#if nothing else I believe in your ability to pull off a last-minute assignment okay

[gottagobuycheese]

okay it is now 3 in the morning and I have not read a single PDF, powerpoint, or research paper about the topic I’m meant to present in roughly 5 hours for 10 minutes to my colleagues and bosses so after extensive amounts of procrastination via the nostalgic rabbit hole of old assignments I have come to the conclusion that it would definitely be a terrible horrible unbelievably awful idea to participate in organized academia again if one little thing like this is sending me this off the deep end

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of a Siren- Chapter Four

Chapter One / Two / Three

A/N: Here is the promised longer chapter! You'll notice I changed some minor things, something I will occasionally do as most writers. Once again, if anyone is interested in beta reading please DM me! Enjoy!

I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

The next day was more of a normal school day. Well, almost.

Present Mic was going on and on about proper grammar of the sentences he would write and adjust on the board for fifteen minutes before Delia zoned out. She didn’t get much sleep as yesterday’ s fitness tests scores bothered her still. She was second to last which only reminded her of her lack of experience using her quirk. Once again, she felt frustrated being raised in an ‘anti-quirk’ home. Everyone else except Midoriya and herself had years of training and time to figure out their abilities but at the very least Midoriya had All Might. She had no one.

“Oi brat! Stop doing that!” Angry boy hissed in her ear. She jolted in her seat before realizing she was rapidly clicking her pen - a habit of hers when deep in thought. Delia lifted her pen slightly so he could see it and clicked it a few more times aggressively before putting it down on her desk.

Then he kicked her chair leg a bit when Present Mic turned around to write more sentences on the board. Bastard.  Just another happy reminder that she sat in front of Bakugo which was already proving to be the pain in the ass she figured it would be when assigned. She curled her hands around the edge of the desk to prevent from turning in her seat to kick him in the shins.

She was practically bouncing to get out of her seat for hero training just to get a break from sitting in the same room for the past few hours. That was one thing she probably wouldn't come to love- staying in the same classroom for multiple classes rather than back home she would change classrooms with each subject - something she liked due to stretching her legs, changing seats, different people, and getting away from the asshole who kicks her chair when she annoys him.

“ I AM HERE!” All Might rushed in with his booming voice, “COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!”

Everyone immediately sat up in their seats in excitement that the number one hero was...well coming through the door like a hero! The class practically jumped out of their seats they were so excited.

“I can't believe it's really All Might.”

“So he really is a teacher! This year is gonna be totally awesome!”

All Might marched right over to the podium as the class took in his choice to wear his Silver Age costume which was pretty cool. He announced that he will be teaching ‘Hero-ing 101’ and that today he was starting off with battle training.

“Fight training!” Bakugo growled out excitedly while Midoriya countered with a nervous “Real combat?”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is looking good!” He swept his giant arm towards the wall expanding with numbered briefcases. “These were designed for you specifically based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started. So everyone grab your assigned cases by your number and get to the locker rooms! Meet me at Training Ground Beta!”

The girls around her were chatting away while opening their cases but Delia sat with it in her lap for a few moments.

“Wow, you guys look great.” Delia said to the girls. Momo Yaoyorozu was dressed in a simple red leotard with a chunky yellow utility belt and short red boots. Mina Ashido gave her a twirl in her new costume of a cute camo-like body suit of teal and purple with a short cropped fuzzy jacket. It was random out of context but given what little she had seen of the bubbly girl - it weirdly worked. Kyoka Jiro rocked ripped jeans, a long coral shirt, black jacket with a popped collar, and what looked like giant chunky boots with a speaker in them. Tsuyu Asui was a ‘frog’ personified in a black and green suit with webbed feet and giant goggles on her head. Lastly, Ochaco Uraraka looked like an adorable astronaut in her pink and black suit with her cute oversized boots and wrist accents. Yaoyorozu smiled at her compliment, “Thank you. Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Are you nervous, Bell?” Asui asked her, looking concerned.

Delia pulled on her neck, “A bit, yeah. But I’ll be fine.” Ashido let out a small squeal and nudged her, “Well then put on your costume! We wanna see you looking great with us!”  

Delia bit her lip before clicking open the clasps to reveal her new costume she spent months trying to create. Blowing air out her cheeks, she stood up and placed it on the bench to start dressing. “Here goes nothing.”

“They say that clothes make the pros young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof!” All Might stood a few feet ahead of them as they entered Training Ground Beta. “Take this to heart. From now on you are all...heroes in training!”

Everyone was checking out one another's costumes as they walked. The guys looked great except Mineta’s looked like he was in a diaper so that was an odd choice. When she saw Midoriya run out she almost facepalmed. Way to be obvious dude. The simplistic green and red design was fine but the hood part of it resembled too much of his all time favorite person. Her eyes kept scanning until it landed on the person practically foaming at the mouth to start.

If she had to be honest with herself, she would say he had one of the best costumes but she wouldn’t tell him that. He wore a tight tank top with a large orange ‘X’ in front, a belt with what looked like grenades on the side, some hardcore knee pads, then down to some heavy duty boots. The giant grenade gauntlets hooked on each arm looked heavy so she hoped he could take them off in a tight spot. She let out a small snort... Of course the boy with anger management problems would resemble a human grenade.

Biting her lip, she looked down at herself wondering if her costume matched her the same way. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail mostly for practical purposes. She wore a high collar but sleeveless open shirt that was hooked to her by a small silver belt under her chest. She was wearing a silver strapless swim top underneath as well as black small swim shorts that could be seen as well because her thick skirt was cut into three large panels- two on each hip covering her sides and partly her backside and then one straight down the middle with a medium silver utility belt fastening it to her person. One of her favorite pieces was her, as she liked to call them, her ‘ass kicking boots’ that went to midthigh and had thick non-slip soles and a slight wedge heel. Plus, they were pretty with their silver intricate designs.  She also had silver gauntlets on her arms. The coolest feature was her water storage system. In the event, she was without any water near her to use her quirk she had compartments built into her suit. Every silver accent and design on her clothes like her boots, shorts, belts, and gauntlets were made of some ridiculously strong but flexible material that was hollowed and filled with water that she could pull from or store for emergencies. It wasn’t a massive amount but was enough for a quick emergency whip or two. Plus, everything was in a shade of dark azure blue. She felt like a water warrior.

