people got hurt because of that choice. It just is.”

Jon bites his lip and writes, slowly and unsure of whether or not the words will be helpful, They’re probably alive again. If everything really has reset itself. It occurs to him that that means Trevor and Julia as well, and a small thrum of anxiety rushes through him that he suffocates. They don’t know about this place, and even if they did, they’re not Hunters anymore. They’re safe here. They’re safe.

“Doesn’t change what I did,” Daisy says, still looking at her hands. Her fingers curl in slowly towards her palms, and she drops her hands to her sides, looking up at Jon as she does so. She looks haunted, he thinks; it’s a look he’s only seen on her once before, and it had been partially hidden by the dirt and sediment packed in around them. “It’s like I can still smell the blood. I can’t hear it, so I know it’s gone, but every time I look at my hands, I swear I can see it, just for a moment.” Her fists tighten, knuckles pulling white and fingernails biting into her palms. “I can’t decide if I’m glad or not that when I blink, it’s gone. I don’t feel weak, it’s not… it’s not calling to me, but I still feel as if something’s missing. Like I’ve… lost something. Some part of me. And I can’t decide if I’m meant to miss it or not.”

Oh. Carefully, Jon sets the notebook down on the vanity and reaches for one of Daisy’s hands, giving her time to pull her hand away before taking it in his and uncurling her fingers, one by one, until her palm is laid bare in front of him, clean and unmarked save for angry red crescents where her fingernails had bit into her skin. He rubs a thumb over one of the marks, squeezes her hand gently, and looks up at her, glad that he doesn’t have to try to put into words the tangled mess of sympathies and placations that she won’t want to hear that are currently swirling around in his head. He thinks some of them bleed out into his eyes and onto his face, though, because she gives him a look and says, “I’ll be fine.” Then, after a moment: “You feel the same.”

It’s not a question, though Jon’s sure he could refute it if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. He feels that ache inside of him, the itching at the back of his throat sometimes when he wants to ask a question but can’t find the voice to do so, the pressure behind his eyes when he automatically goes to Know something and finds only black nothingness where once there had been everything. And he feels an ache all his own, in the center of his chest where his heart still beats, so intense at times that it steals his breath away as he mourns the loss of something that he had loved and despised in equal measure.

So Jon nods, looking down at where their hands are joined, and rubs his thumb over one of the marks again, watching them begin to fade beneath the fluorescent light. They’re human-shaped, nothing like the sharp claws that had once torn through the fabric of his trousers or the sharper teeth that had torn through the skin of his leg soon after. Daisy lets out a slow breath, her other hand relaxing in increments at her side, and neither of them makes a sound for a long while.

The rattle of the front door opening breaks the silence, and Daisy slips her hand wordlessly out of Jon’s, the marks fully vanished and the tension having vanished with it. “I hope he got Ceylon,” she says with a twitch of her lips that Jon thinks is meant to be a smile. She steps to the side, brushing past Jon to get to the bathroom door. Just before she opens it, though, she bumps her shoulder against Jon’s, lets it linger there a moment, and says, “Thanks.”

It’s short and unelaborated on, and Daisy pulls away a moment later, opening the door and slipping out into the hall. But Jon feels a warmth spread through him all the same, concentrated at the point on his shoulder where Daisy had pressed hers. And when he collects his notebook off the vanity and catches his reflection in the mirror briefly before he follows her out into the kitchen, he finds that he’s smiling too.

#tma #the magnus archives #jaisy week #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #before tag

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ginkgomoon · 3 years ago

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Cyril- Character Analysis

This post was based on an ask made a while ago concerning Hypnos’ character. I personally think his appearance enhanced the development of the game for the Winter World chapters, additionally with the depth of MC’s character. Hopefully this post will help clarify some things in relation to who he is and why he is important to the game’s progression. Please enjoy his well-deserved character analysis post. And yes- lots of spoilers! Please don’t read if you don't want to be spoiled on future content from Chapters 19+.

“This is the world you wanted.”

Hypnos first appears in the Epilogue of Chapter 19, when MC escapes her dream (the one with the separate routes of the guys) and begins to enter the Winter World through Black Cabin.

A soft hue appeared amidst this world of frozen white. A handsome, elegant young man walked towards me from the mist. Snow fell upon him, but as if he was protected by some force, none stuck on him. For a moment, I felt that this person looked really familiar, but it was someone I’ve never met. His eyes seemed detached, yet full of pity.

“This world’s pretty interesting, don’t you think?”

I did not sense any direct threat from him, but I was also unable to let my guard down.

“Is this not the world you wanted? You were aware of it long ago. No need to go on deceiving yourself.”

His tone was peaceful, but there was a chill to it that made me shiver.

“In this world, time’s been frozen. Everything you fear hasn't taken place. It was not I who made this world, but you. Everything you have experienced is a product of that which you yearn for the most. If everything could start over, if life could return to normal, if none of this had occurred...”

He saw into my heart effortlessly, tearing down each fragile wall I’d made with each word that he spoke.

The man’s gentle expression turned cold. His smile faded into subdued indifference.

“You think everything you’ve experienced is fake? Everything is real. Everyone in this world had sunken into the same dream. We will forever remain in a dream land.”

The man chuckled gently. Snow and wind blurred his form, blurring my vision. -Chapter 19 (Epilogue)

Some people would probably have the reaction of ??? and others would think he’s a new love interest HAHA.

It’s clear that this section of the chapter does not give much insight into his character, his name or who he is all. But, we can (hopefully) tell from what we are given, that he will play an important role in the future since he has an actual VA, and is (quite confusingly) going on about “the world that she wanted”. Though, this will be all cleared up later. From here, he makes small appearances in the next few chapters, which helps foreshadow and gradually help set the final showdown to conclude the Winter World.

While my mind wandered, I accidentally ran into someone in the corner. Even more unluckily, as I retreated backwards I stepped on a slick patch of ice, almost sending me sprawling.

“Careful.”

A light laughter fell on my ears. Before I could react, I was caught by the person I bumped into.

“Are you okay?”

I looked up and was met with a pair of gentle green eyes. A handsome face filled my vision. For an instant, I felt that he was familiar, and the sight of an ice-covered world seemed to appear before me. He gracefully let go of my wrist in a gentlemanly manner, stepped back to a more appropriate distance. -Chapter 20-17

A man walked out onto a rooftop covered with snow and held out his hand, catching a snowflake falling from the sky. The snowflake in his palm turned into an exquisite, white robin with its eager wings spread as if escaping a prison and flying into the sky.

He looked down from on high, surveying the city blanketed in dazzling white snow, a faint smile on his face.

“Truly something to look forward to- a long cold winter.” -Chapter 21-25

At this point, we still don’t even know who this man is. Or if he even has a name! But finally, the chapter after reveals a little bit more to help us come to somewhat of a conclusion about his character.

Chapter 22-5

The automatic vending machine behind me kept repeating the same sentence. I turned around to find that the machine wasn't on the fritz- there was actually someone continually trying to make a payment. I couldn't help but go over to see if they needed help.

A pair of eyes clear as glass turned on me. Although there was a gentle look in his eyes, there was a subtle feeling of distance.

I suddenly recognised that face! It was that famous piano player- Cyril!

MC: “Excuse me, do you need help?”

A hint of warmth suffused his cold eyes, as he gestured in frustration at the vending machine.

Cyril: “Just want to buy a bottle of water, but I don’t know how to use these machines.”

(*Intense vending machine purchase in process*)

Instead, I decided to just point at the app on my own phone and give him a brief explanation, afraid that I would miss my bus.

MC: “This time, I’ll buy for you. This is the one you want?”

Cyril: “Right, thanks.”

When I accidentally brushed against his long, slender fingertip, there wasn’t even a hint of warmth.

MC: “Your hand is ice cold. How about I buy a warm drink for you?”

He seemed a little hesitant, but he gave a slight nod and accepted my proposal with a smile.

The drink thunked down into the dispenser, and before I could react, he already bent down and retrieved the bottle and mine from the machine.

When he extended the drink to me, I realised that at the bottom, there were two kinds of paper, which appeared to be tickets of some kind.

I lifted them up and carefully looked at them. They were tickets to an upcoming and very sold out piano tour. Moreover, this was for the final VIP performance aboard the HMS (Abbreviated for “Her Majesty’s Ship”) Victoria.

He may not look like it, but he’s actually quite a warm, kind person.

The silver haired man watched as the bus drove away, and the drink in his hand turned solid ice without him noticing.

As snow drifted down around him, a faintly perceptible smile formed on his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

We find out that the young man’s name is Cyril, a famous piano player. During this exchange, Cyril is taking his time to observe MC and how she’s responding to the Winter World. He appears to be genuinely surprised about MC’s display of kindness, even though she’s been tossed out by the men most important to her, and into a foreign world wreaked of havoc.

He lets MC purchase the warm milk tea for him, and they both talk about the most mundane things ever. This may seem like just filler conversations, but actually holds importance because it actually influences how he views the world and MC in the future.

Cyril then uses this chance to extend his invitations to his sold out piano performance on the HMS Victoria. MC thinks he’s “quite a warm, kind person”- to which, we will find out if she’s wrong later. We also can confirm that he is an Evolver as we watch him turn his drink into solid ice, as well as the same man who was left unidentified in the previous chapters.

Chapter 23-13

??: “At this point, we’re all certain that the one behind this “Eternal Winter” is one of our former members.”

??: “Another traitor?”

??: “One with the power to traverse time and construct dreamscapes. There's only one that it could be.”

??: “The traitor code-named Hypnos?”

With those words, a deathly stillness fell over the air, as if some indescribable darkness had stolen into the room.

True name: Unknown. Age: Unknown. Evol: Time travel, dream construction.

Pitifully few clues to go on, not even a single photograph.

Was that person who trapped me in that dream and the traitor the same? If it was true that everything before happened on another world’s timeline, then does that mean this person had jumped through into this world timeline?

??: “Just what is he planning to do?”

??: “Whatever it is, since he’s a traitor to the organisation, it’s bound to be contrary to our goals. We must put a stop to him.”

??: “Continue the investigation. We must find the satellite coordinates. We cannot let him interfere with our plan.”

If this mystery mastermind had such powerful abilities, then what chance do I have at stopping him?

The hexagonal crystal symbol wasn't a major part of their discussion, but it stuck a faint chord with a hazy part of my memory. I finally remembered- that ticket to the concert!

They consider this powerful Evolver- Hypnos, a traitor to Black Swan and the individual behind the Eternal Winter incident. But nobody knows what he looks like. However, MC notices that the hexagon design is seen similar to the tickets that Cyril gave to her for his performance on the HMS Victoria. She now knows that Cyril is Hypnos, then realises that the satellite launch isn’t on land, but on sea. She knows how to stop the winter from spreading.

Here we automatically assume that he’s another Black Swan bad-guy-turned-traitor. What is his true goal? And why does it have to be that handsome piano player, out of all people?

Chapter 24-5

Before we could enter the main hall and check out the situation, a sonorous piano melody was belated through the ship’s speakers over that whole patch of sea.

The gentle tune formed an invisible yet unbreakable net in the air. Everyone in proximity to it became the piano music’s prisoner, unable to escape.

I felt a strong feeling of drowsiness. I tried to stop it but it seemed to have already gotten into my veins. Every cell in my body reverberated with it.

Everyone in the hall was swaying like soulless puppets, and on the stage, Cyril held his eyes slightly closed as he played the last requiem for them.

Chapter 24-7

MC travels to confront him on his ship, and watches him entrance people with his piano playing. This is how he got his code-name “Hypnos”. (Similar to how Kiro can charm and control people). Thankfully, Helios appears, his Evol is powerful enough to command MC to escape this.

“Why can’t a lie... be a good thing, too? Is this not the world you wanted?”

An anonymous voice seeped into my consciousness, accompanied by a dim, far away sounding piano.

The false warmth swooped in, and exhausted as I was, I chose to accept it.

My hand was originally grasping at air, but just then I distinctly felt the touch of something solid and warm. I could faintly feel someone grabbing onto me tight.

I forced open my heavy eyes, and a familiar outline filled my blurry vision.

“K- Kiro...?”

For a second, I couldn’t tell if I was in a dream or reality. His face was in shadow, and those usually sea blue eyes now flashed golden, as beautiful as the night stars.

He shouted at me, loud enough to hear over the inescapable piano music-

“I command you to awaken!”

Although without a hint of warmth, his eyes were like the first rays of dawn filtering through the curtains, melting away the fanciful dreamworld clouding my brain.

“I’m not like Ares. I don’t care about any Queen. If you want to influence the outcome, you have to do it your own way.”

Cyril still didn't stop playing, and instead kept moving his fingers across the key in a self-satisfied manner. The audience were completely under the spell of his melody, sunken into the deepest depths of a dream.

A black pistol was pointed straight at him, but the enraptured pianist did not let that stop his performance. Helios wasn’t in a hurry either, waiting quietly for the perfect, culminating core for this piece.

Just as the final note was stuck, Helios resolutely pulled back the tigger. A stream of smoke rose from the gun, but Cyril was somehow unharmed, blocked by an invisible force field.

Helios: “You constructed this dreamscape long before.”

Cyril: “I just don’t want this performance to have any interruptions.”

He rose elegantly from his piano bench and took a deep bow toward the hall absent of applause. Then he sauntered off the stage and looked at me.

Cyril: “You finally came.”

Chapter 24-9

Cyril: “Thank you for teaching me how to use the vending machine.”

I didn't expect him to speak up first, much less did I expect him to bring up that. As if we weren’t staring into the upcoming apocalypse, but just another utterly normal day.

Cyril: “It was you who showed me a different side of life. Although I still think, milk tea tastes better iced.”

MC: “But that doesn’t mean you have to wipe out the people who prefer drinking it hot.”

Cyril: “I think you misunderstood me. Just like you, I love this world. I love the complexity and uncertainty humanity has brought to it. I just think, it just doesn't have to move so fast.”

The smile he had showed- made me believe that from the bottom of his heart, everything he did was to make the world better, and that he should not recover any blame or interference from anyone.

Cyril: “Before one fully understands oneself, power beyond control can only be dangerous. Just like if I were to ask you now, do you truly understand yourself? How would you answer?”

He chuckled at my inability to respond.

The thoughts in his heart were hidden beneath a glacier, and all it showed on the surface was the very tip of it, preventing me from ever getting a clear idea of what he was thinking.

Cyril: “I’ve prepared a little gift for this kind of world.”

A giant steel tower shot upwards and stood tall between the water and sky. The satellite launch tower!

Cyril took hold of my hand and causally moved the key from his own hand. Before I had time to stop him, I saw crystal clear ice form at his fingertips. Pure and unblemished, but also dead. Just like this world before us.

Cyril: “Isn’t this a nice way to end things? This. Is the world you want.”

He then hands MC to press the button for him, then freezes the key to the Black Cabin. Cyril here genuinely believes that what he is doing is good for MC, as he uses the satellite launch platform from the ocean to spread the “Eternal Winter”- the “perfect world”.

Black Swan still pursues evolution of all humanity, but Cyril doesn’t agree with their methods. He knows MC is the Queen and thinks that in this Winter World, this is how she will only grow- without those she loves- if she had not known the boys and everyone she cares about. "If none of those things in the original world had occurred..."

What Hypnos stated reminds me of the Winter World Helios and what he said from when he saved her in Chapter 21.

“The weak should learn to survive on their own. No one will help them. Do everything you can, by fair means or foul. Give up everything in your past… even yourself. If you can’t do that, then go back to the world you came from.”

Which is a little nice touch because Helios appears to save her again with his Evol- but this time, MC is saving the world in her own way. She is not identifying with QUEEN first- but as herself. She had seen and been through so much pain to grow her mental and emotional strength to persevere and save this world with her kindness and love for humanity. MC, herself, has evolved.

Chapter 24-10

Cyril: “Not going to give the button to the launch a push? Perhaps you’ve forgotten, this is only my dream. Any decision you make here won't affect the outside world. Aren't you at least curious? The perfect world I wanted.”

What is the meaning of existence in a world of unrealistic perfection!?

MC: “If I do that, wouldn’t I be like an ostrich, sticking my head into the sand?”

Cyril: “If people found the perfect pile of “sand”, who knows if they’d stick with reality- and choose not to escape? After all, in reality, no one can predict what's going to happen from second to second. But in a perfect dream, everything always unfolds exactly as people desire.”

MC: “I can’t answer that for others. But it shows that the decision for how to answer should be left for each individual person.”

Cyril: “The way I see it, those who have no ability to judge never had the right to choose in the first place.”

Naturally, traitor though he was, he was still like others in Black Swan, holding a disdain for normal people, deep in his bones. When he rebelled against wasn't the thinking of the organisation, but their methods. But no matter which method of theirs it was, they all wanted to force their ideology on the whole world.

Did the world really need their brand of reason? Did humanity really need their idea of progress?

Everything in existence follows its own, original path, with absolutely no need for human intervention. And what I had to do was to maintain this balance.

I abruptly placed the remote back in his hand and told him my final decision.

It’s clear that Cyril doesn’t have that much experience with normalcy or identifies with at least humanity. He believes that it’s better to ignore reality and to live in a dream without the memories of the past or mourn the loss of others. Frozen without emotions, pain, or progress- the “perfect world”.

Chapter 25-4

After MC accepts her QUEEN identity, she finally uses that power to unite all timelines ultimately defeating Cyril, then returns back to the original world. Weirdly, he appears in front of her when she wakes up.

Cyril: “I believed I warned you long ago, no matter what world it is, it doesn't make much of a difference. You assume too much. In this world, I am just like you, a normal person. Think of it… as the price I’ve paid. My choice… was made for you. You were growing too slowly. Maybe that world was best suited for you after all. Too bad, you were too muddled to realise it. This world may soon experience a change, and it’s the kind of change that has nothing to do with you.

Time Subway

Time Subway takes place before Cyril leaves, after MC is hospitalised in Chapter 32. It reveals more about MC’s power and spiritual connection to Loveland City, the rest of the worlds and their timelines.

They meet on the train, though MC can’t remember meeting Cyril before. His piano music continues to play as the train moves backwards. (And that’s the thing about the subway- the train goes in cycles to each station, to the memories and worlds MC has previously lived in.)

Chapter 5

MC: “This train is really strange. It’s going backwards.”

Cyril: “Does the direction really matter? Though, I’ve never been on a subway train. Perhaps, there are a few imperfections.”

MC: “How did you get on the train?”

Cyril: “Same as you, I guess.”

MC: “Do you know where this train is going?”

Cyril: “To a place you want to be. So embrace your imagination. Think of everything you ever wanted. Eventually we will arrive at the perfect ending you’ve longed for.”

Chapter 6

MC: “I feel like I’m forgetting something. My memory has been foggy ever since I boarded this train.”

Cyril: “You do know me. You have to recall those memories on your own. Do you want to remember everything? Or, do you prefer to give up the past and start again right here?”

Cyril seemed to be hinting something, I felt that he’d always use such implicit language, but I couldn't remember when…

Chapter 7

Somehow this train gave me a sense of security. I could feel a familiar resonance between us. As if it was closely linked to me in the first place.

A thought slowly came to my mind, maybe I could decide on its direction at some point in time.

MC: “Why do you want me to go to the past?”

Cyril: “Back to when everything hadn’t taken place, isn’t that what you wanted? I’m only doing this for you. Sorry I didn’t ask for your permission. But you’ll be my best work.”

Chapter 8

Cyril: “This world belongs to you. My power doesn’t work here. I’m nothing more than a normal person in the real world. I’m going to use my power one last time. And this will be my final work. A perfect world is still what I’m after. It was you who broke free from the world I created. You showed me my limit. Indeed, the power triggered by your emotion outshined my skills. That’s why I chose your spiritual world, as the raw material of my final work.”

MC: “So this is just an infinite cycle within my spiritual word, isn’t it?”

Cyril: “I won’t say you are wrong. In this train, you can choose any stop and choose any exit you want. When you step out, this world becomes more complete. Meanwhile, this dream will continue the everlasting cycle, which is also your karma.”

MC: “So do I stay here?”

Cyril: “You can choose to leave… if you have the power to battle yourself. If you leave, this world will continue to exist all independent from all time space.”

MC: “How do I leave?”

Cyril: “You have to discover that for yourself.”

MC: “...Cyril, I need to go. If there’s really a perfect world you want, just take this world as my gift to you.”

Cyril: “I see, thank you... If only you could eventually put an end to this cycle.”

Chapter 32-1

Cyril- “I came to say goodbye.”

MC: “All that stuff that happened to me after losing my Evol has something to do with you. Starting from when “I ran into you” on the train, it was all a part of your plan.”

He smiled slightly, met my hostile gaze without a hint of displeasure. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t admit it either. There was an undercurrent of tension to the stillness, but also some unusual and subtle peace.

This pianist… I’ve never seen anyone so out of touch with the world.

MC: “The vending machine, the scammer in the square, thorns on a flower, you don’t have much experience with everyday things, do you?”

Cyril: “However, it really has been a long time since anyone’s talked with me about such things.”

I may have been imagining it, but I seemed to detect a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

MC: “Just what are you after, coming here to see me like this?”

As he spoke, he reached out and put his hand at the back of mine. His fingers were ice cold.

But in this brief moment, a flurry of images flashed before my eyes.

Four white walls, an empty room, a triangular piano of translucent crystal placed in the corner. The figure of a man gradually emerged before the piano bench.

His thin graceful fingers danced daintily across the keys as snowflakes fell upon him and settled undisturbed.

That gentle piano melody reverberating in the shadows also came out as a muttered groan from the girl as pain hit her.

Suddenly, the piano playing intensified, the tempo building to a frenzy like a subway train rattling through a tunnel.

I saw a boy get up from the piano, walk to the front of the stage, and take a bow to the thunderous roar of applause.

The scene shifted. The boy was once again standing in the gloomy storm, holding a white rose to his chest, listening in silence to a priest delivering a eulogy.

??: “Keep playing, Little Cyril. Use your power and help Mummy make the perfect world.”

Cyril: “A perfect world… I’ve got it.”

I saw his past, present and future. I saw the boy slowly growing up and playing that final melody in the centre of a frozen plain. He played tirelessly, as if he’s trapped inside in a world of memory.

Cyril: “Can you tell me what you saw?”

In those crystal clear eyes, I saw my own expression, and there was an ineffable expression of sadness to them.

MC: “Is a perfect creation… really that important?”

Cyril’s eyes were flat, like the negative space in an ink wash painting.

Cyril: “The sad fact is that they will never be able to achieve it.”

MC: “But absolute perfection doesn’t exist. Everything has blemishes and faults. But that doesn’t mean that they’re not good enough, and it certainly doesn’t mean that they don’t have a right to exist in this world.”

Cyril: “Perhaps. You’ve certainly proven that point yourself. One final thing before I go, of course, you can choose not to believe it. Perfection has never been an illusion; everything in this world has a singular, perfectly-suited exit. Although, I think you already found it.”

MC: “Where are you going?”

Cyril: “A world that belonged to you, but now belongs to me. Thank you for the world you’ve given me, and the interesting memories. And that bubble tea, I quite like the flavour.”

His words fell softly, as if shrouding me in a tranquil, pure white dream.

Upon seeing his past, present and future, all that MC sees is Cyril playing the piano. It turns out, his true motivation for creating the “perfect world” was for his mother when she passed. With MC’s help, he finally admits that it cannot be achieved. He isn’t directly hostile like the other Black Swan members either, and calmly admits his defeat and accepts MC’s decision.

Behind the Curtain- 6 (Chapter 28)

??: “If you want to see it, go. The door being opened will be closed soon.”

The black box grows bigger, and fills the entire vision in black-

Cyril: “Do you know the origin of the name BLACK SWAN?”

I see an elegant young man standing inside a luxury gift shop. There, piano pieces are playing. He looked down at me. The black box reflects in the cool eyes looking a lot like snow.

MC: “Am I inside the box?”

Cyril: “BLACK SWAN” is a word that means an unexpected event. Humans have no way to predict the impact of the event. When I first heard their name, I immediately saw the appeal. I also wanted to be a part of it. But…the majority of them still live in this illusion. Only a few were aware that humanity is ignorant. They can't help me to complete my work.”

While speaking, he pressed the crystal piano keyboard. The jolting sound echoes—

Cyril’s Mum: “With your power, continue this and please show me the perfect world.”

The woman lies on bed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that looked a lot like that boy’s. There’s no strength in them.

Cyril’s Mum: “For one last time, I want to experience the beauty of this world with my whole being. That’s also the reason for your existence.”

The boy then grows up in the snowstorm and turns into an innocent boy. His outline became sharp, becoming an elegant young man.

The snowy wind pushes the window open and surrounds his mother. She then transforms into white snow and suddenly disappears.

The man doesn’t notice the occurring snowstorm, but instead concentrates on the graceful piano playing.

A piece of glass shatters and lands on the piano. The young man engrossed in playing keeps an eye on the keys.

MC: “Look out!”

The piece of glass cuts the young man’s long finger. A line of blood flows, on the skin like ice and snow.

The young man finally stops. As if time had been frozen, the lingering sound of the piano remained in the room covered with heavy snow.

He looks up. Like an innocent puzzled child who touched the piano for the first time, those eyes come into mind.

Cyril: “Who…are you?”

MC: “...who am I?”

