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partycatty · 8 months ago

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johnny cage > bust your kneecaps

kenshi's sibling isn't exactly known for being the kindest, especially when things don't go their way.

warnings: violence, you're kinda yandere type... or maybe tsundere i don't know i give up. johnny's an ass and i wanna beat him up.

notes: are you seriously telling me NOBODY has written a fic for this man using "bust your kneecaps" by pomplamoose?! LIKE.

[ masterlist ]

johnny, don't leave me, you said you'd love me forever - honey, believe me, i'll have your heart on a platter

• you stepped your way into the stupidly lavish mansion, the address imprinted into your brain and throwing knife at your hip. the belt accentuated the way your hips swayed, capturing the attention of the mansion's owner.

• "where's my wife?" he asks, defensive as he puts the glass of alcohol down.

• "your wife is fine," you turn toward your brother's voice as he speaks, a scowl painting both of your features.

• "you will be too, if you cooperate," your tone is unwelcoming, threatening. "you're johnny cage, aren't you?"

• "what's it to you?" johnny's anger grows by the second, frustrated and confused about the sudden yakuza-looking blade wielders in his home.

• your hand twitches as it rests on the handle of the blade. kenshi puts an arm out, pressing you back. his glare is a silent scolding and you groan, instead opting to cross your arms than threaten the actor at gunpoint.

• "come on," johnny instigates, a beckoning hand thrown out your way. "you're too pretty to be this rude to me."

• "i'm not here for you," you spit back, and kenshi points his sword out to the blade resting just above the fireplace. "we come for sento."

• we all know the drill. before you could fight for what rightfully belonged to your clan, johnny had you and your brother tied to a chair, groaning as consciousness returns to you only to explain your intentions through a groggy tone.

• it seemed like something from a lucid dream, two ninjas and a fire god as you're tied to a chair in a celebrity mansion. it was all a blur, explained quickly before you were whisked off to an academy to fight in a tournament you had only just learned about.

• it was all ridiculous but johnny had dragged sento along with him, keeping it in his room and away from the two of you - he never knew if you'd strike at night and run off into the sunset at any given moment.

• the training itself was quite useful as you learned new styles of fighting, weapon or otherwise. you felt yourself growing bulk and inspiration for combat and attempted to log as much information into your memory, studying after lessons or practicing moves when the campus was cleared of people with the moon high.

• it started innocently enough, johnny would at first spectate you and then eventually join in for (unwelcome) advice. you tried to brush him off, you really did, but he just kept coming back like the prettiest little parasite and that irritated you beyond belief.

• before you could protest or pick up his mood shift, he was being sweet on you - which is to say, pet names, compliments, anything you figured an actor would use to get in a girl's pants. he must do this to all women, you figure, but as time passes you find yourself leaning into his words and cracking a small smile that you cover with your hand.

• you had attempted to confide in kenshi, but in his typical attitude, he just teased you for having a crush on the actor. it was a claim you vehemently denied, no matter how many times his laugh rung in your ears or feather touches made your skin burn.

• it bothered you, truly. you hated him and his stupid sexy smile, his dumb idiot muscles as they flex and ripple during training — lord help you.

• when you started to give in, it was so painfully slow anyone could've missed it. johnny, shockingly, was a good judge of character and wore his opinions on his sleeve. he picked up on it, but wouldn't say anything; he would keeping poking and prodding the bear until you admitted your shameful attraction.

• you gave in after a particularly intimate training session. not having much experience compared to the star, he noticed your tense heat radiating from your back when he wrapped his arms around you, perfecting your stance as you trained against a dummy. unable to contain the trembles of your limbs, you spun around to face him, still caged in his grasp.

• "why do you do the things you do?" you ask, brows naturally furrowed in thought.

• johnny looks at you as if you were a fool. "because i like you."

• the answer left you dumbfounded, the answer was right in front of you but you dared not entertain the thought. your eyes darted between his, searching for any hint of bad intentions, but no. his eyes were sweet and soft, gentle and understanding. it ached you.

• the walls you built up crumbled to nothing the longer you two spent time together, johnny giving you almost little room to fully adjust to a romantic relationship. beside each other it was almost comical how much you resembled a black cat golden retriever duo, a comparison the other boys were sure to make often. even liu kang was surprised by this, commenting once that this "had not happened before." whatever he meant was lost to you.

• at first, it was sweet. he cared, he truly did. johnny would go more than an extra mile for you, understanding where to fully slam the brakes or how to gently encourage you to be intimate. the entire time you were absolutely floored, willing to explore the new world of love. it didn't take long for johnny to call it that, and you followed shortly after. he loved you, only you forever, as he'd say.

• the near-armageddon was heavy on the both of you, but everyone returned in one piece and things seemed to be taking a turn toward the domestic life. this is where everything seemingly took a turn for the worse.

• johnny had insisted you moved in with him as soon as possible, citing both love and your financial connections to the yakuza to support his living conditions even after struggling with money. he'd beg with those sweet puppy eyes, and who were you to turn down the first man that's ever loved you?

• you gave him your all, trying so hard to prove your affections and figure out how to appreciate someone that isn't yourself. johnny ate it up every time, his praise making you dizzy and his little pout every time your voice wavered in hesitation.

• at the academy and sun do, it was easy to forget that he was a supposed A-List celebrity. nobody knew him, flocked for photos and attention, the camera flashing wasn't even a worry considering their lack of technology. he was a normal man with perhaps a slightly inflated ego, but a charming pretty boy nonetheless.

• when you began living in malibu, it started to become a reality for you that you were now in the trenches of fame. while you yourself weren't famous, you did technically appear from nowhere arm in arm with the actor. it didn't take long for paparazzi to camp on your lawns, parking garages, or even as you're out getting your morning coffee.

• as a former yakuza member, your entire life was in the shadows or relatively secretive. now, everyone knew everything about you and the thought made you nauseous. johnny would remind you time and time again that this is what you set yourself up for. you two had never even approached the topic beforehand.

• then came the women. johnny was a conventionally attractive man in malibu, his glittering smile and perfect appearance had women constantly screaming at him for a glance, one that he happily provided with a slight wink. going online and seeing the edits and thirsting messages made your stomach flip. he was yours, but he felt like the world's.

• you tried sitting johnny down, unable to properly articulate your problems having never discussed serious topics with a partner before. it was a foreign topic to you, dancing around your words in one place and being too blunt in the other. johnny couldn't help but look at you with a nearly condescending stare, brow raising in such a way that made you feel... small.

• "you're dating a celebrity," he stated, as if you needed a thousandth reminder. "i'm johnny cage. i may have just been another trainee when we met, but i'm one of the most prominent men in the industry. this is what you signed up for. sorry, but i can't always be yours. i love my fans, too."

• "i didn't know what i signed up for," you clarify, brows furrowing in confusion over his tone. "i thought you'd only love me." he did say it pretty early on.

• "i do," he put his hands up defensively. "i just have more than you to worry about now, sugar. can we get on with our days, now? i have a meeting with a production team in an hour."

• perhaps you didn't know what you really agreed to. fame, women, money, cars, johnny was... wow, a pompous piece of shit in the spotlight no matter how much he claimed to have changed after the events. it was like the most sickening, arrogant light switch. you swore you loved a different man.

• after you had turned away his lifestyle for the tenth time, it was a few months after moving in that he really sat you down. he sat backwards in a chair, as if it was a casual conversation. another part of his routine.

• "you're not cut out for this," he'd open with, and you're not even sure what "this" was really referring to. "i don't want to keep dragging you through a lifestyle you can't keep up with." like you were a lesser being. your mouth goes dry.

• "you said you'd love me forever." your frown is piercing.

• "feelings... change, i guess. we met in a totally different place, things are back to normal and i just can't picture us continuing like we are now. i've got so much work to do and so little time, and you want my attention. i can't prioritize one out without losing the other."

• "so you're choosing directing over me? fame?"

• "it's not like that —" he sighs, pity in his voice. "you don't belong here."

• you stand up now. "you told me we were a forever package deal. you wanted to show me the world. you wanted this, took every first i could give. what? you're done using me for what i'm worth now?"

• johnny winces. "kind of? you're... you haven't been offering up much else than complaints." your jaw truly drops now, the anger you pushed away bubbling back up to the surface.

• "you think you can just clock out?" your voice grows in volume, increasingly nasty as you picture all the ways you could make him apologize. "you don't just get to escape that easily. do you know who i am?"

• johnny states your full name with a pitiful expression. as if it means nothing. he could have tricked you into thinking that was the case if you had kept falling for his love bombing. not anymore.

• "can you relax?" his tone is laced with irritation. "you're working yourself up, just make it easier for the both of us. look, i'll even buy you a plane ticket—" he reaches for his wallet but you catch his wrist, seeing red. for the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you're a strong person, a yakuza member.

• "easy," he wants you, tone now deadly serious. "i've got cameras everywhere. if i show police you put your hands on me like that, knowing your background, it'll be bad news for you."

• a smirk pulls at your lip, twitching in anger. you lean in close, real close. "if they even get to see the footage."

• it was a pathetic assumption that johnny would be able to escape you now, you were fully intertwined with him in such a way that angered you, but made you love him more deep down. your first love isn't supposed to just pull out from your grasp, not easily anyway.

• a wrestling match ensues. he's strong and knows how to fight, you saw it yourself. you were smarter, though. you managed to grab one of his small statues and position him just right to knock him out with a light hit. he goes limp in your arms, sending you to your knees from the weight of his body. not quite satisfied that he was at your mercy, you drag him to your shared bed.

• thanks to your intimate endeavors, rope was tucked neatly in the closet. you tied his wrists to the bedposts and his ankles to the edge of the bed. while you were emotionally detached, you were still utterly enamored with his entire existence. you leaned in close, admiring the crinkle in his nose or his delicate eyelashes as they hopelessly flutter. his plush lips part to breathe shallowly, and you barely notice your hand coming up to stroke at his cheekbone. he was a beautiful specimen, a figure that's meant to be immortalized in art.

• as mad as you were, he was just too pretty to part from. you peppered kisses from his temple to his shoulder, hand feeling the fabric of his dress shirt as you lay your head on his chest. you basically cuddled him as you leaned onto the bed, half sitting in your chair still. you had to be prepared in case he suddenly awoke and went for a bite or headbutt.

• he'll wake up eventually, and when he does, you'll be right there with a blade in hand and a wicked smile pulling at your lips.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader

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thehearthwolf · 3 months ago

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The Doll's House

Word Count: 7405

genre: horror/supernatural

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Creator Chose not to Use Archive Warnings (sorry, I'm not the best at knowing what to tag, so I'm using AO3 tags) There's blood.

Summary: Three friends come across a doll as they fix up their "new" house.

If you would rather listen to the story, it also is on YouTube.

“Why did we buy this house again?”

“Because it was a good price and we’re fools.”

“Okay but why?” I said, gesturing to the wall which now housed our second rusty pickaxe. Finding the first one was a little creepy, but it was stuck in a stump outside, so it made a little sense. This one. This one was stuck in the wall. In one of the closets. Inside the house.

I made a mental note to never go into the basement ever again. I did not need to find myself face to face with a pickaxed killer.

“Uh, he missed in his murder attempts?” My roommate Steve guessed, shrinking behind me. Which was hard for him as Steve was a tall guy with muscles larger than my head. He would have looked intimidating if it wasn’t for his large innocent eyes. Instead, he gave the impression of a rather large puppy.

Turning my head in disgust, I asked, “Why you gotta say creepy shit like that?”

“Because, Dan, it’s creepy. And it makes sense.”

“If there was a murder here, by law, they have to tell us.” A woman came walking in, her arms full with a large box. She was a tall, striking woman; her long hair tied up into a ponytail. But unlike Steve, she was intimidating. She adjusted her glasses with one hand, the other doing just fine holding the large box on its own. Her resting face looked that of someone who just had their dog insulted. Nice person though. Just a scary face.

“Meryl, just because it’s a law doesn’t mean people will actually do it. It’s like that, ‘fifteen minutes and we go home’ rule in college. Especially since we bought it off of the family itself. I bet they’d have no clue.” I said, rolling my eyes.

The three of us had bought this house dirt cheap. The people who were selling it were distant relatives of the previous owner, so they knew little about the place other than the man never actually lived in it for long. It needed a lot of repairs and was sold as is.

I didn’t particularly mind as I wasn’t afraid of a little work, but this was starting to get ridiculous. So far, we had found three, very real looking, dolls, a really creepy photo from what we’re guessing as the early 1900’s, leaky bathrooms, lights that refused to turn on, creaking stairs when no one was on them, and we had only just started cleaning. Not to mention the old-style wall art everywhere that felt like a judgement on my tastes of decorating as a whole. But the kitchen was nice.

Steve shrugged. “I never said he was successful.”

Pinching my nose, I sighed, “Again, not helpful.”

Meryl came over. “Another pickaxe? Jeez, how many did this dude have?” Placing the box down at her feet, she grabbed the handle. As she was wiggling it, the tool started to get free.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelped, aghast, “What are you doing?”

Meryl gave me a look from behind her wired glasses. “I’m removing it from the wall, so we can, ya know, get rid of it.” She went back to pulling at it. I rushed forward, placing my hands on the handle to stop her. Glaring, she gave me ‘The Look.’ Her annoyed face. I gave a small, involuntary squeak.

“I-” It came out as an octave higher than normal. Clearing my throat, I tried again, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, what could be on the other side of that wall? Eyes? Bones? The dead?”

“A doll?” Steve added.

Meryl rolled her eyes. “Who’s not helping now?” She said, “Dan, you’re being dumb. Let me remove the stupid thing.” Moving me to the side, she gave a giant tug. The pickaxe surrendered its hold on the wall, along with a burst of wind, causing Meryl to stumble.

Silently we all stared at the new hole in the wall. From what I could see, the only thing inside was just normal drywall. “I-Is someone going to get a closer look?” Steve asked. I turned, wide eyed at him. He motioned for me to go forward. Shaking my head, I pointed him to the hole. He took a couple steps back. “N-No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh for crying out loud. I’ll do it.” Meryl snapped. As she went closer, she mumbled, “What a bunch of wimps.” She glanced down the hole. “No, nothing- wait, I do see something.” Shoving her arm in the space, she said, “Gah, it’s down there all right, but I think I can get it.”