Momo Yaoyorozu came over to her and knocked her with her hip, smiling. “Told you. You look great and it seems some others are taking notice.” She subtly nodded off the side where Angry Boy was standing diligently. Delia frowned because she had no idea what she was talking about but before she could open her mouth to say that she heard weird breathing down behind them.

“God, I love this school.” They turned to see Mineta standing way too close and way too happy.

“Okay, that’s just wonderful. Go love the school from over there, please.” Delia pointed to the group of others gathered a couple feet away. Yaoyorozu even went as far to actually ‘shoo’ him with hand gestures like he was a bug. That had Delia cracking up which prompted Momo to start giggling with her as he trudged over to the other group when All Might cleared his throat to signify class was starting. The class promptly lined up to face the number one hero.

“Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training!”

______________________________________________________

As they got settled in the monitoring room, she introduced herself to her partner for the exercise today. She spotted him a few feet from her in a martial arts costume and noted that he was the kid with the really big tail. Delia walked right up to him and stuck her hand out, “Hi, I’m Delia Bell. Looks like you’re stuck with me today for the ‘mission.’” She used air quotes for that last word jokingly.

“Oh hey! I’m Mashirao Ojiro. Happy to be stuck with you.” He joked back. “So I think we should watch this first run and get some idea of our strategy, sound good?”

“Agreed.” With that, they turned to the screen as the first mission started. Unfortunately, her excitement abated because she had a really bad feeling considering who was involved in this group as Midoriya and Uraraka walked through the building.

After a few turned corners, it started...then never really stopped. The class was on the edge of their seats after Midoriya laid Bakugo out flat on the floor and declared his hero name, “Deku.” Despite the escalating situation, Delia smiled proudly as Midoriya basically gave Bakugo the finger as he took back the name that was used to hurt him and stood his ground. Unfortunately, this only encouraged Bakugo to continue with full force. Midoriya then used his impatience to trick him again with the capture tape they were given before the match and ducked under another explosive punch before running down the corridor.

“The little guy’s really good!” The boy in a yellow bodysuit standing beside Jiro commented.

“He’s holding his own and he hasn’t even used his quirk yet!” The boy dressed in what looked like a tape dispenser helmet (?) said impressed.

We watched as Midoriya ran from Bakugo until he was completely lost to him. Bakugo began to yell furiously, “DAMMIT! You were tricking me for years by acting weak! Bet you’ve been laughing behind my back, huh?” If this idiot only knew…

“Come out and face me you coward!” Bakugo was blowing up doors left and right but walking with such arrogance, Delia was surprised his giant sized ego could fit through the door.

Meanwhile, Uraraka finally reached Iida who again proved his intelligence by hiding everything in the room that she could possibly float and use against him. She snickered when she heard Iida’s ‘evil voice’ while calling Uraraka a ‘do-gooder,’ What a dork.

“That isn’t a bad idea really.”

“What is? Hiding everything?”

“Yeah. Something to take a mental note of and I also think maybe we should try sticking together and allowing the ‘do-gooders,’ ”Delia again snickered at his impression of villain Iida, “to come to us on our home turf.”

She nodded, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

They both turned back to the screens to see Midoriya had found Bakugo who was now smiling which probably was a bad sign. “ Since you’re such a stalker, by now you probably know how my Quirk, Explosion, works. I secrete a nitroglycerin-like sweat from my hands and make it blow up. Imagine what I could do if I had a lot of it. “ He stood back into a lunge with his arm extended to the boy across from him. Oh, no . “That's right, these gauntlets aren't just for show. I’ve been storing my sweat for one monster blast.” Okay, One: Ew. Two: Mega Oh, no.

“Young Bakugo! Don’t do it! You’ll kill him!” All Might yelled into his microphone that she assumed was connected to their ear pieces.

“ He’ll be fine as long as he dodges !” Bakugo yelled right back and pulled the pin.

Delia’s hand went out to Ojiro's arm next to her as if to brace herself from what she just witnessed. He didn’t push her off as he too stared in horror at the screen.

“Whoa, whoa! This is fucking nuts!” Kirishima called out as the whole building they were in shook from the blast.

“Come in! Come in, Midoriya!” All Might was all but pressed against the screen as the dust cleared and we saw a giant hole where the walls and windows once were in the room. The class collectively sighed in relief when we heard a weak, “Is that even allowed?”

Then this goddamn psycho came out of the smoke and laughed. Laughed!

“Go ahead. Use your stupid Quirk on me, Deku.” He crouched low and smiled that disturbing smile again. He almost looked unhinged. “Even if you use everything you’ve got, you’ll never beat me.”

“Sir, isn’t this getting outta hand? That Bakugo is getting real crazy. He’s gonna kill ‘im!” Kirishima voiced Delia’s exact thoughts. The class all nodded in agreement and looked at their teacher expecting him to follow suit and shut this down.

“Not so.” Sorry, what? “Bakugo. Use that stored-up power again and I’ll stop this fight. You’re team will lose.”

“ Huh? ”

“To employ such a strong attack indoors is inviting the destruction of the stronghold you should be protecting. That’s a poor strategy, whether you’re a hero or a villain. The penalty would be a massive loss of points.”

That resulted in an angry yell before he rushed Midoriya who was talking to his partner. It seemed he had a plan though she couldn’t even see how at this point especially how her floating herself to the weapon earlier didn’t work against Iida’s speed. Midoriya threw a punch but Bakugo, in an amazing amount of speed and skill, flipped mid-air using a small blast and counter attacked from behind to hit Midoriya right in the back with a strong explosion.

“He doesn’t come off as a guy with strategy. But he’s actually quite intelligent.”

Ashido, Kirishima, and Delia took their eyes off the battle for a moment to look at the boy half covered in ice. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“He changed his trajectory while in midair and using a blast that doubled as a smokescreen. Very clever.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in with noting his ability to understand the physics of the situation and his Quirk. Denki Kaminari, whose name she remembered only due to that Mr. Aizawa had already used it so much in a day and a half because he was a high school five year old, moaned, “Ugh, Bakugo is uber talented. I hate it.” Delia pressed her lips together because while she agreed with her classmates on Angry Boy, she was still horrified by his behavior as he continued to beat the hell out of Midoriya. This oh, so intelligent and talented boy is basically throwing a tantrum and he had the nerve to call her ‘brat.’

“This is hard to watch! All he has to do is wrap tape around him, not kill him.” Ashido cried out.