Cyril had been stuck all this time within his memory of his promise to his mother- in pursuit of the “perfect world”. His world was biased upon thinking that humanity- even Evolvers, were ignorant and unable to help him achieve his goals. This demonstrates the divide and individuation between each Black Swan member of not being able to work together effectively to achieve the collective goal- of the “New World”.

It was nice to see MC being able to overcome her self-doubt and enter Black Cabin by accepting the QUEEN title in a world so foreign to her. Her hope, love and determination had saved the world again. Cyril played a huge part in this chapter of her life, almost like prepping her for the final prophecy of fate.

And “Doomsday” is coming.

#17 pages #patting myself on the back for this one #mlqc Cyril #mlqc #love and producer #mr love queens choice #恋与制作人 #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc cn #mlqc en #mlqc Hypnos #mlqc spoilers

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

You Weren’t Mine to Lose

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.4K

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of sex, cheating

Summary: You made the mistake of falling in love with someone who was never yours to begin with. What started off as a one night stand turned in to months of sneaking around with each other and devoting most of your time and energy to a man who was already in a relationship. However, the high you get from fooling around with Mark is the only thing that’s been keeping you from going completely insane. But what happens when lust turns to love?

A/N: Hey guys, so I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, I had to get a second job (On top of my teaching job and being a full time college student) so this means I won’t be able to write as much as I normally do (I haven’t even started on my new series just yet and I’m sorry for those who are anticipating it I have no clue when I will actually get around to writing it) but the good news is I have two stories prepared to post within the next few weeks so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you’re all doing well, especially after the news of Yugyeom signing with another company but honestly, I am so happy for him. If all seven of them end up leaving the company entirely, good for them. They deserve so much better than the shit excuse of a company JYPE is and I support each and every single member in all of their endeavors and plans for the future. With that being said, happy reading. (Based on August by Taylor Swift).

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mineYour back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

“Fuck—go faster, please—M—Mark, I need you to go faster—sh—shit shit, just like that.”

Mark Tuan, ever the gentleman did as he was told. However, he would do anything you asked of him during moments like this, God knows he wanted it too. His cock felt so wonderful grazing against your tight, sopping walls. His hardened tip continuously hit the back of your cervix, kissing it with each and every thrust.

The two of you were going at it for almost an hour now; both of you reached your highs after giving each other mind blowing head—but you had yet to come together. You edged him three times, riding him until his cum reached the tip of his cock only to lift yourself off of him, earning you a scowl and the sexiest grunts of frustration.

He left multiple slap marks on your ass; letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you have all power against him. No matter how much fun he’d have whenever you did dominate him and take over the sex session, he wasn’t letting you have all the fun tonight. There was sweat dripping down both your bodies—his entire body was warm with fervor as he continued to leave multiple hickeys along the valley of your breasts.

His breath was hot against your neck as he tried his best to conceal his moans; it was surprising, his room had no echo whatsoever—yet, the many sinful noises falling from his mouth and yours bounced off the walls along with the sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. His thrusts were relentless as he picked up his pace; pumping in to you as if he was trying to punish you for being naughty. His pelvis ramming against your bare cheeks made a loud crack sound each time he pulled out and shoved himself back inside of you.

It was addicting; feeling him bury himself balls deep inside of your pussy, but you were well aware that the sensation had an even bigger effect on him than it did you. Doggy style was Mark’s favorite position right next to watching you bounce up and down on him as your breasts jiggled all but gently. Something about being able to see his cock sliding so easily in to your tight walls drove the older boy fucking crazy.

“Fuck y/n—so fucking tight as always baby. Tell me how it feels—I want to know that I’m driving you insane—“

“Feels—so good Mark—so, so good.”

He hummed contently against the crook of your neck while picking up his pace if it was even possible. At this point, he was practically drilling himself inside of you; it came as a shock that you both still had yet to cum. On other occasions, you and Mark had no problem with reaching your highs with just your hands and mouths alone. Penetration was your favorite part of sex, so you had a feeling your body wanted to indulge in having Mark’s cock inside of your pussy for as long as you could have him for.

“You feel so amazing y/n, I could fuck you for hours. I will never get tired of having your cunt wrapped around my dick. Please—tell me you’re close. I’m about to lose my damn mind here pretty soon.” You giggled softly against his chest; nodding in agreement while placing a few wet kisses near the sensitive spot right below his ear.

“I’m close, so close—“

He bit softly against your collarbone, trying to hide the fact that he was seconds away from losing his will to do anything. You were just that mind blowing. Unfortunately, right as you were about to let the wave of lust consume your entire body like a wildfire, there was a new sound that filled the room. The piercing ring of a cellphone broke you out of your Mark induced haze. T

his wasn’t the first time his phone went off while the two of you were busy loving up on each other’s bodies; there were multiple situations where Mark had to cuss out his friends because they always seemed to try and get in touch with him at all the wrong times. There was even one night where he threw his phone at the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. When you felt Mark tense up at the blaring noise, you had a huge feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line. He looked up at you and released an exasperated sigh before doing the unthinkable. You wanted him to ignore it, just like he did almost every single time, but he tapped gently on your thigh; as if he was nonverbally asking for you to put your late night romp on pause.

“Mark, are you fucking serious—“

“It’ll just be a minute, tops. I promise. No funny business, please.”

To your dismay, he reached for his phone and answered the call. It was tempting—the idea of palming his naked sex, fondling his balls or even grinding your wet folds against his thigh—you knew you would get some kind of reaction out of him. Mark was a very sensitive person; physically and mentally. It didn’t take much for him to cry; emotionally and sexually.

He cried in front of you more times than you could count on your fingers. Whether it was because of a sad movie, when school could get a little too much for him to handle or the time he got the news that his grandfather was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, he didn’t hesitate to pour out his feelings in front of you. You felt special knowing that you were one of the very few people who’d get to see that side of Mark; his soft, gentle, fragile side. Not the confident, overbearing and egotistical asshole he’d portray himself out to be on campus.

During the times you would find yourself on your knees, milking him dry of his white, creamy liquid and making sure his legs would wobble by the end of the night, he’d always cry out in pleasure while begging you to do something—anything to help soothe the pleasurable soreness you caused to his lower body. You knew you’d be treading in rough waters if you did tease him in any way while he was on the phone with her, but you were coming to the point where you didn’t even care if she were to find out anymore.

“Hello? Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

You laughed sarcastically in disbelief—what was so important that couldn’t wait a few more minutes? Something had to be wrong with Mark—who in their right mind would put a halt on fulfilling their carnal urges just to answer the damn phone? You rolled your eyes in irritation—it’s because she was the one trying to get in touch with him. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Aubrey.

You never understood why Mark continued to fool around with you when he had a girlfriend. What started off as a one night stand at a house party one of his friends threw a little over five months ago turned in to a dangerous affair between the two of you. For the longest time, you knew nothing of the girl in question; Mark was really good at hiding her existence.

He never told you that he was in a relationship, you didn’t see her at any party or gathering nor did you get a chance to see her around school. But that was because she was his girlfriend from back home. He only saw her during breaks or if she flew up to see him, but for most of their relationship—they were long distance. That was the only plausible reason you believed he allowed this relationship or whatever it was between the two of you to continue.

One day, you were playing games on Mark’s phone when she sent him a message, asking him what he was doing. At first, you just assumed it was a friend of his or maybe even a classmate, but then, she told him that she missed him and told him to call her when he had the chance. You confronted him in anger; sure, you found it completely weird that he continued to see you—especially for more than just sex. The two of you couldn’t even be considered fuck buddies—no, not when you’d go to sleep wrapped tightly in his warm embrace only to wake up in the morning to his signature gummy smile and stinky morning breath.

You’d go on cute little dates—or what you assumed were dates. He’d hold your hand and compliment you on your beauty and whatever outfit you put together that day. He’d call you if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pick you up from and drop you off to school, he’d cook you food if he noticed that you were tired and he even made a playlist of songs that reminded him of you; albeit, most of them were meant for when the two of you would stumble in to bed together, but it also contained songs that were more heartfelt and romantic.

You had a hard time understanding why you were letting him continue to use you. You hated cheaters with a passion; you’ve seen homewreckers ruin multiple marriages within your family and the idea of someone in a relationship fooling around with another person made your skin crawl—yet here you were, fucking with another girl’s boyfriend. You went against all your beliefs and every single rule you were taught to follow just for the devastatingly handsome and sweet talking man sitting right in front of you.

Honestly, you felt bad for his girlfriend. It was obvious that Mark meant a lot to her. She would constantly text him and send him pictures of what she’d be eating or if she went somewhere the two of them used to frequent. You felt horrible; Aubrey seemed like such a sweet girl and she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was someone else involved in Mark’s life. There were so many times you wanted to call it quits with Mark, you couldn’t keep fooling around with him considering the fact that he had someone at home who loved him—almost as much as you did.

When you first found out that you weren’t the only one, you should have told him it was over. You should have told him that you weren’t the kind of person who was fine with committing adultery nor did you want to be the other woman—you were a firm believer in monogamous relationships but you didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he began to leave wet, sloppy kisses all along your jaw. You were in deep and you despised the fact that you were so hooked on to him. Mark was everything you could ever want in a significant other; not only was he the most attractive man you have ever laid your eyes on, but he was soft-spoken and gentle towards you.

At school, he was a cocky prick; his group of friends were some of the most popular guys at your university. It seemed as though every student either wanted to be them, be friends with them or to be with them. But when the two of you were alone, his demeanor would take a 360 degree turn. Sometimes, you’d find it hard to believe that he had two personalities; one meant for his friends and everyone he associated himself with and another one meant for you and only you. It got you thinking though, how did he act when he was with Aubrey?

Did he treat her the way he did you? Was he protective over her? Could she make him laugh the way you seemingly never failed to? Did he get flustered by a single smile or graze of her fingers against his arm? Was he constantly checking up on her to see how her day was going? He hardly ever talked to her when the two of you were together and seeing as how most of your free time was spent with him, you wondered when he had the chance to call her.

There were only two instances where he answered her phone call when you were hanging out together. He always gave you an apologetic frown while taking the call and it was when you heard him tell her that he loved her that you knew, you were in love with him. It felt like a painful jab to the chest—for months, you’ve been lying to yourself.

I don’t love him, I just love who I am when I’m with him. I love how he takes such good care of me and how he fucks me so well.

You’d repeat those words to yourself every single time that you’d get to see him. With every kiss he’d steal from the corner of your mouth or every smile and look of adoration he’d send your way, you began to feel something deep in your chest. Whenever he’d drop you home, you always felt so empty—like a piece of you went with him back to his place.

Mark Tuan owned your heart; there was no doubt about it. You’ve been with quite a few guys in the last three years of college but none of them could ever make you feel as over the moon or as elated the way Mark so easily did. He made you so happy; your heart rate would increase rapidly just by the mere sight of him. His laughter—his high pitched, contagious laugh always seemed to send fire through your veins. For months, you tried to accept the fact that all you would ever be to Mark was a place to put his cock while he was away from his actual significant other.

Maybe, he was only kind, affectionate and generous towards you because it was the only way to get you to stay by his side. If it were anyone else in your shoes, they probably would have given up on him once it was revealed that he was already in a relationship.

How did he not feel even the smallest ounce of guilt rearranging your guts; pressing you up against his balcony and fucking you in to the next week knowing that his girlfriend was waiting patiently for him to graduate so they could finally be together? And how could he not feel remorse considering the fact that he brought you in to this mess? He was selfish; that you felt wholeheartedly was true. If he cared about you or Aubrey, he would have either broken up with her as soon as the two of you found yourselves falling in to bed together the first time, or he would have never even cheated on her in the first place. How could he continue this facade? How was he fine with playing not just his girlfriend, but you too? He probably didn’t think you held any romantic feelings for him and God—if only that was the truth.

If you had the choice, you would go back to the beginning of your arrangement and made it your mission to have never fell in love with him. You would have made yourself immune to his endless flirting, you wouldn’t let yourself kiss him other than when you would have sex, you would have made sure that what went on with you and him was strictly physical. No feelings—No emotions—nothing. It was only natural for you to have felt something for him. If you knew back then what you currently know now, you would have never allowed him in to your life—in to your heart.

You would have never let him tear down the walls you’ve built so high in attempts to keep people out. You would have never allowed him to take up your entire mind—you wouldn’t have given him your body if he wasn’t willing to take all of you. Who were you kidding? There was no regretting Mark Tuan. Even if you were given the chance to go back to the past, you wouldn’t change a thing. Mark Tuan was your person, whether you wanted to accept it or not. He was the rightful owner of your heart, even if you didn’t own his. You couldn’t really hear what she was saying over the phone, but Mark’s brows began to furrow; as if something bad happened.

Since he was distracted, you took this time to pull away from him—retracting his cock from your now dry folds. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you would rather die than give him a reason to inflate his ego. He’d have a field day if he found out that you were in love with him; that was the last thing you needed—the last thing he deserved. You would always come second to Audrey. He might have currently been in bed with you; his limbs tangled with yours—running his hands through your hair, tracing the outline of your features feather lightly, kissing every corner of your face, but at the end of the day, Aubrey had the rightful title of his girlfriend. Not you. Nor would it ever be you, even if they did break up one day.

If Mark saw you as someone with more than just a casual fuck to him, then he would have solidified your relationship months ago. If he harbored any sort of feelings for you, he’d feel wrong telling another girl that he loved her. Did he though? Did he love her? If he genuinely loved her or at least cared for her—especially because they were in a relationship together, he would never have cheated on her.

When you love someone, you never want to put them in any kind of situation that would hurt them and you most definitely wouldn’t feel right giving yourself—your time, love, effort and energy to anyone else but that person. As soon as he saw you getting up from off the bed, he asked Aubrey to wait a minute and gave her the excuse that someone rung on his doorbell. You had to force yourself not to say or do anything that would get him in trouble with his girlfriend.

“What are you doing? I said I’d be hanging up with her soon I’m literally about to end the call—“

“Don’t bother—I’m no longer in the mood anymore so you go finish up with her while I finish myself off.”

You picked up your clothes from where they were thrown on the ground and headed over to the bathroom; locking the door before he could try and stop you or get you to change your mind. In the corner of your eye, you could see him attempt to follow you, but he must’ve stopped altogether once you shut the door.

A choked up sob fell from your lips and you tried so hard to prevent any tears from falling, but it was inevitable. Why did you let this go on for so long? Mark was breaking your heart more and more as the days went on and you were the pathetic fool who continued to allow him in doing so. You were wrapped around his finger and there was nothing you could do about it. As soon as you put on all your clothes, you rinsed your face free of any tears and took a deep breath before returning outside.

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment. You needed some time to think out this entire arrangement. The idea of losing Mark—no longer having him in your life, no longer being able to kiss his pretty lips, to be held in his protective embrace, to hear him whisper sweet nothings while he passionately made love to you, it broke your heart. It was as if he had somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome hold on you. He was ruining you mentally; he was holding you captive and you weren’t able to leave him—nor did you willingly want to. At this point, you were fine with Mark taking advantage of your patience. All you wanted was him; in anyway you could have him.

Once you felt like you gave yourself enough time to breathe and recollect your thoughts, you hesitantly made your way back in to his room and you were secretly hoping he’d still be occupied with Aubrey so you didn’t have to worry about him stopping you and questioning what just happened. If this were to happen in the beginning of your affair, you wouldn’t have let it got to you and you were sure you’d continue from where the two of you left off from; but now that there were feelings involved—specifically your feelings, there was no way you could pretend that nothing was wrong. That—you were fine with being a side chick who would drop anything and everything just to be at his beck and call. You were sure you’d spill everything; knowing the kind of person you were, you would probably tell him how and when your feelings of lust turned in to love and how you respected yourself a lot more now to continue staying with someone who technically belonged to another woman.

He might not have seen her in a long while, but he continued to act like everything was fine between them. Not once has he ever told you exactly what she meant to him—she hardly ever came up in conversation. It’s as if he never wanted to bring her up and you understood that it was because Mark was well aware that as someone who was sleeping around with him, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about his girlfriend. To your dismay, he was no longer on the phone and he was sitting at the edge of the bed—still naked and waiting for you to come out.

Right as his gaze landed on you, he leaped up from off the bed and made a beeline toward you. He tried to reach out to you, but you shook your head—you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You were exhausted; he continued to take, take, take from you and although he was very generous in bed, he didn’t give the same amount of devotion in a romantic aspect. He didn’t fulfill your heart’s desires like he did with your lustful ones.

“Where are you going baby—“

“Don’t. Don’t give me that baby shit Mark, you just got off the phone with your girlfriend for heaven’s sakes. I think it would be best for the both of us if I were to leave before I say or do something I will regret.”

“Wait—what are you even saying? What happened y/n? Why do you sound so upset? You knew exactly what you were signing up for as soon as we hooked up—“

You let out a scoff of disbelief. Was he being real right now? It was too late, you were going to let everything out tonight. If he ended up not reciprocating your feelings, then there was nothing you could do. These last six months opened your eyes to the reality that you were never going to mean as much to Mark the way he did to you. You could try anything; you could fuck him as much as both your time and energy permitted you to. You could do whatever it was he asked of you, but it would never be enough. You would never be enough.

There was something Aubrey had that you didn’t; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it—it couldn’t have been because they have a longer history. Maybe he felt obligated to continue staying with her. Although you knew Mark like the back of your hand—you knew practically every little thing about him, there had to be some information that he left you in the dark about. Maybe their parents were friends and he just wanted to please the both of them by staying with her or maybe he genuinely liked her, but he had his desires that needed to be fulfilled and he was going to use you until they could finally be together again.

“I didn’t know anything you asshole! You kept Aubrey a secret from me for an entire fucking month. I shouldn’t have told you I was okay with continuing whatever it is that’s going on between you and I. It’s not fucking fair Mark, to her or to me. We were fucking when your girlfriend called! Does it not bother you in the least way that you’re playing the both of us? Do you not sit back and think that what you’re doing is wrong? Yes, I’m sleeping around with a man in a relationship, but you’re the one allowing it! You’re just as at fault here, so don’t try to make it seem like you’re not doing anything wrong! Admit it, you get off on some kind of high knowing that you have the ability to manipulate two different women. One who you call your girlfriend and one who you call when you need to get your dick wet. I don’t know who you think you are Mark, but I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of giving you the ability to break me—to do whatever you want with me. I let it go all these months; I know it was wrong and I feel like such a bitch for getting involved with you knowing you have a girlfriend. I made a vow to myself never to do such a thing but look Mark—I’m a fucking mistress! I can’t blame you completely because I’m still here, but I need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. With this—with you. Have a nice life, I no longer want to be apart of it.”

You quickly grabbed your bag from his bedside table and stormed out of his room—if he were to come after you and attempt to sweet talk you in to staying; at his apartment and in his life, you would’ve gave in to him and that powerful speech you just poured your heart in to would have all been for nothing. As much as you wanted to rid him from your thoughts entirely and say that you felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from off your shoulders, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when you realized he wasn’t chasing after you. But then again, this was what you wanted—your heart could no longer handle the fact that he didn’t care for you or love you the way you practically gave him your entire being.

You would have done anything for the older boy—you were well aware of that and so was he; but allowing him to play with your emotions all the while leading you on was something you refused to let continue. From the time you were a little girl, you were extremely insecure about every single little feature on your body; your bushy eyebrows, your chubby cheeks, your sharp nose that you believed was too big, your crooked teeth and short neck. You also didn’t like the fact that you were only 5”2—you felt like people didn’t take you seriously because you were so tiny. However, over the course of your arrangement with Mark, you didn’t know how you did it—but you fell in love with everything you believed you hated about yourself.

Unfortunately, you knew Mark had a lot to do with it. He praised your body on a daily basis, like it was his duty to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you were and how your body was handcrafted by Leonardo DaVinci himself. During your sexual activities; whether it was when he’d find himself with his face buried in your cunt, or if he had you pressed up against the counter, he never failed to compliment you on how soft your skin was, how insane your curves were and how he truly believed you were God’s favorite with how amazing your body was.

Only then did it hit you—Mark only ever seemed to compliment you when his dick was deep inside of you or right after the two of you reached euphoria together. You had to accept it—you were just a fuck buddy, a play thing—someone to help him relieve stress and find pleasure through. When you reached your car, you sat in it and cried for a few moments; allowing everything to come out.

It was hysterical; less than an hour ago, you were crying out of frustration because he kept fucking you with his fingers but refused to fill you with his length until you begged him to do so. Now, your sobs were filling up your entire vehicle all because you couldn’t let your affair to continue anymore. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand. You put so much effort in to something so pathetic all for a boy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you—a stupid, egotistical, manipulative, selfish asshole. You wanted to wait until you were completely calm and free of any more tears before you began to drive back to your apartment.

Did all of that really just happen? What were you going to do now? There was no way you could just pretend like he was nothing to you. Six months of memories; kissing him in bathrooms that was hardly ever used at your university, singing along to Disney movies, helping each other with homework, attempting to cook meals that either of you saw on food network and ultimately failing, driving to another state on a whim just because you needed a break from life—every single beautiful moment spent with him was forever etched in to the back of your mind.

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart; he was the reason why it would flutter and rapidly beat as much as it would sink and tear apart by the smallest mistake or argument. You continuously repeated to yourself that this was what you needed—you needed to let him go sooner or later or else he would end up breaking you completely; until you were a shell of nothing.

Two weeks went by since that night and you could honestly say they were the worst two weeks of your entire life. You weren’t even exaggerating—you were miserable beyond belief. Mark hasn’t tried to get in contact with you at all since you stormed out of his apartment and with every swig you took of whatever alcohol beverage you drank in order to take your mind off of the man in question, you attempted to coerce yourself in believing that this is what you wanted.

This is what was best for you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though; sure, you told him that you were done with him and you no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, but he gave up so easily. It felt like a slap in the face by reality that your biggest worries were true—he had no legitimate feelings for you; just lust. He could get anyone he wanted to take your place; you were just another useless body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find out that he told his friends about you and what the two of you have been doing for the last few months.

His group of friends were notorious for having a group chat that they would brag about all of their hookups. You were so tempted to reach out to him and the multiple amounts of alcohol you’d consume would only make you crave his presence a lot more. Some days were better than others and by better, you didn’t cry as much and you actually would get some sleep. Why did you allow this to happen?

Anyone who knew anything about friends with benefit relationship were well aware that it could never be just sex. Things always got messy; one person fell in love while the other didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. In this case, you were the poor unfortunate soul who got the short end of the stick—you fell in love knowing that your feelings would never be reciprocated. It was heartbreaking; the first time you ever loved someone—it just so happened to be a person that was never yours in the first place. Once you were to move on from Mark completely, you were afraid that you would never be able to love anyone else.

This entire arrangement ruined your outlook on love permanently. You had to force yourself not to try and reach out to him—there was a point where you even hid your phone because you were afraid you’d give in and call him. He obviously didn’t care—losing you wasn’t a loss to him at all. Not if you never meant anything to him in the first place. Your friends tried to reach out to you multiple times throughout your emotional episode; it wasn’t like you drop off the face of the earth without an explanation. But nobody knew about you and Mark—nor would anyone understand what you were doing with him.

You were still in your early twenties, but you weren’t too young to realize that having an affair was wrong. You’ve known that even when you were a little girl—if your friends or even your family were to find out the mess that you’ve gotten yourself in to, they’d be so disappointed. Every time your phone went off, you held on to a tiny string of hope that it would be Mark trying to get in contact with you. It was too much of you to hope that maybe, just maybe he came to the conclusion that he missed you, that he was nothing without you and that he accepted the thought of loving you. However, it was always your close friends trying to get you to go out with them.

As much as you felt like you should say yes to them and allow yourself to move on by joining in on activities to keep you preoccupied, you didn’t have the strength, energy or desire to do anything at all. At the three week point, you came to accept that Mark wasn’t coming back. He was done with you, and there was nothing you could do about it. When you returned back to school, your friends were on your case—pointing out the fact that you looked like literal death. Claiming that you’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time they saw you and that your cheekbones were more prominent.

They also stated that you looked as though you haven’t slept in days—your eye bags were dark and your eyes were puffier than usual. Like you had done with everyone else in your life; you lied and gave them the excuse that you had some kind of bug and that your doctor told you that it would be best for you to stay bedridden. Thankfully, they bought it—you didn’t need the constant reminder of why you were acting like someone died.

“Hey, I know you don’t care about anyone from Jinyoung’s group of friends, but did you happen to see Mark’s girlfriend yet? She’s here for spring break. She’s so pretty; I don’t understand why she would want to come to a university on her vacation, but maybe she just wants to spend time with her boyfriend no matter what it is that they do. They’re so cute together.”

Everything your best friend was telling you about Mark and Aubrey felt like a punch to the gut. Every single word twisted your heart and you began to grow lightheaded. So that’s why he didn’t come after you that night; maybe she told him she was coming to visit him. He didn’t need you anymore—he’d have someone, his someone in particular to give him his fill. He might have been cheating on her, but you didn’t think he’d be the type to sleep with two different girls at the same time—then again, it would probably raise his confidence levels in such an obnoxious way.

If only your friend knew how much her words were taking over your mind—how much they were ruining you and slowly tearing you apart. You wanted to cry—you felt like screaming to get her to stop. She had no idea about your relationship with Mark, so it wasn’t as though she was trying to make you feel bad. Even if she did know, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt your feelings—although, she would have been upset to hear about your poor choices.

“I—uh—no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes so—I wouldn’t know. Cool. I should get going. I’ve already missed out on so much—I’ll call you later.”