I grabbed my head. “Meryl, what are you doing? You leave whatever it is inside that wall. We don’t need-” I stopped. Too late, she had successfully pulled it out. “You gotta be kidding me.” I groaned.

Another doll.

The paint on her was peeling off; her purple dress covered in dust, ripped up and full of holes. What was once pristine brown hair, now was a ball of knots and ribbon. One of her eyes was permanently closed.

Shutting my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You had to say doll.”

“Leave it in the wall. Leave it in the wall.” Steve chanted in panic. I nodded vigorously.

“Stop being wimps. We’ll just put her with the rest.” Meryl said, grimacing at the old toy. “And maybe call a clairvoyant.” She added.

Nodding, I said, “Let’s burn it. Just in case.”

A small noise came from behind the bedroom door. All three of us jumped, screaming. A black cat came trotting up, meowing some more.

Giving a heavy sigh of relief, I said, “Fluffy. You scared the life out of us.” The cat just stared at us. Steve gave him a pat on the head.

“Well, now that you scaredy-cats are done, I’m going to continue unpacking.” Meryl said, picking up her box.

I stared at our new creepy collection. “What about that stuff?”

“You can take it to the garage.”

“Me?” I spluttered.

“Yes, you. Take Steve with you if you’re so scared.” She said walking out of the room.

We stared wide eyed at each other with neither of us moving. “Guess we better get this over with.” I whimpered. Steve nodded vigorously; his mouth shut into a thin line. The cat now clutched tightly to his chest.

Groaning, I picked up the two things as if they could turn into a mob of spiders at any moment. Quickly shuffling down stairs, I tried to get this ordeal done as fast as possible. Steve followed closely, his feet nipping at my heels.

The garage was in a dire need of cleaning but in terms of repairs, it was fine. Cobwebs littered the ceiling. Only half the lights were working, casting a dim glow. The place was filled with boxes, as this was the safest place to store them as we fixed up the house. In the back corner were six barrels full of junk that we found or needed to toss.

Steve shuffled his feet at the door, still holding the cat. I gave a half smile. “Do you want to stay by the door?”

“Yes, please.” He whispered. Grinning apologetically, I continued on to the garbage by myself, now with a rock in my gut.

The cans were getting close to overflowing. I could just see the old photo from earlier, faded but the people in it were just visible. Three people stood proud, a man and two women with a child on one’s hip. The women looked to be almost exact copies. Both having chubby sort of cheeks, their hair done in curls, and wearing the classical dress of the 1900’s. Sisters is what we assumed. The man was probably a husband of one of them, of which we had no clue. He had a strong jaw and cold eyes. A pickaxe by his side. Made sense. A creepy pickaxe man, in a crazy pickaxe house.

The little girl, on what I guessed to be her mother’s hip, was cute. She was pretty young, no older than five. Part of her hand was in her mouth, a little blurry from the movement. In her other hand was a doll. She wore a cute frilly dress, with lace all about it. It matched that of her owner.

For the most part, the photo wasn’t actually creepy other than it just sitting here in this house over a hundred years later. I had watched a lot of scary movies to tell me to just throw it away. But if I was being honest, my gut was telling me to burn this house to the ground and just build a new one on top. Steve had been the one to point out that wouldn’t necessarily make the ghosts and bad luck go away.

Sighing, I tossed the pickaxe and doll in with the photo. With the toy staring up at me, the hair on the back of my neck rose. I grabbed for the photograph. Stepping into the light to see better, I stared intensely at the little girl. The doll. The rock in my stomach turned into a boulder. It was the exact same doll in the picture, only in better condition. Going back, I grabbed the toy to compare them. To make sure. Two little grey eyes stared up at me with the same expression of nothing.

Wait, wasn’t one of the eyes closed?

Tossing the thing with a yelp, I shuffled backwards. Dolls sometimes will have one of the eyes stick, yeah, no big deal. I rationed with myself. There was no way there was anything wrong with the toy. It could even be a different one. Maybe the previous owner was a collector and just so happened to store dolls in walls for the fun of it. Yeah, the previous owner just wanted to mess with us.

“Dan? What’s wrong?” Steve called out from the door.

The toy looked up at me with its blank expression. Shivering, I wondered if I should tell the others about my find or go put it back in the trash, never mentioning it again. Rubbing the stubble on my chin, I took one tentative step forward, my breath coming out in white puffs.

Wait. Why is it so cold? It’s summer.

A small cracking noise broke through the silence, as if an explosion went off.

“What was that?” Steve called out, panicked. He came inside the garage, cat now gone, and grabbed the back of my shirt. We stared at the toy in mute horror together.

A fissure appeared on the doll’s face. Move. The sweat that was once dripping off of me were like icicles as her face slowly broke. Move. The gap on her face grew wider by the second. Move. White smoke started to spiral out. MOVE. The smoke was formless. But it was not long before it took shape.

Three hapless figures floated next to each other. They all considered each other, two of them dissipated back into smoke, raising up through the ceiling. The remaining one’s features started to form into more of a clearer person.

A young woman stood before me. Her face was round, soft, but her eyes were sharp and cold. Full of rage. I knew that face. After all, I had only just seen it. She was the women in the photo. Except for the eyes. They were the man’s. She must be the daughter, all grown up. Instead of a little frilly dress, she wore what I imagined to be the wedding gown of her time. It was ripped, the ends matted with something. Mud? Blood? I could not tell in her ghostly form. As for the top of her clothes, I knew for a fact that it was covered in blood as her neck had an opened wound across it. There was no debate there.

Tilting her head, she considered me. Her lips curled into a crooked smile. Rasping out, she said, “Marry?” Her voice sounded as if someone ran their nails down a chalkboard. Steve screamed. With a jolt, I was finally able to move. Stumbling backwards, I blindly fumbled for the garage door, pulling my friend along.

The ghost followed suit. Extending out her hand, she tried to grab a hold of me. It was matted in what I could only imagine as the same substance as that on her dress.

“Marriage?”

“N-naw, thanks, but no. No. I really- Don’t think- No.” I stumbled over the words; my mind hazy. I was able to get to the door. The handle wouldn’t move. Locked. I slammed the garage door opener frantically. It made a groaning noise but did not move. Shit.

She hissed, “No?” Barring her teeth, she appeared in my face. “No?” Screeching, her hand lunged at me. Steve and I scattered. The cold wind ruffled my hair, as I felt her arm just went by.

Slamming into the boxes still left for us to unpack, I dearly wished that we had parked at least one of our cars inside. Even if the doors wouldn’t open, driving through it would give the desired results too.

Running toward the back, I glanced behind. There was no ghost lady following me. Swiveling around, I frantically searched for her. Steve was by the garbage, with no one by him, and there was no glowing in the dark corners either. She had just vanished.

Searing pain bloomed in my abdomen. Turning my head, I could just see the dead woman behind me. My vision started to blur. The roomed changed around me. Lights disappeared and reappeared elsewhere.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what me and Cynthia made you!” A little girl in a purple frilly dress came running out to the man covered in soot. His eyes were sharp, cold. But when he saw his daughter, they lit up. He watched as a piece of paper covered in a child’s drawing fluttering in the little wind that her running produced. Grasped firmly in her other hand, a doll.

The girl and the doll were identical in every way. The frilly dress, the black shoes, even the curly hair. The toy was very well loved but despite this, it was pristine and clean. Not a hair out of place nor a shoe unshined.

As she ran to greet the man, I looked around. Behind her stood our house. The paint was bright and clean, with the windows clear and the shutters correctly on their hinges. The porch had a brand-new feel to it, with it being a shiny white color and there were no wood planks missing. The only thing that wasn’t there was the garage, which had to have been added later in time. Staring at the house one last time, I turned back to the little family reunion.

Running up to her father, the girl lifted up her arms. The man smiled sadly. He said in a thick Southern accent, “Now, now Doll, I can’t carry you. I’m too dirty, we wouldn’t want to get your nice dress ruined, now would we?”

Bending down on one knee, he laughed as she puffed out her cheeks. Gently taking the piece of paper, he smiled greatly. “My, what is this? Is this a picture of the family?” The girl nodded shyly. “Why, Doll, this is absolutely amazing! It’s almost like a real life photograph. There’s you and me hand in hand, with Cynthia. Not to mention your mother and your Aunt Amelia. Look! You even got her smile right.” The caricature he pointed at showed a stick with a frown on it.

A muffling sound could be heard. It sounded like a scream. I looked around. No one was outside besides the two in front of me. On the porch was the mother? Or the aunt. I couldn’t tell, but she looked fine, she just stood there. Nothing strange had happened. Shaking my head, I turned back to the little family.

“Absolutely perfect. What superb skills my favorite child has!” The father said, beaming.

“Daddy, I’m your only child.” The little girl giggled.

“Dan.” I heard someone say my name. More words came after but I couldn’t hear them clearly. I shook my head again, trying to pay attention.

Grabbing his daughter’s hand, he started walking toward the house and said, “That may be, but the statement still stands.”

“Dan! Wake up!”

Gasping, my eyes flew open. My garage was back. Hovering over me, Steve was pressing his hands on my lower body. The pain had been dulled during the vision but now it was coming back in its full fury.

“W-what happened?” I stammered out.

Steve shook his head. “You screamed out when crazy ghost lady stabbed you with her hand, then you just went limp. I was afraid that you had-” He took a shaky breath, “that you had died. So I grabbed one of the pickaxes and started swinging it at her, and then she just screamed and disappeared.” He nodded toward the weapon laying by his side.

“You killed her?” I asked, impressed.

“No. I don’t think so. I think that, for whatever reason, she doesn’t like that thing. Thankfully there are three of us and two pickaxes so we could-” Steve spat blood on my face. His eyes widened. A glowing ghost hand protruded out of his chest.

“Die. Like him.” The woman sneered out from behind, snatching her now red hand away. Steve’s body fell with a thud, his eyes staring unblinking at me.

“No!”

Grabbing the pickaxe, I swung at her. Her body froze, a line slashed through her. Slowly she descended into a white smoke, sinking into the floor.

Gasping for air, I grabbed Steve’s body. “Steve.” I whispered, pressing my hands onto his chest. “Come on bud. We gotta go.” He didn’t move. I shook him gently. “Come on.” I said, tears streaming down my face. “Steve.” I choked out. Clutching his body, I sobbed.

Sometime past before I finally got up. I had to get to Meryl. Before that ghost did. I had already wasted so much time. Setting Steve down, I sniffled. Leaving him here in the garage felt wrong, but it was unrealistic to move him elsewhere. So I settled for laying him against the wall.

My body screamed in protest as I slowly got up. There was no time to waste to get to Meryl, and I couldn’t call her as I left my phone in my room to charge. Limping toward the door with pickaxe in hand, I hoped dearly that the door was unlocked with her disappearance. Much to my happiness it was. First bit of good luck I had all day.

Climbing the stairs, I yelled out, “Meryl! Meryl, help!” A soft ‘what’ could be heard from her bedroom. Limping as fast as I could, I threw myself into the room. Her back was to the door, and didn’t even look back at me when she spoke.

“I’m not falling for it. Whatever you and Steve are playing.”

My heart squeezed in my chest at the mention of his name. Choking out, I said, “Steve’s dead. We need to leave. Now.”

Meryl whipped around. Her eyes widen as she looked me over, focusing on the pickaxe in my hand.

“What the hell happened? What do you mean Steve’s dead?” A pause. “What’s with the pickaxe?” She asked slowly.

I shook my head. “We were attacked. There are ghosts. Actual ghosts, Meryl. And they are not Casper.”

“Oh.” Was all she said. Just a small ‘oh.’ She didn’t move. There was no indication that she was going to come with me at all. She just stood there.

“Okay.” I said, dragging out the word. “Ready to go then?”

That rose her from her stupor. “Right! Yes. Let’s go. But, uh,” she turned around, “let me get my phone.”

I stared at Meryl. She was acting really strange. I knew that hearing about ghosts being real and killing your best friend was a lot to take in. But this reaction was not the one I expected for Meryl to take. That’s when it hit me.

She thinks I killed Steve.

I placed my face in my hand, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” Meryl asked quickly.

I moaned, “You think I killed Steve. That I went crazy and killed him with a pickaxe.”

Silence. Followed by a “Yep.”

I blinked, taken back by the blunt response. “Didn’t think you’d give an honest answer.” I said. She shrugged.

“Well I-” But what she was going to say, I never found out. She paled as she gasped out, her breath coming out in puffs. Shuffling away, she pointed behind me.

Whipping around, I came face to face with an older woman. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun. Her pale, wrinkled, round face stared at me with no emotion. Her dress grey and fancy. Everything was in perfect order, not a hair out of place. Except for her chest. A dark stain covered where her heart would be.

I opened my mouth, but my best friend, the bride of hell appeared behind me. Startled, I gasped instead, dropping the pickaxe in my hand. Damn it! A smile crept onto her face, her teeth rotten and holey. Wailing, she slammed her hand in my shoulder. I struggled to throw her off. My hands went right through her, leaving small lines in her form. Still, she remained unmoving, her body slowly reconnecting itself. My vision started to blur again. The lights increased; the room faded away.

The little girl, now a teenager, sat on the front porch, tears streaming down her face. She looked down at her doll. Despite the many years she had the thing, it still remained clean and perfect; not a thing out of place. She no longer looked like the doll, her hair was now pulled up into a tight bun, the same as Aunt and Mother. Her dress just a pale cream.

She looked darkly back at the kitchen at the now raised voices. I hate it when they fight. When he disappeared to who knows where. It upsetted Mother. And when Mother is upset, I’m the one who gets it.

I stepped back at the sudden thoughts running in my head. They weren’t mine. I turned my attention to the girl. Were they her thoughts?

Quietly striding out of the house, Amelia regarded her niece in silence. It wasn’t until the girl heard her mother shout out, “You worthless piece of shit!” Did she notice the cold woman standing there. Quickly, the girl wiped her face, hoping the woman would ignore her.

“What are you doing?” Amelia looked down and saw the doll in her hand. Her eyes turned dark. “Why do you have that?” She hissed out. Marching over, she snatched the toy out of the girl’s hand. “You will never find a suitable husband if you carry that thing around!” Snarling, she tossed the toy into the woods near the house. The girl screamed out, she lunged forward to go get it, but the older woman grabbed her arm. Ignoring the protests, Amelia pulled her back inside.