“Bakugo is certainly acting like a villain.” Tokoyami responded.

“I thought Midoriya was pretty amazing at the start of the fight, but he’s completely outmatched in terms of combat power. Not to mention, Bakugo seems like a natural at all this stuff.”

“Give him a chance.” Delia said sharply. Kaminari looked at her surprised as her tone was with more bite than she intended. “Sorry. But give him a chance.”

Delia turned back to the screen once again and saw the boys facing off again but near a different set of windows. They exchanged words then lunged at one another but this time it was different. Midoriya was finally using his Quirk and Bakugo’s hands started sparking up as well.

Delia gripped her arms harder, “All Might…”

“They’re gonna kill each other! Sir!”

The Pro hero said nothing but gripped his tiny microphone hard enough it should've been in splinters before speaking into it, “Both of you-”

“Uraraka, now!” The class looked up at the video feed of the others and the brunette grabbed hold of a pillar. All of a sudden, Midoriya punch for Bakugo went upwards creating a giant amount of force to break the ceiling above as he took on Bakugo’s explosion head on. “SMASH!”

His punch created massive amounts of debris for Uraraka to use and she used the pillar she held onto as a bat and swung the floor pieces at Iida. As he was distracted in fending off the debris, she floated herself over to the weapon thus winning the mission.

The class was entirely silent as All Might declared the hero team the winners. Was this really a win?

After a few moments, she heard Ojiro say, “Okay...we aren’t going to do that.”

_________________________________________________

“Match two! Team B will be our heroes! Team I will be the villains!”

As Ojiro stretched, Delia pulled out some water from her belt to form a whip. “Hey, I’m going to hide behind one of the pillars near the door so I can surprise them.”

He nodded, “Good idea.”

The buzzer went off.

As they braced themselves for the heroes, it turns out Shoto Todoroki had different ideas. All of a sudden, the whole room was covered in freezing ice. Her boots were stuck in ice and as she peeked around the corner of the pillar so was Ojiro's. Damn. I didn’t think he had power like this!

“This Quirk is insane.”

She may be stuck but she still had her whip which she kept moving to prevent from freezing. They both stilled when they heard footsteps.

“Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet.”

“Good thing I wore boots then!” Delia kicked herself free and lashed her whip around Todoroki’s right arm which wasn’t covered in ice. His eyes widened slightly before freezing her whip around his arm but she had another one at the ready that grabbed his arm again and tugged as if to throw him back but he had stuck himself to the floor with his left side. Before she could react, he covered her body from the chest down in ice preventing Delia from doing anything more.

“The hero team winnnnnns!” All Might announced over the loudspeaker.

“Fucking dammit!” She muttered as she tried to break free of the ice. But she didn’t need to as Todoroki suddenly emitted enough heat to defrost the whole building, Ojiro gasped, “Heat, too?”

Delia scrunched her face as everything was now wet which would’ve been great if the fight was still going. “It’s not your fault. We’re just playing on different levels.” Well, damn. Thanks so much. He said it so mildly and without emotion as if it was as simple of a fact that two plus two equals four. For some reason, she couldn’t find her anger at it because he was right. Delia felt deflated as he walked right back out the door he came in. Ojiro shrugged at her, “It’s the second day. We’ll get it next time.” She attempted a small smile at his effort to not seem upset on how quickly that ended. She gathered some of the water on the floor and refilled her tanks before walking out with her partner.

They settled back in the screening room as each battle went on. Delia took the time to see everyone’s Quirk and was impressed by how power heavy the class seemed. Acid, shadow, hardening, tape, energy beams, and it went on which was great to watch but definitely put even more attention on how short her and Ojiro’s battle went. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bakugo far from the group with his gaze on the floor and teeth gritted. He was not taking this well. Maybe I wasn’t far off in the unhinged part from earlier...  

Delia was half tempted to see if he was alright, which she obviously could tell he wasn’t, but pulled herself back as she did not like how he was in his battle in the slightest. The urge never went away as her classmates continued the missions and she kept one eye on the screen and the other on the boy looking on the verge of a crisis in the corner.

Finally, everyone had battled and class was dismissed with a quick congrats speech in from their teacher then an even quicker exit as he zoomed right out. Delia figured it was because he was losing his stamina at holding his form.

_____________________________________________________

Back in the classroom, Delia was putting her books in her bag when she heard the door open.

It was Midoriya who looked much better than when she saw him last. A bunch of the class ran to meet and introduce themselves to him which was a nice change of pace for him, she assumed. She doubted he was very popular in his last school considering how he and Bakugo came from the same school.

“Tokoyami! Stop using that desk as a chair!” Iida walked determinedly to the boy sitting on his desk while he talked to her former mission partner and Jiro. Jiro put her hand on her hip and said, “Dude, you need to chill.”

Ojiro pointed at him, “You’re carrying a lot of tension.”

Iida slumped forward in defeat as she walked over to the small group, “No one understands.” Delia swung herself on the desk next to Iida which caused them to laugh as she put her hand on his shoulder with comfort and some slight mocking, “It’s okay, Iida. Someday they’ll learn proper manners and respect.”

He sighed and nodded before turning to her, “Yes, well uh - Oh, c'mon!”

Delia giggled and swung her legs like a child, “I said they would. I didn’t say I would too.” She giggled again when the blue haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before walking away.

“Hey, Bell.” She looked up from laughing at Jiro. “Yeah?”

“Is that a My Chemical Romance button on your bag?” Delia looked over to her desk with her various buttons and stickers on the side of her bag.

“Yes, it is. You a fan?”

“Major.”

“I listen to them occasionally as well.” Tokoyami threw in. Jiro grinned, “Nice to know some of us have some taste.” Ojiro scratched the back of his head, “Well, I guess I have none.”

“It’s alright. We’ll just have to educate you!” Jiro elbowed him gently. Delia looked at her watch then hopped off the desk, “Oops. I have to catch my train!”

When she ran outside, her eyebrows raised as she saw that Midoriya and All Might were staring off into the distance. Delia waved at them, “Feel better, Midoriya. Have a nice night, Sir!”

Running down the hill, she flew up to Bakugo and found her feet slowing a bit. They looked at each other for a moment and Delia opened her mouth to say something before she thought better of it and continued down the hill to catch her train home.