You wasted no time briskly heading to your first class. Honestly, you didn’t even want to go anymore. Coming to school was a mistake—what was another day of missing class? You’ve been doing your work online; there was really no reason to be there other than for attendance purposes. You didn’t feel like you learned anything anyway, so there was really no point at all. You mentally cursed yourself at your negative thoughts—this was all Mark’s fault. Before him, you genuinely enjoyed school.

Your education meant everything to you. Whenever you were assigned homework—you completed it before your next day of class. Some of your professors complimented your on your work ethic and your English professor even asked you to become their TA because you were always so on top of things. Now, you couldn’t wait for school to be over with and you didn’t even care whether or not you passed any of your classes this semester.

Nothing mattered to you anymore and it was so disheartening that you allowed a stupid asshole to have this effect on you. To flip your world upside down and make you hate everything that used to bring you so much joy and contentment. You were busy trying to avoid people in the hallway and you couldn’t care less about whether or not you ended up bumping in to someone. Today was just not your day and if people were smart, they’d stay far away from you.

Your phone began to ring, and when you saw that one of your other friends were trying to get in touch with you, you were debating on answering. Human interaction wasn’t something you wanted to put up with for the rest of your time on campus. Everything was all too much for you to take in. The idea of Mark—introducing Aubrey to everyone as his girlfriend, the risk of seeing them together—kissing, holding hands, hugging, acting sweet to one another, it was messing with your head.

Heard you’re back, if you’re free right now, did you want to get some coffee?

The word no was at the tip of your tongue—you were afraid that you’d give yourself away if you showed any sort of emotion that proved you weren’t sick at all. However, you loved coffee and you were sure it would be the only kind of positivity you’d be able to have at all today so you were going to take what you could get.

It didn’t take too long for you to reach the coffee shop—there were three spread throughout campus, so you made your way over to where your friend said to meet them. You put in your headphones and blasted your playlist of sad songs—most people would try to steer clear of melancholic music while they were going through such a difficult time but it actually brought you peace. Some weird, twisted kind of peace but nonetheless, it helped you cope with the pain that Mark’s sudden absence left on you. The smell of coffee was soon ridding you of your anxiety and you were quick to see your friend towards the back of the shop. She waved you down and you acknowledged her before getting in line to place your order.

“Next in line.”

You gave a soft smile to the barista and gave him your order—going with a large caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso, you were in need of caffeine in the hopes that it would give you enough energy to last through three classes. When you pulled to the side and began to scroll through Instagram, your friend sent you a playful text message about how she was glad that you went with the biggest size, you were definitely going to need it.

“I have a grande matcha latte and a venti iced americano with almond milk for Aubrey—“

Your heart felt as if it was about to combust out of your chest at the sound of her name. Sure, there could have been multiple Aubrey’s on your campus. It wasn’t an uncommon name—but you knew the americano was Mark’s go to beverage. He was lactose intolerant and the first time you went to get coffee together, he told you that americanos helped him stay awake. You didn’t want to look up—you were afraid of seeing her or worse—seeing him.

Life could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe this was your karma for fooling around with someone who was already taken. You couldn’t help it, you lifted your head up to see the girl who owned the heart of the man who owned yours and you ultimately regretted doing so. She was beautiful—there was no doubt about it. No matter how much you wanted to be bitter and say that she was ugly or that you couldn’t understand what Mark saw in her, you knew that was far from the truth. You’ve only seen a few pictures on her Instagram when you accidentally stumbled upon her account one day but her pictures didn’t do her justice at all. Her long brown hair was in big, bouncy waves.

She was wearing a red, summer dress with a pair of heels. You could feel yourself choking up at the sight of her and all her beauty and you began to mentally scold yourself for not putting any effort in to your outfit at all today. But what did it matter? At the end of the day, it was her who got to say that Mark was her person. She got to tell people with confidence that they were a couple while you had to hide behind the cafeteria or shopping malls in the fear of anyone recognizing the two of you.

She grabbed the two drinks and made her way to a table near where your friend was sitting. Out of all the places that she could have decided to meet you, it just had to be the same place that Mark’s girlfriend was currently at all the while waiting for him. Was it too late for you to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t stay for too long? Surely she’d be able to understand right?

There was no way you could be able to withstand being in the same room with the man that ripped your heart from out of your chest and threw it on the ground right in front of you—stepping on it like a used cigarette. That’s all you were to him—a cigarette. You were bad for him—but he was addicted to you and he used you only when it was beneficial to him. Just like the way smoking addicts would turn to cigarettes for stress relief, Mark would come to you for a way to release any pent up frustration and just like when the cigarette burns out and the high is over, you’re thrown to the ground and discarded until he needed another hit.

“Y/n, I have your venti caramel macchiato.”

Your hands were shaking and all the wind was knocked out of you. After politely thanking the barista, you took in a deep breath as you sauntered to the direction of your friend. You began to plan out ways to escape this unfortunate situation you found yourself in. Fate must’ve had something against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that you’d be in the same exact place at the same exact time as the both of them. This was your payback—your punishment and you were just going to have to take it like a big girl.

“Hey y/n. I’m so happy to see you again, although, from what everyone who has seen you has told me so far, you really don’t look too good. Maybe you should have asked your doctor to give you a few more days off—“

“I’m fine, really. I can’t afford to miss out on any more school or else I won’t graduate on time. Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you, inform me on everything I missed.”

As she began to tell you about how her life was going and how much you missed out on so many fun outings, everything she was saying went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your back was facing where Aubrey was sitting. You were sure if you were able to see her, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. Your friend continued to explain the crisis she was experiencing with one of her AP classes and you felt bad for not giving a shit at all. You tried to muster any kind of response and you could tell your “oh really?” and your “that sucks” were completely insincere, but if she noticed anything out of the ordinary—she didn’t say anything.

You didn’t think anything of the chime of the front door, but something in your chest—probably the fact that you grew accustomed to the distinct sound of Mark’s footsteps made it known that he was now there and your suspicions were soon answered when he spoke up.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My professor held us back for five minutes. You weren’t waiting too long were you?” She giggled softly at her apology and it had to be the green monster of jealous on your back that was growing annoyed at the sound.

“No. I just got our drinks. So how was class baby?”

The term of endearment made your skin crawl—baby. You used to call him that; but then again, it was only when you were fucking him. Only once did you ever call him baby other than when you were having your fun together and he never really reacted to it. He must’ve been used to hearing you say it during your many hookups that it was second nature to you. You couldn’t handle staying in the coffee shop for a minute longer—you were afraid that something inside of you would get you to walked over to their table and tell her everything.

Mark didn’t deserve to have a happy ending—not after all that he’s put you through. If you had to suffer, so did he. But you weren’t like that. You weren’t a terrible, heartless person no matter how much you wanted to be. You wanted to hurt him—break him—ruin him the way he so easily did to you. You wanted every single one of his thoughts to be filled with you and how he played you. Your mind was begging you to leave—the last thing you needed was to make a fool out of yourself and who knew? He could pretend that he had no idea what you were talking about and make you seem like the biggest idiot ever.

“Hey, I actually planned on talking to my physics professor about missing assignments so I think I’m going to head out. Sorry about that.” The younger girl shook her head before giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You’re fine! Don’t stay away from us any longer okay? We’re only young once, let’s make the most of what we still can.”

You mirrored her expression and nonverbally agreed before picking up your books and your bag. Right as you said your goodbyes, you abruptly turned around and collided with a body. Not just any body—the body you’ve grown so familiar with in the last half a year. The body that made you feel so safe, so comforted, so happy and so serene. The body you’ve missed more than anything—Mark.

“I’m so sorry I should have looked where I was going—y/n?”

Hearing him say your name again after almost an entire month of not seeing or hearing from him sent you through so many different emotions and you felt like you were on the verge of both throwing up and crying. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to nor did you ever want to get used to it. You just wanted to get the hell out of there. You didn’t even look up at him; your initial instinct would probably be to either punch him or to kiss him and both options would bring you so many problems.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ you attempted to walk away from him; being this close in proximity to him was suffocating. Your chest felt heavy and you were growing nauseous.

“Y/n, I’m sorry—that night—I can explain—“

“There’s nothing for you to explain Mark. I’d watch myself if I were you. Your girlfriend is right over there. You’re not as quiet as you think you are, I don’t even know why you’re talking to me or what you feel the need to explain yourself. What we had is over. You and I are over, so there’s no need—“

“Please, we need to talk. I need to tell you something—“

Now would be a good time to just bring your fist up and force it against his cheek. Did he hear himself? He was gone—he stayed away for weeks. He made you feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t fight for you or your relationship—he didn’t beg you to stay nor did he try to stop you at all. Seeing him right now, you noticed that you were more angry with him than you were missing him. Did he really think that you were going to take him back with open arms as though the last three weeks of hell that you suffered through never happened at all? Did he think you were that stupid and that desperate enough to go crawling back to him with the snap of a finger?

He knew that he had the power to get you to come running to him even if he didn’t try to stop you that night. If you were to tell him why you were so angry with the fact that she interrupted your time with him, he would have seen right through you. If Mark had any kind of common sense, he would be able to pick up on the fact that it had nothing to do about being interrupted during sex. You wanted to laugh sarcastically—his girlfriend was a mere five feet away, he was truly unbelievable.

“Your silence that night spoke volumes for you so I think it’s best if we pretend like what we had never happened at all. You better go return back to her or else she’ll know something is up. I meant what I said when I left you, I no longer want to be apart of your life if my place—my presence isn’t as much of a priority as yours is in mine. Now, before I end up walking over there and telling her exactly who you are and who I was to you, be smart and leave it as it is.”

You shoved passed him and walked out of the shop with so much weight off of your shoulders. Telling him off felt amazing; there was so much more you wish you could have said, but you already felt eyes on the two of you and you didn’t want to bring any more attention to the two of you. You were sure your friend must’ve saw the entire exchange go down and she would most likely have a lot of questions, but you didn’t care about anything at all—your mind was set on going back home.

Sleep sounded so good right now and as much as running away from your problems wasn’t ideal, you deserved some rest. You didn’t even attend one class and you were in more or less words exhausted to the tenth degree. The image of him begging for you to hear him out with just his eyes alone was now imprinted in the back of your mind. Mark was never a man of words—not with you. He preferred using actions and you liked it that way.

But now, those actions were being used against you, not for you. There was something inside of you; pleading for you to hear him out—you knew it was the part that still loved him wholeheartedly. You wanted to give up your pride—you were proud of yourself for standing your ground, but there was a hole in your heart that could only be filled by Mark himself. As you started walking towards your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and it didn’t take a genius to know who might have been texting you.

That was who he was; Mark was insufferable. He was the type who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and if he wanted to talk to you, he was going to do anything and everything in his power to get you to listen. You contemplated taking a glance at your phone for quite some time. It was tempting; what if he decided to just confess everything since you weren’t willing to let him talk to you in person? There was really no harm in looking at his messages; you just weren’t going to respond. If you even sent a simple “back off” you were allowing him to continue sticking around in your life. By not responding at all, you’re giving him an answer.

Getting over him completely was going to take some time, but you owed it to yourself to be released from the confines of Mark’s hold that he had on you. There were so many other men out there; men who didn’t come with baggage. Men who were both physically and theoretically available. Men who would love you—only you. Men you didn’t have to worry about their place in your life or your place in theirs. You bit your lip in anticipation; what was there left for him to say or do after you practically shunned him from your life? He might have believed he wasn’t going to give up this time without a fight; you probably did damage to his ego but your mind was set.

You were done with Mark Tuan, for good.

Mark: I love you and I’m sorry. 11:25 A.M.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark #got7

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bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Bail Out : 07

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 07: Apologies & Decisions

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 10k +

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing and (Surprise!!)

Author’s Note: Haha Long Chapter, Yay! Needed a small break, but I’m back. Hopefully I can post weekly again. Gonna work hard for that cause I love writing this so much. Enjoy!

CHAPTER LIST HERE

In your head, gratitude morphed into the form of Alfred Pennyworth almost a million times whilst you stood before the stainless steel letterboxes in the apartment building lobby. Aside from graciously stopping by an ATM machine, Alfred was considerately patient when you took the opportunity to grab a carton of milk and a few envelops as well. This, when it came to your assigned duties as a roommate and friend, Alfred Pennyworth was your savior for the night.

Inserting the money filled envelop into the specified box, you prayed the farewell party would be a success. “Oh! Señora Hernandez...” you muttered to yourself with a soft chuckle, “ I almost died for you today”.

Given her previous call of concern, you expected Allison to show you what real dramatic worrying was all about. Instead, you did find her, sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

Though she sloppily slept on her side, with her mouth open, she managed to carry it adorably, all the whole the light of the television washed over her figure. Smiling, you entrusted your tip toes to guide you to and from the bedroom, only to bring a throw blanket for your friend. Covering her with it, you were suddenly fully appreciative of all the little joys that were presented to all in life. You were grateful, once again.

Speaking of gratitude, the phone vibrated, sending signals to your face, tempting you to smile from ear to ear as you opened the text from Bruce Wayne, your savior, the object of your desire:

Can’t sleep.

You chuckled, biting your lower lip. All the sudden, it came to realization how those two simple words carried so much more weight with all the variety of meaning. There entailed softness, excitement, a smile that would not wash off your face, and a sudden throbbing inside full of possibilities. Turning the television off, you floated over to your bedroom as your fingers expertly formed a reply:

Well I can. In fact, think I’ll take a sick day tomorrow.

Considering you hardly take any days off, this was a certainly bold move indeed. If almost getting killed by strangulation and bleeding doesn’t suffice as valid reasons, then what would?

Kicking your shoes off, you sank into bed, exhausted to do anything else but to stare at the screen longingly as he responded:

You deserve it

You may have been in your lonesome in your room, yet you had never felt this shy. Even the simplest of words suddenly tempted you to smile your troubles away. Heavens, you could literally hear his voice in your head. That voice of his, so kind, so soothing, rousing in every way. Greed suddenly begged to crawl its way back into your head, so you could long for him passionately. More importantly, greed even offered to bring in desire along, all so you would be free to long for his heavenly lips on yours once again. You missed them already, even a few minutes later. Finally, a new drug addicts frustration was relatable to you. The memory of that wonderful first kiss, it felt powerful enough to inject you with intoxication, forcing your eyelids to grow heavy as you proceeded to type:

Th-

Except your heart seemed more inclined to sink into that memory once more, releasing you from any form of control as you sank into that intoxication.

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As your eyelids slowly managed to open a few millimetres, it was clear that the intoxication had vanished. However, it managed to carry you over to witness the golden rays of morning. Opening them fully, you found a figure similar to Allison standing before you.

“Ali?” You mumbled sleepily, “Wha-?”

Pausing, you realized you had difficulty moving your lips freely, for your phone rested on your face.

Not only that, you also discovered how your roommate was stood there with her phone, dressed in her work clothes and a rather mischievous smile. Your seemingly goofy confused expression brought Allison hearty laughter.

“Oh my-!” She kept laughing, “You should have seen your face, Sweetie!”

She added, as the shutter sounds played rapidly from her phone, possibly from taking photos. Groaning with with chuckle, you turned away from her to the side, your phone sliding off your face as you covered it shyly.

“Shit! I should have gotten a video…” You heard her say, recovering from her laughter, until she gasped, “Wait! aren’t you working today?”

“Taking a day off” your tone remained muffled with your face pressed against the pillow. Putting her phone away, Allison chuckled.

“Oooooh…” as she rubbed her hands together, “Someone had a wild night last night?” “Mmm….You could say that” Clapping her hands together, Allison began, “Alright sweetie, Imma head out” she said, heading out of your room, “ So I’LL DIG THAT DIRT ON YA LATER…” her voice echoed, followed by naughty laughter as the apartment door closed shut behind her.

Silence. With complete silence finally being in your ownership, you slowly sat up. You stretched, you yawned, all before you sleepily waddled over to the bathroom. Gasping loudly as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, did you truly realize the intensity of your injuries from last night.

Body getting sweaty with panic, you quickly stripped yourself from the hoodie, leaning on the sink as you observed your neck. It was simply a canvas, filled with the detailed colors of smothering, strangle marks evident in their dark maroon. You shuddered loudly, for a split second, it did not seem to look like your own. You felt disgusted, you felt sorry for yourself. Studying your right wrist, the wrapped bandage was another reminder, of the pain and the struggle for your life, all the while you almost bumped heads with the Grim Reaper, who came in the form of Alpha. Under the fluorescent light, you appeared lifeless. You needed a bath, you needed a proper hot meal.

“Sweetie…looks like I messed up the times. I have the night shift toni-”

Allison’s voice crashed in to the bathroom, stopping the very moment she caught the sight of you turning to her with surprise.

“Hey! Wassup?”

You blurted over-enthusiastically. Standing in just your tank top and leggings, you quickly found yourself covering your neck. However, given her furrowed eyebrows, Allison was not amused. In fact, she was quite far from it.

“What the hell are those?”

She inquired, pointing directly at your neck. You shrugged innocently. “Nothing...” You murmured. Pressing her lips together, she quickly dropped her handbag down, which alarmed you. For that move was nothing new to you. She was simply angered.

“Sweetie, I can fucking see them…” Allison yelled with frustration, “What the hell is going on?” She added, voice shaken soon after.

Being your trusted friend for simply ages, Allison Hughs was certainly no fool. You sighed heavily, not knowing where to even begin. With your hands on your hips, amidst the speedy heartbeat, you offered a somber reply:

“You’re gonna need to sit down for this”

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“So let me get this straight...” Allison finally began, whilst sitting on one of the dinner chairs, “According to the police guy, Erik Henderson could be trying to KILL YOU?” She yelled, her frustration translated into rage, “And you’re JUST SITTING HERE DOING NOTHING?”

Truthfully, you did not blame her. How else would a friend respond when you finally decide to dump every trouble you encountered since that fateful Friday night? Getting up on her feet, Allison was clearly furious, “I mean, what were you think-”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, do I Ali?” you cut her off, with your own frustration. As soon as you broke out, you noticed the anger in her eyes slowly vanish. Standing before her with your arms folded, you sighed, “Say I step up and make my accusations…” you continued, “It’s just my word against his…No legit proof” scoffing could not be helped, “…and none of the perps will talk, no matter what” a sigh passed your lips once more, “He’s one bad, rich man!”.

Rubbing your forehead nervously, it finally dawned on you on the ferocity of your situation. You finally realized how powerless you really were. That foul hearted man had certainly had you trapped in the box of corporate power, and there were little holes of justice poked for you to truly breathe.

“Sweetie…”

You looked over to Allison, “As twisted as all this is, you can’t just go on like this, not without telling me…” she said, voice growing emotional with her hands on her chest, “I mean…” she paused, for her voice broke, “…what if something had happened to you?” she inquired softly, her hand slithering over to her mouth. That very moment was when sheer guilt washed over you in a flash. How selfish were you truly to leave everyone in the dark this way? But your intention was never that. A nuisance was what you clearly did not wish to impose on anyone. If Lillian ever knew, she would surely be hurt. Your shoulders loosened while your arms rested on your sides.

“I’m sorry…” you said, shyly looking down. A few seconds of silence was adequate for you to walk over to her, confirm your apology as you gently stroked her shoulder. It was certainly adequate for Allison to succumb to it, until she willfully brought you in for a hug, pressing her face against your tummy. Allison truly defined a true friend. “But I was always fine…” you began, “I mean, Batman saved m-” “BATMAN!!” Allison cried out, her face lighting up as she pushed you back gently, “Oh bless that man for saving you!” She said, bringing her hands together in a prayer stance, before she clapped excitedly. You chuckled, relieved to find her in a better mood now. But of course you were not foolish. Revealing your story did not exactly entail revealing the entire truth about Batman. For now, he was merely a hero who saved you every single time. “But wait…” Allison paused, “Where were you when I called you, then? The police? The hospital?” Shaking your head, it came to your realization there was no other fitting lie to replace the original. “Uhh…with Bruce Wayne...” You answered shyly. It did not take long for Allison’s jaw to drop. Concern hit you hard like a bullet. Could she possibly connect the missing dots? “Wait…so you…him….” Allison began, getting up in an instant. With a gasp, her eyes widened: “DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM? Suddenly it was your jaw’s turn to drop. “WHAT?” You yelled, “NO NO!!!” Shaking your head frantically, you backed away, “WHY would you-” “I mean, you were gone for so long, I assumed you had sex with hi-” “Ali, could you stop saying the S-word please?” You blurted out, covering your ears as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks with fervor. The heat grew intense, as if an explosion were to occur was a result. Why on earth would you act this way? And Allison seemed to find it quite amusing. “Why?” She mocked, “Sweetie, why you suddenly so prude-” Pausing, she smiled widely, as if she just realized.

“Ha!” She scoffed, “You really like him, don’t you?” she inquired, “You’re serious…” as she looked at you with amazement. Your immediate response was clearly to laugh nervously and uncontrollably. Yet as each second passed, the continuous confident glance of your friend, clearly steered you towards the similar direction of realization, as you stopped laughing. It all seemed so clear.

“Yeah…” you breathed, nodding, “I do…I guess” you admitted, smiling softly by the thought of the very man being mentioned. It was true. Every reminiscent of your confession to Bruce last night, and the blessed kiss that followed, it was a symbol of rebirth on loop. And you felt at peace. Squealing with excitement, Allison jumped up and down whilst clapping.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” She said, grabbing your hands, “So? So? You guys are finally a couple or something?”

That simple question. Funny how it surprisingly shooed away the smile on your face. Funny how suddenly that peace was disrupted. For that question led you to another realization. The realization that taught you the gravity of it all. The gravity of the harsh reality that shattered all forms of hope. Allison appeared confused the moment you simply headed back to your room, only to close it shut and scream your frustrations out in the fittest way possible:

“FUUUUUCK!”

Simply put, you kissed your boss. Fantastic.

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Allison Hughs certainly had quite the morning dealing with you. And the following stage was indeed no different. Laying on her side on the bed, she could only continuously shake her head with complete disbelief watching you pace from one corner to the other in your bedroom. And you knew of that, you noticed it clearly. Though you were caught in a tangled mess. Being a corporate woman, you handled conflicts and issues in a professional manner. Therefore, this was simply an embarrassment.

“Oh god! oh god! oh god-” you went. “I don’t understand what the big deal is, Sweetie“ Allison said coolly.

“Oh Shit! No no no” Your concern still continued as you kept muttering to yourself. “So you guys kissed...And?”

Allison pointed out, as she incited more groans from you, “Okay! Let’s say you guys do start dating…So what?” Allison posed the inquiry, sitting up finally with a smile, “Personally I think it’s hot” she grinned mischievously, while bringing her knees to her chest, as her mind wandered, “Imagine…” she began dreamily, “...getting it on with Mr.Wayne in his office at Wayne Tower...” A sensual tone exited from her, “....No one there to eavesdrop your sexy encounter because the doors locked-”

“Oh yeah...it’s all so tempting until you REALIZE this is REAL LIFE...with CONSEQUENCES!” You spat out frustratingly, before covering your face “...shit! I kissed Bruce Wayne...” Muffled tone emphasized your frustration. Funny how you were blind to all this last night.

“Sweetie! if you like the guy, what the fuck is wrong?”

Allison’s innocent inquiry forced you to look up. You were touched. She really did care for you. However you also sensed her naiveté. And life did not carry on the way one hoped it would. You were finally on the smack bottom of reality. Deeply breathing, You grew calmer.

“Ali, it’s not like I’m falling for a colleague, that’s different. THIS IS Bruce Wayne…” you scoffed, “I mean...dating my EMPLOYER BRUCE WAYNE! It’s just the worst timing. It’s bad enough I punched Henderson, but NOW THIS?? If I do this…” you continued, “I’m bringing Wayne Enterprises down with me…Just think of all the horrible rumors” sighing heavily, you began rummaging the bed for your phone.

“Sweetie, Who cares?”

“I HAVE TO CARE, ALI!” You looked back at her, pausing by your own loud reply, “This is not a fantasy…” you said softly, grabbing the phone, “This is real life…” your tone brimming with sadness.

Breathing deeply, Allison stared at the wall with realization, “…for a second I forgot you’re the acting Head…Shit” she muttered, “Real life problems…” she said, breathing heavily, “…definitely not easy…”

With the phone pressed against your ear, You were finally relieved to see Allison finally understand.

“Greg? Hey!” you began as the call was answered, “No! No! I’m better” you said, shaking your head, “Listen, I’m coming by later to office, okay?”

Allison looked at you confusingly as you finally hung up. You jolted when your phone vibrated in your hand. It was him:

Hope you slept in today.

“Thought you were taking the day off” you heard Allison begin. Your heart could not help but clench when you forcibly swiped the message off your lock screen. The first grueling step.

“Well…” you said, looking up, “I guess I need a distraction from this nightmare”

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(Few days later)

The sounds of the television echoed throughout the Wayne Penthouse. All the while Alfred Pennyworth continued to set the dinner table for one. The evening news played, images of the variety of criminals courtesy of Gotham’s underbelly, captured and arrested taking main stage as the news reporters presented their usual reports. With the appetizing yet comforting meal served in fashionable white crockery, the butler finally sat on the sofa when the elevator door quickly opened with a ding! The old man smiled, especially when his wrinkled eyes caught the sight of Bruce Wayne enter.