“You want to be free of this?” She gestured to the arguing couple. “Find a good husband. A rich one.” She snarled in the girl’s ear.

“Now, time to be useful for once, Doll.”

Screaming could be heard. But why was the girl screaming? Grant it, her aunt was no picnic but to scream? I groggily opened my eyes. The face of an angry woman stared back.

Right. The girl is a ghost and wants to kill me. I thought dully.

“Dan! Dan, wake up!” A voice yelled out.

I blinked. Where was that coming from? Sounded from behind me. Wait-

My brain finally had downloaded the first thought. There were ghosts. And they wanted to kill us. The vision I had this time must have had me gone for only a minute at most, but the vision itself felt longer. Snapping to, I turned to see Meryl backed into a corner with what I assumed to be Mother dearest. Meryl would grab various things out of the boxes spewed about, and threw them at her. But they would just pass through the ghost. She didn’t even seem bothered by it. Meryl needed the axe.

The only reason I had not fallen to the floor this time is that my Ghost Bride still was holding on to me, keeping me on my feet. She lifted her hand up and tried to brush my hair, but her hand went through me. I shivered.

Focus.

Swiveling my head around, I tried to look for the pickaxe I had stupidly dropped. My skull screamed in protest but I continued.

After a second of looking, the weapon appeared to still be by my feet. I couldn’t fully tell where specifically as there were five of them.

Groaning at the spinning room, I kicked the pic in the direction I hoped Meryl to be. “Meryl! They don’t like the pickaxe.” I yelled out.

Without hesitation, she lunged for it. But mother dearest anticipated what Meryl was doing, as I had just shouted out what she needed to do. Mother grabbed my friend’s shoulder, slamming her into the ground.

Meryl didn’t even miss a beat as the second she hit the ground, she rolled back onto her feet and lunged again. This time it was successful, as she grabbed the hilt. In one swinging motion Meryl slashed through Mother causing her to disappear into the ground.

Twirling around, Meryl now set her sights on releasing me. Black clouded the edge of my vision. I could feel blood trickling down my leg. Meryl side stepped around us to get a better position. The ghost followed Meryl’s movements with her head.

The Bride hissed out at Meryl, “He’s mine.” To which my friend replied with a pickaxe slashing her body in half. Just like before, she disappeared through the floor. Without her holding me up, I started to fall. If it wasn’t for Meryl grabbing me, I would have face planted into the floor.

Setting me down, Meryl shakenly pressed her hand on my shoulder. “What the hell, Dan? What was that?”

“The quick rundown is that those ghosts came out of the wall doll, I think three in total? It’s that family we saw in that portrait we threw away. The bride killed Steve, and the mother tried to kill you. I don’t know where the aunt is, and I don’t really want to. I keep seeing what I assume to be the bride’s life flash before my eyes every time she stabs me with her hand for whatever reason, and honestly this sucks ass.” I huffed out. Swaying slightly, I leaned against Meryl.

“Okay.” She blinked at my explanation. “All right. How does this pickaxe work? Did I get rid of them forever or-?”

I shook my head as minimal as possible. “It only stops them for a couple of minutes? I’m not sure on the exact time.”

“Okay, I can work with that. Is the doll still intact?”

Thinking hard, I said, “I think so? It was only the face that broke.”

Meryl nodded. “Based on Hollywood, we need to completely destroy the doll. They’re connected to it so if it’s gone, then they should go away. We probably will have to burn it.” She looked around, frowning. “Lighter. We need a lighter.” Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. “I- uh- I think we have a tiny blow torch thing in the kitchen? That thing that Steve used to make those dessert things?”

“Sounds like a plan.” I said softly. I tried to nod but the room spun at a sickening pace and I immediately stopped.

Meryl gave me a concerned look but didn’t say anything. I must have looked terrible but she kept quiet to not make me panic. But I knew I was dying. Wasn’t too hard to figure out with two new holes added to my body. If it wasn’t for Meryl I would probably be freaking out and wondering about the great beyond.

She placed me gently against the wall and stood up. Grabbing her bedsheet, Meryl started to rip them into long strips. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back.

“Dan, don’t close your eyes!” Meryl appeared in front of my face. I blinked in shock. She had a bunch of the bedsheet strips around her arm. She must have been real quick with ripping them.

Wrapping them around my wounds, she tightly tied them to me. The pain of her makeshift medical wrap woke me up slightly but the world still had a fuzzy grain to it. Holding onto the pickaxe with white knuckles, Meryl was constantly looking around checking for ghosts. Once she was finished patching me up, she glanced in the hallway to check if the coast was clear.

Grunting, Meryl said, “Up ya go Dan.” Gripping my arm around her shoulder, I leaned heavily on her. Ever so slowly, we walked together down to the kitchen. It was an awkward fit as Meryl had to try and keep one arm decently free.

The kitchen was one of the best kept places in the house. It was pristine white and had marbled everything. It was spacious with tons of cupboards stuff full of cooking utensils we would tell ourselves we would use but never do. It had relatively new appliances that worked properly and the electric wiring was actually up to code.

Overall, an excellent kitchen. The only problem I currently had with it was the ghost standing in the middle. She had a stern, round face, her grey hair pulled into a tight bun on top. Wrinkles covered her face and hands. Her dress was proper and clean. Staring at us as if we had dishonored not only her, but her cooking too. This must have been the Aunt.

We both regarded each other in silence. Our breath coming out in white puffs. The only sound was that of Fluffy eating in the corner. Shuffling her feet slightly to the left, Meryl half took half dragged me along to the closest drawer. The Aunt just stood there. The drawer opened. No reaction. A hand enters. Still no reaction. Shuffling noises are heard. Again, the Aunt does nothing. The hand retracts from the drawer with no lighter. The Aunt smiled. It was an unpleasant one.

Meryl whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Do you know where we put the blow torch thing?”

A pause.

“Um, yes.”

“Well?”

I swallowed loudly as I remembered exactly where it was. “Funny story.” Meryl turned to me with a stern face. “It’s actually still packed up. In a box. In the, uh, garage.” I whispered that last part out as I realized my mistake.

“Great.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “So we have to go to the garage then?”

I gave a grim smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Meryl shook her head and said, “Dan, you’re fine. To say that you are alive right now is a miracle in of itself. Besides, we need to be in the garage anyway.” Clearing her throat, she said in a louder voice, “Sorry, wrong room, we’ll just go now.”

The Aunt glared at us and took a step forward. “I think not.” She said.

Meryl swung the pickaxe wildly behind her, dropping me to the ground. Two vaper shapes hung frozen behind us. The Mother and the Bride. Adrenaline started to kick in as I shot to the side, out of Meryl’s way as she advanced on the Aunt.

Unperturbed, the dead woman casually flicked her hand at us. Instantly the kitchen became alive. What random stuff we packed in the drawers came flying out at us. Pencils, a ball of rubber bands, various sized wrenches, among other things. The items that worried me the most were the plastic and metal forks, and knives all flying about. With the three of us living together we had collected a stupid amount of utensils. How or why, I will never know, but I regretted it a little now.

Throwing my one arm over my head, I dragged myself to the cupboards by the cat’s food dish. I grabbed the underside of Fluffy, pulling him toward me to get him out of the way. He made a murr sound but allowed me to take him, the food now gone. Together we huddled in the corner, trying our best to remain unharmed. I was failing. Miserably.

Meryl was not having a better time than me. She definitely was the one to draw the shorter end of the stick. Multiple little cuts appeared all over her face, arm, basically any exposed part of her body. Luckily for her, her glasses were at least able to prevent her eyes from getting stabbed. But that wasn’t too big of a comfort with a million little push pins flying around.

Swatting away all the flying objects, whether they were little or large with her arms and pickaxe, she advanced closer to the Aunt. But the ghost did not move, showing no signs of terror of the weapon in Meryl’s hands.

With a few more steps until she reached her goal, two forms of white smoke came out on either side of Meryl from the walls, both advancing on the other. The smoke became the Mother and the Bride, with their arms out, ready to spear their target. Meryl didn’t notice, her focus solely on the Aunt, who was also mirroring her family’s movements. I tried to scream out in warning, but it was too late.

The mother and daughter both stabbed Meryl’s sides simultaneously, freezing her in place, her eyes wide in shock. The pickaxe fell from her hands. With no danger now, the Aunt stepped forward and smiled with sickening malice. Lurching forward, my arms flailed out, desperately trying to reach Meryl.

Please. The Aunt raised her hand once again. Please no. Slowly, so painfully slowly, did her arm reach for Meryl’s chest. Not again. Not Meryl. Please. My thoughts screamed out to no one.

Meryl barely made a sound. Just a soft groan. Her head jerked a little when the hand was removed. Staggering forward, I grabbed at the air, trying but not quite being able to reach her, ignoring the two ghosts still holding her up. The Aunt’s lips moved, saying something. I couldn’t hear her. There was just ringing in my ears. My brain chanted, not her, please, not her.

“Dan.” Her voice was quiet, but it ripped through my body as if a bomb had gone off. “Dan, run.” I blinked, not comprehending. “Go to the garage.” I could barely hear the last of her words as her head fell, not to get up again. The women smiled at the body before dropping it. It hit the ground with a weak thud.

The three ghosts turned their heads toward me. I shuffled backwards. The Bride smiled at me, but there was no warmth. No love. My insides burned looking at them. Gritting my teeth, I gave Meryl’s body one last look before limping out of the kitchen.

I was alone.

Angry tears fell from my eyes. Everyone that I had held dear had been taken from me. They were going to pay. Anger fueled me. Slamming the garage door open, it echoed across the space. A black blob skirted pass me into the room. Fluffy. I gave a tiny smile.

I went to the pile of boxes labeled ‘kitchen’ ripping open the top one. It was full of plates. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the box out of my way. The noise of shattering plates filled the room as they broke across the floor. But what did I care? I just continued on, onto the next box, and the next. Until I found what I needed, I was not going to stop.

Fluffy hissed. Whipping around, I saw smoke pouring from the ceiling and walls. The vaper swirled into three shapes. Angry faces appeared and soon the rest of their bodies. The women of the household had finally appeared before me. They floated there, regarding me with undisguised disgust.

They drifted forward. Glancing around for a weapon, I instead scooped up the cat. Holding it out, I yelled out, “Stop! I warn you!” To add to my threat, Fluffy snarled. The ghosts paused for a second, confused. Taking advantage, I moved backwards. The ladies had composed themselves over the shock of me using the cat as a shield. They did not seem to be affected by cats quite like mummies. Watching me, they spread out, flaking me on three sides. My only option was back. Away from the boxes. Banging against the garage wall, I cursed. Nowhere else to go.

Fluffy jumped from my arms, fur all spiked, hissing. The ghosts watched the feline warily, still unsure of it. Using that bought time I frantically looked around the barrels, trying to find something to fight with. A pvc pipe stuck out from the trash. Grabbing it, I swung at the Mother. It passed through her with no effect. She stared at me unamused. I dropped the pipe, backing up once again.

“All right, let’s try again.” I grabbed the next thing sticking out of the trash barrels, a wood stick. Out came a rusty pickaxe. I could have cried. Another pickaxe. Grinning, I noticed that damn creepy doll just inches away. Her face gone, broken apart. An idea suddenly popped in my head. Without looking at the ghosts, that were probably too close for comfort, I slammed down the tool, crushing the doll. A scream escaped the white women, they lurched, holding their heads.

The old lady swung out her arm, smacking me across the room, the pickaxe flying from my hands. Groaning slightly, I got up. The ghosts were starting to recover slightly, but they looked a lot paler even for them. I limped as fast as I could back to my weapon. The Mother lunged at me, snarling. Swinging the pickaxe, she disappeared into smoke screaming.

Lurching back to the doll, I went back to smashing it to pieces. I kept at it. Over and over. If I saw any amount of silver in the corner of my eye, I would swing the pickaxe frantically, chasing them off.

I screamed out at the sudden pain in my already damaged shoulder. Turning my head slightly, I could see that the Bride had stabbed me once again. The room started to swirl once more.

On the mantel sat the doll. It was dirtier than before, but still was in decent condition. Having it spend a couple nights in the woods when she was a teen did not help the doll’s condition over the years. Picking up the toy, the woman placed it inside the unfinished closet. The house was going through some minor changes to help the place look better in the future.

As she closed the closet door, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She loved the way she looked in that white dress. Her hair tied up, with a veil loosely falling down. The dress was her mother’s. Simple and white. Nothing expensive. They never could have afforded expensive. But not anymore.

The thoughts of the Bride once again popped in my head. Gritting my teeth, I tried to wake up. I did not need this. Opening my eyes, I was still in the memory. I tried kicking a chair but my leg just went through it as if I was the ghost. Sighing, I turned back to the memory.

The plan was simple. Marry him. Then kill him. Joseph was rich. Richer than she could ever hope. Somehow, she was able to catch the eye of the wealthiest person in town. She first started to notice him snooping around her house a couple of years ago. When she turned twenty, she caught him slinking around the corner just below her bedroom window. He stammered out that he fancied her and had only wish to speak with her. Their courtship was a little rough in the beginning, but it had smoothed out toward the end.

He was older than her by quite a few years. But that didn’t matter. Only his money. She’d be rid of him soon anyway. It was Aunt Amelia’s plan of course. To marry him in order to get them out of there. Then they could live their lives in comfort. She could even find a new husband. Become even richer.

Be free.

But there was one slight problem. Father wasn’t in on the plan. Mother and Amelia said not to tell him. He was rather fond of Joseph; they got along very well. The two of them would constantly head out into town and ‘bond.’ It infuriated her.

The door was thrown open, and in walked the twins. Aunt Amelia as stern as ever and Mother with a bored look on her face. She sat in the chair closest to the exit. Unconcerned with her surroundings.

Amelia walked up to the bride from behind and placed a cold steel knife in her hand. “Don’t mess this up.” She hissed in her ear. The Bride nodded, holding up the weapon to examine it. It was thin and long. Perfect. A cold smile crept on her face. She couldn’t wait.

“What is that?”

She spun around. Standing at the door was Father. He stared at the weapon; brow furrowed.

“Father.”

“Get out Ronald.” Mother snarled. Amelia stood behind her, glaring.

“Not until you tell me what that knife is for.”

“To kill Joseph.” The girl answered.

His eyes widened. “No-”

Mother took a step and stood in front of him. “Tonight, we can have it all. We just have to get rid of him.”