[440mxs-wife]

Take the Shot

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You pulled your royal blue 1968 Chevy Nova into its parking spot in the bunker garage, then turned off the ignition. You walked around to the trunk and gathered up some of your grocery bags. You took the case of beer out of the trunk and set it on the garage floor. With your hands full, you kicked the bunker door, which was answered by Sam Winchester.

"Hey, you didn't have to get all this by yourself, I would've come out to help you," he remarked.

"Good thing you're here then, Sam, there's just a little more to bring in. You can carry the rest of the bags and the case of beer down the stairs if you want to help," you  suggested.

"Consider it done, milady," he replied with a dramatic bow.

You rolled your eyes but grinned at his exaggerated response, then continued on to the kitchen to put away your groceries. By this time, Dean had wandered into the kitchen as well, reaching into the fridge for something cold to drink.

"Where's the pie? I don't see any pie. How could you forget the pie?!?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Relax, Dean. I'm making the pie from scratch. As soon as I get done putting groceries away, I'll  start peeling the apples," you assured him.

"Aw, thank you, sweetheart," Dean replied as he beamed a smile at you brighter than the sun. He squeezed your shoulder as he left the kitchen. You ducked your head just in time for him to not see the blush creeping up on your cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was always doing things like that, calling you "sweetheart" or "honey", squeezing or rubbing your shoulder. You were certain he didn't mean anything by it, just a bit of harmless flirting. However, it was those little things that made your heart flutter and your cheeks grow warm. Dean didn't know it, but you had developed feelings for him. You tried to push them down, ignore them, talk yourself out of them, anything, but it was no use. You were falling in love with Dean Winchester.

You had first met the Winchesters on a vampire hunt assignment given to you by Bobby Singer. Bobby took you in when you were twelve and your parents were killed trying to take out a bunch of demons. He taught you about what each monster's weakness was and how to kill it, along with some basic self-defense and weapons tactics. Over time, your firearms skills grew  to expert marksman level and you were downright lethal with a blade.

There were a few times that you had come close to confessing your feelings for the elder Winchester. Then you saw him with his arm around some woman from the bar, and that was enough to change your mind. You turned your attention back to your drink, and counted the minutes until you were home, back in your bedroom, alone with your thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You finished dicing the apples for the pie, added the sugar and the cinnamon then mixed the ingredients together. You set the bowl aside and moved on to prepare the crust. While you were folding and rolling the crust, your mind wandered back to Dean. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't notice Sam had walked in.

Sam cleared his throat, which startled you and made you jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Everything okay?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, Sam, why not?" you mumbled, returning your attention to assembling the pie.

"You just seem a little distracted, that's all," Sam observed.

"No, I'm not," you replied defensively.

"You didn't even hear me come in, as you would usually say, 'lumbering like a moose'," he teased. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing, Sam. Nothing at all," you responded. "And you came in here for....what, exactly?" you prompted as you slid the pie onto the oven rack and set the timer.

"Oh, yeah, found us a case, around Ruthie's new hometown. Sounds like a simple salt-and-burn spirit kind of thing," he explained.

"Really? It's been months since I've seen her! Damn, I just put the pie in, and it won't be done for another hour or so. Can't let it burn," you replied.

"We can wait till it's done and then go. I'm sure Dean will approve, considering it's for a good reason," Sam added.

"Okay. I'll call Ruthie and get my bag packed. You can tell Dean about the change in the itinerary," I said as I left the kitchen.

Sam shook his head and chuckled. Dean walked in a short time after you left, so Sam told him about leaving a bit later than expected. He grumbled a little at first, then it was explained that the pie needed to finish baking first. As predicted, Dean changed his mind and was okay with the later departure time.

As you packed, you called your best friend, Ruthie, to let her know you would be up in her area, working a case. She was excited that you were going to be so close by and could visit, though she wasn't crazy about the reason you would be there. Before you hung up, she warned you to be careful and to watch out for yourself and the boys so that no one got hurt.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few hours later, another successful hunt was in the books. You all sat around Ruthie's kitchen table with her husband, Jim, laughing and swapping stories. She had a surprising amount of dirt on you, and she certainly didn't mind sharing it one bit.

Dean looked around and got up from his chair. "Well, not that this hasn't been fun, but I've been wanting to check out your bar, Ruthie. Sam, you in?" He put his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to turn and lock onto his flashing green eyes. "How about you, sweetheart? Want to come with us?" he asked.

You briefly lost the ability to form a coherent thought, but quickly recovered. "N-nah, I think I'll stay here and catch up with Ruthie. We haven't seen each other in so long, I don't want to miss an opportunity," you finally got out.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay, have fun you two. Don't wait up," he said waggling his eyebrows. Once he drove off in the Impala, you let out a frustrated groan.

"What was that all about?" she demanded. "Since when does he call you 'sweetheart' and make googly eyes at you? Are you two a 'thing' now?" she asked.

"There were no googly eyes, Ruthie. And no, we're not a 'thing' now, nor will we probably ever be one. It's just harmless flirting," you muttered.

"But, you wish he meant it, don't you?" she asked gently. You could only nod, as your voice would have betrayed the tears on your face.

"Then you have to tell him, honey. Otherwise, he'll never know and he'll keep doing the bar chick thing, slowly taking a piece of your heart each time," Ruthie finished.

"Ruthie, I've seen the type of woman he seems to prefer, and it's not me. Sure, it feels amazing when he calls me 'sweetheart' or when he touches my hand or my shoulder. But I know he doesn't mean anything by it. Let's face it, I'm not his type of woman. I'm good for going on hunts, doing the research and making pie. Friend, remember? Not the romance category," you choked on the last sentence.

"Do you really believe that?" Ruthie asked.

You nodded. "Yes, Ruthie, I do. However, I also believe that what we do is so important. So much, in fact, that I'm willing to continue pushing all of those feelings aside to focus on the mission. What if I told him how I feel and he didn't feel the same? I don't know how long I could stay in the bunker after that, seeing him every day after ruining a perfectly good friendship."

Suddenly Ruthie jumped to her feet. "Come on," she motioned for me to follow her.

"What? Where are we going?" you asked.

"We are going to get dressed up and we are going to walk into my bar, looking so amazingly HOT and sexy. Mr. Dean Winchester won't be able to keep his eyes--or anything else, for that matter--off your body, honey." she finished with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Hey, Jim? We're going into town to check on things at the bar, do you want to drive us there?" she called. He agreed, and you went with Ruthie to put yourselves together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"That about does it, don't you think?" Ruthie said as we stepped back from the mirror.