“Another successful arrest…” He began, pointing at the screen, “Thanks to you, sir” he added with a teasing tone. However, the younger man did not acknowledge. Clad in his jeans and leather jacket, Bruce quietly made his way towards the bedroom. Alfred sighed in silence. Fourth night. This probably was the fourth night his young master had acted this way. And the fourth consecutive night he barely touched his dinner, even after his nightly duties. Not to mention, the fourth night of absolute silence. And by this very moment, Pennyworth simply had reached his limits.

“Something’s been bothering you, Master Wayne!”

Alfred began loudly, forcing Bruce to halt, “I can tell…” he added, walking towards the paused man. Tired, Bruce turned back.

“What are you talking about, Alfred?” He inquired with possible denial. Alfred’s eyebrows furrowed: “I’ve raised you since you were an infant…to know when you’re fibbing, Sir…”

The moment the words left Alfred’s lips, an invisible force urged Bruce to sink into the nearest armchair. Bending forward, Bruce covered his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh.

“It’s just that…” he paused, “…it’s her…” taking his hands away, he looked at the old man. Given the nature of their relationship, it was more than sufficient information for the both of them to understand what exactly was being discussed here. And who.

Nodding slowly, Alfred made his way to the counter:

“Think it’s time to open up that Whiskey you’ve been saving, Master Wayne”

He said, who did not notice the subtle sad smile that appeared on Bruce’s face during.

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

Performance Appraisals : the review of employees performance and the overall contribution to the company. In other words, the busiest time of the year for the HR Department. It was certainly the most perfect distraction from the nightmare you had identified as reality. Which mainly was the situation between you and Bruce Wayne.

Forget him.

Your fingers, they were shamed, they were strictly forbidden from traveling anywhere near his name on your phone screen to form any sort of replies to his countless messages.

I suppose work is keeping you quite busy, huh?

Messages that kept coming:

Is everything alright?

With much enthusiasm and concern:

You know, I’m here if you need me. What’s going on?

In other words, you had made the horrid, difficult decision to forbid yourself of thinking about him. Let alone hope for any possible future with him.

Forget him.

You welcomed late night, early morning assignments, deadlines, work meetings. you volunteered on behalf of everyone, all the to the point they all began to wonder about your sanity. And it did not matter to you. Fully immersed, you made sure the only free time you were gifted with, was only to sleep. Just for one vital goal:

Forget him.

Physically and mentally, you were quicker and more reflexive than ever before. It seemed quite essential to do so, especially when you were more prone to accidentally encounter the man you wished to avoid with all your heart. And it was quite the challenge to avoid him, considering the fact he surprisingly was present at work every day.

However, those efforts were tested, and Lucius Fox was responsible. Little did you expect to submit a report to the CEO all the sudden, only to find Bruce Wayne sitting in his office conversing with him during. Though sheer panic came over, you remembered politely offering your greetings to both. As much as the sight of him brought a sense of comfort to a part of you, the strength of your will assisted in forcing you out of the office in time to recover yourself in the elevator.

Truthfully, you were no fool. You knew who he was, and you could appreciate him. If you were any other woman, heaven knew how much you would treasure him with all your heart. With no shame and no boundaries. Heaven knew the infinite amount of love you would give to him.

But you were you, and you were desperately full of bad luck. You were at the risk of being called out as the Senior HR Manager entangled with the owner of Wayne Enterprises, possibly sleeping with him as well. It was not what you were deserved to be called as, but it would be rumored and fabricated as such. Life was never kind to women. It still is not.

Forget him : Two words that you kept telling yourself. They were what you had to believe in, even though you truthfully missed him every single time. It was the pill you had to swallow every single moment your body would be in cold sweats deprived of his touch. That wonderfully innocent touch you were gifted with one night, being in his arms as you kissed him with all the love. You were not happy with this, that was the plain truth. In fact, the self-hate and disappointed increased by tenfolds.

Forget him

You prayed you would bore him. You prayed he would move on. You prayed to see him smile, alongside a wonderfully appropriate woman, someone that he could walk hand in hand with. You prayed he would be happy with no shame or regrets. Dying of jealousy would be inevitable for you, but at least you would be at peace. All because you truly cared for him, because you truly loved him. And thus, there you were, immersed in the distraction, your life consistently on fast pace , like a dance remix track on loop.

However, one early morning, a particular phone call suddenly managed to force your life to hit pause.

“Miss, Please come”

Alfred Pennyworth said, his voice laced with a tone close to sadness, something you had never heard before:

“It’s about Master Wayne”

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

The manner you scrambled in to the elevator, “Forget him” was certainly the last thing you could ever do, for Bruce Wayne was all that you could think of at the moment. Was he hurt? Injured? Or something worse? The few seconds taken for the elevator to reach the Penthouse felt like an eternity, thus driving you beyond patience as your foot tapped nervously. Your heart was beating at a new pace of its own, speed so deadly you feared you might even explode. Hunger or thirst had come second in your needs this morning. The moment the elevator opened, the tapping of your foot joined the exact speed of your heart. You literally jumped out:

“ALFRED!” You cried, “ Alfred…where is h-”

You paused, eyes widening with confusion. The worry and panic birthed in you suddenly seemed quite wasteful. Especially when you found Bruce Wayne casually standing next to the sofa chair alongside Alfred, being at their safest and calmest. That very moment, did you realize how overdramatic your behavior might have seemed, which caused nothing but sheer awkwardness in the room. It was clearly intensified when you noticed the mess of a state you were in. Dashing out of your own apartment so fast, you had forgotten to tuck in your shirt, while your hair remained loose and inhibited. With a proud smile, Alfred looked at his master:

“I told you so…” the butler said, beginning to walk away from him. You grew confused.

“Told?-” you paused, “Wait!” you exclaimed, looking at Bruce. Confusion morphed into instant anger. Could this possibly be another cheap ploy to see you? By playing with your emotions? You were in disbelief, as you pointed at him accusingly:

“Did you put Alfred up to this?”

“It was purely my doing, Miss”

Your eyes widened once more when Alfred answered with confidence. Panting to recover your breath, you looked at the older man walking over to you.

“I only did the needful…cause no one else did…” he said, shooting you a look before looking over at Bruce, “I’ve made you some, if you excuse me”

You chuckled in disbelief. It appeared that someone was clearly compelled to take decisive action on behalf on both of you, as a proper adult. And his name was Alfred Pennyworth.

“Thank you, Alfred” Bruce said, to which the butler nodded in acknowledgement before leaving the area.

All your dire efforts in the past few days seemed moot, when finally you were back to square one, as you had this standing right before you. Dressed in such simple attire such as a crisp white shirt and black pants, Bruce Wayne still managed to break your defenses, leaving you breathless once more. He was the physical embodiment of the dewy grass in the early morning. Simply cooling and refreshing. The mere thought of being alone in a room with Bruce Wayne would have been your version of heaven a few days ago. Truthfully, temptation frantically begged you to run into his arms, only to just remain there for an eternity. And heaven knows what else it would urge you to do with a man such as he was.

But you could not. You should not. Not when you constantly felt as you were being trialed by morality. You despised it.

The room reeked of silence, to the point it was simply unbearable. The fact he did not seem cross made it worse for you. An explanation was needed by him. You could not disagree on that. Taking a few steps towards him, you inhaled deeply, especially when he looked at you with a gentle yearning:

“I-”

The phone rang frantically in your bag, making you jump. With a deep sigh, you took it out. Immediately, you looked over to Bruce:

“It’s Officer Blake…”

You said, knowing information of much importance was to be received. It was a call not to be ignored. With his nod of agreement, you put the call on speaker phone.

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

With a reasonably stacked file in hand, Officer John Blake sat comfortably at the rooftop of the Police Station. It was a cloudy morning as he looked over the Gotham city with his phone pressed to his ear. This call, was certainly the precinct walls need not eavesdrop to.

“Officer Blake!”

The woman known publicly as ‘The Bruiser’ answered, “ I really hope you’re calling to bring me good news” John could not help but chuckle by her response, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ma’am” he said, “But I promise to give you something better than ‘I’ve got nuthin’” Opening the file with one hand, he continued, “The shooter from last time…” “… Mr. Slender?” “Who?” John asked confusingly. The woman laughed nervously from the other side of the line. “Sorry…” she said, “…that was what I called him in my head…” “Makes sense…” John nodded, proceeding to smile when he saw a woman walking over to him. It was Nina Langdon. With her loose red hair brushed to the side, she quickly perched next to John, offering him a coffee cup, labeled “Commons Café”. Putting the call on speaker, John handed the phone to Nina as he went through the file whilst taking a quick sip of the hot beverage:

“His name is Emilio Cruz, or thats what it says in the system...” He said, as the coffee warmed his throat, “No priors, and…” sighing, John shook his head, “…there’s very little detail about him. He barely talked during the interrogation. And before we knew it, Henderson’s men got him out again”

The woman exhaled deeply. John did not blame her. For even Nina did not seem pleased.

“So he’s a free man again…”

“Technically yes, there’s not much the police can do right now” John answered, looking through the file, “The CCTVs near the bodega were blocked the moment shots were fired, so we couldn’t make out the other people involved.”

The woman expressed her response with silence. Blake felt guilt clenching him hard. His distress was evident. And for a second, he did not even have the heart to look at Nina. Gripping the file tighter, his voice suddenly grew louder:

“Ma’am…” John began, “…I know this seems like a dead end, but it’s not. I won’t let it” he said, “I’ll do my best to open a case against Henderson, and you will have to come in every once in a while for questioning”

“Of course…anything you need, Officer”

The woman answered instantly. Her voice rife with enthusiasm and relief.

Finally hanging up, John quickly took in another long sip for comfort.

“You’re doing the right thing, John” Nina spoke, the warmth in her voice seemingly much stronger than the beverage. As he looked into her eyes, John knew he got the morale boost he so needed to carry with this mission.

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

Putting the phone away, you let out a heavy sigh. You were filled with such suspense during the call that your forced you to sit down. As he stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, Bruce watched you silently. After almost escaping death, a partial hope formed within you, that perhaps your life would finally be spared and intruded. Truthfully, how far could someone really go for murder? But now, upon hearing the sombre tone of Officer Blake, another reality dawned on you. One where you might have to keep your eyes wide open. Open for ‘Emilio’ and for ‘Alpha’. Feigning a chuckle, you slowly got up, barely looking at the man.

“Guess I still got a target on my head…heheh”

You said, looking down. But the moment your eyes traced his footsteps growing closer, you cleared your throat, “..right-”

“You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?”

You tensed, when Bruce Wayne finally brought up the elephant in the room. Turning your head up slowly, your eyes finally met his. His eyes, they were far from displeased. However, you did manage to catch a glimpse of sadness in them. As if he was let down. As this was not expected. Not from some such as yourself. You felt so ashamed.

“Mr.Wayne-”

“Bruce” he corrected, with a soft smile. Shushing yourself embarrassingly, you held your hands together for forgiveness, “Force of habit….” You muttered shyly. As your hands were engaged in a silent wrestling match of it’s own, you took a deep breath:

“I’m really sorry…” you began softly, “…truly…for everything, Bruce”

His name, simply unbelievable how it rolled out of your lips so beautifully. And more importantly, how you managed to involuntarily smile whenever it did. As you smiled, you felt your body relax, enabling you to admire those handsome features he owned. For a split second, you were overjoyed to implant your gaze at him. Your eyes, they indulged in the details as he grew closer. The brunette hair parted on the side and brushed back seemed so delectable, your fingers suppressed their desire to run through it with frenzy. The high cheekbones and the lines on the sides of his mouth seemingly majestic, distracting you until it was clear he stood merely a few centimeters away from your face, bending his head, high hopes to steal a long-awaited kiss.

Except you looked down. With a deep breath, you put your hands on your hips before looking up with a serious expression:

“I am a woman...” you began, “....who takes her job very seriously…” You stated confidently, “And…” you chuckled, pointing at him, “…you being you...and me being me…” you said, pointing at yourself, “I just…” you paused, “…this ...is this right?” You inquired, “…Us? I mean…” taking another breath, you smiled, “Are you sure you want this?”

Beating around the bush just to inquire the ethics of a relationship. Was this over dramatic? Bruce however, did not flinch. Instead, he smiled.

“I think you should ask the question yourself...” he said, his voice softer than velvet, “... do you want this?” He said, passing the ball over to you, which you held with such reluctance. You sighed:

“Don’t do this, Bruce-”

However you shut up the moment he cupped your face with both hands. He was not amused. He seemed highly convincing:

“You’re the one who kissed me” he stated, his warmth breath falling on your face, “…you’re the one who drove me insane… from the very moment I saw you”

Breathless, you tried your hardest not to be. But it was difficult, especially when his velvet voice soothed your wounded soul.

“Well, to be fair…” you began in a witty tone, “…you weren’t entirely innocent yourself” you said, smiling. Bruce shot you an amused glance. Breathing deeply, you sighed, “You have no idea how wild you drove me” you added with sincerity: “And you kissed me back, mind you”

You said. Chuckling together, the atmosphere seemed to grow normal and comfortable. Truthfully, you missed that dearly.

“I just hope you understand, I’m in a really screwed up place…” you said sadly, “…you being my boss and all…” you stated, for that was simply the truth. Bruce smiled gently.

“Well, until things get unscrewed…” he began, “I will wait for you…”

“I wish you won’t…” you said, reminded of the kindness you felt in him on the very first day you met him. Instead of a defying reply, his lips landed on your forehead, kissing it gently to send a rush of warmth though you. As simple as it was, yet it called out for many of your frustrations to come out of the shadows. And it simply caused you to long for him even more. Forget him? It would be a herculean task indeed.

“But don’t make me suffer for too long” he teased, muttering on to your forehead before looking at you. With a chuckle, you tilted your head:

“See? I don’t want to be a burden to you…”

“You’re not-”

“Master Wayne!”

Alfred’s voice emerged out of nowhere, forcing Bruce to release you from his grasp. The older man walked over briskly, “Pardon the intrusion but…”

“And that’s my queue to leave…” you announced, unwilling to intrude on pressing matters.

“Best if you stay as well, Miss”

Alfred certainly had other plans, as he turned on the television to GCN Breaking News. Complete surprise was the default mood as you all watched Erik Henderson standing before Henderson Incorporated surrounded by news reporters. His smug expression was as flashy as the tile of the news frame that read:

Wayne Enterprises: Guilty of Intellectual Property Breach?

Bruce’s phone began to ring continuously, however he silenced it as Henderson began to speak to the press:

“Henderson Incorporated has been robbed of our dignity. And I demand Bruce Wayne to step forward and address this. He may be able to protect thugs in his own company like ‘the Bruiser’ but, we will not rest until this issue is resolved”

Folding your arms worriedly, you wondered if you were actually a fatal curse brought upon to destroy Wayne Enterprises, and Bruce Wayne himself.

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

An Emergency Management Meeting was called. Being Lillian’s backup, it was imperative for you to participate from HR. Henderson’s surprising stunt had definitely caused quite the stir that a swarm of reporters waited outside Wayne Enterprises when you finally arrived. Thus, entering the building itself was a dire task with you bombarded with questions:

“Bruiser! Bruiser! Over here!” “What are your thoughts regarding the claims made by Erik Henderson?” “Do you feel partially responsible for all this?” “Have you been in contact with Bruce Wayne?” “Do you regret attacking Henderson?”

Those unanswered questions echoed in your head, sitting alongside the other Heads and members at the conference room. The group collectively clamored with questions, growing louder when Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne arrived and took their seats. But as soon as Fox stood up, silence fell on all of them.

“Members of the Management” he began, his voice booming across “As we all know, Erik Henderson has made certain unsavory claims about Wayne Enterprises”

“What the hell is this devil up to?” Kline from Accounting certainly had no time to be formal, while the others heavily buzzed in agreement.

“He’s claiming Wayne Enterprises has stolen the…” Fox paused, as he read the file in hand, “…blueprints of their Main Server” he added with raised eyebrows. As if what he heard was unimaginable.

“That’s preposterous!” Kline cried out, leading the crowd to continue their clamour.

Slight relief washed over you. When you expected the Heads to show their aggression towards you for your previous blunder, they somehow surprised you with complete solidarity instead. Perhaps that company dinner helped. And it was certainly a relief that the Board of Directors were not involved. They did not need to be. Heaven knows the chaos they would make, and the blame they might impose on you. Thank goodness for Fox. You looked over at Bruce, who sat on the other corner of the table. Looking at Fox with seriousness, he seemed to be deep in thought. Maybe he was.

“Regardless of the minor details, this is simply utter nonsense” Fox said.

“But Mr. Fox, we cannot take this lying down” Ted Hawthorne pointed out, sitting beside his Head in Legal with a concerned expression, “The Board of Directors will definitely have questions. And Henderson will not hesitate to press charges…”

“Exactly…” Fox said, “..so before this drags on to court, I suggest we meet Henderson’s team in private, resolving this as peacefully as possible”

“Henderson is asking for me”

All turned towards Bruce’s direction as his voice pierced through, “I will go.”

Your heart clenched. As valiant as he was, this was not the time to be Batman. He could not take on this endeavour all on his own.

“You’re going to need us, Mr Wayne” Ted said, “Henderson’s Team is like a pack of wolves, you’re going to need reinforcements if this is gonna be resolved.”

“Thank you” Bruce nodded at him.

And so, whilst the Management continued to plan out their strategy before the fated meeting, you could not help but continuously glance over at Bruce. A sudden urge came over you to speak to him. Was he prepared with this? Will everything be alright? As he kept himself busy listening to the Legal Team, you were descending down on a personal spiral of regrets. Which included getting this entire company in trouble in the first place.

All because of a drunken punch in the face.

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

“What the damn HELL?”

Lillian Foster’s enraged voice filled your ears through the phone. In complete disbelief yourself, you could not help but laugh while walking out of the ladies washroom. You could not resist sharing the news with your Boss.

“Yeah! my thoughts exactly…” you said, bending to toss the used tissue to the trash bin. Lillian sighed heavily.

“I swear, that man Henderson is going off the rails” her voice kept you in good company strolling through the HR floor, “So…He thinks we had a spy stealing a Blueprint?”

“So…you remember Caleb saying he went for an Interview at Hendersons before joining Wayne?” you recalled, walking over to your office,“And that was like TWO years ago” you stressed, locking the door behind you, “And now suddenly it’s a matter of company safety for Henderson? He’s unbelievable…” you scoffed, standing by the window blinders , opening it slightly to watch the staff outside, “Anyways, How is the baby?” your voice quickly changing to an affectionate one.

“Thankfully loves her mama…I could sleep for a few straight hours finally”

Nodding, your eyes seemed occupied once you caught the glimpse of Clara Bennett. Sitting in her lonesome in one of the smaller meeting rooms, she seemed to be far from her usual self. Down in the dumps, more like.

“So, what are you gonna do about the Offer?”

Your focus returned immediately upon Lillian’s query. Nervousness began to form.

“What offer?” you blurted out with feigned surprise. Your boss chuckled.

“Don’t play dumb with me, young lady …” she said, “I bet you already got Hudson’s email …I heard from a contact”

With a deep sigh, you made your way to your computer. Lillian seemed patient with your silence, as she cooed her crying baby lovingly. You opened your inbox with trepidation, clicking on that fateful email titled:

Job Offer for General Manager -Hudsons Solutions

Hudsons Solutions, possibly the best HR Specialist Company in Gotham city. It was known to only hire only the best in the field, providing excellent services to all major companies and businesses. The fact that Clara Bennett herself was not a permanent staffer there was a clear example of their elite status.

Therefore, it was quite the surprise when they offered you a job. You remember going for the interview two years ago. It was an impulse decision after a bad day. But never did you think they would get back with a green light. This email was a blessing. Yet, you were reluctant to even consider it.

“So…how does it look?”

Lillian inquired as you looked at the email. You sighed with an involuntary smile, “It’s everything I hoped it would be…“ you said, “...the working hours, the pay, the benefits…” You added, feeling a sense of excitement the more you read it , “But” you paused, “… after the Bruiser incident… would they choose me?” You wondered, your fingers grazing over the mouse.

“The fact they sent this after the incident, clearly shows they want you no matter what”

Funny how you still were brimming with confusion, even with Good News staring at you in the face. “I really don’t know what to do, Lillian” you admitted, crossing your legs, “But…Hudsons is my dream place to work”

“Heheh…I’m really gonna miss you if you go…”

You chuckled, “Well, Why don’t you come along with me?”

“Don’t tempt me. I might…”

Lillian said, with laughter breaking out between both.

Truthfully, you were surrendered by fear. It finally was evident that you possibly may fear of letting go. Imagining the possibility of leaving the company that was your home for a decade. The thought of it seemed heartbreaking. It was never hell. But you always longed to get better. However, if you did strive and take the daring step, would that not help you in every way imaginable? With Bruce Wayne, for example?

Then again, if the Billionaire ends up never being invested as you were, would it regretful to leave behind a trustworthy workplace?

“You were born to do great things, honey. I hope you make a good decision”

Hanging up, a huge weight landed on your chest with more queries. But at the same time, you had a thirst that needed quenching. And a sudden urge to check on a friend.

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

Gently knocking on the small meeting room door, you surprised Clara with two paper cups of steaming coffee. And to your sheer relief, her face lit up soon after.

“Thanks...” she said, taking one cup, “…you already know my order” she added with surprise. You smiled.

“That happens when you come to the HR Department at Wayne Enterprises…you remember your coffee order” you chuckled, sitting in front of her. Finally, after a few of consulting, it was finally Clara’s last week. But that could not possibly be the reason for her blue expression, “You doing okay?” You inquired.

Looking up from her coffee, Clara appeared quizzical, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not saying I miss you poking on our business but…” you said ,shaking your head, “It’s just that…you’ve been unusually quiet these days” you stated, shrugging, “Just wanted to see if you’re okay”

Ever since the night you were almost killed, you were too distracted by being distracted ,to fully notice how Clara exuded a different energy at work. She spoke less and she smiled rarely. Holding onto her coffee, she sighed: “I’m sorry. It’s just that-” she paused, smiling, “Never mind..”

“What?” You asked quickly, only to stop yourself, “I mean- you don’t have to-if you don’t want to…” you said, unwilling to cause trouble by slowly getting up, “I can just-”

“No, I want to” Clara said, urging you to sit down once again. Taking a deep breath, she looked at you, “So…I’ve been seeing this guy”

“Ooh…” You began excitedly with a smile, “….someone tamed Ms. Bennett’s heart. Spicy!-Sorry…” you bowed your head embarrassingly upon seeing Clara’s look.

Taking another sip, she continued: “Anyways, We went out a couple of times. And he wasn’t shy on telling me how much he liked me”

“So he’s an expressive one, that’s rare” you noted, nodding before drinking your coffee. Clara chuckled.

“Yeah, I like him, I do” She added, “But, I was scared to admit it for some reason”, you swore you felt your smile fade upon hearing it, “And when I finally summed up the courage to tell him…” Clara smiled sadly, “…he didn’t seem that interested anymore. He had moved on”

“Oh Clara…” you breathed. She shrugged.

“Guess he figured I wasn’t as invested as he was…” she said, “…which was NOT true…I was just late to the party. I just didn’t…do it right…” she added, her fist clenching tightly. You sighed deeply.

“That just sucks…really, I’m so sorry”

Clara chuckled amusingly, "Why you getting so upset?”

The sadness was evident on your face, you may not have seen it. Yet you felt it. Coming to realization, you pressed your lips. She was right, why were you so upset? Could it that it was a clear reminder of someone else you knew? Yourself? Your future? Bruce?

“Me?” You feigned your disbelief, “ I just-” you paused, “ I guess I can understand when you like someone…and the challenges that come with it” Indeed, you could empathize to the core. More than ever. Along with the what would smother you. In every way.

"Ah well…what to do” the consultant replied, leaning forward “ All I can tell you is this: If you really care for someone…” she added seriously, slowly tapping her fingers on the table, “….like or love or whatever, better act on it… fast” she stressed, finally leaning back once again, “Cause very few people will be patient in life. And Life IS short so….” Getting up, you were left with some of your own pondering as she left.

Work proceeded as usual, going on until you managed to look through the glass window to the glittery Gotham skyline that evening. Unease remained in you throughout the entire day with one person in mind: Bruce Wayne. 8 hours since they left for questioning, and there were no news. The number of texts you sent were still left unanswered. So, this is what it feels like, you thought.

Perhaps Alfred. Being his confidant, he may have contacted him. Making your way out of the Wayne Tower, you knew where to head over to.

But all was made simply made convenient for you, when you found Alfred Pennyworth standing by the Rolls Royce, in front of the Tower, seemingly waiting for you.

“Master Wayne insisted” he said, before you could even question. And without any objection, you nodded to let him drive you home.

As the vehicle cruised through the city, you were quiet. It could not be helped. A certain form of guilt had occupied you, forcing you to do so. However, when Alfred’s eyes greeted you from the rear view mirror, you knew you were compelled to speak: “Any news from Bruce?” You inquired.

“Not at the moment, No” the butler answered with politeness. Sighing was inevitable at this point, as you looked through the window.

“I hope they’re not in trouble” you muttered.

“It’s Master Wayne, miss” Alfred said, “He will figure it out somehow” The reassurance he offered, filled you with comfort. But simultaneously that guilt within you grew larger like a tumor, reminding you of the indirect cruelty you had inflicted on both men.