Father stared coldly at her. “No. Not this way.”

“In that case-” Amelia pulled out another knife from the folds of her dress and lunged. A pain welled up from my leg.

Gasping out as the memory released me, I sunk to my knees. Looking over, Fluffy was clinging to my leg, his fur all fluffed out, eyes wide. In the fear of the ghosts, he had clawed at my leg. I patted his head. “Good kitty.” I whispered.

Anger gripped me. I wasn’t going to let them treat me like the father. They weren’t going to win. I turned toward the Bride, glaring. She took a step back as if I had stabbed her with the pic, shock on her face. I walked back to the doll, unopposed.

With a renewed fury, I swung the pickaxe as hard as I could, pounding the toy into dust. The ghosts screeched even louder. The Aunt screamed out, “Why? Ronald, why?” Her cry did not make me pause. I didn’t even look. I kept going. Until nothing was left but broken pieces and dust.

The screaming had stopped. Turning around, I saw the ghosts slowly evaporate. Their mouths opened. No sound came out, they were frozen. Their whitened forms turned ash grey. Bit by bit, they disappeared. Grey smoke crumbled down into the ground. After a moment, they were gone.

I fell down on the floor in mute shock, tears staining my face. The pickaxe still in my hands. For a brief moment it glowed. Screaming, I tossed it away. Smoke billowed out of it. Two new ghosts emerged. This time it was the Father, and some unknown guy with him.

He was younger, had short brown hair, and in a suit like the father. Blood covered most of his clothes. The man looked vaguely familiar. As if I was looking in a mirror. A small memory emerged from some unknown place in the back of my brain, about a distant uncle being killed on his wedding day.

The Father looked the same as he did in the memory, now with a small hole in his chest. Some of his fingers were missing too.

Bowing to me, the Father said in a scratchy voice, “Thank you,” before disappearing. The younger man just nodded as he faded away, the room along with him.

The world turned blissfully dark.

#short story #horror #supernatural story #suspense #ghosts #original story

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hellfirexhoe · 2 years ago

Text

Death of Me - Chapter 5: One Last Goodbye

Chapter 5 | Series Masterlist

1.6k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, pregnancy, mention of bodily harm, hurt/comfort

"Well I look fucking ridiculous. Do we really think this is going to work?" Eddie has his hair tucked up into a snug fitting beanie borrowed from Robin. He's also wearing Steve's sunglasses and has a blanket from Dustin's house wrapped around him tucked up to his chin. Nancy and Steve share a look of 'maybe not' over the top of Eddie's head. The door opens and Hopper slinks in sighing heavily at the sight of Eddie in the wheelchair,

"What the hell's all this? Are we trying to advertise that this man is a wanted criminal that we're sneaking out of the hospital?"

He leans down and plucks the glasses off of Eddie's face, handing them back to Steve.

"Unnecessary. The hat is fine. The blanket? It looks ridiculous." The blanket is taken off Eddie and thrown to Dustin.

"Steve, jacket." Steve hands over the jacket with no protest, Eddie peers around Hopper and locks eyes with Steve,

"I'm holding this to ransom until I get my vest back."

"There. Much less ridiculous. Keep your hands covered." Hopper gestures to the bruises on Eddie's wrist from the cuffs he had only recently unlocked. Eddie nods and tucks his arms into the jacket.

"Ready? Okay. Nancy, you're wheeling him out, let's go. Everyone else follows one by one and for Christ's sake don't draw attention to us." Hopper steps out of the roof after Nancy, gesturing for everyone else to exit while he trails behind. Dustin and Steve opt for the stairs so not everyone has to climb into an elevator.

Somehow the group reassembles in the car park at Steve’s car, bundling Eddie into the back while Dustin tries to tuck the blanket around him as surreptitiously as possible. Hopper gets into his own car, Robin goes with Nancy leaving Dustin, Steve and Eddie together with one destination in mind, Hopper's cabin.

When the car stops for the final time Eddie is a little shocked, he can't believe the plan has worked to this point.

Over the next few days Eddie stays in the cabin, sequestered with Hopper and "the girl with magical powers" who he was convinced Steve had been lying about. Hopper keeps in touch with a contact who has eyes on the investigation, and finally, Steve's house is given the all clear.

You had taken your mother's advice and arranged to see friends, to spend time with people your own age. After a glance in the mirror at your choice of clothes you opt for an oversized sweatshirt, your bump is definitely small enough that it would probably go unnoticed, especially to these girls who hadn't seen you in about six weeks, but you were keen to avoid addressing that aspect of your life with them today.

You arrive at the cafe and as you sit down with them it strikes you that your friendship with these girls feels like it happened in another lifetime. It could be the grief that's changed you, or impending motherhood, but you really, truly, do not care about Andy's new car. You muddle through the conversation, faking your enthusiasm as best you can.

"Did you know they recovered Jason's body from the Creel house wreckage?" Now this does pique your interest and you look at Louise, the source of this information,

"Apparently it was all kinds of fucked up, they think someone mutilated his body.”

“But who would have done that to poor Jason?” Jessica seems just as intrigued as you do by this news, obviously Jason’s family weren’t going to be advertising this kind of grisly news.

“I mean it's obvious isn’t it?” This might be your cue to leave the table, you have a suspicion about the next words which will leave Louise’s mouth, Jessica though seems clueless and stares blankly.

“It was obviously that freak Munson. I mean, shit, everyone knows he and Chrissy must have been sleeping together, she tried to end things and that's why he killed her and then Jason. Oh my gosh have you guys seen his creepy uncle? He was always putting up those posters around town? Gross.” You flinch, suddenly hot with rage, feeling akin to a tank of gasoline and Louise has just dropped a match into you. You exhale through your nose once, forcefully, before standing up wordlessly, wrapping your hand into Louise’s ponytail and slamming her head into the table.

“He was fucking a cheerleader, wasn’t Chrissy though.” You give her a mean sneer as her head comes up, nose bloodied.

You’ve made a scene. That much is clear. Jessica’s eyes are flitting between you and Louise who is cupping her nose as blood spews out, as are most of the other patrons in the cafe.

“Okay then, well this was very illuminating. I’ve got to dash.” Your voice is sickly sweet and insincere,

“Fucking freak.”

You don’t even respond to this, just leave the cafe, get into your car and head out to spend time with someone you actually want to see.

Wayne eyes your blotchy face suspiciously, you had managed to wipe up the tears before you arrived but you’d be lying if you said the way your former friends had spoken about Eddie hadn’t bothered you.

“Everything okay kid?” Wayne hands you a glass of water. You nod,

“Peachy.” Your voice wobbles as you speak, giving you away immediately.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“People suck.” You offer up as an explanation, Wayne laughs quietly,

“That they do. I’m guessing this is something to do with Eddie? Someone say something?”

You place the glass down on the coffee table with trembling hands,

“I - I met up with some girlfriends today and, shit, the things they said about Eddie. And then I was thinking it wasn’t so long ago that I probably would have joined in with the things they were saying.” Wayne gives you a small, sad, smile and pats your back,

“Look, anyone below the age of 25 is stupid. Eddie was stupid, you’re stupid.” You give a choked laugh, “What matters, what really matters is that when my boy died, he knew how much you loved him. Nothing you did before that would have mattered to him.”

“He didn’t know.” Your words are broken by sudden, wracking sobs that hurt your chest, “I - I never told him and now it's too late.”

“You think he needed to hear the words to know? Look, I never wanted to third wheel the two of you but the times I was forced against my will to do so I could see it, on both of your faces. Believe me, he knew.”

Dustin squints at the name on the envelope Eddie has just handed him,

“And you’re asking me to do this, why?”

“Because I can’t. Please, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t urgent.”

“Eddie I really don’t think a letter is the way you should handle this.” Dustin’s protests are 50% based on his belief that Eddie shouldn’t be informing his girlfriend that he’s alive but running away via a letter and 50% out of fear that he’ll put the envelope through your door and you’ll see him and yell at him.

“Please.”

Dustin sighs, and nods, tucking the letter in his pocket and heading up the stairs from Steve’s basement, asking Steve for a ride and giving him the address from the envelope Eddie had handed him.

“Why are we going there? That’s-” Steve cuts himself off before he can incriminate himself.

Dustin shrugs, “Eddie needs a favour, needs me to deliver a letter to someone.”

“O…kay.”

The frown doesn’t leave Steve’s face the entire journey, if he’s driving Dustin to your house for the reason he thinks he is, he is honestly stunned.

You’re taking the trash out when you see Steve’s BMW pull up on your driveway, you spy Eddie’s friend Dustin in the passenger seat who blanches when you make eye contact with him. You see the boy steel himself and step out of the car. He approaches you slowly, like the way someone would approach an aggressive dog, before handing you a letter with a shaky hand,

“The hell’s this?” You rip the envelope open, holding up a hand to indicate to Dustin to wait.

You feel sick the second you recognise the thick messy scrawl on the paper. You presume this is some kind of dying wish note until the words actually register in your brain. What the fuck?! You look up at Dustin,

“Is this a fucking joke?” Dustin shakes his head, too scared of you to lie.

“Dustin. Where. The. Fuck. Is. Eddie?” You catch Dustin eyes flick to Steve in the BMW who gives you an uncomfortable raise-of-hand half wave.

“Is he at Steve’s house?”

“No?” You narrow your eyes and Dustin immediately caves, “Yes, okay yes! He just asked me to give this to you before he left. I don’t know anything else!”

“Wait here. Don’t move.” You run into the house, scrawling a quick message for your parents on the notepad by the phone in the hall,

Seeing friends. Back late. Don’t wait up.

You grab your bag from your bedroom, before you head out of the door you think to scoop up the envelope containing your sonograms from your desk, your head is swimming right now and you’re not even sure if this is some kind of cruel elaborate prank, or if this is real, are you really about to reunite with Eddie and drop the baby bombshell immediately? You’re also not sure as to whether you’re going to kill or kiss him when you do finally see him, if you see him.

You lock the door, grab Dustin by his hoodie and drag him over to Steve’s car, plonking yourself in the backseat.

“Okay, guessing we’re going back to my place?” Steve starts the car

“No shit.” Dustin pipes up, sneaking glances at you in his wing mirror.

author's note: if you all behave yourselves I might be convinced to post Chapter 6 on Sunday 😉

Taglist: @hellomothermoon @tlclick73 @likedovesinthewnd @bebe0701 @steamystrangerfics @zeedramallama @tyelikesbees @wheaty-melon @thegirlwhohides @mxcheese @witchofhawkins @munsonsgirl71 @sammararaven @joejoequinnquinn @hellfire-puppet @micheledawn1975 @averagemisfit03 @edsforehead @thehuntresswolf @a-hopeless-fan @bimbobaggins69 @harrys-tittie @feltonswifesworld87 @munsons-mayhem28 @thatsbunnysmind @heyhihellowhatsup0 @iamaslutforcoffee

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moonbaby26 · 3 years ago

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Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

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The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

#shota aizawa #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x you #shota aizawa x you #shouta x reader #eraser head #shouta x you #eraserhead #shouta x y/n #eraser head x reader #eraser head x you #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero imagines

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

#my writing #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff

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marsofaries · 4 years ago

Text

The Itsy Bitsy Spider {Katsuki Bakugou x Reader}

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Assault

Summary: Your grumpy (and ridiculously attractive) neighbor helps you rid of the spider in your new apartment. Things grow from there.

Notes: fem!Reader, ProHero!Bakugou, Bakugou hates feelings

That’s it. You were moving out.

So what, that you just managed to unpack the last box in your new apartment? One look at that eight-legged... creature, and it was their apartment now. You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but spiders were the absolute bane of your existence.

This led to you shakily standing over the said arachnid, a large All Might mug trembling faintly in your hands.

“Oh shit, oh fuck-- FUCK!” You shrieked as the spider took a quick dart to its left. Nope. No way.

It had taken about an hour before the spider was successfully captive. Another hour to finally figure out what to do next.

And now there you were, pacing back and forth in front of your neighbor’s front door, mumbling failed greetings to yourself like a desperate prayer.

“Hi, I’m-- that’s not right. How about ‘I just moved in and--.’ God, I sound like an idiot.” Gathering all of your courage, you rapped three quick knocks on the front of the wood. The urge to bolt was suddenly very powerful.

“I swear to God, Shitty Hair, if you-- Oh.” The door was suddenly swung open to reveal the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your whole life. With biceps the size of your head, the man completely dwarfed you in size. He almost took up the entire space of the door, his spikey blond locks brushing the top the frame. Vermillion eyes stared at you cautiously as you forgot everything you were about to say. “The fuck you want?”

As you made no move to answer, the Greek god of a man pulled his lips into a scowl.

“What are you, a fucking stalker or somethin’?”

That definitely brought you out of your reverence.

“W-What? No!”

A scoff left the man’s lips, and you suddenly wanted nothing more that to kick him straight in the jewels. However, you were on a mission. A mission to rid a tiny eight-eyed demon from your living room.

“There was a, uh...spider.” You slowly trailed off, waving weakly in the direction of your apartment across the hall.

“A spider? Really?” The blond questioned condescendingly, rolling his stupidly-perfect crimson eyes.

A light flush brushed your cheeks in embarrassment as you stared down at your shoes. You were sure he was going to slam the door right in your face. But he didn’t.

The man brushed right past you, marching right though your open door-- making sure to loudly mumble as many complaints as he could. You stumbled after the tall blond, failing to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

You watched in silence as he crouched by the downturned mug, raising a single perfectly-sculpted brow. However, your silence was quickly turned into a squeak of horror when your neighbor dumped the spider into his bare-hand.

For a moment of absolute terror, you thought the stranger was going to throw it at you.

Wide-eyed, you watched as he pushed open the nearest window and placed the spider on the railing of your fire-escape. Having pushed the window back down, the man turned back to leave your apartment. As he walked past, he shoved the now (thankfully) empty mug to your chest.

“W-wait!”

He paused, sliding his crimson gaze to yours.

“M-My name is (Y/L/N)… (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to give him your name. Maybe it was because he helped you when you were absolutely sure he wouldn’t. Or maybe how he decided to let the bug free instead of kill it. Maybe it was the amused huff he let out when he heard your terrified squeak. Perhaps it was all three. You didn’t know.