"I think this more than does it. Sis, we look GOOOOOD," you said. Ruthie held up her hand for you to high-five her, but you missed, causing you both to start giggling.

You were wearing a new pair of slightly faded blue jeans with star-studded back pockets that you had brought with you. A white spaghetti-strap tank top and a cropped denim jacket about the same color as the jeans completed your outfit. Ruthie lent you her tan knee-high boots with a wedge heel. Your curly brown hair was fluffed out a bit more and you kept your makeup and jewelry choices simple.

Ruthie was similarly dressed, but in darker colors. Black jeans where you wore blue, a red tank top instead of white, and black boots. You looked at each other, linked arms and got into the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Dean were sitting in a booth, each drinking their second beer of the night. "Hey, Sam? Do you think we should call the girls and ask them to come out?" Dean asked. Just then, a well-endowed blonde walked up to their table. She slid into the booth next to Dean, and looking straight at him, she asked, "Wanna dance?"

At that exact moment, you, Ruthie and Jim walked in, looking for Sam and Dean. When you saw the blonde sitting so close to Dean and practically kissing him, you froze. Ruthie's hand was at your elbow, propelling you forward. "Steady, you can do this. Just walk over to the table and tell them we're going to play some 8-ball. And that no, they can't play," she growled.

You gathered up your courage and walked over to their table. "Evening, boys," you drawled. "Ruthie and I are going to go play some 8-ball," you explained. As they started to get up, you held up your hand. "No, no, just us girls playing. Sorry boys," you said with a wink. You and Ruthie headed for the empty pool table, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Dean saw you and Ruthie walk in, he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd seen you in jeans and a tank top before, but these jeans hugged your curves like none he'd ever seen you wear before. You and Ruthie were dressed so alike, but the two of you couldn't have been more different. Ruthie wore dark, where you wore light, the yin and yang that perfectly explained your longtime friendship.

The blonde became bored at Dean's lack of attention and left the table in a huff. Dean watched as you and Ruthie played your game. He saw how happy and carefree you looked as you hung out with your best friend. It had been a long time since he'd seen you that way, and it brought a smile to his face.

Dean noticed how your eyes sparkled when you smiled and he thought about how he wouldn't mind seeing more of that. He wondered what you two were talking about between shots with your heads together. He desperately wanted to know what was just said that had made you throw your head back in laughter.

For one of your shots, you were leaned over the table rather low, trying to get lined up. Your studded back pockets were pointed in Dean's direction. His mouth ran dry as thoughts of a less than pure nature ran through his mind. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, catching Sam's attention. "Dude, you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's head over there to watch the girls. I see two empty barstools, why don't you snag those while I get us another beer," Dean suggested.

By the time Sam and Dean came over, you and Ruthie were into your second drinks and fourth game of pool. You both had also ditched your jackets, having left them on the barstools now occupied by the boys. You had gathered a good-sized crowd to watch the two of you play. There was a group of college boys, a bachelorette party, and some other random people were there to cheer you on.

It was your turn, and you had a difficult choice to make. You could bank the #13 and keep playing, or shoot the #11 and have a potentially difficult next shot. Bank shots were not your strong suit, but you decided to give it a go. Unfortunately, one of the college boys was in your way and didn't look like he wanted to move. "Excuse me, I need to take this shot and you're in my way," you explained.

"Tell you what, sweetheart. You make this shot and I'll buy you a shot. Then you can sit on my lap and I'll tell you about the great night we're going to have together," he smirked.

Dean heard what the kid had said, and something in him snapped. He bolted out of his seat, but Sam held him back. "Hold on, I think she's got this," he said.

"Tell you what. How about you move and let me make this shot? That way, I don't crack my cue stick over your skull for making such a sexist comment. Does that sound all right to you?" you asked innocently, batting your eyelids.

He grumbled, "Yeah, whatever," but got off of his barstool anyway to give you a clear shot. You leaned down to line up your shot. As you drew the cue stick back, you felt a hand grab your backside. You whirled around to see him high-fiving his drinking companions. You heard snippets of comments like "seriously sweet ass" and "like to hit that".

You pointed the heavier end of your cue stick at the kid, who was still laughing with his friends. You took advantage of his distraction to swing the heavy end right into his soft belly. With an audible "Oof!" he said as he fell, his ass landing hard on the floor.

With your cue stick raised above him ready to swing it again, you glared at him. "Get up. You and your friends had better get out of here before any real trouble starts. Don't even think about coming back in here ever again, at least not until you have more respect for a lady," you finished.

His friends helped him up and they headed for the door. As he passed you, he muttered, "'Lady' my ass, more like a bitch."

That was enough for Dean. He broke free from Sam and as he passed by, you could feel the anger radiating from him. You tried to grab his arm and pull him back but you were too late.

Next thing anyone knew, there was a scuffle in the parking lot between Dean and the kid. Punches were flying left and right until Sam finally pulled Dean away. The college boy was carried off by his buddies and Ruthie yelled that they were banned from her bar for good.

You walked over to Dean to check for damage. He had a cut above his left eye, a bloody nose and his knuckles were a bit scraped up. "Come on, Dean. Let's get you back to the motel and clean you up," you sighed.

Sam drove the Impala back to the motel in silence, with you in the back seat. Sam went to their room and got the first aid kit, then you walked to your room a few doors down. "You have your own room?" Dean asked.

"I didn't want to impose on Ruthie, so we booked this before we hit the bar," you explained. "Plus, depending on how tonight went, I thought I might want my own space." Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged, handed him the first aid kit and motioned for Dean to follow you to your room.

Once inside, Dean sat down on the bed and took off his outer shirt. You removed your denim jacket again and turned on the lights to better assess his injuries. His nose had stopped bleeding, so you took a washcloth and dipped it in the warm water contained in the ice bucket. "Are you okay?" Dean asked as you cleaned up the dried blood around his nose.

Being this close to Dean was enough to cause flutters in your heart. Not exactly trusting your voice at first, you nodded. "I'm fine, Dean. No harm done," you finally added.

Next, you moved on to address the injury above his left eye. "What did you mean by 'depending on how tonight went' you might want your own space?" Dean asked.

"Hmm?" you mumbled absently.