“Alfred…” You began with a deep breath, “I’m sorry….” You continued, “…for avoiding you both…” sighing soon after, “This situation…its not easy for me…”

“We are all bound by responsibility, that I understand, Miss” Alfred replied, as he continued to drive, “But one thing is for certain. In all my life, I have never seen Master Wayne wanting so much to be happy with someone…” he insisted “…and by someone… I mean you, Miss”

He may be the trusted Butler in the Wayne family, but given his tone, you also heard the concern of a father, watching over his son with affection. That strong concern pierced through your heart and remained with a memorable pain.

As you sat on your bed that night, rubbing hand cream, you recalled all the moments that clearly urged you to reflect: Lillian, Clara and Alfred. All three of them, involuntarily shedding light on the path you possibly should journey in. And in the end of the day, you were the one to decide, to take that daring step. Was Bruce alright? You wondered still. Given the time now, it seemed impossible to imagine Henderson’s legal team to wear them out with accusations at this hour. It was simply ludicrous.

Your heart skipped a beat when the phone vibrated. But the moment you glanced upon it, you chuckled lightly, for you guessed it wrong. It was Clara.

Thanks for today. I felt much better unloading on you.

Smiling warmly, you were relieved. Such a sheer pity she would leave soon. It was certainly a rollercoaster ride of emotion knowing her. However, it all worked out well in the end. You formed a reply:

Yay! Glad I could help.

Would you be truly fortunate enough to receive a text from Bruce instead? At least one word, just to hint all was well. Sleeping seemed unimaginable to you now. For all you could imagine doing was to blankly stare at the screen, drown oneself in the blue light until his name would appear at some point. You were patient.

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

(5:30 am )

Dawn peacefully greeted your eyes when they slowly opened. Exhaustion finally had sent you to deep slumber, you appeared to have rested in fetal position, cradling your phone as if it was the most precious object. The reason for it, you had an important one. But, as you glanced upon the screen, the efforts still seemed moot.

With a glass of water in hand, you quietly paced around the apartment in your oversized t-shirt. Morning lights in shades of blue and gray had fallen over every object and corner of the premises. The blue hour, as it was called, was possibly your favorite moment of the day. Regardless of what time you may sleep, your eyes would always open to be greeted by the blue hour. Perhaps your body was hopelessly besotted with it, therefore efforts to wake up seemed nonexistent anymore. You were thankful, for it was the apt moment to indulge in peace, the beauty before the bustle of the streets grew loud, before your roommate woke up. The blue hour was indeed your own, special hour.

Gulping down the entire water, you kept the glass in the sink with a sigh. He never managed to leave your thoughts every single minute. It was inconceivable to imagine how one could think of someone always, but it seemed you could, at least once a minute. For no matter how many attempts arise, he managed to stealthily conceal himself in some undiscoverable corner of your heart. You asked for nothing much, all you really longed for was to confirm his safety, his company’s safety.

The doorbell rang, suddenly waking you up from your pondering. The fact it rang so early in the day, had you quite suspicious. Could it be another attack? Right here in your home? With a deep breath, you tip toed over to the door. Your heart evidently beating out of your chest as you pressed your ear against the door.

“Y-Yes?” You inquired softly.

“It’s me”

That familiar voice. It suddenly provided you with the amount of life your body truly needed. Brimming with relief, you swore you almost felt your eyes water with tears. Overjoyed, you quickly opened the door wide to find Bruce Wayne standing there. Still dressed in his suit and tie, he certainly wore an extra exhausted look as he entered:

“Hey, sorry for barging in like th-”

He paused. He had to. Especially when you ran into him for a tight embrace.

“I-I didn’t go to war, you know” Bruce began, confusingly.

“Doesn’t matter…you’re here now” you replied, with warmth. Heartbeat began to increase the moment you felt his own arms tightly hold you back, to bring you closer. This very moment was when you realized this probably was the very first you shared an embrace. And truthfully, you certainly were pleased with the result. In fact, you were euphoric. His body, you found home in it, with its warmth and it’s safety, framing your own body with such care as your face rested on the crook of his neck. Bruce finally sighed:

“But it did feel like war” he breathed gently. You chuckled.

“Well, Welcome home, soldier ” you whispered teasingly.

Pulling away was torturous. If only you could stay like this forever. Nature certainly was on your side, when you realized his magnetic energy exuded with strength. You were deeply inclined to press your forehead against his, witnessing the quiet, syncopated breathing between each other. And you did. Being in this close proximity, noses brushed against another, sending small sparks of electricity throughout your frame. The memory of that first kiss. The tension, the warmth and the affection. You were reminded of all of it instantly. Lips were heavily strengthened with the magnetic force, urging to reunite with one another. However before tensions skyrocketed, you moved away. Breathing in to reality once again. And it was Hell.

“What the hell happened, Bruce?”

You inquired casually, your hands resting on your hips, “How long did they keep you for?” “Since this morning” “What?” Hissing in shock, your eyes widened as he quietly closed the door behind him. “Henderson’s guys, they were good” He said softly, shaking his head as you offered him a seat on the sofa, “They were armed with enough questions to last the night. Some of them just plain outrageous, in fact. All just to make sure we didn’t steal their Blueprints” he chuckled.

“God!” You exclaimed quietly, “…that man is crazy” you said, walking towards the window while looking at him, “Were you alone?”

“No no...” he said, “Ted and the others...safe to say, they saved my ass” he added, following you. Smiling proudly, you tilted your head:

“You owe them big time, by the way”

“Oh, I told them to sleep it off today....” Bruce said, with a smile, “With pay...” Clutching your chest, you were joyous to see all had ended well, “Thank you...” you breathed, to which he nodded graciously. All the sudden, it came to your awareness of how indecent you appeared before him. Being the woman who paraded around in her formal office attire, now standing in just her oversized T-shirt, messy hair and no makeup.

Yet, it indeed was surprising that it only occurred to you later on, for your strongest emotions and concerns had come first before reputation. With your long silence, it seems Bruce finally took a good look at you as well. Dare to catch his expression, you dared not, for you urged yourself to shyly look away.

“Henderson...he-“ you began, folding your arms, “I’m pretty sure all this happened because of me...” you added, looking down at his shoes. You sighed, “this was definitely a petty method to get you to fire me. I mean, none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me” you stated, “I’m putting this company through so much”. Hunching forward, you chuckled sadly:

“They should have just killed me in that alleyway in the first place-Ah!”

Gasps exited your lips when you felt Bruce snatch on to your right hand with an iron grip. Only then did you realize the intensity of his eyes piercing through the dim morning light. And how they glinted with hurt.

“If they killed you,...” he breathed, pressing his lips soon after, “I would never be able to live with myself…ever”

Those words brimmed with vulnerability. However, your heart could not accept them.

“You’re just saying that“ you whimpered. Looking in to your eyes with focus, he breathed in your name.

“I spent one whole night…” Bruce began, “…answering senseless questions, to a man child with anger issues…And I did it for you” he said, “And…I would do it all over again...”

To your surprise, this composited of all qualities deemed romantic, though it may not seemed traditional. They were certainly most adequate for you. But, your heart was not yet convinced:

“Bruce…” your voice almost broke, “…I’m just a Senior Manager in your company” you said, with a sad smile, “You deserve better”

And you meant it, truly. Gently pulling you closer, Bruce exhaled deeply: “I don’t care of what I deserve...” he stated, his thumb grazing over your hand, “…I care of what I need…”

Your fast paced heart had difficulty functioning when you felt him place a gentle kiss on the back of your wrist. The same traumatic place Alpha willfully slashed, the same spot blood managed to gush out. His lips, they were akin to an invisible bandage you preferred not to rid oneself of. And to find him reach this stage of vulnerability, you would be lying if you did not acknowledge your broken heart as a consequence.

“Bruce...” you breathed, your defenses breaking down within seconds. Looking up, he looked at you with desperation:

“What is it?” he inquired with impatience, “What do I need to prove to y-”

He was silenced, when you clashed your lips against his with sheer desperation. Your heart finally understood, it seemed.

“Just kiss me” you breathed shakily, your lips brushing against his. Was this what he desired for? You wondered for a split second. But the moment he exhaled with relief, Bruce kissed you back with equal fervor, both finally have come to an understanding.

A desperate one, to be exact.

Bruce’s lips were as addictive and charismatic as his entire presence itself, and certainly strong enough to drive away and forget all matters that resided in your head, except one: your desperate need for him.

Desperation was what you tasted when he kissed you, and that was what your own lips preached religiously to his. It was the lead role of this passion play. Every minute, every day, every week you had deprived yourself of him, you hopelessly needed them back. All forms of doubts and suppression that lingered, you threw all out of the window. For you chose him, you wanted him.

His lips, they held on to you tightly, savoring your own with enough passion and impatience whilst his hands gripped on to your waist with intensity. And truthfully, you did not blame him. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you were relieved to share that similar greed for one another. You moaned into the kiss, as his palms made themselves at home on your buttocks. Backing up, you finally stopped the moment you felt the dinner table right behind you. And before your brain could even form any connection, Bruce was generous, lowering himself enough for you to jump onto him, just so he could carefully place you on the table.

Pulling him by the loosened tie, you felt the kiss deepen at last. Tongues were in a desperate race to reach their destination before the other, intoxicating each other with no shame. As he stood between your legs, you heard yourself gasp into his lips as bodies clashed intimately close. It sent goosebumps, it cause fireworks. Your body was awakened in more ways than one.

Like a drug addict deprived of her usual supply, you suddenly looked at Bruce with desperation when his lips quickly pulled away from yours. Looking at your messy, aroused state, he began breathlessly:

“I can…” he panted, forehead pressed against yours, “I can stop if you want-”

“Don’t dare fucking stop, Bruce!”

You whispered, sheer impatience leading you to kiss him roughly afterwards. His consideration even at this point led to even more arousal than before. By now, the level of desperation increased, to the point a sense of connection was expected of, where desire and lust grouped up form a stronger alliance. A pair of trousers being unbuckled never sounded this heavenly, especially when it was Bruce Wayne engaged in it. With your own fingers hooked on to the ends of your panties, you impatiently managed to pull them down whilst moving from side to side on the table. All the while his lips were desperately glued onto yours.

No clothes were in need of shedding, for there was simply no time to. Sloppy Desperation overruled this morning, to the point all that simply mattered were the uniting of one’s bodies until two became one, until that burning flame could finally be put out. Until that hunger was satisfied, and that thirst was quenched.

“Bruce…” you breathed, pulling away, eyes widening as you looked down.

For the moment your eyes caught the glimpse of his own aroused manhood reveal itself before you, the need for him was confirmed once more . The very moment you found yourself adjusting for him, you were aware of what you needed. The moment you let out of an incredibly emotional cry when he finally inserted himself into you, all that seemed challenging in your life were suddenly filled with clarity.

“Ah! Bruce…” you cried softly, as his own grunts harmonized with yours.

With every thrust he made inside you, with every kiss he planted on your skin, you gladly were prepared to be his. As the apartment filled up with suppressed moans, grunts and whispery sighs exchanged between the two, you were hopelessly and shamelessly his.

When finally the passion peak was reached, and his own passion erupted and released within your core, You finally knew what really was important for you. For you had finally decided.

——————————————————

Chapter 8 HERE

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling @lucy-roo @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @badsext @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse @artsymaddie @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @strangerliaa @jensen-impala @lilyofthesword @woodencupcake @fonduebitches @soullesstaco @spicybellinger @marvel-lously

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sadistgalore · 3 years ago

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Chapter 14: The (Ex) Detective and The Secretary

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Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake

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Ok, this chapter is purely just to continue the story and lore purposes, and contains no whump at all, so feel free to skip it. I'm planning to post some Killian and Luther tomorrow to make up for it. If you're confused by this chapter at all, I would recommend reading these two first (x,y)

CW: pepper spray, mention of kidnapping, implied kidnapping, no whump found

“Motion 68B….Bill 72A….Motion 43….B? No, that’s not right. Damn it!” Elizabeth slammed her pen on her desk, throwing her head into her hands.

She had been here since seven in the morning, and Helene had made her stay late to make up for missed work. Missed work that happened because she was more concerned about looking for her roommate that disappeared.

“Okay, let’s just start from the beginning, Beth. Helene wants to pass-” She heard a clatter.

She sat up straight, everything had been quiet for the past four hours. She shook her head, figuring it was one of the security guards. Everything was quiet again for a moment, but then she heard footsteps that sounded like they were in a different room.

She was about to pass it off again, but security never made their way to the top floor where she was, due to Congresswoman McKinley’s strict orders. She heard another clatter once she got up, and knew immediately that it came from the documents room. That only she, the congresswoman, and a few others had access to- not including security.

So it can’t have been them, everyone else has gone home for the night, then who else could it be?

She got up from her desk and made her way towards the room, taking out her pepper spray from her handbag as a precaution. A gun would’ve been better, but Harper made sure she never used one, and always gave her a look when Beth would go snooping for the hidden one in their apartment.

The secretary made her way down the hall and into the document room, preparing herself for defense. Whoever was in the room broke in, and was searching through several classified files. It was Elizabeth’s job to stop them at all costs. She ran her keycard, and opened the door.

The figure rummaging through the files froze, turning just before a sharp and painful spray flew into his face. “AH! FUCKING HELL!” The intruder, who sounded like a man, writhed on the ground, clutching his eyes.

Beth stood above him, hand with the can pointed towards him. “What are you doing here? I swear to god I won’t hesitate to spray again!”

The man stopped, carefully moving his hands from his eyes. He knew that voice.

“E….E-Eliz-za-zabeth?”

Beth lowered her hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know my name?”

She was answered with a groan, and pulled out the flashlight on her phone. Beth gasped as she could clearly see the familiar brown skin and scruffy back hair of her friend, Harper’s detective partner, eyes red and running with tears.

“Oh my god! Nic! I’m so sorry!” She said as she rushed over to him.

“H-Hey...ah….’Lizbeth.”

“I could slap you right now if your eyes weren’t burning! Come on,” she grunted as she picked him up and put his weight around her arm. They walked back towards her office, where Beth threw Nic into her chair and rushed to the kitchen. There, she grabbed a small towel and soaked it in milk.

She got back to her desk, handing Nicholas the soaked towel. “Alright, just put this over your eyes and the pain should go away.” She took a moment to see that he was alright, tears no longer running down his face. Then she exploded. “What in the fuck were you thinking breaking into the congresswoman’s office?! How did you even-”Beth stopped in her sentence, remembering this morning and how she couldn’t find her keycard to the file room. “Nicholas! Helene almost killed me when I told her I lost my keycard and you stole it?!”

Nic sighed and gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Beth, I really am. But I needed to get into the room, and you wouldn’t have given me the keycard.”

“You could’ve asked instead of breaking into a government building! Aren’t you a detective? You know you’re supposed to have a warrant, not scrummage for clues like Batman.”

Nic hesitantly pulled the milk rag away from his puffy eyes and blinked painfully. “About that...I kind of got fired.”

Beth blinked. “What?”

“Chief fired me. Said I was getting too involved in Harper’s disappearance.”

“She’s your partner.”

“I know,” Nic winced as he rolled his eyes which were slowly starting to burn less and their conversation went on. “What kind of boyfriend- partner would I be if I didn’t at least try?”

“Boyfriend?”

“No, it’s-“ Nic sighed. “We were never that serious, more of a partners with benefits situation, but I still cared about her. I’ve always have, lovers or not.”

There was a long silence, until the girl spoke up again. “What did you need from Helene’s office?”

“Evidence. About her affiliation with the Jaguars.”

Beth stared at the ex-detective in shock. “Nic, I've been her assistant for almost three years. I would know if she was dealing with a criminal organization.”

“Then you’re not a great assistant. She’s either funding them, covering their crimes up, or working alongside them.”

Beth stood up in mild defense. “Listen, Helene’s a bitch and a half but she’s not a monster.”

Nic's eyes were devoid of any humor. “I’m serious, Elizabeth. And it’s not just her, I have at least five other government officials who are in league with the Jaguars, and I believe that your boss might be one of them. Or, at the very least, married to one of them.”

“Married? That’s impossible, she’s been single as long as I’ve known her.”

“Not according to an anonymous call I got. Whoever they were, they knew I was looking for Harper and led me in the direction of investigating the Jaguars and Congresswoman McKinley’s affiliation with them. They told me that Helene McKinley and Edward Darmine were married.”

“Edward Darmine? As in-”

“Dark, leader of the Vault Dwellers, the biggest weapons dealers in the Northeast. The same man that killed Harper’s father and took her brother.”

Beth huffed, growing frustrated as all she heard were lies and false accusations. “Are you seriously telling me that the man that ruined Harper’s life is married to my boss and she is part of the most dangerous organization in the entire Northeast? And you’ve found all this out in what, a month? While me and Harper have been looking into them for years?!”

“Yes.”

Beth stared at the ex-detective for a moment, then pointed towards the door. “Out.”

Nic’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Beth-“

“No, Nic, I can’t deal with this right now. Just leave.”

Nic stayed for just a moment longer, then got up and left.

“Wait.”

He anxiously turned back around, hoping his friend had changed his mind.

“Leave the key. And be grateful that I’m not reporting this to security tomorrow morning.”

Nic nodded, and dropped the key in the ground. Right as he reached the door, he said one last thing. “I’m telling the truth, Beth. If you want to start believing me and find Harper, call me.”

Beth said nothing as the man walked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

---

Helene turned off her computer after reviewing the security tapes, sitting back in her chair.

“Ma’am? What do you suggest we do with them?” Said a man next to her.

“Give me a moment please.”

The man nodded and left her office, a different one than the one she shared with her secretary in DC. She pulled out her phone, and dialed a number in her contacts.

“Yes, darling?”

“Edward, we have a problem. The detective, Nicholas Malcolm, found out about me.”

“He knows you’re one of the Jaguars?”

“Not just that, he also knows we’re married.”

“How? No one outside our organization knows that we’re married.”

“He said he found out from an anonymous source. Who that is, I don’t know, but now he and my secretary know.”

“The Carrien girl.”

“Yes. I know the right option would be to kill them, but I want Elizabeth alive. I don’t care about the boy.”

“He could be useful. I’ll convince someone else to take him. What will you do with the girl?”

“I’ll keep her as my secretary, but she could always be made into something more in the future.”

“Take that up with the boss.”

“I’ll try. And if I’m going to do this, I’ll be gone for a few weeks to make sure she’s settled in and everything is covered up. I might have to train her at the Philadelphia base.”

“Do what you need to do. Just let me know, Helene.”

“I will. I love you, Edward.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Love you too.”

Helene hung up and called the man back into her office. “By tomorrow’s sunrise, I want Elizabeth Carrien in Philadelphia and Nicholas Malcom in a holding cell. Burn both of their apartments down. I’ll deal with the rest, but I want them alive and unharmed.”

“Yes, Mrs. Darmine.”

Helene looked over to an old photograph on her desk, a picture of two young girls with blonde hair. “I do hope you can be useful to us, Elizabeth.”

#whump #not really #but i want tags #whump community #whump blog #whump fic #whump writung #pepper spray #mentions of kidnapping #implied kidnapping #Devil's Playground #Beth #Nic #Helene #Dark #i wonder who those two girls are hmmmm?#or maybe its obvious idk #i ain't telling tho

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morethanaprincess-a · 3 years ago

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I know this is quite a bit of time after I posted this meme, but I wanted to respond to all of the kind comments I received on the positivity meme when I really needed some last week! So I thought I’d save it for a Munday post, complete with pet tax beneath the cut. Mundays are better with pet tax, right?

@electricea

Thank you so much for your compliments, Jassi! I adore writing with you too, it’s so much fun coming up with new AUs for Ryuji and Sonia (and expanding on our established verses as well). You’re such a positive and encouraging person in the tumblr RPC and I’m pretty sure your dash agrees. Here’s to more IC adventures and me sending you ramen related news and saying “we’re working this into a thread, right? Right??”

Does Ryuji have the ramen pool float/raft already? Because that needs to happen.

@cadcnce

So uh, on a scale of 1-10 how mad will you be if I get a draft back to Eira by mid-week? To be fair, it’s not the same day please don’t point that gun at me

Joking (about what will likely happen on my dash) aside, I love writing with you and your many muses too! Bonus that we have plenty in common too, including being Old Muns with Old Mun Problems. Like roleplaying before tumblr and the fact that pogs are a bottle/milk cap game (I think I had close to 100 of them as an elementary school student, before I said I wanted beanie babies instead).

In short, I have so much fun both writing IC and just chatting about fandom and life OOC. Though the more I keep looking at Las Vegas-related things for RP research I’m just “Well, now I want to go and not gamble at all but do everything else.”

But I’ll finish with this: I do try to put my happiness first, and for me that’s when I’m writing every day and have a consistently-running queue. This is partly due to how organized I am about my work and my hobbies, and partly due to content creation and social media being a large part of my professional life. It’s not that tumblr RP is work, it’s that I can’t help but approach it, in a way, in a professional sense, taking in algorithms, patterns, activity, etc. into consideration. I look at a variety of statistics tumblr provides on my blog and often make judgement calls about content I post here that way.

It’s super nerdy and I know it. I also just can’t help it because it’s ingrained in me at this point: content planning, creation, calendars, analytics, etc. Pain for me is disorganization, a queue that isn’t updated, or answering asks/taking on more threads when I have replies I could write.

@despairfiles

Excuse me, every hour is Sin loving hours! Thank you so much for your encouraging feedback. You’re absolutely right: I’m definitely someone who likes to develop complex, long-term interactions over a variety of interesting situations. I know that can be frustrating sometimes with queued replies and wall-of-text replies, but it really is fun for me to show so much of a scene: the setting, the dialogue, the action, the thoughts and feelings. I tend to come up with most of my headcanons through threads at this point, too.

And I’m always going to say ‘challenge accepted’ when it comes to writing new stuff with Hajime and Shirou. If you feel compelled to bring Hajime back at some point I’m always here to write with you, and there’s so much story to tell with Sonia and Shirou too. I actually have a plot idea development for one of our verses on that front, I just haven’t put it into words yet!

Oh, and of course: Chatting OOC with you is one of the best parts of my day! Politics, spilling tea, me bemoaning that England lost Euro 2020 (the rest of the world doesn’t agree with me and I know it), you sharing your adorable dogs and wine sodas (I’m going to find the wine soda here. Somewhere.), agreeing that Lord El-Melloi II is a SNACC even if the fandom doesn’t agree with us, I adore it all.

Seriously though I love him he is A++++ husbando material. This is where Sonia and I differ: she loves Shirou and I’m here just “He’s a professor who barely adults and realizes it is, indeed, a crisis when your favorite tearoom is closed. Husband material right here.”

@phantasmalcalamity

Thank you so, so much for your compliments regarding my Sonia portrayal! That’s really nice of you! I’m not sure that my version is perfect by any means as plenty of people offer different takes on her, but I’m so glad you enjoy writing with her! Our Sonia/Gundham threads have been such a joy to write so far and I hope to continue and do more of them (without adding too much to your plate of course. I’m hoping you start feeling better, first and foremost!). You’re also wonderful to chat with OOC and I love seeing your costumes when you share them. It’s so cool having RP partners who are also cosplayers because you understand that unique struggle of “do I write drafts or do I work on costumes for upcoming con/event?”

I’m trying to balance both but it’s been interesting. Definitely after the fall cons/events I should have some more photoshoot stuff to share. I miss cons and photoshoots so much!

And as promised, some pet/life photo tax underneath the cut!

One of the two usual views I have when writing drafts/shitposting/chatting with you all on discord. Princess Molly received a new bed recently, befitting her royal status. She’s judging the quality of my drafts and wondering when she will be given pets.

And the other view I usually have while on tumblr. I’m missing Paris (and London. And Edinburgh. Let’s just put missing the U.K. and France in general here) quite a lot. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to go back (probably whenever I go on my honeymoon), so I’m having a small taste of it at home. My family’s going next month, but work wouldn’t give me the time off to join them.

The Laduree Marie Antoinette tea is my favorite version of the MA tea, and with shipping so expensive, it made sense to grab some macarons to go with it.

I just miss Europe so much right now. Most of my off-tumblr friends are trying to plan trips to Japan next year, and I’m over here just “I actually miss Heathrow and Charles de Gaulle.”

#more-than-a-princess musings #(Happy Munday! Here's a too long Munday post)#(But at least there's pet tax)

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think-thonkin · 4 years ago

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Different kind of grief

Have you ever experienced a friendship or relationship breaking apart so terribly and irreparably that you grieve it like you'd grieve for a recently deceased loved one?

Like you don't even grieve the person, but the companionship, the late night talks that exposed questions about existence and deeply hidden feelings coming into star-brightened darkness, the occasional laughing fits, the warm smiles, the content silences...

She was the last one I had. In person I mean. I cherish and appreciate my online friends with a soul-crushing passion, but the in-person companionship I crave is a kind of void that they just cannot fulfill, not anytime soon at least.

We were unhappy even before our relationship changed labels, I think. We didn't have much in common anymore, after (then) 15 years of having been friends, our interests and expectations in life and romance had drifted apart instead of closer together and it should have been the first sign that turning our relationship into a romantic one was a terrible idea.

I was unhappy, I ended up being the initiator of practically everything, be it touch or conversation or addressing problems. It was always me that stepped forward, and the lines between platonic and romantic felt like a blurry and dangerous path to tread on without her telling me what is too far and what isn't, so sticking to small displays of affection like occasionally holding hands and a few gentle kisses to the cheek or forehead were the most bravery I could muster and the most I received in turn. I was touchstarved and desperately craving physical proximity, in part to battle my internalized self hatred that told me I was undesirable and only her last resort choice after 3 failed relationships of her own.