His striking red eyes suddenly raked your frame before a smirk settled confidently on his all-too-attractive lips.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

~~~

“HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR!”

You let out a squeak at the sudden yell, sticking the toe of your nude-colored pumps between the sliding elevator doors. A muscled arm wedged itself between the doors, pulling them back open.

“You.” You breathed as none other than your extremely hot neighbor was revealed. The blond was clad in a loose black V-neck and sweatpants-- a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp, as small beads of water dropped off the edge of his spikes every couple of seconds.

“Stalker.” He acknowledged with a grunt. The corner of Bakugou’s lips shot up at your protests.

The ride down to the lobby was relatively silent and slightly awkward. You kept switching your weight on both legs as you struggled to find something to say.

“The fuck you dressed so fancy for?” The explosive blond finally said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief at the break in silence.

“I got a new job at All Might Bank!” You were pretty excited, as it was your first day. The bank itself was pretty fancy, and you were cheery that it was named after the old symbol of peace. All Might had been your favorite hero growing up but you grew out of your hero phase as you had gotten older. Nowadays you couldn’t tell one hero from the other.

You turned to Bakugou with a smile, content that he even cared about your life. It was quite a surprise when compared with the vibes he gave off.

“What about you?” You asked cheerily.

“... Agency.” He grunted.

“Oh! Are you a model or something?” You knew it! There was no way that a man as attractive as Bakugou Katsuki was not the cover of every magazine. He was, just not for the reasons you thought. You watched in confusion as the explosive blond emitted a loud snort.

“Or something...”

DING!

You were almost sad as the elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. Although it was short, and mostly awkward, you found yourself enjoying his company. You walked side by side until you reached the doors to outside, pausing slightly when he went to part.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou froze at your expressed gratitude, studying your figure with renewed interest.

“You know... for the spider?” You seemed to lose all cognitive brain function when he looked at you with those frustratingly gorgeous vermillion eyes. Bakugou scoffed and turned away, muttering a quiet response. Little did you know that he was trying to hide a light blush.

“Whatever...”

~~~

You were happy to say that these shared elevator rides became a daily ritual, to the point where Bakugou started to bring you his delicious leftovers for your lunch (he made the meals especially for you, but would die before he ever admitted that). Before you knew it, you were quite smitten with the blond.

You couldn’t help but replay this morning’s occurrence in your head as you filed checking account after checking account.

“Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You called as you exited your apartment. You didn’t even have to look anymore. Bakugou had a habit of waiting for you outside your door to give you his most current dish.

“Morning.” He grunted in response, hating the way his heart skipped a beat.

His eyes scanned over your form, (longer than considered friendly) as he checked your outfit. Bakugou always seemed to have some sort of fashion-ready advice on the tip of his tongue, and with you still thinking he was a model-- you were more that happy to comply. And also for the fact that he really did have a good eye for it.

“Undo the top two buttons… you look like a nerd.”

Your eyes quickly flashed to your white button-up, pulling at the two buttons with one hand.

“Better?”