Dean reached up and stilled your hands, forcing you to gaze into his impossibly perfect green eyes. "What did you mean when you said that, about wanting your own space?" he repeated.

You stopped what you were doing to gather your thoughts, because once you answered his question, there would be no going back. "What I meant was, depending on whether or not you came back to the motel alone," you answered.

"Why would that matter to you?" Dean asked.

"Never mind. Let's get that cut above your eye stitched up," you said as you started to thread the needle.

"No, forget that for now. I want to know why that would matter to you," Dean persisted.

"And I said never mind!" you retorted. "You know what? Take this to Sam and let him sew you up. Goodnight, Dean," you replied as you held the door open.

Dean walked to the door as if to leave. Just before he would've crossed the threshold, he turned to you and said, "No. Not until we finish talking about this." you slammed the door and groaned loudly in frustration as he went to sit on the bed.

You walked over and stood in front of Dean. "You want to know why any of this matters to me? Fine, I'll tell you. All of these women you hook up with? None of them will ever know you like I do, Dean. None of them will ever love you the way that I do. It hurts me to see you with them, because I wish you were with me. I realize that to you, I'm nothing special. However, I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sing in the shower, which color of flannel is your favorite."

You knelt down between his knees, resting a hand on his left one. "I also know how to bring you back around after you've had a nightmare. And how you're so used to protecting others that maybe you feel like you have to build walls to protect yourself. I know about how scared you are that one day, everyone you love will leave you.

"But here's the thing, Dean. I will never leave you. And I will wait as long as it takes for you to bring down your walls. To let me in so I can be that source of strength for you when you need it the most."

As soon as you finished your speech, Dean leapt up from the bed and gathered you in his arms. His hands slid up to hold your face and he began to devour you with a series of hot, passionate kisses. Your lips, your cheeks, your neck, all of it was fair game for Dean. Your fingers threaded their way through his hair, paying particular attention to the ones at the base of his neck. Dean growled in appreciation, then you felt him smile against your lips.

When you finally broke apart, you were both trying to catch your breath. "That was amazing," you whispered.

"So was everything you said, sweetheart. Except one part," Dean replied.

"What? Which part?" you asked.

"The part where you said you realize that to me you're 'nothing special'," he said as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. "I can't think of anything that would be farther from the truth. I watched as you and Ruthie were playing pool.

"Your eyes sparkle when you smile, and when you laugh, you do so with your whole heart. Tonight, I saw a side of you that made me realize how special you are to me and to everyone around you. But most importantly, I have become very aware of how much I love you," he finished.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words from you, Dean. Almost thought I never would. I love you too," you replied softly.

You moved forward until your lips met again in a slow, passion-filled kiss. Your mouths moved together, yours opening slightly for Dean's tongue to slip inside. His fingers started threading through your hair, massaging as he went. Dean gently tugged on your curly locks, which tilted your head back and exposed your neck. "So beautiful...." he murmured against your skin as he dropped feather-light kisses up and down your neck.

"Stay with me tonight? Please?" you asked. Dean nodded, and while he stripped down to his boxers, you went into the bathroom to change into your pj's. He got into bed and held the covers back enough for you to slide in next to him. You turned to face him and placed your hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "I love you, you know," you said softly.

"I know. I love you too, sweetheart," Dean replied. He slipped his arm around you so that you could rest your head on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, my love," you whispered.

[kbandtrash]

Surrounded (Mafia Crossover AU)(Part 15)

~Megan~

Masterlist

Day6/N.Flying/The Rose/Like any other kband honestly x Reader

Warnings: Violence, self-harm

Word Count: 1.6k Part 1

Why did Jae do it?

Out of all the people who could hate you enough to shoot you, why Jae? Ever since being in a cell, he had been your friend -- at least, that’s what you had assumed. He had been kind and carefree, someone you considered trustworthy.

Of course, there was no mistaking who he was; you could recognise that blonde hair anywhere. However, the look in his eyes had been so different from his usual appearance. His eyes were wide and cold, his lips set in a straight, thin line. His hands showed no falter in pulling the trigger.

And it still left you wondering why.

“Help!” Jae was shouting frantically. “Someone shot Y/N!”

The first to arrive was Jaehyun. He found Jae standing in the corner of your room, staring blankly at you. He could read that expression easily. Jae was clearly the bad guy in this situation.

Even so, Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it. DAY6 had the upper hand in this war, no matter how strong N.Flying became. If he were to do one thing wrong, he could lose N.Flying’s spot in the building, ruin the alliance, and maybe even get them all killed. So he did nothing to show the older boy that he knew what happened. He settled on running back out of the room and heading straight for the infirmary, searching for Hun.

When he opened the door, he was disappointed to find Dongsung holding a knife at Wonpil.

“Dongsung!” he shouted, quickly becoming more and more worried. First The Rose, next Jae, and now Dongsung?

Dongsung immediately brought the knife back and dropped it to the floor. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair and sighed weakly. “We’ll talk about that later. Someone shot Y/N. Where’s Hun?”

“Wasn’t Y/N with Hun?” the N.Flying maknae and DAY6’s doctor checked at once.

“She’s on the floor, bleeding out. I didn’t see Hun come running for her. Me and Jae were the first ones to arrive.”

“Jae did it?” Dowoon asked, wide awake now. “He really shot her?” He sat up, a sad look in his eyes. “Jaehyun, it was him, right?”

The trainer looked around anxiously, but only found honest looks in their eyes, and he realized they were on his side. “Yeah, he did.”

Wonpil did his best to sit up, cringing when his leg shifted. “Someone take me to Y/N.”

“I’ll go get Hun,” Dongsung offered, not bothering to wait for an okay and heading out the door.

Jaehyun and Wonpil eyed each other warily but the trainer didn’t hesitate to help him off the bed. Wonpil bit his lip as his leg stung, and brought his arm over Jaehyun’s shoulders so he could limp around. Even through the obvious pain, the doctor would do anything to save you, and Jaehyun knew it. After he found a box of good supplies, they walked together to your room silently, hoping desperately that you would be okay.

Jae was gone. Wonpil was working quickly on you before he could take you back to the room. He didn’t need you losing any more blood than you already had. Jaehyun was waiting patiently outside the room, trying his best to stay calm. After a minute, Dongsung and Hun came sprinting down the hall but they quieted to open the door, to not disturb Wonpil as he worked.

Dongsung stayed outside with Jaehyun, silent for a moment, and then said, “I should go back to Dowoon.” At the trainer’s nod, the younger left.