One time she exploded on me, her years worth of bottled up frustration and anger at the world bubbling up over a relatively small situation via text, intentionally twisting my words to be angry with me and vent more of her tension. She apologized later, but the panic attack I had that day would stick with me for far longer still.

I would start noticing when she lied about her feelings.

The way I recognized her typing style shift, her voice grow meek, the sudden increase of time required to form responses. Seeing the signs was easy, but discerning the cause was always about as clear to me as milk.

I was taught that honesty and communication were key in maintaining healthy relationships, so I would ask her if I did something wrong or if we needed to talk something out in any way, because I had noticed her tone change mid-conversation.

She would always insist that everything was fine, maintaining her facade of the perfectly composed adult.

I believed her and reinforced the chains that bound me to her.

We would start writing less, seeing each other less, despite only living two blocks apart. It was more and more difficult to get any mutually beneficial conversation going and we'd get frustrated being around each other in person after as little as 3 hours too. She at some point insulted my interests and got angry at me for struggling to share hers. I've tried to bring our lack of intimacy and unclear boundaries to attention too one day, only to have her shake her head and tell me that she's fine with whatever, that she doesn't need much to be happy. What we had didn't cut it for me and it had hurt, having my feelings ignored like this, so I refrained from trying again.

I thought it better to not poke the sleeping bear anyways.

Then, someone new tumbled into my life, someone with a passion as sparkling and intense as my own, a lonely soul masked in a charmingly awkward, ironic bravado and bluntly thrown quips. It didn't take long for us to click and converse on the daily. The more we learned of each other, the more similarities we found.

He lives several hundred kilometers away, but it still took only two months of daily texting and several hours of voice and videochat for me to fall head over heels.

I felt so unbelievably guilty.

I couldn't sever the chains that tied me to her out of fear of playing into her insecurities, but by the time I met him I had already been feeling like a bird stuck in a cage - solely there for her comfort, putting her feelings before my own, always. I was unhappy, we weren't working. But I cared more about her than myself, so I told myself I wouldn't break up with her.

And yet she’d deserved to know the truth, so as soon as I realized my feelings I confessed about it to her.

Things got messy from there, too much back and forth with me desperately clawing for any bit of selfish compromise I could get my hands on.

She eventually had enough of it and broke up with me, but we promised we'd stay friends.

She put on her porcelain mask of careful indifference and things went smoothly for a while.

It didn't take long for the mask to crack though. It was too frail to withstand her jealousy, her heartache, and eventually it fell apart.

She came to me with misinterpreted situations and long ago wrongdoings I've comitted, in her mind to intentionally cross her, talking over me when I attempted to correct her or defend myself, accusing me of being a lying, backstabbing bitch who was not an ounce better than the grovelling, attention-starved crybabies that play the victim card at and every opportinity. Then she insulted me and my loved ones up and down.

Then she left.

And I wailed as my shaking fingers blocked her on every site I could think of, terrified of her wrath and scared of more to come.

And then I hated her, for her hypocrisy and the hurt she's inflicted on me, as the realization of her small manipulative tactics to keep me bound to her slowly sunk in (for the sake of maintaining her anonymity I will not go into detail about how specifically she manipulated me, but know that there was what I now understand to have been some gaslighting involved).

Now, over a year after she confronted me, all I have left are the glowing embers of grief replacing my rage, and the understanding that I too have made more mistakes than I can count and had originally realized.

Now it doesn't matter who had ultimately been at fault, or whether or not her behavior was hypocritical or just.

All I know is that now I am lonely and tired.

Tired of being angry and hurt.

Tired of remembering her in all those little, painful ways that have shaped my life over the 16 years I've known her.

I still have him and my online friends and feel more balanced and supported than I've ever been, but in losing her I have also lost my only remaining real life friend and along with it, the kind of companionship my online friends cannot give.

She's written me a letter together with some old art of mine since that last fateful conflict, actually.

It made all of my emotions flare up again.

On the first read it had felt sincere, she was apologizing for not letting me defend myself in our last conversation all those months ago, that she's doing better now, especially in handling her emotions more openly and hasn't had any outbursts since. She also said she'd send me the art pieces and gifts I've given her over the years back if she found more of them.

On the second read it felt like salt in an open wound, an attempt to rub in that she is over me, better off without me while I was still stuck in my grief and hurt. I've written countless drafts of response letters, ranging from long and infuriated, to brief and sorrowful, to sarcastically apologetic until eventually I gave up trying altogether. Too stricken with negative emotions to think clearly.

I'm still unsure which outcome would be pettier of me, trying to get the last word in, or deciding she doesn't deserve an answer? Would sending her a response incite an attempt to mend our lost friendship and rekindle it, or would not answering imply my agreement to have her send back more items in the future?

It made me realize that I don't actually want her back in my life.

That it's not her that I miss, but rather the easy in-person companionship I've had with her, the happiness and comfort that comes with it.

By writing this post I was kind of hoping to find a different kind of closure, by getting my thoughts and feelings out about it all without actually writing her back.

I'm still hurting and lonely, but it's gotten better, continues to get better.

If you've read this far - and really, I don't think there's much of a reason you would, you don't know me after all, so why should you care - thank you for lending a patient ear to a grieving stranger.

If you think that you are who this whole post is centered around:

I genuinely do hope you are doing well. That you will find happiness, comfort, genuine companionship and a warm meal and bed to return to every day.

I just wish for it to be far away from my own.

#vent #bisexuality #relationship #failed relationship #story time #thoughts #heartbreak #prose

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genesisrose74 · 4 years ago

Text

Hinata Shoyo x Reader: Good Unexpected

Hello there! This is the first time I’ve ever posted any of my writing, so I hope you enjoy reading! I had a really fun time writing about my favorite ray of sunshine and may or may not have gotten carried away with the word count whoops :P Constructive feedback or just comments in general are welcome~

Word count: 6600

Warning(s): None

Another close win for Karasuno’s male volleyball team had a crowd on their feet and a roar echoing throughout the building. There were five volleyball courts in the structure, but none had a more rambunctious crowd in that moment than the once Flightless Crows. The match wasn’t an all too significant one, but it claimed the boys another opportunity to play in this charity tournament, and that’s all they needed to keep their drive going. In the chaos of cheering students, players on break, family members, and those who had simply been enraptured by the match, a duo of young females ushered out muffled apologies of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ more times than they could count as they edged their way through. A short blonde stuck closely beside her fellow classmate in the sea of people, letting out a breath of relief upon seeing a gap to a less crowded section of the stadium.

“Yachi, could you text Kiyoko and tell her we’re on our way? Takinoue and Shimada said they’d take care of the banner since the next match is tomorrow,” you instructed.

“Sure thing,” Yachi replied with a small nod, fishing her phone from her back pocket.

You both continued your move down a set of stairs, searching for the main entrance to court three, on which Karasuno had just played.

“Hey, I think I see Tsukishima by the water fountain over there! The rest of the boys must be close by.” Yachi gestured to the slim middle blocker, donning the unmistakable Karasuno High VBC sweatshirt each player was given at the beginning of the season.

“Yeah, that’s him for sure! Good eye, Yachi!” you acknowledged.

Jogging over to the towering blonde, you flashed him a warm smile in greeting. Tsukishima replied with a brief nod, his usual hello.

“Hey, Tsukki! Where’s the rest of the boys?” you inquired, now used to Tsukishima’s little expressed enthusiasm, even after a victory.

“Daichi, Sugawara and Ennoshita are checking out the standings for who we’ll face off against tomorrow, Yamaguchi is in the bathroom, and the dumbasses who share one brain cell went to check if the snack bar was open. I have no clue where the rest of them ended up,” Tsukishima listed, scrolling through his phone.

Yachi giggled at his last description of what you could only assume to be Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata, and likely Kageyama. Those boys had a way of getting into the stupidest situations, and their immense distaste for anything school related made their title quite fitting, although it was safe to say that you had a soft spot for the knuckleheads - especially one in particular.

“Speak of the devil,” Tsukishima stated as he looked up from his device. Sure enough, two of said boys had returned from their little food run with bags of snacks in hand. Tanaka had already ripped open a package of beef jerky, two of the sticks stuffed in his mouth as he spoke incoherent words to his fellow second year teammate, Nishinoya.

“Hey boys!” you waved enthusiastically. “Nice win today!”

Upon seeing you, Nishinoya and Tanaka gasped simultaneously, the remaining jerky in the latter’s mouth falling onto the floor. You could see a grossed out Tsukishima cringe in your peripheral vision, but you didn’t really mind the duo’s antics at this point.

As everyone knows, Kiyoko was the team manager, an absolute goddess to all, and the master of avoiding the flirty nature of any guy she came across. It was evident that she had a huge effect on the rambunctious second years, two of them in particular melting any time they were given the slightest bit of attention (affectionate or otherwise) - and she could even pull a reaction out of the calmest of boys, including the ever respectful and reserved Karasuno captain from time to time.

However, despite a deep infatuation for the beautiful third year female, the team had been introduced to a new kind of character in the past year that had thrown Nishinoya and Tanaka into a frenzy: a competitive yet kindhearted first year student who just so happened to be a volleyball player herself: you.

You had arrived in the boy’s gymnasium one afternoon, on the day of the week that the Karasuno girl’s team had practice off. You were hoping to find some tasks or drills to help out with, just to keep yourself active during your free time after school. Since Coach Ukai always appreciated an extra set of hands, especially some that held experience, you began appearing as a regular during Wednesday practices, and the team took a quick liking to you.

Despite your focus and intensity whenever you were on the court, you were almost always there with an encouraging word or bright smile if the Karasuno boys ever needed, and your consistent sweetness caused many players to view you in a similar manner as Kiyoko. While the more reserved Kiyoko Shimizu was more or less dismissive of the constant attention she would get from boys, you were always happy to jump in and boost the team with your enthusiastic words and actions.

Nishinoya briefly brought up that he likes when girls compliment his hair? You make a little mention of how good it looks at the end of practice that day. Tanaka isn’t feeling particularly happy with his spikes? You’re sure to compliment him extra when he gets a shot off that he likes. Yamaguchi gets frustrated with his jump floaters? You offer up a few words of encouragement to keep him going. Even after practice is over and it’s just a normal day that you can spend time with the team, you happily accepted the compliments and the affection you received from the boys - specifically Nishinoya and Tanaka. Of course, you never lead them on or anything of the sort; you’re all just very close friends.

It was an interesting dynamic to say the least, but the differing personalities of you and the team manager Shimizu had two second year boys going wild to get your attention.

But, the two troublemakers had discovered who you had your sights set on pretty quickly.

“N/n! I didn’t realize you came to watch today!” Nishinoya grinned, quickly making his way over and wrapping his arms around your midsection. You laughed and placed a hand on the libero’s head, patting his hair gently.

“Hi, Nishi,” you smiled. “Of course I came to see you all. I couldn’t miss watching my favorite libero in action, now could I?”

“How did you think we did? Wasn’t that an awesome last set?” Tanaka joined in the conversation, giving you a side hug in greeting.

“Yeah, it was pretty exciting to watch!” you agreed. “I’m all for the heart pounding matches, so long as you boys keep winning at the end of them.”

“You know we will!” Nishinoya smiled up at you.

“I do know that,” you affirmed before looking around the space. “Tsukishima mentioned something about you and some of the other boys getting snacks, but right now it’s just you two. Where’s the rest of your little group of mischief-makers at?”

“Kageyama stopped by a vending machine to buy some milk. He said it was cheaper than the prices at the snack bar.” Tanaka clarified.

“Hinata decided to stick with him to talk about the team we’re likely playing tomorrow, but they shouldn’t be far behind us.” Nishinoya concluded, a small grin playing at his lips. “Speaking of which, didn’t Hinata do pretty great, N/n? You should tell him how good he looked doing those quick attacks out on the floor today.”

You stuck your tongue out at the boy who still had his arms secured around you.

“Very funny, Nishi.” you pouted. “At this point you’re not even trying to be discreet.”

Nishinoya was the first player on the team to pick up on your attraction to Karasuno’s prized decoy. You had nearly walked into the wall of the school gymnasium while shagging volleyballs during a hitting drill, watching intently as Hinata did his approach before jumping and slamming the ball onto the other side of the court with ease. It would have been incredibly embarrassing if anyone else had witnessed your distracted movements, but fortunately Nishinoya was the only one to see, and had prevented you from smacking straight into the side of the building.

Initially, the libero thought the mishap was merely because you didn’t want to get nailed by Kageyama and Hinata’s quick attacks, but then he watched you nearly choke on your water when Hinata tossed his practice shirt off the same night, leaving the you to gape in silent astonishment as the middle blocker searched for a less sweaty replacement. Since Nishinoya was already quite close to you at the time, he was quick to corner you about the instance and declared himself an unofficial wing-man when you admitted you had feelings for the ginger.

He may or may not have let the secret slip to Tanaka one night when the three of you were walking home - and then profusely apologized to the point where tears visibly brimmed in his eyes - but Tanaka promised that he wouldn’t say anything to Hinata. Besides, even if he did make a not-so-subtle mention about you to the aspiring ace, you doubted that the dense boy would even understand Tanaka’s implications.

Little did you know, you were just as oblivious as Hinata when it came to people crushing on you. And the two second years beside you knew much more than you did.

“Awe, you look so cute when you get all pouty,” Nishinoya chuckled, reaching up to tap you on the nose.

“Oh, hush. Don’t make me bring up the time when you went completely rigid after Kiyoko-senpai gave you a high five at the scrimmage against Nekoma last month,” you countered.

“Don’t you mean the greatest moment of my entire life?”

“Wow, I’m hurt that she gets a higher placement than me in that regard.”

Despite being quite a bit shorter than you, Nishinoya easily hoisted you a few inches in the air and spun around, eliciting a surprised yelp on your part.

“Nishi, put me down!” you squealed, albeit laughing while doing so.

“You know how much I love you. Kiyoko might be my queen, but you’re definitely an angel sent to grace us with your presence!” he declared playfully.

The libero gently placed his friend back on the floor, a lopsided grin on his face as she ruffled his hair fondly.

“I know, and I love you too, little Guardian Deity.” you conceded. “Now, show me what kind of snacks you bought. I forgot to grab money before I left the house, so I could use some food.”

“You got it!” Tanaka opened up his backpack filled with goodies and offered it out to you. “Take your pick. We stocked up on a lot of food to munch on for the team meeting later today.”

“Speaking of which, you should come and sit in on that! I’m sure the rest of the guys would like to see you,” Nishinoya added.

“Actually I was already planning on going,” you mentioned while acquiring a bag of pretzels from Tanaka’s stash. “I texted Kiyoko that I was going to be here today, and she said that if you boys got another win that I should come to the meeting.”

“Sweet!” Tanaka exclaimed. “Since it’s not all that late, some of us were thinking about having a small practice in the gym after. If you had the time, it would be fun to have you stick around and maybe play if you wanted.”

“That sounds like fun!” you smiled, “just make sure you all don’t tire yourselves out completely before tomorrow’s game.”

Tanaka gasped dramatically, “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“-I’m just saying that you have a serious obsession with milk, Kageyama. It’s almost unhealthy.”

“Milk is a good source of calcium, you dumbass. So what if I drink a lot of it?”

“If you had the chance to marry a carton of milk, you absolutely would.”

“Would you shut up already?”

Two voices bickered back and forth as they approached the area near your little group. To anyone even barely associated with Karasuno’s volleyball team, these two arguing idiots would be easy to recognize from a mile away, and sure enough, a head of fluffy orange hair rounded the corner, quarreling with his dark haired teammate.

“Are they seriously having an argument about Kageyama and his milk?” Tanaka questioned.

“I’m honestly not even surprised at this point,” you sighed.

“Hey, morons!” Tanaka yelled at the two boys, who snapped their heads in the direction of their senpai’s distinct voice. “Quit fighting with each other and get the hell over here!”

You could feel your stomach flip involuntarily. Despite seeing the aspiring Karasuno ace many times during Wednesday practices and around school, it was always a sight to behold whenever he was suited up in the official team uniform. Hinata always got into these moments of intense focus during matches, which you deeply admired, and you affiliated such occasions with the jersey he always donned during each game. The look quickly became one of your favorites, but that piece of information was never shared with the boys. Only Kiyoko and Yachi knew about that secret preference, which they had promised to never bring up near any of the Karasuno team.

You were thrown out of your stupor when Nishinoya nudged you knowingly, a single eyebrow raised in a playful challenge. You only scoffed and shook your head, giving the libero a little nudge in return.

“Such a schemer, Nishi.” you murmured.

“You’re such a scaredy-cat.” he muttered in response. “Go compliment him about the game or something, you do it all the time with me and Tanaka.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Excuses, excuses~”

You huffed in exasperation, sparing another look at the little ray of sunshine with which you were so enamored. At this distance, the boy was close enough to recognize you, and you felt a gentle smile grow on your face when warm brown eyes met your own. You offered him a small wave in greeting, as you both were still a ways away from each other.

Hinata was quick to close that distance upon seeing you from across the hallway, making a beeline for the familiar girl that he had grown to love seeing walk through the gymnasium doors every week. He was glad to see you whenever he got the chance; you were always there to help him and Kageyama practice a few more quick attacks after practice concluded, always ready to try a few serves of your own when the boys wanted to get in some extra receives, always happy to help the young decoy with his studies when a particularly difficult exam was near. Not to mention, he found you to be the prettiest person out of his entire class of first years, so that was a plus.

The whole team may or may not know about Hinata’s very obvious affections, despite the boy not telling a single soul about the way his heart goes bwah!! whenever he thinks about you. Tanaka and Nishinoya found the entire ordeal utterly agonizing, being the only two boys on the team knowledgeable of your own feelings, and being sworn to secrecy about that fact. The Karasuno manager and the manager-in-training also knew the irony of the situation, but they didn’t dare meddle in your love life.

If your friends were all being honest with themselves, as torturous as it was to watch you two timid first years dance around each other’s feelings all the time, it was also incredibly adorable to watch your interactions. The usually loud and energetic middle blocker would lose all sense of function every time you would praise his game play, to the point where Kageyama had to kick his teammate from behind to get him to focus again. Hinata swore he nearly ascended when you had launched into his arms after beating Shiratorizawa in the Spring High Finals.

Yet, despite these moments of mutually lingering gazes and light blushes that often dusted both of your faces, the ginger rationalized that you acted this way towards every player on the team, and brushed such encounters with you off as nothing but platonic. He didn’t mind simply being friends, if that's all he could be. He was content so long as he got to be near you.

“Hey, Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming to watch the game today,” Hinata addressed you with a smile that put a blazing summer sun to shame.

“I wanted it to be a surprise! The student council meeting ended up being shorter than expected, so I called Kiyoko and let her know that I was on my way,” you explained. You then turned to Kageyama, who had eventually made his way over to the small group. “Nice game today, Kags. That one set you sent to Asahi in the second match from behind the attack line was insane.”

Karasuno’s starting setter nodded in acknowledgement of the commendation. “Thank you.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya, now standing next to their two teammates, aggressively attempted to gesture to Hinata with their eyes; a silent urge to get you to say something to the boy.

“And I think that one super fast quick attack you guys pulled off in the final set was really cool,” you tagged on. “It’s always fun to see the other team’s reactions whenever that happens.”

The two second years shot you a deadpan look. That’s not exactly what they meant, but they could see you struggling to string together any coherent sentence to your crush and decided not to press any further. You just couldn’t help it! You wanted to tell the present ray of sunshine that he played a great game, that he always played amazingly, despite his occasionally awkward receives or missed serves. He always gave each match 110%, and you wanted to express to him just how phenomenal he was, but just couldn’t find the right words without the fear of sounding completely obsessive and embarrassing. Nishinoya and Tanaka both glanced at each other, a silent agreement occurring between them in a matter of seconds.

Unlike Yachi and Kiyoko, the two boys weren’t opposed to a little meddling.

“Y/n is going to come to the meeting and maybe stay for that extra practice time we have planned,” Nishinoya mentioned, saving you from trying (and failing) to say anything else.

Hinata’s eyes lit up at the news. “For real? That’s great!”

The middle blocker enjoyed your presence at the Wednesday practices you’d attend, especially since it was where he got to witness your competitive and athletic side. So, getting to see more of that was welcomed any time.

You nodded in affirmation and popped a miniature pretzel in your mouth. “And since I was just dropped off at the complex and kind of need a ride, Kiyoko said that there was plenty of room for me to go back on the bus.”

“Hell yeah there is!” Tanaka grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “You can sit with me and Nishinoya, duh.”

You smiled up at him. “Well obviously. Who else would I sit with?”

Nishinoya cheered, picking his game bag off the floor and gently grasping your hand. “Well let’s go find the others, then! Coach Ukai is probably getting impatient waiting for us at this point,” the libero insisted, pulling you towards the doorway of the building with Tanaka in tow.

“Alright, alright! Don’t make me drop my pretzels, Nishi,” you warned, letting yourself get dragged by the excited teen.

Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima also started to gather their things to get on the bus, Yamaguchi doing the same after exiting the bathroom not long before the previous trio ran off to claim their seats. Tsukishima looked over at Hinata, who still had his eyes glued to the door from which his friends had just left, and seized the opportunity to try to get under Hinata’s skin just a little.

“Nishinoya and her are pretty close, don’t you think?” he mentioned briefly, before turning on his heel towards the doorway with Yamaguchi beside him. The pinch server spared a glance back at Hinata as he fell into step with his childhood friend. “Tsukki…”

Now Nishinoya was clearly a close friend to Hinata, as both of the boys were big balls of energy all the time, and as they both shared an immense love for volleyball. Hinata acknowledged his teammate’s tight knit relationship with you, and he was totally okay with that fact. But occasionally, the middle blocker would get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had never really experienced before as he watched you interact with some of the boys on the team. It wasn’t an excessive amount of instances, but that feeling would bubble up from time to time - most notably when you would spend time with Karasuno’s libero. And whatever that feeling was, Hinata didn’t like it in the slightest.

“Oi, you coming, dumbass?” Kageyama questioned, snapping the ginger out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Bakeyama,” the middle blocker replied, readjusting his backpack and following Kageyama to the door.

******

The team was glad to see that you had come to watch them play, and you were quick to praise the boys on their well fought match. The ride back to school was relatively quiet, as many of the players wanted to either relax and listen to music or take a quick nap after their tiring game. As the bus continued on its route to Karasuno High School, it was evident that the energy and adrenaline felt earlier in the complex had calmed down, the boys given a chance to rest from the day’s events.

You, Nishinoya and Tanaka were seated near the back of the bus, with Hinata and Kageyama in the adjacent row. Tanaka was out like a light, his face pressed against the cool window next to him, while Nishinoya was struggling to get situated in the spot beside his teammate. From the corner of his eye, the libero could see Hinata sneaking subtle glances at you, as you unsuspectingly gazed at the passing scenery. With a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips, Nishinoya decided to kill two birds with one stone: try to help out with his friends’ crushes, and try to get himself a more comfortable napping spot.

“Hey, would you mind doing me a favor?” Nishinoya asked you in a soft tone, but just loud enough for the boy on the other side of the aisle to hear. You turned your attention to the libero, tilting your head to the side. “Sure thing, Nishi. What do you need?”

“Could I maybe lie down on you? It’s been a little difficult to find a decent position to get comfortable in,” he asked sheepishly. “If not, I totally get it.”

You smiled at the light pink that dusted his cheeks, and you patted your lap. “It’s alright, go ahead. You deserve to get some rest.”

Nishinoya offered you a smile of his own. He placed his legs over Tanaka’s snoozing form, knowing that his friend wouldn’t mind as they had been in similar positions on previous team bus rides. He then placed his head gently in your lap, gazing up at you before speaking up once more. “Thank you. You’re seriously the best.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” you waved it off.

The libero closed his eyes, sighing contentedly when he felt your hand brush through his hair. You absentmindedly hummed the soothing melody to a lullaby as you let your fingers carefully undo any tangles on his head. You paid special attention to the blonde streaks of hair that you always told the second year you adored, twirling the strands between your fingers and letting them fall back into place.

You were completely ignorant to the fact that the boy on the other end of the aisle felt a burning envy in his stomach as he witnessed the display from his peripheral vision. Your voice, which would have mesmerized Hinata under any other circumstance, did nothing to ease the emotions licking at his insides like unpleasant tendrils of flame. He desperately wanted to be able to sidle up next to you, wanted to feel your hands weave gently through his messy ginger hair. The fact that it wasn’t him made Hinata feel nauseous - worse than how he felt before a big game.

Because although Hinata was absolutely fine with you being close to the boys on his team, it didn’t mean he couldn’t get jealous.

Seated beside the middle blocker, Kageyama took note of his friend’s clenched fists and slightly tightened jaw, a stark contrast to Hinata’s usual happy-go-lucky enthusiasm. One look at the opposite side of the bus blatantly explained why. Kageyama was confused, though; Nishinoya knew just as much as the rest of the team that the decoy had his sights set on you, so why was he disregarding that fact right in front of him? The libero either didn’t realize what he was doing would upset his friend, or he knew exactly what he was up to. Was the whole thing intentional?

*****

Ohhh, it absolutely was. Kageyama figured that much out as soon as the team meeting started.