Bakugou only grunted in approval. He was trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of kissing the ever-lasting life out of you.

~~~

“Hey, Newbie! Get me a coffee, will ya?” You were quickly pulled out of your daydream by one of your (slightly arrogant) bosses.

“Of course, sir.” You answered as you hurried to the other side of the bank. You’ve been at your new job (and apartment) for about a month, and they still won’t let up on the whole “newbie” stuff.

You sighed as you waited by the coffee maker, situated right to the left of the big glass entrance. Oh, how you would have loved to pour that coffee right over your boss’ head. Too lost in your own head, you failed to notice the suspicious group of men heading straight for the vault until one of them grabbed your arm.

“What the fu--”

“EVERYBODY DOWN OR SHE DIES!”

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Your mind was reeling at a million miles per hour. The man had pulled you to where your back was to his front, and had a blade pressed against your throat. It seemed to come out of the inside of his wrist, being a relatively deadly quirk if handled correctly.

Everyone within the pristine building froze but quickly dropped to the floor after some warning shots from one of the robbers. Another suddenly morphed into some sort of beast and marched to the steel vault door.

You suddenly wished that you had a more physical quirk, cursing it for being so useless in this situation. Yeah, you knew basic self-defense, but it would be futile with three other villains in your midst.

Minutes felt like hours, and you could only hope that someone had alerted the police and nearby heroes. You winced as the blade dug into the delicate skin of your throat.

A sudden explosion burst through the skylight of the building, raining glass shards on the hostages. All at once, people were screaming, running, and blast after blast started ringing in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief.

The heroes were here.

Using the distraction, you quickly gripped the man’s arm tight below the base of the blade. You pulled it away from your neck ever so slightly, ducking your head to pull yourself through the gateway you had created. Keeping your hands locked at the base of the robber’s wrist, you twisted his arm and shoved up-- forcing it to pop from its socket.

A sudden bump to your shoulder from a running hostage caused you to slip up on your little self-defense sequence, allowing the man to break from your grip. He whipped around to face you, holding his dislocated arm. You panicked, so... you socked him in the face.

He let out an enraged cry, thick blood gushing from his nose. You were a bit surprised with how easy it was to land a hit on him. You thought that villains would have been more prepared before robbing a bank named after All Might.

Oh, well.

You punched him again in the nose for good measure, and he was out like a light. His hot red blood coated your knuckles, and you gagged in disgust. Ew. You wiped the back of your dominant hand on you button-up absentmindedly, before being shoved to the floor by your panicking boss. Wow. Your limbs felt like mush now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you suddenly couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself off of the floor.

A final explosion went off, followed by the most desperate and wretched call you had ever heard in your entire life. And the call... sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your eyes shot up at the scream, searching frantically for the owner of that voice. You knew that voice, you only ever heard it in grunts and light-hearted mocking sentences, but you knew that voice.

“Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes suddenly locked on familiar crimson irises.

Relief flooded his features as he saw you, and was at your side in seconds-- dropping quickly to his knees.

“Oh my god.” Bakugou breathed, grabbing your head and cradling it tight to his chest and-- what the fuck was he wearing? Wait, there was no way... he was the explosion hero you saw on the news! Holy fuck!

“You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how terrified I was when I heard there was trouble at your work?! And you didn’t answer your goddamn phone? Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” Worried rambles fell rapidly out of Bakugou’s lips, seemingly void of any filter. You would have been ecstatic by his cute little worrying if your mind wasn’t reeling by the fact that your crush neighbor was one of the top ten heroes in Japan.

He suddenly grasped both sides of your face and pulled back so you were eye to eye.

“Are you hurt? I swear to God, if someone hurt you-- I’ll fucking kill them.” Bakugou’s eyes were frantically scanning your face, looking for any sign of injury.

“...Katsuki?” You mumbled softly, and he immediately froze. He felt his heart lurch in his throat as his name tumbled from your lips. You, on the other hand, were completely, and utterly lost. “You’re a pro-hero?”

“....What?” Bakugou questioned dumbly. “You could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you think about?”

“What? I thought you were a model.” You whined, lightly smacking his chest.

At this, Bakugou let out a loud laugh, and you just watched in awe. You had never seen him laugh before. Even though half his face was smeared in black makeup and little injuries littered his skin-- it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life. He pulled back to look at you, but suddenly froze.

“You’re hurt! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Bakugou shouted, spotting bright red stains on the front of your blouse. You quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to soothe his panicking.

“Hey, hey!” You yelped, gaining his attention. “It’s not mine.”

You gestured over to the villain knocked out next to you.

“Holy shit.” Katsuki breathed, before turning his vermillion gaze back to yours. A quiet, amused huff escaped his lips. “So you’re afraid of a spider, but can knock out a villain?” He questioned teasingly.

A light blush covered your cheeks, causing you to force your eyes down. You suddenly noticed just how close you two were. You were situated about half way onto Bakugou’s lap, as one of his large hands softly held your waist. The other was still trapped between your own. This caused your blush to only darken.

“Hey, eyes up here.” Bakugou muttered, lifting his hand from your waist and to the base of your chin. You force your eyes back up to his, but couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance to his lips. However, Bakugou saw it, and that was all it took.

Bakugou crashed his lips onto yours, and you were quick to respond. You tangled your hands within his soft blond locks, allowing him to completely dominate the kiss. His hands held you tightly to his body, refusing to give even an inch of space between you two. He didn’t let go even as you pulled back for air, his lips chasing after yours.

Time seemed to stop while he was kissing you, and every one was distressed with the thought of losing you. It was soft and sweet, and then rough and desperate-- the sweet smell of caramel, of Bakugou, invading all of your senses.

You finally broke for air, breaths mingling shamelessly. Bakugou rested his forehead on yours, wanting nothing more than to never let you go.

“I’m so glad I found you, Stalker.”

Bonus:

A low whistle dragged out across bank, turning the couples’ gazes over to a certain hardening hero.

“SHITTY HAIR, I SWEAR TO--”

The End.

Notes: This was my first imagine! I hope you guys liked it!

The police watching the final scene like: 👁👄👁 can we go home?

#bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katuski x reader #mha #bhna #mha x reader #pro hero bakugou #mha katsuki #bakugou fluff #aged up #bnha bakugo katsuki

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fbfh · 4 years ago

Text

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

117 notes · View notes

jisungsmochi · 4 years ago

Text

somebody to you - hrj

somebody to you - renjun

behold,, the FINAL part of my nct dream x the vamps songs series! leaving y’all with something really wholesome and fluffy bc i’m inlove with renjun

word count: 2.8k

summary: huang renjun didn’t like relationships. he thought they were messy, and honestly, a waste of time. he had his whole life ahead of him, so why would he need a significant other to be happy? that was all until he met you, and thought to himself, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad...

read the rest here!

I used to wanna be

Living like there's only me

But now I spend my time

Thinking 'bout a way to get you off my mind

renjun scrolled through his endless instagram feed, swiping through threads of his friends with their girlfriends. he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him

borderline sick. he was always a realist, never really seeing the point of having a serious relationship at such a young age. in his life so far, he’d probably say he’s only had one girlfriend, and it was a random girl he asked to prom so he wouldn’t feel left out. renjun was never opposed to love, he just wasn’t actively seeking it.

“dude i reckon you’re gonna like her! she’s super cool from the sounds of it, and she goes to our university!” haechan insists as the four boys sat down for dinner in their shared apartment.

“i don’t need you to set me up on a blind date. i’m capable of finding someone on my own, thank you very much” renjun rolled his eyes, fed up with the continuous discussions of his single status.

“yeah, and how’s that going for you?” jaemin chimed in, causing jeno and haechan to chuckle in response. renjun just scoffed, shoving his mouth with more food to avoid speaking further.

“give it a chance. the worst that could happen is that you don’t vibe with her and you never talk to her again” jeno tries his best to convince the stubborn boy. renjun just shrugs, his mind contemplating the idea.

“okay fine, one date. if you guys really think she’s soo good for me, let’s see how accurate you guys are” renjun snickers. he was not confident in their matchmaking skills at all, but he loved seeing them fail.

“perfect, i’ll set it up for you. just sit back, relax and be your boring self” haechan grins, tapping away on his phone. renjun ignores the cheeky boy’s comments, finishing up his dinner. his first date in over two years, this should be good...

I used to be so tough

Never really gave enough

And then you caught my eye

Giving me the feeling of a lightning strike

renjun was regretting this date already. all he knew about you was your first name and your uni course, nothing else. the boys had refused to show him any photos of you, claiming that it would be more ‘romantic’ if he fell for you at first sight...what a cliche, he thought to himself.

“how will i even know it’s her, if i don’t know what she freaking looks like?” renjun groaned, nerves slowly building up as haechan pulled up to the date location.

“i’ll point her out, okay? just trust me” renjun let out a short sigh, hands slightly jittery. why the hell was he nervous? it wasn’t like he was going to see her after this one date.

as renjun stepped out of the car, his eyes scanned the scenery.

“jeez, you guys really went all out for this date” he was amazed by the view. it was a restaurant that was by the water, multiple little boats sailing across it and the sounds of birds humming.

“of course, you only deserve the best” haechan winked, eyes looking for renjun’s date.

“dude what if she doesn’t even show up. does she even know what i look like?” renjun was slightly panicking at this point, drifting from his tough exterior.

“haechan?” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. renjun’s eyes diverted to the owner of the voice. he felt stunned by the sight of you, dressed neatly in some jeans and a flowery blouse. you had slightly curled your hair, hands clutching to your purse as you greeted the two boys infront of you.

“hey y/n, this is renjun, your date for tonight! see you kids later, don’t get up to anything crazy” haechan chuckled to himself, shoving renjun to meet you. renjun almost clashed into your smaller frame, catching you off guard. you gently held his arms, keeping a small distance between you both.

“o-oh my bad, i-i’m renjun” he stammered, eyes meeting yours. you were slightly blown away by his looks...he was really attractive. well done, haechan.

renjun would say the same about you. even though he didn’t have a particular type, (as he found it kind of dumb tbh) he believed you could fit it perfectly.

“i’m y/n! nice to meet you” you widely smiled, renjun returning your expression as he pulled out his hand for you to shake. maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Look at me now, I'm falling

I can't even talk, still stuttering

This ground I'm on, it keeps shaking

you were currently trying to hold back your laughter as renjun recounted the story of how he caught jaemin with his girlfriend...doing the nasty, during their first week of university.

“oh my goodness! were you scarred for life?” you slammed your fist on the table, causing others around you to glare. but renjun couldn’t even focus on them, attention solely on you.

“of course! it was the first week! like couldn’t they have just waited until midterms?” renjun chuckled at the memory, proud of himself that he made you laugh so much. he must be doing something right.

“you’re really funny, renjun. some of the other guys that haechan tried to set me up with were lowkey boring. i guess he sees me as boring too” you slightly frowned, watching as renjun piped up in his seat,

“y-you’re not boring at all! you’re funny! and pretty too” he muttered the last part, not wanting you to have heard. but you did. you decided not to linger on it much, afraid to make him too flustered.

“you’d be the first guy to say that” you shrugged, taking a small sip from your glass of water.

“have you had boyfriends in the past?” renjun suddenly asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“i-uh i’ve had a few. nothing too serious though, how about you?” you curiously ask in return, watching as renjun looked down to his lap. he hesitated before answering,

“i’ve only had one girlfriend before. i’m not really an avid dater” renjun admits to you, hoping that you didn’t find him lame.

“oh neither am i! we have another thing in common! i feel like relationships can get really difficult to manage, especially if you aren’t in the right headspace, you know?” you started rambling, renjun stringing along to your every word. he found such beauty in the way you articulated your words. he was so entranced he almost forgot to respond.

“i totally understand how you feel, i’ve always thought that i should live my life to the fullest before i consider settling down” he commented, causing you to nod along. you really liked his answers, it seemed like you were both on the same page about relationships. you didn’t expect to enjoy his company this much, initially agreeing to go on the date so that haechan would stop teasing you for not having a boyfriend in uni yet.

you walked alongside renjun, waiting for your roommate to pick you up.

“i had a really good time tonight, renjun. thankyou” you kindly complimented, causing renjun to become more shy (if that was even possible).

“no thankyou! there were times i felt kind of awkward, but you really know how to carry a conversation” he smiled, watching as you started to get shy.

“are you flirting with me, huang renjun?” you teased, nudging his arm gently.

“so what if i am?” he nudged you back,

“well i don’t think i’d want you to stop” you smirked. before renjun could say anything back, your heard the familiar voice of your roommate urging you to get in her car.

“oh that’s my ride. i have to get going. this was nice, i’ll see you around renjun!” you hurriedly embraced the boy, placing a gentle peck to his cheek before rushing to your roommate’s car.

renjun still didn’t say anything back to you, his body frozen from your touch.

‘no no no’ he thought to himself...he was falling for her.

All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah

Is somebody to you

Everybody's tryna be a billionaire

But every time I look at you, I just don't care

“so are you gonna tell us about the date or do we have to call and ask her instead?” haechan teased as the rest of the boys sat in their living room. renjun has a book in his hands, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet after his long night.

“gosh, will you let me finish this chapter?” renjun huffed, causing jaemin and jeno to snicker. haechan pulled out his phone, holding it to renjun’s face,

“oh would you look at that? it would be a shame for my finger to slip and dial y/n” before he could continue, renjun hurriedly tossed his book to the side, tackling the pestering boy onto the ground, holding him down firmly.

“holy shit, did you get stronger?“ haechan could barely speak, still in shock from the sudden attack. renjun slowly leans back, letting out a tired sigh.

“you two are ridiculous, let’s cut to the chase, did you like her or not?” jaemin rolled his eyes, ready to hear all the tea.

renjun looked from side to side, not liking all the attention that was on him.

“i-she was really cool. honestly yeah, i did like her. but i don’t think she’s looking for anything too serious at the moment” renjun shook his head, thinking back to your heated discussion about relationships.

“okay that sounds like a cop out excuse. i think you’re just scared” jeno chimed in, the two other boys nodding along. renjun glared at them, trying his best to maintain his composure.

“yeah, i mean, did anything happen aside from good conversation?” jaemin continued to push, renjun now becoming more reserved. of course he trusted his friends, but they never really openly spoke about their feelings like this, it was quite new to all of them.

“she kissed me on the cheek before she left, does that mean something?” renjun muttered, watching as haechan tips himself over, now laying on the ground.

“you’re an idiot, must we spell it out for you? she’s totally into you as well” jeno groaned in frustration.

truth was, renjun wasn’t sure how to properly ask someone out, nonetheless be in a proper relationship with them. he was in desperate need of help...but all he had were his three idiot friends.

“i know i don’t know her well and all, but after she left, i couldn’t stop thinking about her. is this what it’s like to fall for someone? oh god...i’m falling” renjun started rambling to himself, jaemin and jeno now rested against him, shoulder touching either of his.

“the answer is pretty clear, man. go for a second date! make the move, she might be thinking the exact same thing” jeno shrugged, trying his best to advise his friend, the best he could. renjun bidded, actually agreeing with jeno for once.

suddenly, renjun felt his phone ringing. he immediately picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

as if you were listening in on their conversation, your voice rang through renjun’s ear.

“hello? is this renjun?” you nervously stammered, waiting for a response. renjun was completely frozen, his mouth hung wide as jeno pressed his own ear closer to the phone.

“y-yes this is him” renjun finally spat out, hands slightly shaking.

“oh great, this is probably coming as a surprise to you. but i uh, wanted to know if you’d be interested in going on another date” you were able to finish, heart racing as you held the phone tightly. renjun felt his heart stop after your words, jeno shaking him gently to snap out of his daze.

“o-oh yeah, i’d be really interested” renjun replies, mentally face palming himself for sounding a little too eager.

“amazing, i’ll keep in touch” you smiled to yourself, trying your best to contain your excitement. eventually you hung up, screaming into your pillow, kicking your feet up and down. was this how it felt to actually like someone?

“there’s your chance, don’t blow it!” haechan teased, throwing a cushion over to renjun who was still frozen well after the call had ended.

‘holy shit’ he mumbled.

the date you had planned for renjun, involved attending the local food markets they held once a month. you thought it would be a social enough setting for conversation to not get too awkward, as well as enjoy a variety of food. renjun met you at the bus stop, dressed in baggy jeans and a blue wind runner jacket. his hair was slightly styled, some strands gelled back. it really accentuated his facial features, making you admire him even more than you did before.

“you look really good today, i mean, not like you don’t look good everyday i’m sure you do..” you shook your head at your rambling, wanting nothing more but for him to laugh it off. renjun just smirked at you, planning another witty comment to respond,

“not as good as you though” he gently guided you to walk with him, his hand travelling to the small of your back. you slightly froze at the contact, but aimlessly followed him. he surely had his way with words.

as you both tasted some amazing food, renjun found him standing quite close to you. if you were trying a sample, he would stand behind you, his chest touching your back occasionally. it seemed really natural to him, and you didn’t mind it at all. he would often touch your shoulder gently to grab your attention, or pull you along by your waist. it gave you massive butterflies that you could shake off.

“did you want to start heading home? we can walk to the bus stop together” renjun offered kindly, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you slowly made your way out of the large crowd. just as you were about to respond, rain started sprinkling from the sky. renjun quickly moved you to stand under some shelter as the rain came pouring.

“how the hell are we meant to walk in this?” you half shouted, clutching onto renjun’s side. he couldn’t bear moving you away from him,

“let’s just run, we can’t wait for it to pass” he suddenly took your hand, pulling you along as he bolted to the nearest bus stop.

“you’re so crazy, renjun!” you shout at the boy, giggling at the entire situation. before you knew it, renjun span you around, pulling you close to his chest.

“the only thing i’m crazy about is you” he confessed, catching you completely off guard. he had a habit of making such flirty comments, but this time you felt he wasn’t trying to joke around.

“w-what?” rain was washing over the both of you, your clothes completely soaked at this point.