Everything was quiet. It was a wonder how no one else had heard the gunshot, or Jae’s shouts, but maybe it had been planned that way. Who else was in on it? And something else; if Hun had been with you before, why had he not still? Jaehyun was pretty sure his little “storytelling tour” was supposed to last the whole day.

Honestly, Jaehyun could hardly wrap his head around everything that had happened since you were let out. As if everything spun around you like planets, and everything you did shifted their orbit. He wasn’t sure if he was part of that cycle, circling you and your every move, but he didn’t care if he was or not. It mattered to him, and that was all he needed to tell him he should be there for you and for the rest of N.Flying.

Suddenly Hun thrust the door open. “We can bring her to the room now.”

“Alright.”

They came in to see Wonpil struggling to stand up from his kneeling, and you bloody but breathing. Jae had only shot your hip, luckily enough, so it wouldn’t be too bad for you.

As Hun assisted Wonpil in standing, Jaehyun gingerly picked you up, and then they were going as fast as they could through the hall. They reached the infirmary, where Hun opened another curtain to reveal a second medical office so you had a clean bed to lay on. He left Wonpil on the bed next to Dowoon’s. Jaehyun set you carefully on a bed and Hun immediately followed to clip a wire on your finger, turning on the patient monitor system.

Everything had finally slowed down. Hun was busy, calmly setting up the monitor, and Wonpil, Dowoon, and Dongsung sat in silence. It felt like Jaehyun was the only one whose heart still beat, until the monitor was finally up-and-running, beeping to match your heartbeat.

“I can’t believe this happened.”

Jaehyun’s heart broke when Dowoon spoke, sitting up and rubbing his lips subconsciously.

“I can’t believe Jae really did it.”

Wonpil solemnly shifted on the bed, nodding. “I can’t believe anything that’s happened, ever since Y/N came to our attention in the first place.”

Dongsung, leaning cooly against a wall with his arms crossed, sighed and scrunched his eyebrows together as if in deep thought. “Why the heck is Y/N so important? Why is everything latched onto her? Is there something I’m missing?”

Hun came and sat next to Wonpil. “I didn’t notice at first, but now that I look at it again, it doesn’t make any sense. Y/N seems to have all the attention in the world. She’s being personally guided through all the people here, and The Rose is after her, after five years. You would think they would have found another weapon and moved on.”

Dowoon spoke up nervously. “Well… she could have been related to them more than we know. That could be familially or romantically. Perhaps she has something of theirs. Perhaps they are worried that she will tell us their secrets. Perhaps she is the key to their downfall.”

Wonpil inhaled sharply. “At first we had no idea she was special. Then she started destroying our lives. That’s when we realized she was important to us, too. If she could take down entire mafias herself, we could use her, just like them, to turn the tides.

“We got so close to getting her, but I suppose The Rose knew what we were trying and tried to destroy her. It didn’t work in their favor, as you can see.”

“And about the guidance,” Dowoon started, “we can’t risk her being caught or manipulated in any way. We chose you, Hun, because we know you’re the type to help. You don’t get a lot of assignments, especially with so many others here that take care of things already, so we gave you this chance to use your abilities. You’re the perfect one to protect her and heal her and trust her enough.”

Hun stayed quiet, but Jaehyun felt proud of his friend. “Wow, Hun, you’re so cool!”

“Shut up, Jaehyun.”

“Yeah,” your voice came from past the curtain, “shut up, Jaehyun.” Though none of them could see you, they could tell you had only just woken up.

“Y/N!” Jaehyun and Hun said in shock.

“Speak of the devil,” Dongsung muttered, settling his hand on the gun hanging at his waist.

“Get your hands off that stupid thing,” Wonpil said, the only one who noticed Dongsung.

Hun, by now, had pulled back the curtain to reveal a groggy you. “Y/N, how do you feel? Are the stitches okay? Are you ready for pain medication?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, a little overwhelmed. Your brain hardly understood his words that were all clumped together, but somewhere in there he said medication. You definitely needed it. The stinging of your hip that you could tell had been numb before had woken you up.

“I can numb it again for you,” he continued, pulling out a bottle from a cupboard.

“Alright, thank you.”

“I wonder what Sungjin will say about this,” Wonpil said. He stared toward you, finding you mindlessly picking at your arms. “Don’t scratch again!”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think Sungjin will be lenient this time,” Dowoon said, leaning onto his pillow. “He hasn’t gotten around to completing our back-up plans.”

“What will Seunghyub think?” Jaehyun wondered.

Hun handed you the pills and a bottle of water, shivering at his friend’s words. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

You swallowed your medication calmly, but it felt like someone was drilling holes into you. Not just from the stinging of your wound; it felt like you were being stared at. Glancing around, you saw Dongsung shift his eyes from you. His hand quickly moved from his waist, but you still saw the gun.

“I’m not sure what to do about all of this,” Wonpil said, closing his eyes.

Part 16

[lorei-writes]

Hideyoshi x Witch!MC

Content Warnings:

Background: war mention

Hideyoshi x Witch!MC: assault, vision of death, blood, battle

Background:

She was a daughter of a simple restaurant owner.

Having lost their original home, the war-ridden times ripping through the land, they moved to Azuchi castle town, hoping to hide under the protection of lord Nobunaga.

Initially, they worked for other people, serving at various household. However, they somehow seemed to make use of every opportunity that came their way, soon gaining enough money to start their own business.

The restaurant flourished under the local policies, the daughter working there.

The customers gave her nickname, “Lucky”, for she always appeared to be able to just barely avoid all the accidents. 

A drunk came in and started causing some ruckus? She had already sent a couple of sweet smiles towards the teenage boys sitting in the corner. A thief tried to steal the money? Oh, she moved it someplace safe that very morning. Somebody stumbled over their feet and was just about to knock her over? She nimbly danced away, even without looking.

To put it simply - indeed, the fortune favoured her in a way, as if guarding her. Was it a bad thing, though? She was a nice and hard-working girl after all, she deserved for good things to happen to her. Perhaps it was just that, the kindness she emanated, that dispelled all evil.

Of course, they couldn’t know the truth - she had never told anybody.

At an early age she noticed her dreams weren’t quite usual. Sometimes they were too real, too close to reality. Less than a year had passed and all irrationality disappeared from them completely. She was six when she first saw the future - and she could not believe herself.