Nishinoya had been occasionally looking at Hinata to gauge the boy’s reaction, being careful not to overstep his boundaries, but pushing it just enough to see if the ginger would step in and make a move on you. From what Kageyama could tell, Tanaka was also in on this plan, but the wing spiker let his fellow second year handle most of the interactions with the brunette.

You were settled next to Kiyoko on the gymnasium floor, sitting with your legs stretched out as you listened in on the meeting. Nishinoya had his head resting on your shoulder the entire time, only shifting from his spot to steal more snacks from Tanaka’s backpack. If it weren’t for what Hinata had witnessed in the bus earlier that evening, he likely would have thought nothing of the second year’s actions. But now it was all he could think about, barely even focusing on the words coming out of Coach Ukai’s mouth. That feeling in his gut still hadn’t left him alone.

His discomfort was even more apparent when a number of the boys stayed behind after the meeting for some extra practice. Sugawara, who was the only third year who decided to postpone his walk home (mostly to keep an eye on his rambunctious children juniors), helped divide the group of six players into teams. Kageyama, Nishinoya, and Tanaka were on one team of three, while Suga, Hinata, and you were on the other. Despite the fact that he was on the same team as you, the middle blocker was still in a distant mood, and this showed when he completely botched the first two sets Suga tossed to him.

“Are you alright, Hinata? You seem a bit off at the moment,” you spoke softly behind him. When the ginger didn’t answer, she frowned slightly. “Shoyo…”

His first name coming from you had Hinata’s face heating up, not just because he loved the way his first name sounded on your lips, but because he was embarrassed. His bitter emotions had completely messed up his game, and caused him to practically ignore your concerned inquiry.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little tired is all,” he brushed it off. “I‘ll be good to go now that I’ve warmed up a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Tell me if you need some water or anything, your face looks hot.” You instantly flushed at the choice of words. “I mean, it looks warm! Like a red - you know what I mean.”

Tanaka snickered at your stammering, and you shot him a glare of annoyance before turning on your heel to retrieve the volleyball that had rolled away from the group.

After that, the three-on-three game went pretty smoothly. Hinata was in a better mood, working well together with his two partners. You even got a few good spikes in during the match (although a majority of them were thwarted by Karasuno’s Guardian Deity). Before you all realized it, the moon was shining brightly in the sky, and Suga instructed everyone to go home and get rest in preparation for tomorrow’s first game. After putting back the equipment the group had borrowed from the storage room, you were on your way out the gym doors, until the voices of Tanaka and Nishinoya stopped you midway.

“Wait up, Y/n!” The libero called out to her. You turned her attention towards him, a soft smile resting on your face after the impromptu practice.

“There’s no way you’re walking home all by yourself at this time of night.” Tanaka declared firmly, and Nishinoya nodded his head vigorously.

“I’ll be fine, you guys. Besides, neither of you live all that close to me, so it would be unreasonable of you to walk me home,” you told them.

“Well, doesn’t Hinata live in the same area as you do? Why doesn’t he walk you home?” Nishinoya suggested.

On the other end of the gym, Hinata had caught wind of the conversation. The ginger’s head perked up at the idea of accompanying you home, and standing beside him, Kageyama finally realized what the two second years had been up to the whole day. You narrowed your eyes at the boys in suspicion, but you couldn’t deny that it was a good idea to have someone else with you at this hour. You gazed over at your fellow first years, finding that Hinata was already looking your way, and a light shade of pink dusted your face.

“I mean, if he wouldn’t mind it, I suppose it would probably be smart,” you shrugged.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he uttered out.

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a sly grin. This was the most that the two could do for their two dense kohais, so the rest was up to you both.

“If you’re uh, ready to go, my bike is just outside,” Hinata sputtered.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m good to go,” you responded with an awkward thumbs up that you mentally smacked yourself for.

“Don’t go having too much fun now,” Tanaka smirked. “He’s still gotta play tomorrow.”

His raised eyebrows and overall suggestive expression were met with a playful smack on the arm.

“Shut up, you big weirdo,” you scoffed, and before any more comments could be made by your two dorks of friends, you rushed out the gym door after Hinata.

Seeing the boy waiting outside for you, his fiery orange hair illuminated by the glimmering starlight like a cliche movie scene, you nearly tripped on the staircase by the school’s entrance. When he turned to you with an easy smile, your heart practically busted out of your chest. Damn him and his cute face.

You approached him at the gate and readjusted the bag on your shoulders, trying to remain calm at the realization that you were going to be alone with her favorite ray of sunshine. Beginning on the path up the hill, Hinata decides to push his bike alongside him in order to stay closer to you.

“I didn’t realize you lived that close to me until Noya said something tonight,” the middle blocker mentioned.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’m surprised you haven’t been over before.”

“Maybe I should come visit sometime.” Hinata’s eyes widened at the implication and quickly added, “Like, with the rest of the team!”

You laughed softly. “That sounds like fun.”

You both walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Hinata spoke up.

“So, does that mean Nishinoya has been over to your place before?” he asked.

“Yeah, he’s been over a few times now,” you confirmed.

“Oh, that's cool.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his response, his voice laced with what you could only recognize as disappointment.

“Why do you ask?” you inquired.

“Well, you both just seemed really close is all.” The first year ran a hand through his hair. “Even Tsukishima noticed.”

“Well, Nishi and I are really good friends, and we know a lot about each other, so I guess that’s an accurate description.”

Hinata glanced at you and titled his head a fraction, which you thought made him look like an adorable little puppy.

“Really good...friends?” he murmured.

You nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, he’s like an older brother. Did you think we were dating or something?” you laughed. You meant it as a joke, but when the boy didn’t reply, your eyes widened a fraction and you stopped walking.

“You thought me and Nishi were, like, together together?” you gaped.

At this point Hinata was burning red. He nodded bashfully, and you fell into fits of giggles, placing your hands on your knees for support.

“H-hey! It was a justified question!” Hinata defended himself. “He fell asleep on you in the bus today and it looked like a normal thing for you two, so I just figured!”

You stood straight and composed yourself, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you started walking again.

“As much as I love Nishinoya, we’re definitely not dating,” you explained. “It’s a platonic relationship, nothing more.”

Hinata mentally celebrated at the confirmation that there was nothing going on between you and the libero, although he was embarrassed beyond words at this point in the conversation.

“I’m super sorry!! I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head.

“Awe, it’s okay, Shoyo. I guess we do act a bit like a couple sometimes, but...I’m not actually seeing anyone at the moment.” You added on without a second thought, “Nishi knows who I really like, though.”

Hinata frowned a bit at the latter sentence, but he remained in a better mood than before.

“So…do I know this person?” he inquired, feeling quite courageous himself.

You hummed, a blush creeping up your neck. “So what if you do?”

“Is it someone on the team?”

“Are we playing twenty questions or something now?” you laughed nervously.

Stupid! Why did I even mention anything in the first place? you mentally cursed yourself.

The ginger felt his heart rate pick up. Out of hope or anxiety, he wasn’t exactly sure.

“What’s he like?” Hinata heard himself asking.

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the ironic inquiry, and decided to answer his question.

“He’s probably the most energetic person I’ve ever met, but in a good way. He’s really kind to everyone, even though he can get very competitive. While he’s not the most studious, I can tell he tries his hardest to do his best in everything he does. Not to mention he’s incredibly cute.” You chanced a glance at the intently staring first year for a brief moment before focusing your attention back on the sidewalk, thankful for the dim lights of the street. “Sometimes I find it just…so difficult to not mess with his hair, too. It’s so overwhelmingly fluffy.

Hinata let out a small sigh. He didn’t think there was any way he could compete with the special someone that you had described so fondly.

“Well, it sounds like you really like him,” he said simply, a halfhearted smile on his face. “He’s a really lucky guy, whoever he is.”

At his genuine tone, you raised her head to lock eyes with Hinata, who was looking at you with such an honest expression that your breath hitched in your throat. You slowed down in the middle of the empty walkway.

“It’s you, ya big dummy,” you admitted quietly, fiddling nervously with your sweatshirt sleeves.

Hinata heard it. You could tell that much from the way his eyes widened as he stopped dead in his tracks.

“It’s me?” he echoed.

You nodded once, not able to speak as you evaluated his reaction. Hinata clumsily pushed the kickstand of his bike down with wide eyes, maneuvering around it to step closer to you and examine your face, trying to determine if this was real or all in his head.

“I like you too. Like a lot,” he managed to confess, a delighted grin gracing his features.

You felt like you were dreaming and about to wake up at any moment, the urge to pinch yourself just for confirmation that this was all real itching at the back of your mind. But your train of coherent thought quickly dissipated when Hinata gingerly moved a hand up to your flushed cheek, brushing your jaw with his thumb and looking up with warm brown eyes.

“Could I kiss you?” he asked gently, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please do,” you conceded.

Hinata brushed his lips with yours, in a brief but sweet exchange. He did so the second time in the same manner to experiment, and again, just to confirm that this moment was actually happening, before all but backing you into the bike behind them as you tugged at the collar of his shirt. His lips were softer than expected, and you tasted the fruity flavor of what you assumed to be lip balm lingering on them. You could feel the boy grinning into the kiss, this one longer and firmer than their predecessors, and you eagerly tangled your fingers in his fluffy orange hair that was impossibly softer than imagined. His own hands found themselves planted firmly on your waist to secure you from losing balance, drawing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. Your entire body was buzzing with excitement, practically melting when Hinata traced your bottom lip with his tongue.

Hinata pulled away briefly to catch his breath, a fire blazing in his eyes that had you shying away from his gaze. He took a hand off of your waist and tilted your face back towards him with his index finger, a newfound confidence radiating off of the first year in droves that had you flushing darker than you thought possible.

“Shoyo,” you spoke his name softly, pulling a bit at the fiery strands of hair still twirled between your fingers. The little hum elicited from Hinata’s throat was one of your new favorite sounds.

“Please use my first name more often,” the boy breathed out, and you couldn’t help but laugh airily at the request, Hinata unable to suppress the satisfied smile that bloomed across his flushed face at the sound.

“That was… unexpected,” you murmured.

“Good unexpected?” the ginger inquired playfully.

“Very good unexpected,” you joked lightly.

Hinata wrapped you in a warm hug, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. You reciprocated the action, arms encircling around his figure, taking in everything that had happened with an enormous smile.

You might just have to thank Nishinoya later.

#hinata shoyo x you #hinata shoyo #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #hinata fluff #hinata #hinata imagine #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyuo #hinata shouyo x reader #fluff

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onyourzeus · 4 years ago

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all alone | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: all alone pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: heavy angst, fictional universe words: 3.7k

inspired by: 50 proof by eaJ (give it a listen if you please, here) author’s note: this is my first fic in years, feedback appreciated.

content warning: alcohol use, swearing, description of anxiety and loneliness

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

It’s not a matter of when, but of how you’re going to stop yourself. They keep saying it heals with time, but no one ever tells you how much time you need to feel completely fine again.

So, instead of waiting for that moment, you take it upon yourself to numb the pain inside. It’s easier to keep it bottled up, then pretend to wash it away with age-old whiskey taken from a nearly empty cabinet.

Your friend reminded you to buy anything other than 50 proof alcohol, but that’s what’s left on your grocery list nowadays.

She’d come by to keep you company, but there’s always an excuse. An emergency meeting, a family gathering, a blind date across town.

It’s okay, you text her repeatedly. At this point, you’d rather she focus on herself than judge you for decisions affecting your life.

The moment they get angry at you, it is time to push them away.

You’re not about to be the reason for another falling out; another heartbreak; another memory turned sour and hard to swallow.

A big gulp of fiery hot liquid comes into contact with your throat, and you exhale with a wince. Ah, just the way you think you like it.

But no one’s stopping you, so why not keep going? You haven’t reached your limit yet, even though you’re not sure what that would look like. It’s no matter, though, it’s your apartment— your bathroom floor, your money, and your own fate decided.

Once the tears trail down your cheek, you have a moment of self-awareness. What are you doing? Glancing at your slippers, sweaty oversized shirt, and frizzy strands of hair sticking out of your head— when exactly did you start looking like this and decided, “Yeah, I feel comfortable in my own skin.”?

You dart your tongue out slightly, tasting salt on the corner of your mouth. It’s wet as the tears keep coming. Tonight’s one of those nights, you laugh sarcastically.

You’re probably going to play russian roulette with your medicine cabinet tomorrow; you’ll either be lucky and find a couple of painkillers lying around or be reminded of the emptiness that surrounds you. Usually it’s the latter, but maybe you’ll be lucky this time?

You scoff loudly at the idea. Another gulp of alcohol, and it stops the tears momentarily. Just so you can indulge in the sound of your heavy breathing, vision blurring the sight of your kitchen.

Your phone lights up on the couch, buzzing and emitting a soft light that disturbs the dimness of the room. It can’t be your friend, it was a double date night with her co-worker, or some shit you don’t really care for. Although you remember pieces of memories that include you being in the same exact situation a few months prior; it’s a bit hazy now, probably due to the alcohol.

But also because you use what coordinated strength you have to approach the ringing sound. You can’t make up the caller ID which should be the first red flag that you shouldn’t answer the phone.

You never do when you’re like this, but something inside you just doesn’t care anymore.

You slide your finger across the screen, fumble through the circles you can make out until a static hum goes off louder than usual. Finally on speaker mode, you put the phone back on the couch as your body drops down on the floor.

Resting the bottle on your side, you cradle your heavy head against the palm of your hand and exhale a long drawn out, “Heyyyyyyy, who’s this?”

God, you sound horrible.

You hear nothing but static, and wonder if there never was a call at all. “Is anyone there? Hello? Hello?” You’re starting to get annoyed, grabbing hold of the bottle’s neck and taking a short swig. It causes you to cough, your fist pounding helplessly against your chest.

“What are you doing?” He sounds sad, disappointed, and concerned on the other end. You don’t know who it is, but the knots in his voice deem familiar to you, somehow.

“Who is this? I’m gonna call the cops on you,” you drawl out, not understanding your own logic. “Why are you calling me at—” you try and check for a watch on your wrist to no avail, so you leave the question at that.

Hiccuping, you blurt out, “I don’t know who you are.”

“It’s Younghyun. Leehi keeps calling me, asking to check up on you. Did you receive her messages?”

Frankly, you understood at least two words with his reply. Leehi and messages, immediately you seethe with anger once again. Your friend on the double date texted you? With droopy eyes, you check your notifications, and the caller is telling the truth.

10 text messages left unread, and none of those words she sent mean shit.

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“I won’t do that. Where are you? At the bar or in your apartment?” He keeps asking all these questions he doesn’t have the right to in the first place. You feel your face scrunch up in frustration, figuring out who’s so concerned at your well-being so randomly on a Thursday night.

“I’m not telling you anything. I don’t know you! Please stop bothering me, sir,” your voice cracks in the end, a semblance of fear creeping up onto you. This is why you never answer calls with alcohol controlling your system.

“It sounds quiet in there, so you’re in your apartment,” he continues, ignoring your nonsensical pleas. “I’m nearby, can you please stay put for another 20 minutes or so? I’m coming to check up on you.”

“I told you I’m calling the police if you even come near my doorstep!” Your frantic tone causes your body to shiver, welled up tears leaving eyes that start to sting.

No one has been at your apartment for months; it’s not that they don’t ask. You don’t want them to come in. You don’t want anyone to see how you’ve been when you’re all alone.

He calls your name on the other end, and again, and again he whispers it like a gentle reminder. A song to soothe your anxious mind, and it works. For a moment, you remember the feeling of comfort and security in the form of arms wrapped around you, and this very same voice to calm you down.

“It’s Younghyun, okay? Please take deep breaths, you’re okay. You’ll be okay. I’m on my way very soon,” Younghyun instructs. His hushed voice contrasts your shaking whimpers, yet you follow what he says with relative ease. It’s so familiar, fragments of flashbacks filling your mind one after the other.

“Please unlock the door soon so I can come inside. I don’t have a spare key anymore,” he continues. That’s weird, he always had it to access your apartment whenever he wanted. You were the one to insist on that, too, since he basically lived with you for… a while.

Reality tries to get in the way of the memories, you block it off for just a little bit more with the last drop of alcohol. It should last you throughout the night.

In a daze, you do what Younghyun told you: unlock the door, and take deep breaths. You don’t want to be completely sober, so you refrain from drinking water even if your throat has been begging you to.

A lucky soju bottle hides itself from an empty carton of milk inside the fridge, so you grab it hastily. No shot glasses needed, you go straight for it.

Younghyun didn’t tell you to stop, so why should you? But something in your stomach suggests you do. It’s a wincing pain you’ve had before, but this time it digs deeper than that. A liver concern, dehydration, or perhaps guilt?

You couldn’t think any longer as you heard a soft knock against the front door. Followed by Younghyun coming in quietly, his steps barely audible. As if he’s never set foot in your apartment before. Or at least, maybe it feels different this time.

As if you haven’t seen him and remember his presence anymore.

“Hey,” he greets you quietly, and his voice is so much better in person. “It’s dark in here.”

You’re not sure how to move forward from here. You’re back on the floor, head laying weirdly on the couch that your neck has started to hurt. Your hands hold tight onto the soju bottle as if it’s about to be taken away from you. It’s the one tangible thing keeping you grounded. Your mind begins to float away again upon seeing Younghyun’s face.

He has that effect on you, but you didn’t consider it ever happening in months.

You think you’re sleepy, but really you become hyper aware of his every move. It’s just hard to see with droopy eyes, and the silent steps he takes on the hardwood floor.

He turns the light on the hallway to the bathroom, and even with its faintness you squint at the source of any kind of brightness in the room.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to step on anything,” Younghyun apologizes. He places a plastic bag on the kitchen counter and takes out what looks to be a bottle.

Definitely not alcohol, you frown.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” you tell him first, the croak of your voice so heavily dissimilar to the friendliness of his. Yours sound guarded, unsure of yourself. “I have this,” you add as you sway the soju bottle in the air. The liquid spills on top of your head, and Younghyun is quick to take it away from you.

“H-hey—” you argue, but the cold bottle of water has now replaced your source of alcohol, and your lips continue to curl downard. Younghyun shortly laughs at your reaction, but you don’t find it funny.

“That was mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Give it back.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Prick,” you mutter under your breath. “Don’t let it go to waste, then, drink.”

Younghyun sighs, shaking his head while meeting your figure on the floor. The soju bottle remains on the counter, out of your reach. His slanted eyes point towards the neglected bottle around your grasp.

You find yourself staring mindlessly, his face showing smooth textures and a hint of base make up doning his features. You’re in awe, just like before, of the beauty in front of you. So close to touch, just the tip of your fingertips to graze against his skin.

If only you didn’t feel so guilty and looked like shit.

“Staring at me won’t make you sober up any sooner,” he chastises you, sitting with his legs crossed. He looks dapper, a fine suit without a tie and two buttons opened up. Was he at a photoshoot? A company dinner? A date?

That last thought shoots a strange numbing sensation on your chest.

“Why are you here?”

Younghyun looks taken aback at your bluntness. It doesn’t seem like you’re drinking that water anytime soon as your focus shifts at his presence in your apartment. He lets it go this time, then, entertains your question for the sake of your satisfaction.

“I told you. Leehi called me. She’s been worried about you recently.”

“Oh, has she?” You sass him just for the sake of it.

“Yes,” Younghyun doesn’t give in to your bluff, his voice suddenly firm and unnerving. “She cares about you a lot, and I understand if she hasn’t had the time to come see you very often anymore, but she works long hours and—”

“Why are you defending her? Did you just come here to lecture me like a little kid? I know how the world works, Younghyun. I know people can be busy, and that they have their own fucking problems to deal with. I know, okay? Fuck, I know that!”

The words just leave your mouth like poison, it was ready to spill out of your guts all of a sudden. It just needed an opportunity to.

You didn’t expect it to come tonight— in front of Younghyun, out of everyone.

Maybe that would slap him cold and hard with what’s going on. Maybe that’s the final straw with you, not the uninviting welcome to your apartment, not the refusal to drink the water he’s bought you, but the words you have spoken. It’s always been the most hurtful.

You avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling small and even more guilty of how you’re acting. You know you’re not supposed to lash out like this, you hate angry confrontations that can be avoided. But this is why you drink alone, cry alone, and fall asleep when the sun goes up— alone.

Younghyun was never supposed to be here witnessing this.

Just like how you predicted, you see him stand up and walk away. It’s what you deserve, right? No one ever wanted to stay.

But you don’t hear the door slam shut following his departure. You don’t hear his footsteps trudge their way out of the door, out of your life once again.

Younghyun approaches the corner of the living room where the heater is, and turns it on.

“I don’t know how you do it, but I won’t be able to stand the cold like this,” he says with the same gentle, knowing tone of his. “I hope you don’t mind me turning the heat on a little bit. Are you warm, though?”

You don’t understand what’s going on.

Yes, it’s been a chilly autumn season but not that you cared. The alcohol hits you from within, igniting unfound frustration, anger, and desperation in every corner of your soul then almost instantly numbs it all for you.

With parted, dry lips you manage a meek shake of the head. The sweat on your shirt dried up, and your shorts aren’t doing any better making you feel cozy either. You compensate by hugging yourself, the condensation of the bottled water touching the goosebumps on your skin.

“You should probably drink that before it gets lukewarm,” Younghyun suggests, walking three steps forward to sit next to your figure. He gives you space, almost like a shield in between your bodies in which either of you are afraid of breaking.

Finally, you relent to his wish and chug the water in seconds. It cools your throat along with your state of mind. A bit more stable now, with the way you see things, and process your surroundings. Your conscious eyes land on Younghyun’s worried gaze, and you struggle not to fall back into them.

“I’m… not really mad at Leehi, I hope she knows that,” you quip quietly. The haziness drifts away from your consciousness and floats midair. It clings to the barrier in between you and Younghyun, frosting up unseen glass as Younghyun studies your features carefully. And he waits for more of what you have to say.

You don’t follow through anymore, so he adds to the conversation. “I’m sure she knows. She’s just concerned about you.”

You reply with a subtle nod, wishing you had more water to drink.

“I’m worried about you, too.”

And he says the magic words that start the first broken piece of glass stopping you from seeing him eye to eye. You turn your figure away from his sitting one, knowing that the more you attempt to find the answers in his eyes the harsher the tears will come from your own.

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine.” What a massive fucking lie, you think bitterly. It’s not like you to lie out loud, You say what’s on your mind when needed. And if it isn’t, then you know best not to bother others and keep it to yourself.

“C’mon, we both know that’s not true,” Younghyun disagrees— in the most polite way he can that it hurts. It hurts to hear him pander to your childish behavior right now, to have him tiptoe his way around your insecurities.

This is what you didn’t want to happen, and yet in the end you meet your own demise this way.

“How can I help?” He urges on.

He can’t.

“I want you to feel better.”

You won’t.

“Please tell me how.”

You don’t even know the answer to that.

He sighs, but he tries hard not to let it bother you. Younghyun’s always been like that, so perfect and so accommodating. Wasn’t that supposed to be a sweet gesture from a lover? To know your needs, and meet you in the middle. You basically met a match made in heaven with him years ago.

What went wrong?

“I can’t believe you still have that shirt,” Younghyun points out. He pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them tight. He’s trying to look so small, innocent.

It’s funny, you think, and recall the nights he convinces you to be the big spoon for once. His sturdy frame was difficult for your arms to gather in one warm embrace, but whenever you tried he never complained. And it was nice.

You try to regain focus, and look down at the shirt you’re wearing. The print has faded so much that anyone who didn’t know its history wouldn’t have guessed what words were imprinted on it originally. But you do, and for a moment you thought you had forgotten— or at least, actively erased from your mind.

But this shirt has always made you feel like you have a sense of connection to this world, to a person you once held in your arms.

“I can’t believe we had Dowoon design that logo before. Nobody really told us how it really looked,” Younghyun chuckles in the night air, temperature going up a few degrees.

It wasn’t hot, you weren’t bothered, it was just… right.

And suddenly, you remember what he’s talking about. Because you were there, and you were this close to dropping the truth onto them that yes, it’s hideous, no one will buy your merch, but the grin on their faces and the spark of excitement in the room was too huge to disrupt. You then convinced yourself that yes, their fans won’t mind, they love you for your music. They love you for you.

You were supposed to love Younghyun for who he is.

“I liked it— eventually,” you admit and Younghyun raises an eyebrow. Defending yourself before he gets a say, you add, “It’s a sort of charm you and the others had. Up and coming in the scene, innocent boys singing their hearts out because you have nothing better to do.”

“Hey now, I was in college with you. I had midterms literally the day after our first official gig,” Younghyun corrects you lightly, and you do remember that. You’re starting to remember it all, like a kaleidoscope of days, weeks, and years through Younghyun’s starry eyes.

You don’t realize the barrier has begun to shatter until you feel the heat of his hands hovering over yours.

“What is it? Tell me, please. Tell me what’s on your mind,” you hear him say repeatedly. He has even moved so much closer to you, his hands grasping yours the way you held the bottle of whisky for nights on end.

He holds you like he cares, like he doesn’t want for you to disappear. For a second time.

“I let you go. I let you go, and now I’m left with nothing but haunted memories of you. Of us,” you sob into him, the sturdiness of his body keeping you from shaking terribly.