“i really like you, y/n. i really freaking do. i didn’t want to admit it at first because i was scared of the idea of dating. but i want to be with you. i want to be somebody to you. everyone is out here trying to settle down and start their lives, but i feel like with you we can go at a steady pace. i don’t want to rush things, incase it gets messy, and difficult. but i just needed you to know that i really like you, and i hope it’s not all in my head that you like me back” renjun firmly confessed to you, eyes never leaving yours. you slowly raised your hand to wipe some rain drops off his face, watching as he smiled into your touch. he held you tightly in his arms, awaiting your response.

“renjun, i think i made it really clear that i like you back. i was also nervous about how you’d react, considering you weren’t really looking for anything serious at first. i think we should give it a shot, we can worry about all the stress and possible fights later on. all i know is that right now, you’re the only person i want to be standing in the rain with. now can you please kiss me?” you couldn’t contain your smile as renjun leaned into you. his lips pressing gently against yours. your fingers now running through his wet hair as he held your waist firmly. the kiss started getting deeper, the atmosphere really playing into the romantic nature of it all. eventually you both pulled away, foreheads presses against eachother, softly giggling.

that was the beginning of your relationship with renjun. despite having ups and downs (as expected) you both persevered and tried your absolute hardest to make things work. renjun finally admitted to himself: falling inlove wasn’t so bad...especially when it was with the right person.

#huang renjun #nct dream imagine #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #nct renjun imagine #nct renjun fic #nct dream renjun #nct writing #nct fluff #nct fic #nct imagines #renjun imagine #renjun fluff #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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breadoffoxy · 4 years ago

Text

Ambrosia

Summary: Every day at work you’ve been receiving flowers by a secret admirer with the purpose of cheering you up. You just want to let them know how thankful you are. Little did the two of you know that both your feelings are reciprocated.

Written for the BTS Ghosite Marathon. Prompt: Themes: Language of Flowers

Drabble: 28/30

Pairing: n. Reader x Jungkook

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: depression, coworkers to friends to lovers, hand holding, shy!Jungkook

Word Count: 1,212

A/N: Another big thank you for @yoongsgguktae for helping me with this idea as well. I appreciate you so much for letting me pick your brain, thanks friend! Also for the title, ambrosia = mutual love.

Your day yesterday was a mess, making you not look forward to work today. You huff into the office with your shoulders slouched while looking down at the floor wanting to be invisible. Maybe if no one notices you, you could get by slacking off a little.

Jungkook though had other plans.

“Hey!” He rolls his chair excitedly in front of your desk as you approach your work area. He bumps into the table, making a loud clang when the wheels hit the metal legs. He winces as people glare at the two of you in their pre-coffee state.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook nods to your desk. “Looks like someone has a secret admirer.”

“Psh, please, as if.”

“Then what are those flowers doing on your desk?” He grins as you perk up with curiosity.

“What flowers?”

Rolling his chair aside, Jugnkook lets you into your shared cubby space. Just like he said, there’s a small bundle of pink and white flowers on your desk sitting in a small glass jar filled with water.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your heart beats wildly at the inclination behind the gift. “What are- who put those there?”

Jungkook shrugs, “They were here when I got here. I looked them up though for you, I was curious.”

Part of you is disappointed that they aren’t from Jungkook. You’ve been harboring a not so small crush on your co-worker turned friend ever since you became desk partners. “Then what are they, Mr. Flower Expert?”

“Azaleas. They mean ‘take care of yourself for me.’ Looks like someone wants you to feel better.” Jungkook watches as you sit in your chair and sniff at the flowers. “And are you?”

“Huh?” You straighten up, your mind still trying to process everything. A gentle smile graces your lips as your brain catches up. “Yeah, this helps. I never got flowers before like this.”

“Really?” Jungkook looks shocked. He shakes his head, about to say something else when he can see your boss walking in for the morning. “I’m glad they are helping.” He rolls back to his desk and that is that on the flowers.

Until tomorrow that is.

“Oh, the secret admirer strikes again!” Jungkook grins at you as you near your work space.

Your steps quicken excitedly to see a bundle of yellow tulips and daffodils mixed together. It was almost a shocking amount of yellow on your desk.

“Looks like your admirer thinks of you as sunshine.”

“As if I’m sunshine.” Yet your smile is beaming as you gently trace the fragile petals.

“I know things are hard, but there’s sunshine in your smile.” At your wide-eyed look and lips parted in surprise, Jungkook quickly adds, “that must be what your mystery flower gifter thinks.”

“I just wished they left a note or something. You didn’t see anyone this morning?”

“Nope, but I’ll keep a look out.”

For the rest of the week, more and more flowers keep arriving at your desk. It’s attracted attention around the office even. Apparently, no one knows who is leaving these flowers for you, and there’s wild speculation going around on who it could be.

When you get in one day, there’s hushed whispers and stolen glances as you walk past the many aisles of desks and computers. You stop in your tracks at the sight of the beautiful bouquet of gardenias at your desk.

“They mean secret love.”

You jump as Jungkook voice comes from behind you. He holds his hand out, offering you a cup of coffee from the break room as he sips his own tiredly.

“Thanks.” Taking a long sip of coffee with a satisfied sigh, you stare back at the flowers. “I wish it wasn’t secret though.”

“Maybe the person’s just shy?” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, carefully gauging your reaction.

“I just don’t understand how no one knows who leaves these here. Someone has to see someone walking in with this.” You wave at the large bouquet, feeling an odd sense of frustration and happiness coming from you. All the flowers were so romantic, these especially, but it’s gone on long enough. It makes you upset you can’t thank whoever is gifting you these in person and your apartment is becoming quite full of flowers that it is getting ridiculous.

“They must come at the crack of dawn.” Jungkook guesses.

Then so will you.

It’s something awful though hiding under your desk at the crack of dawn. You should of brough a pillow or something, but at least you thought ahead and bought you a nice, large cup of coffee on the way. That, and a single pink rose that now lays on top of your desk.

After work the previous evening, you searched fervently through the internet, looking up flowers and their meanings. With just enough time to make it to the florist before closing, you decided on the pink rose. It means perfect happiness. You wanted the person to know how genuinely happy their generosity made you, that it made getting out of bed and coming to work a possible task that you looked forward to now instead of dread.

Your head nods forward and you almost fall asleep but jerk yourself awake. Shaking your coffee cup, you feel it is nearly empty. Well, that didn’t last long. Where are they?

As if summoned by your thoughts, you hear the sound of footsteps softly padding across the carpet accompanied by a beautiful tune being hummed. As soon as the feet stop in front of your desk though, the humming stops. Curiosity is burning away at you, but you wait, suddenly scared of revealing yourself.

“I’m glad your happy.” A familiar voice rings out.

You gasp, brining a hand up to your mouth in surprise and to muffle your sound, as you recognize Jungkook’s voice.

“I bought the flowers to make you happy and to express my feelings. I’m so sorry I’m so shy, and that I couldn’t tell you my feelings in person. I was shellfish and-“

“That’s enough.” Hearing enough, you cut him off, and scramble out from under the desk. “Don’t be sorry, please.”

Jungkook looks at you with an embarrassed smile as you straighten out your clothing. Seeing your attention on the pink flower in his hand, he offers it to you and explains, “Pink camellia’s mean longing.”

Taking the flower from him, you stare at its beauty before shyly looking back at him. “We still have time before work starts, and I could use another cup of coffee.”

Jungkook eyes go wide as your words sink in. “Yeah, um I could use one too. Emptied this one on the drive.” He puts the full coffee cup on his desk in a rush, spilling some of it in the process. Swearing, Jungkook wipes at the coffee with his hand, and then turns to look at you. He pouts at your amused expression that looks ready to burst out in laughter.

Feeling bad for the man when you know he is trying so hard, you hand him his rose and ask, “Shall we go?”

Taking it from you quickly, Jungkook nods.

No one is surprised when the two of you walk back into the office hand in hand.

#btsghostiemarathon #btsghostie #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #my writing #shy!jungkook #ambrosia

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kunstpause-archive · 3 years ago

Text

Read on Ao3

Day 4: Baleful

Cold, sharp, and full of edges - the world, nay worlds, have turned into endless pain.

It’s funny, he thinks sometimes, how in this broken state and without the powerful creation magic he is used to, this husk of a world still manages to come up with new concepts.

Like torture.

It’s entirely new. In all of Amaurot’s long-lived glory, the concept of causing endless pain and suffering was never even an idea. And yet, this new world, this abomination of what once was paradise, has no trouble coming up with the cruelest of mockeries.

It changes him over time.

Back in the old days, the mere thought of causing pain or even distress to any living being would have been unthinkable to him.

Now, though?

Emet-Selch finds himself watching the already broken mortals suffer under their lot, and there is a small part of him that doesn’t feel sorry for them anymore. It’s not their fault that they are wrong, but it’s their fault for reminding him of what once was every hour of every day.

Especially when he finds them.

The first time almost overlooks them. They used to be radiant, the sun incarnate, but now they are dim and unremarkable. A soul barely worth being called that.

Broken, tattered, and frayed at the edges, he can barely look at them. He doesn’t have to, not for very long. There are plans in motion, a calamity strikes the land, and they are, once again, gone.

They don’t stay gone, though. In a cruel twist of fate, he stumbles over them again, and they are a little bit brighter than before but still almost impossible to look at. And yet he does. If he is driven by some morbid curiosity or by a darker urge, Emet-Selch can’t even say, maybe doesn’t want to know. But when he seeks them out, he finds them ridiculously easy to steer and manage.

Unlike when they were whole, this broken shard of them is easily bent. They have no defenses against him, and like a twig under his boot, they snap into pieces. It gives him an instant, a second of satisfaction, and then the emptiness is back, and he curses himself for his impatience.

His wrath, unlike him, is untempered and wild, and if he wants to gain any longer-lasting satisfaction, he knows he needs to tame it.

When the next calamity is done, he finds them again, and this time, Emet-Selch is patient. He reels them in with honeyed words instead of force, revels in the way their eyes glaze over as he tells them what they want to hear, and watches with grim satisfaction how they freely walk into his trap.

It is much more satisfying than a momentary snap of fury. Like this, his anger gets to simmer and seethe as he applies all the new concepts this broken world has taught him one by one.

The first time he makes them cry, his soul sings. Each hot tear he draws from them is like a ray of light through the darkness that surrounds him. It is fleeting, a pallid echo of what he truly longs for, but if Emet-Selch has learned one thing from his entire world dying, it is that tears are an endless abundance.

Until their mind gives out, unable to take all he puts them through, and he is alone again, already scheming and planning the next time. He learns something new from each approach.

Too much suffering and a feeble, fractured mind will simply give out. Too much leeway, and it becomes defiant, determined to end itself before it lets him do the honors. One time he pushes and prods at them enough to draw them onto his side, begging him to let them stay with him, to let them join him. It is not at all the satisfaction he had expected it to be. They are like a mindless pet, obedient but utterly dull. Not even squeezing their last breath from them with his own hands sparks even a tiny bit of joy when their eyes are already empty.

He doesn’t want them pliant; he knows by now. He wants them to be like they were, defiant, radiant, and strong. Only then does it truly feel soothing to break them apart. Never too much, always leaving them some hope to build themselves back up again so he can start anew.

It takes him a few tries, a bit of practice. But Emet-Selch is immortal, after all. And he has the inclination to always start anew and improve on failed experiments. He is, first and foremost, an architect. Be it society, scenarios, or people, building something up is where he excels - and tearing it down is what he now revels in.

Back in Amaurot, they were everything to him. The light of his life, his shining future. The whole of existence made sense and felt right because they were a part of it. The smile on his face is equal parts sadness and elation as he watches them now.

Maybe this time, he’ll drag it out a little longer. Make them fall in love with him again. Not that it’s worth much coming from a shattered piece of glass, a shard of a mirror that shows only ruin. But the illusion might be entertaining for a while. Especially once he takes that love and twists it to his liking. This new, still blissfully innocent version of them comes with an endless capacity for taking plains and shedding tears after all, and Emet-Selch can’t wait to collect.

In this endless circle of death and destruction, they are still, somehow, his everything. They can never redress the balance; they can never atone. Their suffering is for him alone to savor, and if he has lost everything else, he will make sure to never lose this. They give meaning to a tempered existence. When he has them on their knees begging him for mercy he is no longer capable of granting, it makes him forget his own pain for a moment. Each time they appeal to his heart, he smiles. It has stopped beating millennia ago, and yet when he drinks in their despair, he can almost hear the echo of his own heartbeat again. Like drums in the distance, reminding him who he once was.

In those sharp moments when he does unspeakable things to them, their pain breaks open his own. When he takes it to the extreme, they make him feel things that otherwise no longer reach him. Loss, regret, and endless guilt crash into him with a force, and just for the smallest of moments, Emet-Selch feels like he’s still real, still alive. Like anything he does still has consequences.

It hurts, an unspeakable pain punishing him for his sins - and then it is gone. When the light leaves their eyes, they take all traces of that with them, and he returns to his one purpose of serving the one that had led to all of this.

He allows him this small indulgence every now and then. It never lasts, after all. In the end, they always perish, and Emet-Selch returns to his path, all lingering traces of the man he once was, the man who would be horrified at every single thing he had done since then, forgotten. Until the next time he finds a piece of his shattered heart again, and the cycle begins anew.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #day 4 #Kunstpause writes stuff #emet selch

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pinkchanelbag · 4 years ago

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— there’s no one else; chapter two.

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

last | masterlist | next

series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon.

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down.

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight.

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary.

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose.

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet.

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind.

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are.

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse.

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be.

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude.

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean.

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless.

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him.

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself.

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously.

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly.

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam.

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly.

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.”

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean?

#nia.tne #nia.jean #nia.txt #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschstein #aot x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #pieck finger

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azucanela · 4 years ago

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DAY 5. STORMY NIGHTS

PAIRING: KEIGO TAKAMI X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NONE.

A/N: keigo! :D im honestly really proud of this?? idk why?? i like my characterization here and just like... all of it idk

FLUFFVEMBER MASTERLIST

There is nothing Keigo hates more than rain.

Most of the time, he blamed this on Avian instincts, the wings that seemed to drag as rain beat down on them— the general, uncomfortable feeling he had when his feathers were damp. But there was also the isolation of it all, the need to stay inside, the feeling of being cooped up. Keigo was someone who desired freedom, liberation, and the rain took that from him in a way.

Which is why he wondered how he ended up with someone like Y/N L/N. The girl who dragged him into the rain right after their ridiculously long patrol ended for the day. She’s looking up at the sky, allowing droplets of rain to fall onto her skin as she smile widely. Y/N closes her eyes, smile seeming to grow even more as she feels her clothes dampen as well.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s head whips over to Keigo, eyes opening instantly as she beams over at him, “enjoying the rain!” Comes her response, hand rising over her head to catch some of the droplets that are beginning to fall more frequently, puddles beginning to form in potholes that probably should’ve been handled by city officials a long time ago. “You should join me.”

A small laugh escaped Keigo from his place under the side of a building, small overhang keeping him from getting wet— though the sight it likely comedic due to the size of his wings. They take up quite a big amount of space, an inconvenience Keigo had found himself hating more and more in moments like this one as he brought them tighter together in an attempt to keep any rain from falling onto himself.

“I’d love to sweetheart, but rain isn’t really my thing.” Thunder rattles, and Keigo is fairly sure he can see lightning strike a nearby building; something else he hates about days like this one. Not only does rain impair his ability to fly— but lightning endangers him even more. “We could always hang out somewhere— I don’t know, safer? Maybe?”

Y/N raises a brow, “are you scared of the rain, Keigo?”

Maybe it did boil down to fear. Fear of uncertainty, fear of the constraints that came with storms like this one. But that wasn’t really something Keigo wanted to consider right now, shaking his head in response, “me, scared? Impossible.” Despite this, Keigo grimaces as thunder sounds above them once more, looking up momentarily before he looks back to Y/N, “I’m a concerned hero. It’s unsafe for you to be out like this, you know.”

“Unsafe?” Y/N asks, an air of teasing to her words as she strides towards him, until she’s just outside the safety of the overhang that Keigo had found sanctuary under.

Keigo nods in reply, “very. So, we should leave, before the rain gets worse.”

Humming in agreement, Y/N turns to the sky. The streets are a lot emptier than normal; something even Keigo can appreciate, seeing as he gets stopped often by people seeking his autograph or some sort of evidence that they’d met. It’s rare that he can enjoy walks out in the city. But he doesn’t particularly enjoy the mix of the night sky and the likely soon to be heavy rain. “Really? I was thinking that you should come protect me out here in the rain, like the big strong hero you are.”

“I dislike you.” Keigo mumbles, rolling his eyes at Y/N as she offers him a sly smile, before retreating back to the center of the plaza.

Nodding solemnly, Y/N steps backwards, eyeing Keigo as she does, “a shame. Especially since I was willing to offer you a kiss if you came and stood here with me.”

It’s only a moment of contemplating before there’s a soft look making it’s way onto Keigo’s face as he quietly replies, “well how can I say no to that?”

With a rather dramatic sigh, he takes his first step into the rain. Shivering as the cold water hits his skin and wings, Keigo finds himself adjusting the glasses of his hero suit before continuing towards Y/N. “Might wanna hurry up, wouldn’t want us to get sick would you, hero?”