Younghyun wraps his arms around you, the way he would when you fell asleep waiting for him late at night on the weekends. Younghyun cradles your fragile figure within his tight embrace, the same way he’d tuck you in bed when fatigue overcomes your system. Even when he’s tired himself, even when he’s on a tightrope of his own priorities— he made you his first.

But you didn’t want that, you knew that wasn’t good for him, his career. The peak of his fame alongside friends he’s known as family for so long would be right around the time you decided to move to a different city and pursue your own passion.

There was no way it’d work. You’d be too far away from their studio, his and his bandmates’ apartment, the company building, everything. Everything Younghyun built from the ground up with his talent, his opportunistic mind, his own purpose in life.

The visits happened less often, the calls coming in at hours you couldn’t accommodate for anymore. People flock to him, and it’s the sort of crowd you flinch at, disassociate yourself with, it’s not who you want to be.

But it was Younghyun’s, and you loved him so much to take that away from him.

And yet, in the place you’ve buried yourself deep; hours away from where you once lived with Younghyun, months after the dreaded decision you falsely stood your ground for. He’s here, with you.

Does he still love you now?

“Don’t think too much right now, okay? You worry your pretty face with all your troubled thoughts like that,” Younghyun reassures you softly. If you had the strength to react to his superfluous words, you’d do so just like before. But exhaustion overcomes you— from the drinking, the sobbing, and the weight of your guilt draping over Younghyun’s shoulders as he embraces you even further.

You don’t deserve such warmth, such tender love, you hurt him. He can’t love you after that.

“I’m sorry—”

“No,” Younghyun shakes his head, ruffling your hair next to his face. He lets you go for half a second, and before you know it his hands are secured around your waist again. You don’t protest, but your eyes seem mesmerized by the way his demand you to see him.

“I’m sorry,” he shares your words, “for not coming sooner.”

The next sunrise doesn’t sting you in the eyes this time. This time, you fall asleep without nightmares accompanying you in bed. And this time, you wake up to what seems like a beloved past of yours. But it’s not, it’s the next day, and Younghyun stayed.

You let him.

#young k scenarios #young k x reader #young k imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #by:jiae

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precuredaily · 4 years ago

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Precure Day 204

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 06 - “King Donuts Awakens!” Date watched: 8 January 2021 Original air date: 9 March 2008 Screenshots Transformation Gallery Project info and master list of posts

mood

The character re-introduction arc reaches its epic conclusion and shows us where Rin has wound up after her moment of self-realization in the Y5 finale. It turns out, she wound up constantly tired. Relatable. Let’s dig in!

The Plot

Nozomi and Rin are on their way to Natts House to prepare for the grand re-opening. Rin is visibly very tired and confesses that she was up late the previous night.

images with sleepy auras

As they arrive at the store, they run into Syrup.... or more accurately, he runs into them, carrying an urgent letter from Milk. (Remember this, because Syrup sure doesn’t) However, just then, a brilliant light erupts from inside of Natts House, so they all rush in to see what’s happening. They find everyone gathered around a table with the Rose Pact in the middle, glowing, and then it opens up and King Donuts emerges, fully awake. Then he yells at everyone to stop staring at him.

blinded by the light...... how does that song go again?

After the opening, the gang tries to introduce themselves to King Donuts, but he assumes it’s another Eternal trap until Coco and Nuts reveal themselves. Instead of being relieved, however, he just pivots his anger onto them for being incompetent and letting him get attacked by Eternal. So yeah, not off to a great start here. While they watch the goings-on, Rin yawns, and this further annoys the already irate king. Growing frustrated, he tries to leave, but finds that there’s a barrier around the Rose Pact that’s trapping him until he fully recovers. As you may imagine, this does wonders for his good mood.

I’m not yawning because I’m bored, I’m yawning because I’m bored AND tired.

Cut to Eternal’s headquarters and a very fatigued Scorp drops a huge report on Anacondy’s desk, mentioning he hasn’t slept for six days while writing it. However, she dings him on numerous minor errors, deeming it unusable, and tells him to combine it with the previous report and redo it. Exhausted and holding a stack of paper half his height, Scorp collapses and the pages fly everywhere. I have to say, Koyasu acting tired is a fun change of pace for him.

these are the eyes of a man who has lost all hope

Back at Natts House, everyone is still trying to appease King Donuts. He insists he’s fine already but in attempting to demonstrate this, he wears himself out quickly. Karen offers him the apple she snapped a few episodes ago, but he refuses to eat it because he doesn’t trust them. The girls give up on him for now, because they need to get to work opening up the store, but they notice Rin has fallen asleep.

Nozomi advises them to just leave her be, trying to get Syrup to help them pass out fliers instead. He refuses and wants to know why they don’t wake Rin. Nozomi explains that Rin was busy all day with sports clubs, tending to the family shop, and watching her siblings, so she stayed up all night designing accessories because it was the only free time she had. (I am very familiar with this concept.) She also admits that Rin didn’t tell her this, she deduced it because she knows Rin and how she works.

With that settled, the remaining girls, as well as Coco and Nuts, get to work handing out fliers. Syrup, however, stays behind to look over Rin, because he refused to help any other way. He muses over his situation.

At that moment, Rin wakes up, and Syrup asks if she really was up all night designing jewelry. She realizes her old friend Nozomi has read her like a book. She admits to feeling guilty that she not only stayed up late working, but she couldn’t come up with any ideas, and now she’s missed out on handing out fliers as well. She feels useless (big oof) and contrasts herself with Syrup, who she says is working hard to get to the Cure Rose Garden. Syrup disagrees and insists she works way harder than him. At this point, King Donuts, who has been listening in, interjects and commends Rin for being critical and analytical of herself, saying it’s the key to self growth. I feel like there’s a missing line in here about not slipping too far into self-doubt, but regardless, Rin remembers she’s supposed to be at futsal practice and runs off before the end of the King’s speech.

“Gah!” - Natsuki Rin, 2008

After she’s gone, the king and Syrup discuss how hardworking she is, along with the other girls. Also there’s a gag where King Donuts didn’t recognize Syrup until he turned back into his fairy form which further establishes that Syrup has a bit of a negative reputation far and wide.

Meanwhile, at the practice field, Rin isn’t doing a whole lot better at futsal than she was at jewelry design. As a result of staying up late, she’s still tired, so she’s missing passes or overshooting goals. She even accidentally kicks the ball over the fence and into the woods, so she goes to retrieve it while yawning some more.

It’s here that she is confronted by an equally sleepy Scorp, who asks her to hand over the Rose Pact so he won’t have to write up his report, and he can sleep. It’s kind of pathetic, kind of comical.

Scorp turns the futsal ball into a hoshiina, so Rin transforms as well. Syrup swoops in to save her from Scorp but drops the Rose Pact, so King Donuts tries to talk down the villain. However, Scorp is undeterred and even sees more value in having one of the monarchs inside the Rose Pact. The other girls show up and transform, temporarily distracting Scorp (as well as the king, who is surprised that they’re the legendary warriors) but he then continues his advance until Rouge punches him away. Then she hears Lemonade screaming as the Hoshiina tries to fling her off, so Rouge rushes in to kick it and rescue her friend. Scorp once again tries to capture the Rose Pact, so Rouge separates from the team again to protect the fairies, but Scorp captures her instead and taunts her about trying too hard to do too much by herself and says she’ll only ever be halfway finished. This hits Rin at her core and she is unable to resist an attack from the Hoshiina, but at the last moment her teammates jump in front of her to defend her. They remind her that she’s not alone, they’re there to help her, and then Dream gives an inspiring speech about how Rin always challenges her situation and works harder than others, so they’ll always support her. Scorp is unimpressed, but Dream rushes him with a Shooting Star. Feeling newly motivated, Rin also performs her new finisher on the Hoshiina: Fire Strike! She summons a fireball at her feet and then kicks it into the monster, which of course dissolves back into a normal futsal ball. Scorp flees, muttering about how he’ll have to include this in his report as well.

As the dust settles, King Donuts admires the Precures, and then has a seemingly random realization about the Rose Pact and the Red and Blue roses, or rather, the lack of blue rose. In case you had forgotten that plot point.

the answer will surprise you

Back at Natts House, King Donuts opens up a bit more to the girls and they chat back. However, he quickly reiterates that he doesn’t acknowledge Coco and Nuts as rulers yet. When they ask Syrup to help them with the shop, he reminds them that he’s only here to deliver a letter from Milk, and he finally hands it over to Coco. (took him long enough) It turns out the letter says there’s an emergency in Palmier Kingdom and everyone needs to come there quickly! They want to go but aren’t certain how.... until they remember Syrup has the convenient ability to travel between worlds. He initially refuses, but King Donuts cleverly appeals to both his pride and his kind-heartedness, causing him to think about the conviction all the girls have shown in their solo outings thus far, and he agrees to take them. So just as quickly as it opened, Natts House is closed again and the gang boards Syrup to fly to the Palmier Kingdom. As they rise into the air, they soar forwards into a watercolor warphole, surrounded by floating lights. They fade to white and the credits start.

The Analysis

Something I truly appreciate about this episode is that it picks up from the first series finale, and shows that Rin hasn’t magically become a top tier accessory designer, she still has moments of artist’s block, and she really struggles with just finding time to create, which impacts her social responsibilities. (sounds familiar) Rin’s struggle is a recurring theme, and I'm always glad that unlike certain later shows, they don’t glamorize her sacrificing sleep, they just portray it as something people sometimes do even if it’s not in their best interests. Contrast with that episode of Go Princess, you know the one. It’s a straightforward cause and effect: Rin stays up late designing, so she’s tired the next day, and that influences her interactions.

It has some positive responses, such as getting King Donuts to recognize how hardworking she is and swaying his opinion on the girls; and some negative impacts, like kicking the futsal ball too hard and over the fence. With all that said, I must once again remind you all not to sacrifice your well-being for your goals, even if I’m bad at following my own advice.

King Donuts (or Doughnuts if you prefer) is an interesting character. At first he’s paranoid that he’s in another Nightmare trap, but as he grows to accept his circumstances he warms up a bit, especially when he hears about how hard Rin is working. He remains critical of Coco and Nuts, understandably so, since their negligence led to him being attacked previously. However, he doesn’t dislike them, he is sharp-tongued because he wants to make them better kings. Physically he resembles a diminutive dragon. It’s not the most apparent visual but when all four Rulers are together the pattern begins to become obvious. More on that ~eventually~.

although they’re all in the OP so, ya know, clues

A secondary theme throughout this arc has been to show Syrup starting to acclimate to the girls and begin appreciating their hard work and way of doing things. He’s still stubborn and wants to do his own thing, but it takes less arm twisting to get him to go along with the girls’ requests. Usually. As he admits to King Donuts, he respects their work ethic and their devotion to the causes they love. He entered the picture as a loner delivery boy who just wanted to do his job, but getting roped in with the Precures’ misadventures has opened his eyes somewhat. He’s going to be fun to watch as the show continues. However, he has a reputation, as we’ve seen. We don’t know exactly what the details are but several characters seem to have a low opinion of him, and we’ll find out more about that in coming episodes.

The fight in this episode is interesting in how..... not interesting it is. It kind of fools you into thinking more is happening than actually is. There’s a lot of talking and not as much action as you would expect. The Cures and Scorp or the Hoshiina will exchange a few blows and get thrown around, then one of them starts lecturing the other side about their beliefs. Sure, all Precure shows have elements of this, I can remember a few other fights that were more talk than combat, but it seems particularly egregious this episode. I do like how Scorp’s mocking has an effect on Rouge though. She’s already feeling really unaccomplished and then he goes and tells her she’s useless without her friends. It starts to weigh on her heart, but her friends quickly step in and say hey, we love Rin, she has us to support her, it’s okay if she can’t do it all by herself. As a result of this quick pep talk, she unleashes Fire Strike, her new finisher, and boy does THAT shine. It’s the first soccer-themed Precure attack in the series, and more will follow in subsequent years.

Compared to some of the other finishers, Fire Strike is more straightforward. Rouge creates a ball of fire and kicks it directly into the Hoshiina. It’s less over the top than her teammates attacks (flying into the enemy, twin whips, flying discs, or an arrow made of water) but the animators manage to punch it up a bit with some suitably dramatic effects that sell how fast, hard, and powerful this kick is. Also I have to say, the shot of Rouge bringing her leg all the way back to ready the kick is really cool.

Her leg is cocked and extends past her head. If you’ve ever tried this you know it’s hard, so even if you can make a drawing do anything, it still looks impressive, and the next shot where she’s kicked it is gorgeous. The flame walls, the way she’s lifted slightly off the ground, the way the ball is warped, all convey a sense of power and motion. Yeah, she’s just kicking it straight ahead, but you get the sense she could kick it through a brick wall.

I do have to say, on the negative side, the framing device of the episode feels a little forced. If this letter from Milk was so important, Syrup probably should have pushed it on the girls a little sooner. Maybe just dropped it off with Nozomi when he first met her in the morning. They still could have seen King Donuts awakening but they would have made moves to go straight to the Palmier Kingdom instead of doing all that work advertising and opening the shop only to have to close it again right away, and skipping Rin’s moral quandary. Since those are at the root of the episode, it might be hard to cut them, so alternatively, to keep them, the episode could have been written such that Syrup could have received the letter at the end, so he wasn’t holding onto such an important and urgent letter all episode long. It’s the little things. And on that topic, I find the third act (fourth act?) after the fight to be a little too goofy. Syrup finally hands over the letter, then they all hem and haw about how they’re going to get to Palmier Kingdom and they beg and plead Syrup to do it until he finally agrees. The only truly funny part to me is Nuts lamenting that he has to close Natts House after he just opened it.

Also there’s this ending sequence.

vimeo

This is the single worst thing I have ever made in the name of this project.

It’s overall a well-thought out episode and it smartly moves between story elements, smoothly concluding the character reintroductions and setting up the Blue Rose arc that follows. I appreciate how seemingly unconnected events flow into each other and they lead to the King seeing that the girls are legitimately good people. It’s probably the most cohesive episode of this arc, although I still think the character reintroductions peaked with Urara’s. The others have been good in different ways, but there’s a deeper bit of heartfelt emotion that episodes 2, 3, 5, and 6 just haven’t been able to match.

Next time, Milk’s emergency turns out to be largely imagined, and we meet a new villain. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 Go Go!#YPC5GG06 #PCD204

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janeyseymour · 4 years ago

Text

Quaran-queens

someone prompted this a while ago, but i just got around to it now... so sorry for the late post but.... it’s here? enjoy?

Anne is not handling quarantine well and Lulu isn't handling not being able to see her girls.

13 days. It had been 13 days since the world shutdown, and the third queen was losing it. In desperation for some sanity, she called her baker friend.

“Hey girl!” Jenna’s chipper voice rang through.

“Hey there,” Jane sighed as she plopped down on her bed.

“Oh you don’t sound too excited. What’s goin on?”

“It’s been 13 days since I’ve been out of this house, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to survive anymore.”

“I told you you’re always more than welcome to come quarantine with us.”

“And leave my house for Hurricane Anne to destroy?”

Jenna bit back a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. What’s hurricane Anne done today?”

“Oh boy, are you in for a story...” Jane recounted the story with a heavy groan.

“Anne Boleyn! How many times have I told you to stop heelying around the house? You’re going to break something, and that something could be yourself!” Jane’s shrill voice could be heard throughout the house from her spot in the living room.

“Janey, lighten up a little. I haven’t broken anything yet, and I’ve been super caref-” the sound of a vase shattering could be heard followed by a very quiet, “shit.”

“That better not be my vase shattered on the ground!” Jane stood from her place on the couch and marched herself in the direction of the crash.

“I’ll clean it up! I’ll buy you a new one!” the green queen promised before the blonde could even round the corner.

When her eyes set upon her favorite vase in shards on the ground, she yelled, “Catherine! Come deal with Anne. I can’t right now.” The third queen walked down the hallway to her room, eyes glued to the ground. Had she looked at the woman with space buns, she might have lost her temper on the shorter woman.

“Jesus Christ Anne,” the gold queen could be heard sighing as Jane closed her door. Sighing, she sat on her bed and pulled out her phone.

About an hour had passed when a notification had come up on her phone.

AnnieBoleyn started a live video

Perhaps against her better judgement, she clicked on the live. She still wasn’t quite happy with her predecessor after the incident earlier in the day.

“Hey queens! It’s Annie again. I’m bored out of my goddamn mind, so I thought I would just tell you all about my day!” The green queen giggled a little bit. “I woke up this morning thinking ‘ oh my god I’m stuck in this house again with Lina, Janey, Cleves, Kat, and Cath again. What can I do to piss any of them off today?’ I hadn’t even really done anything yet, but turns out, just by being me, that happens. I was bored and heelying around the house when I accidentally broke one of Janey’s vases. I cleaned it up, but she still got pissed.”

That comment pissed Jane off.

JaneySeymour: Anne, I’ve told you a thousand times not to heely in the house. I don’t know why you can’t just listen.

“But I cleaned it up!” the woman on screen remarked. “And, I already ordered you another one!” Anne adjusted the camera a bit to show off the kitchen. “Now, I’m trying to make some cookies as an-” a door could be heard slamming shut in the background followed by a frustrated-

“Anne Boleyn! Get out of my kitchen! You are not making cookies!”

“But I’m making them for you as an apology! Some are already in the-” the smoke alarm went off.

Jane could be seen in the background opening the oven door, a cloud of grey smoke infiltrating itself into the kitchen. The look she shot Anne was no look that anyone wanted to be at the other end of.

“I’ll fix this!” Anne said hurriedly.

“I’ll fix this!” Jane roared back. “You’ve done enough for the day. Please, just... I don’t know. Go find Cathy to annoy or something. Just get out of my kitchen.”

“I heard that!” Cathy yelled from her room. “Do not come in Anne! I’m working!”

“Jane, honest, I can help clean this up.”

The green queen turned to her phone that was still recording them. “Queendom, I have to go. Janey is about to lose it.”

“‘Lose it’ is putting it lightly,” The blonde huffed as she opened various windows and the smoke wafted out of the room. “Alrighty then, get to scrubbing.” She situated herself at the island counter and gestured towards the mess.

RoseAmongstTheThorns: wait... can you keep the video on? We wanna watch anne clean lol

Jane laughed lightly at that request, her voice immediately going soft as she addressed the audience. “It's pretty boring really. Anne’s just going to be scrubbing things until they’re sparkling again.”

“It’ll just be Janey telling me ‘keep scrubbing! It’s not clean yet!’ and ‘I still see some cookie dough!’ No one needs to hear that but me.”

“Alright now queendom. We’re going to sign off and clean the kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, one of us will go live later tonight to show you Anne’s cleaning skills. Have a good day now. Love you!” Jane ended the live.

“And then, 20 minutes later, Annie told me that the kitchen was clean. So I went live to show the queendom her version of clean,” Jane shook her head the image.

“Hey Queendom! It’s Jane here and-”

“Janey, they know it’s you! It’s on your account!” The green queen playfully rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” Jane drug out. “Annie over here thinks that the kitchen is clean. Can the queendom help me out and decide if it’s clean or not?”

Immediately, comments came pouring in.

Theroseamongstthethorns: uhhh sorry anne, jane’s gonna have u cleanin for a while

Sixqueenswalkintoabar: ...it’s cleaner than it was before?

Hausofholbein: jane’s standards have to be higher than that.

“Hausofholbein would be correct,” Jane muttered as she glanced over the comments. “This is not up to my standards.”

“Oh come on guys! It’s pretty okay, right?” Anne tried to worm her way out of tidying up.

“Do you think we should let the queendom see more in depth?” The third queen raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest.

“No, no,” Boleyn rushed out, knowing her work wasn’t done. It didn’t hurt to try to get out of it though. “I’ll just clean it up.” The second queen got back to scrubbing the pans in the sink.

“Alright guys, I better help her out some. Thanks for your help queendom!” Jane smiled into the camera and waved.

Right before she ended the livestream, Anne could be heard mumbling, “Yeah. Thanks a lot queendom.”

“You know I love the girl, but she’s a lot sometimes. Thankfully, she’s off and annoying Lina. Anyway, enough about my own personal hell; how is Lu handling all of this?” The blonde turned the attention away from herself.

“I’m sure if you decided to quarantine with us, it would make my daughter’s year,” Jenna laughed. “She had a full on tantrum today because she couldn’t have some ‘Janey and Lulu’ time. Kicking, screaming, crying- the whole nine yards.”

“Oh jeez. I’m sure she’s happy to be able to spend time with you and Jim though?”

“Oh, she is. But uh, she wants Janey and ‘her girls’. She wants all of us together. So...” the brunette dove into her story.

“Lu honey, come on,” Jenna pleaded with her daughter.

“No! I’m going to see my Janey!” the little one protested, halfway through putting her shoes and socks on. “I don’t care if I have to walk there myself, but I am-”

“Little miss, you know you aren't to leave this house unless there’s an adult with you.” The baker’s husband came walking into the room with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Daddy, not you too!” Lulu whined.

“Sweetpea, it’s not mine or Daddy’s fault we’re stuck in the house. Janey’s got to stay at her house too. She wants to see you too baby,” Jenna tried to reason.

“Then, let’s go see her! I want to see my girls!” the young one continued as she put on her second shoe.

“I want to see the girls too, but we just can’t,” the baker paused. “Ignore the law.”

“A little white lie,” Jenna sighed. “I don’t like doing it, but I had to think of something other than ‘we can’t.’ You know that doesn’t work on her.”

“Daddy says we break little laws all the time, like when we cross the street without being at a corner!” the girl pointed out. “Let’s just break this one too!”

“Hun, I said no.” Jenna’s voice lost a small bit of softness.

“Daddy? Please?” the girl with pigtails looked at the doctor with puppy dog eyes.

“Mama-” Jim caught a glance at the glare his wife was giving him. “Mama and I have talked about it. We just can’t go see them right now. It’s too dangerous. We all have to stay healthy.”

“And that sent Lulu into hysterics. She told us she didn’t want to live with us anymore and that you and the girls would take her in and-”

“Which we would,” Jane chuckled lightly.

“And she told Jim that he was a meanie and told me that she couldn’t believe I would keep her from seeing you.”

“Oh jeez. I’m over here struggling with Anne, but you have a small child. Can't even imagine what that’s like.”

“Anne is like a small child,” Aragon opened the door and let herself into the gray room Jane occupied. “Sorry for listening in. I just wanted to let you know that Anne and Kat are downstairs fighting over the last glass of chocolate milk. Anne screamed something about, ‘Viva la choccy milk’. Do you want to intervene, or should-”

“Please. I think if I go downstairs right now, I might lose my temper.”

“And Anne might lose her head,” Aragon chuckled. “I’ve got it. Sorry to bother. Tell Jenna we all said hi.” The first queen made her way out of the room and could clearly be heard yelling at the two cousins.

“The girls say hi,” Jane giggled a bit.

“Tell them we say hi back.”

“Anyway, where were we?”

“Lulu couldn’t believe I was keeping her from seeing you.”

“Ah yes.”

“I had to walk away from the situation because I knew if I stayed, I might’ve lost it on her or Jim. Jim also walked away after parking Lulu in her room for ten minutes. And then...” Jenna continued on with her story.

“Lulu, you can come out of your room now,” Jenna said gently as she knocked on her door. She heard shuffling in the little girl’s room and opened it.

“Louise, what on Earth are you doing?” the baker questioned as she watched her daughter stuff her backpack with a stuffed animal, clothing, and a pack of oreos. Her daughter looked at her briefly but stayed silent and only continued to pack her bag.

“Jim!” the brunette yelled. “Get up here!”

“Huh?” Jim poked his head into the hallway. At this point, the small girl had finished packing and marched her way over to her father.

“Daddy,” Lulu paused. “I mean, Jim?”

“No Lu. I’m Daddy.”

“Not anymore. I’m running away to go live with Janey and my girls. But uh, Ma- I mean, Jenna told me I’m not allowed to leave the house without an adult, so will you help me run away to Janey’s please?” The little girl stared up at her father with big blue eyes as she clutched onto her backpack.

“I’m afraid not Lu. Quarantine is affecting all of us,” Jim laughed lightly as he patted his daughter.

“At least she didn’t try to run away by herself,” Jane commented.

“Yeah,” Jenna sighed. “I’ll give her that.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

“‘Fraid so kiddo. Can we be your parents again?” Jim asked gently.

Lulu mulled over this for a few seconds. “I guess so,” she finally sighed. “But only until quarantine is over. Then, I’m going to run away to live with Janey. Maybe she’ll help me escape.”

“Whatever gets you through this quarantine,” Jim laughed quietly before leaving.

“You’re kidding,” Jane couldn’t even stifle the laughs that were bubbling up inside of her.

“Nope. So, I was thinking maybe we should do one of those video calls tonight. It’ll keep Anne from doing anything mischievous for a little, and Lulu will be happy because she’ll at least get to see all six of you for a little bit.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

Quarantine turned out to be much longer than any of them hoped, but the video chats did keep “Hurricane Anne” from destroying the house (well, not completely, but it helped), and Lulu was happy to be able to see her girls, even if she wasn’t able to shower them in hugs and kisses.

And no, Lulu did not try to run away to the queens’ house again. Not after she saw the aftermath of Anne’s baking catastrophe that almost lost the six their house.

#six the musical #six musical #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six musical fanfic #six fanfic #waitress the musical #waitress musical #waitress musical fanfic #waitress the musical fanfiction #jane seymour #jenna hunterson

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