Had it not been for the discomfort of the rain, Keigo might’ve stopped walking entirely just to spite the impatient girl, “you know I don’t have to kiss you. I could just go home now.” Keigo’s breath is hot in Y/N’s face as he says these words, rain matting his hair against his forehead in a way that he despises.

“You could do that,” comes Y/N’s reply, “but you won’t.”

And with that, Keigo presses his lips against hers. There’s no urgency in the kiss— something that contradicts his title as one of the fastest heroes in the business. Instead his hand gently comes to hold Y/N’s face as his wings rise above them, effectively shielding the pair from the rain.

It’s a moment Keigo wouldn’t trade for the world, even if he does hate the rain.

Today is the day Keigo Takami realizes he is not a hero, as he would happily watch the world burn for Y/N L/N.

DAY 4 — DAY 6

#takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #takami x you #keigo x you #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x you #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami x reader fluff #keigo x reader fluff #hawks x reader fluff #azucanela fluffvember

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kittyprincessofcats · 4 years ago

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She-Ra S5 E08 - Shot in the Dark

There might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post!

I absolutely LOVE this episode, and at first, I couldn’t really put my finger on why I liked it that much. And then Noelle tweeted this:

And yeah, that’s what it boils down to. This is the first *happy* Catra episode since... basically since “Once Upon a Time in the Waste” - and back then, the happiness didn’t last long.

(I also just think that story of AJ being so worried about Catra and Noelle reassuring her with every script is so adorable. I love to see how much they all care about these characters.)

Now let’s get into the episode!

- “Why does space hate me so much?” Yeah Glimmer, as I’ve said before, your powers don’t work in space because otherwise things would be way too easy and this show would be over way too quickly.

- “So, your plan is to, what? Ram through an armada of ships?” “No! ...Maybe!” 😂 I love Adora.

- The way Catra’s hands are shaking when she tells Adora they’re going to get caught... oh, baby 😢. And how Adora suddenly looks so worried... gosh, these two.

- Catra and Adora playfully arguing over whether or not Catra ‘defeated’ them in the past is so cute. I love this kind of ‘former enemies’ bickering and it’s why I was so glad they didn’t wait until the very end of the show to redeem Catra.

Bow: “Adora, Catra’s right.”

[Everyone’s eyes go wide.]

Bow: ... “That felt weird to say.”

😂 Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Bring on all the ‘former enemies’ bickering, please!

- So, is this just because Wrong Hordak’s “brains were scrambled”, as Bow put it, or do all the clones randomly blurt out that Horde Prime has a weakness whenever they hear someone ask about it? I’m going to assume it’s the former. Also, the way he keeps blurting out more and then denying that Krytis exists is super funny.

- I like how they set Krytis up before with Catra having visions of it back in Taking Control - still pretty convenient that just hearing the name lets her make the connection, but I’ll take it. (Is it meant to be some lingering effect of being connected to the hivemind that she’s having visions of it again now, or is it just her remembering what she saw before?)

- I love the detail that Darla’s information on Krytis is locked and they need administrator clearance to access it. Shows again that the First Ones aren’t that different from Horde Prime - they were also ashamed of their failure to conquer Krytis and tried to hide the information on it.

- “In- In- In- Incorrect. It is located nowhere, because it does not exist, because Lord Prime destroyed it.” I honestly think this line should be a meme. When you want to hide something from someone (but you know it does exist), just quote that exact line (kind of like “There is no war in Ba Sing Se”). I once said it to my sisters when they asked about certain fanfics I wrote as a teenager. (“Nope, they are located nowhere, because they do not exist, because Lord Prime destroyed them.”)

- Changes in the opening: Micah, Spinnerella, Scorpia and Mermista are now standing mind-controlled around the Heart of Etheria in the villains’ shot. They’re also all missing from the final heroes’ card. In that final shot, Perfuma and Sea-Hawk both look sad now, and Netossa looks angry.

- Catra touching her neck when she sees the spire on Krytis... 😢. I’m here for the angst, but I also just need Catra to get lots of love and comfort after everything she’s been through.

- Can we talk about how absolutely ADORABLE her space suit is, though? Bow is absolutely right to coo over those ears. And when she tries to take it off with her foot? And Adora laughs about it? And Catra smiles when she sees her laugh? ❤️❤️❤️

- Wrong Hordak still denying that Krytis exists while currently being on Krytis is absolutely hilarious to me. It reminds me of flat-earthers or anti-vaxxers, or people who try to deny Covid exists (while others are currently dying from Covid) - not that any of those are funny, of course. I just mean that wrong Hordak nicely demonstrates how ridiculous they can sound.

- Catra calling out the Best Friend Squad on how dumb their plan is and then reacting with “Honestly, what did I expect?” is absolutely iconic. They really were missing her as the team’s braincell all along.

- Bow and Glimmer teasing Catra about her “first mission”, Catra grumbling that she’s going to kill Adora’s friends, Adora responding with a really calm “Please don’t” - everything about this is perfect. 🤣

- Also, small detail, but I love how Catra has a hard time walking in her spacesuit because she’s not used to wearing shoes.

- The remaining rebels looking around the destroyed camp is really sad. Frosta immediately trapping Castaspella in ice and checking her neck is great, though. That’s what they should have been doing all along. Why didn’t they also check Shadow Weaver’s neck, though? I know she’s intimidating and all, but there was no way of knowing if she’s chipped.

- “How did the rebellion lose so many of our finest members and yet we’re still stuck with you?” Castaspella’s asking the real questions! I like how literally no one in the rebellion likes Shadow Weaver. (Though honestly, I’m also glad she’s not chipped. Imagine how hard fighting a chipped Shadow Weaver would have been.)

- “But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to strike you down.” Castaspella said ‘I won’t hesitate, b*tch!’

- Every single part of Wrong Hordak’s existential crisis (and Entrapta’s handling of it) is absolutely hilarious. I’m not going to quote all of it here, but pretty much every line of it is comedy gold. My favourite moment is probably “It seems Wrong Hordak has begun to question the meaning of life” (and everyone’s annoyed expressions at his crying) 😂😂. (On a more serious note, though: As much as it’s played for laughs, Wrong Hordak turning his entire worldview around in such a short amount of time is also pretty epic.)

- Catra just cutting through that door - damn, she’s strong! And I love Adora’s blush! (Yeah, the door was probably just an illusion, but my point still stands. She’s at least strong enough that it doesn’t seem completely weird that she'd be able to just cut through a door like that.)

- “You have an arrow that turns into a magnifying glass? I can’t believe we were losing to you guys.” 🤣🤣 Catra realizing the people she was fighting are actually idiots will never not be funny.

- It goes hand in hand with Bow realizing Catra is actually a cute kitty with an adorable sneeze. Good stuff. And the way her tail gets fluffy when she insists she’s not cute? D’awww. (Bow saying “The angrier you get, the cuter you are” reminded me of that scene in Steven Universe where Peridot loses her limb-enhances at the beginning of her redemption arc and Steven calls her cute and “an angry little slice of pie”.)

- Castaspella’s cape getting stuck in tree branches and the like is pretty funny, ngl. This is why Edna Mode said “No capes”.

- Shadow Weaver saying that her gifts are “far subtler” than mind-control is very fitting. Her thing is manipulation, after all. She doesn’t need to control people’s minds when she can just manipulate them and raise them in a way that’ll make them do what she wants. It’s scarier than mind-control in a way because it’s far more realistic. Mind-control doesn’t exist in real life, but manipulative parents (or just manipulative people) who will mess someone up emotionally? Very realistic.

- I like that you can tell that something’s off about Entrapta’s voice this time if you pay attention to it.

- “Seriously? How have you guys stayed alive this long?” Yup, the people you were fighting are idiots and you’re the braincell of the team now, Catra.

- I love the creepy music when Entrapta tells them it’s the first time they’ve talked since the last floor.

- Also, I love how Catra’s first instinct is to just launch herself at Melog, even though you could tell she was terrified just a moment earlier.

- I really like the moment where Glimmer realizes there’s magic on Krytis, especially since she doesn’t have her other powers right now.

- Melog bonds with Catra because they have the same sneeze ❤️❤️

- “Are you... are you petting the thing that’s been trying to kill us?” I love this whole moment 😹. I also love how Adora is so protective of Catra and immediately yells “Get away from her!” when Melog seems to get angry.

Catra: “I’m sorry. I got angry. It’s something I’m working on.”

Adora [with sparkling eyes]: “Aww, you are?”

Catra: “Yes! Now can you please...” [deep breath] “Yes. I am.”

I love everything about this. Catra genuinely working on her anger issues, Adora being so touched about it (remember back in Taking Control where she wished that Catra would ‘at least try’?), Catra having to hold back her anger because she realized Melog responds to emotions - perfect. ❤️😂👍

- Catra is so sweet when she calms Melog down. And the moment where they form their bond is really nice.

- So, can Catra understand Melog because of their bond, or because they’re both cats? I’m assuming it’s because of their bond?

- Melog’s backstory is really sad. But Adora offering to take them to Etheria is a really sweet scene.

- I like the parallel between the Best Friend Squad realizing that magic is Horde Prime’s weakness (and that the only planet he ever failed to conquer had wild magic) and Shadow Weaver telling Castaspella that the First Ones weakened Etheria’s magic and they have to set it free.

- “Stop me if I try to take the power for myself.” I’m not sure how I feel about that line. I like how SPOP has very much written Shadow Weaver as ambiguous so far. She’s not a good or nice person by any means, but is she at least on the side of the good guys and really trying to help now or is she still only after her own selfish goals? I very much did not want Shadow Weaver to get any sort of redemption or forgiveness, and I’ve always interpreted her as still being power-hungry. So, I have mixed feelings about this line. I like that it canonically acknowledges that Shadow Weaver is still tempted by power and might actually try to take the magic for herself, but asking Castaspella to stop her if she tries makes her look more selfless and like she’s taking precautions against it. (But then again, could Castaspella even stop her if she tried? I’m pretty sure Shadow Weaver is the stronger one of the two. So, you could still read this as Shadow Weaver being a master manipulator and only saying this so Castaspella will feel more inclined to trust her and go along with her plan - while knowing full-well that she could easily defeat Castaspella if it ever actually came down to it.)

Glimmer: “So, just to make sure I get it - We’re going to go running through a Horde blockade while relying on the magic of a creature we just met?”

Catra: “That about sums it up, yes.”

You know what this means - Catra’s a part of the Squad now!

- “Punch it, Darla!” I still love that the ship’s name is Darla. Also, all of their expressions when they fly through the blockade should be a “draw the squad” meme.

- Catra holding Adora’s hand and getting embarassed about it ❤️❤️ (while Adora is dumb and doesn’t even notice).

- I did not expect us to get a Glitra cheek kiss this season, but I’m not complaining! Also, Catra complaining while Glimmer and Bow are hugging her is such a cat thing; I love it.

- “We made it. We’re home.” Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this is actually the first episode this season that ends on a happy / hopeful note and not on some kind of cliffhanger. And I really like that. This is where the “space arc” of season 5 offically comes to and end and I’m glad it has its own little happy ending. (And as much as I like the final episodes of the season, the space arc is still probably my favourite half of it.)

I love this episode, mainly because of what it means for Catra. She’s finally happy, she saved the day, she’s bonding with Bow and Glimmer and constantly flirting with Adora, and she has an amazing therapy cat now! I loved all the bickering between her and the others and how she’s starting to open up to them. Also, Wrong Hordak was absolutely hilarious in this episode and I commend Entrapta for having the patience to deal with his existential crisis. This was a really nice way to wrap the space arc up and bring the Squad back to Etheria.

[Previous episode] [Next episode]

#spop #spop s5 #spop s5 spoilers #Shot in the Dark #Catradora #Catra #Melog #Adora #Glimmer #Bow #Entrapta #Wrong Hordak #Noelle Stevenson #AJ Michalka #She-Ra and the princesses of power #Castaspella #Shadow Weaver #long post

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marshmallowgoop · 4 years ago

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Magic Kaito vs. Magic Kaito 1412

I’m not sure if I ever finished all twelve episodes, but I first watched at least a handful of the original Magic Kaito specials about a decade ago, and I remember really enjoying them. Superhero stories are among my favorites, and while both Magic Kaito and its sister series Detective Conan overlap with the genre in various ways—after all, Conan’s glasses were literally inspired by Clark Kent—Kaito’s flashy costume alone pushes his adventures more in that direction. So, maybe it’s no wonder that, back in the day, I kind of considered Magic Kaito my preferred series of the two.

Recently, I’ve got a reignited interest in the DCMK world (evidently). And it’s not a bad time to have a reignited interest, because English-language accessibility for this universe is much better now than it was ten years ago. Conan’s getting new movie dubs, and Kaito’s newer, expanded TV series, Magic Kaito 1412, is freely available on Crunchyroll. Obviously, I had to give it a shot.

I wasn’t impressed. Far from it. I chalked up my old fondness to nostalgia goggles. Kid the Phantom Thief is simply more enjoyable in Detective Conan than in his own thing, I figured.

But a few weeks ago, those old specials went up on Crunchyroll Germany. And it took me a while, but I finally decided to figure out the truth, once and for all. Have my tastes totally changed, or has Magic Kaito anime not always been Like That?

I was impressed. I watched all of one episode, and I enjoyed it so much more than 1412.

Which surprised me! Just examining the first episodes of both series, they’re honestly practically identical. They cover the same story beats almost exactly. Kaito’s introduction is even consistently him being disgusting to Aoko—behavior that, nauseatingly, convinced me that Mineta of the My Hero Academia series would actually be adored if he were conventionally attractive.

But as it turns out, that’s relevant to why the original Magic Kaito strikes me as far more palatable. Kaito’s actions towards Aoko are still indefensible in the old special, but he doesn’t repeat them on his teacher, and there are repercussions. Unlike in 1412, Kaito doesn’t get away with his harassment because his teacher finds him charming; in fact, Aoko even later notes that he “should be thankful [he] [wasn’t] expelled,” implying that he was indeed punished harshly for what he did. While Aoko assures Kaito’s mother that he didn’t get in trouble in 1412, in the original special, it’s clear that being cute isn’t enough to give him a free pass for disrupting class and being gross.

Further, in a more general sense, the tone of both series is of course goofy overall, but the characters in the old Magic Kaito feel much more like human beings than the cartoonish caricatures portrayed in 1412. A scene especially missing from the new show is a quiet one where Kaito and Aoko walk together after school. With the sun hanging low in the sky and a sparkling river flowing beside them, Kaito expresses his disappointment in how his magic trick didn’t exactly end as planned. “I guess I need to work on my finale,” he bemoans, but Aoko is more concerned with why he feels the need to pull these ridiculous stunts in the first place.

She quickly gets her answer. One of the exuberant little kids who had run by them earlier falls over and cries, and Kaito doesn’t hesitate to cheer him up with magic. And Aoko watches. She sees the way the little boy’s face lights up. She sees how he runs off again with renewed energy. And she smiles. She doesn’t say it, but the audience gets the message.

Oh. That’s why Kaito’s a magician. That’s why Aoko walks by his side.

I won’t claim to fully comprehend Kaito’s character. I haven’t read the manga, it’s been years since I’ve seen more than the first episode of these old specials, I’ve only watched about 20% of 1412, and for as much as I’ve been posting about Detective Conan lately, I’m (maybe humorously) about the farthest thing from current and would only be able to tell you about Kid’s first appearance in that show. But when Kaito returns to his empty home in the original series, and when he announces that he’s there to nobody at all, and when he welcomes himself back, all with a smile and a cheerfulness to his tone, I deeply feel his loneliness. I feel the weight of his lost father. I feel that, even if some of his tricks are inappropriate and inexcusable, he does them because he wants to make people laugh. He doesn’t want anyone to feel as sad and alone as he’s felt.

Maybe I missed it, but I didn’t get any of that from Magic Kaito 1412.

And they’re small things, they really are. But they make a world of difference. Even Jii, who really only becomes more than just a mysterious figure in the episode’s closing minutes, feels more like a tangible person in the special. He loudly gasps for breath after performing the magical, fantastical feats of his old friend, and it’s such a tiny, minuscule detail, but when watching, I feel it so strongly. I literally understand the strain of Toichi’s loss on Jii, too.

Beyond narrative decisions—and there are others that I much prefer in the old series, such as how Kaito links his failed magic trick to his father’s “poker face” philosophy, and how Kaito uses a successful variation of his earlier trick to escape the police as Kid the Phantom Thief—I also just simply prefer the original art style. Magic Kaito 1412 is slick and shiny and modern, but in being so, it strikes me as much more generic than the older-styled 2010 special. Shot compositions also feel more powerful in the first anime; just consider how differently the two series handle what is arguably the emotional height of the entire episode:

[Image descriptions: A series of four comparison images examining how the 2010 Magic Kaito series and the 2014 Magic Kaito 1412 portray the same sequence of events. In both, Kaito asks Jii, “Dad was murdered?! Was my dad... a thief? Was he Kid the Phantom Thief?” Kaito then says, “I see...” End image descriptions.]

While the dialogue is essentially unchanged, the old show’s use of close-ups expresses the tension of the scene spectacularly. You can see the terror in Kaito’s eyes. You can see how the thought of his father being a thief is so distressing that merely asking the question is painful and heartwrenching. You can see the sweat on Kaito’s face. You can see in great detail how much he struggles to grapple with this new truth.

Magic Kaito 1412 is significantly more distanced. And there’s power in that decision, too. The revelation is overwhelming. It’s hard to take. Kaito may want to get away from it, but he can’t.

However, I resonate more with how the original series handles the moment. Seeing how everything affects Kaito way up close speaks much more to me—and there are still some fantastic long shots, too:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from the original Magic Kaito series. Both are distanced long shots. In the first image, Kaito and Jii kneel on the ground. Kaito’s hands are on Jii’s shoulders. In the second image, Kaito stands, facing away from Jii, while Jii remains on the ground in shame. They wear identical outfits in both images, and their capes blow in the wind. End image descriptions.]

Gotta love those capes.

Overall, my feelings on Magic Kaito as a whole could probably be best described as somewhat mixed. And I’m kind of new here, and I don’t even know when it’s appropriate to use the #dcmk tag, so I of course don’t have the slightest clue about how popular or unpopular my opinion that the 2010 Magic Kaito series ranks above 2014′s Magic Kaito 1412 is.

But skipping down memory lane and revisiting the old show was pleasantly surprising. Maybe my affection for Magic Kaito will never reach the highs it once had all those years ago, but it was almost comforting to find that my tastes haven’t changed all that much—rather, it’s Magic Kaito itself that’s changed.

#magic kaito #magic kaito 1412 #kaito kuroba #aoko nakamori #jii konosuke #dcmk #? lol like i said i don't know when it's appropriate to use that tag but i do talk about dc a bit here so?#mk critical #is that a tag?#honestly i was gonna try to avoid putting this in the tags because it's kind of critical but #it became like a legit essay and i'd like to hear other thoughts! and i hope it's not *that* negative?#anyway what is with me writing things i don't really plan on writing and not the things i do plan on writing ^^;#ramblings

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