Initially, she thought it was just a coincidence, but then it happened again and again, her nighttime visions growing more vibrant in details. 

Whenever she fell asleep, she saw a tree, each branch representing another aspect of the day that was to come. Depending on which she chose, the scenery changed - and then, what was to occur would reveal itself to her.

The rumours of war spread through the land - and then, for once, she hoped to see nothing, as she couldn’t bear living through that horror again.

Hideyoshi x Witch! MC:

Hideyoshi would often visit her father’s restaurant, along with the women.

She didn’t think much of it - just another rich man, able to spend his free time in any way of his choosing. 

However, with the passing of time, she realised: although the women flirted with him, he was strictly platonic with them, all his actions dictated by courtesy.

Before she knew, she joined them whenever the restaurant was empty enough, the tea tasting best in company of others. The other women seemed to have noticed that Hideyoshi was a lost cause, but kept on liking him regardless.

Sometimes, he visited her workplace alone, his smile bringing light to her days. 

Perhaps it was kindness that got her interested in him, perhaps it was his caring nature. Either way, she found herself choosing his branch at night, wondering what would happen to him.

That, however, came with its price - without an insight into the future, she could not act to prevent the accidents. 

A man ordered some dumplings and tea. She did not expect anything unusual to happen, until he rose up to his feet and set off to leave the place without paying. “ Um, excuse me, sir?” she began, standing in his way. “ Yes?” “ You have not paid for your meal. Please, do it now.” “ I do not plan to, girl. And you should know better than to ask,” the man replied, his hand reaching inside of his kimono. Within seconds, he pulled the knife out, the blade glistening ominously.  “ You know, girl, I’m actually hurt. You shouldn’t treat your regular customer like that. Perhaps I’ll forgive you, if you give me some money as an apology,” he added, grinning widely.

She should have seen this coming, she should have never allowed him to order anything or have somebody set up to help her. Yet, there she was, alone, her father in town shopping for ingredients for the evening. She clenched her jaw and was just about ready to comply, when somebody entered the restaurant.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently.

“ You are acting against the laws set by lord Nobunaga. Unless you pay now, I’ll be the one to sort out the matters with you,” Hideyoshi’s voice came from behind her, an open invitation to fight. 

The man clicked his tongue with discontentment and threw some coins her way, leaving the place instantly. 

Her hands were trembling, as Hideyoshi took them in his. He looked her in the eyes. “I’ll make you some tea this time, okay?”

She did not understand - that was not the future she had seen. 

In the following days, her visions became increasingly less accurate, consequently driving her insane. For her entire life she depended strongly on her ability. She needed it the most then, the atmosphere tightening more and more each day.

Two weeks had passed and she noticed the pattern - the future seamed to change around the time Hideyoshi was about to come by, the incidents never happening anytime else.

With new hope in heart, on that day she chose to see his future and so, she watched him ever since. 

It felt weird at first - wasn’t she invading his privacy, even if just for a very brief time, her visions never briefing her on longer than an hour? 

Sometimes she was shown fragmented images of his visits. It was only then that she noticed how he smiled at her words, how his eyes lit up in excitement whenever she was nearby, how she was special, even if just in the simple ways. That was enough to make her heart race.

Feeling he’d be the key to solving the mystery of her ability acting weirdly, she decided to temporarily change her workplace. Recommended by her dear friend, she began working in the castle kitchen.

Knowing her long enough, Hideyoshi was not anxious she’d assassinate his lord. As such, their relationship only progressed, as they finally had the time to talk privately.

Hideyoshi oftentimes helped her around, carrying the heavy packages and going shopping with her. Despite his busy schedule, he always found at least a couple of minutes to see her.

The days passed, the battles not being mere rumours anymore. Hideyoshi was to head out the following day - and to her despair, she couldn’t sleep, the worry causing her to become restless. 

When she finally managed to doze off, the tree didn’t show. This time, she was transferred straight into the battlefield, the horrors of war spreading before her eyes. She looked around and saw Hideyoshi, commanding his troops. 

A bang turned the world silent, his heart ceasing to beat. Hideyoshi fell to the ground, blood flowing out of his neck.

She woke up abruptly, breathing fast, cold sweat running down her back. She ran out of her room.

She couldn’t tell him not to go - he wouldn’t have listened. Instead, she waited until they left and followed in their tracks on a horse she had stolen from the castle.

She observed them carefully, the battle only having just started. She urged the animal to move forward. 

With each minute, her pace increased, the cries of the soldiers getting closer and closer, until she was surrounded by them completely. The scene that played out in her mind on that very night began.

She galloped towards Hideyoshi, shouting: “ Down! Now!” Her sudden appearance startled him, the worry flooding his consciousness. He turned his horse around, not complying to her demand - was she crying? Why was she crying? What was she even doing there? The anxiety built up inside of him.

The bang. With his position slightly changed, the bullet flew right next to his head, not even grazing him. Hideyoshi speed towards her, only to assign one of his men with the task of escorting her to the camp mere seconds later. 

Until nightfall, she waited for his return.

The flaps over the entrance moved, as Hideyoshi came inside the tent. “ What were you thinking?” he asked instantly, walking fast towards her. He pulled her up by the hands, so that he could look for any signs of injury. “ I’m fine,” she muttered, as he placed hands on her shoulders. She looked up into his eyes, so full of emotion. “ Why? Why would you put yourself in such danger?” he inquired, his voice a bit husky. “ It’s just. Reckless. You are not a warrior. You didn’t even have an armour. You could have been...” “ Killed, “ she cut him off. “ But I saw you being shot and couldn’t just wait idly in the castle.”

She did not let him utter a word, a stream of explanations escaping her lips. She told him of her ability, of it acting strangely and of her latest vision - and of how she couldn’t bear not doing a thing. If he wanted to scold her, he had to wait until she was finished - then, she’d let him speak until the dawn.

However, once the last word disappeared into silence, Hideyoshi didn’t say a thing. He removed his armour, placing it in a disorganized manner on the ground. As soon as he freed himself from the metal plates, he returned to her. She didn’t even get to see his face.

Hideyoshi hugged her tightly, hiding his face in her hair.  “ Never, never do this again. How do you think I’d feel if I saw you dying?” his voice trembled. “ Hideyoshi...” “ Please.” “ Not until you promise not to die yourself,” she demanded. He inhaled sharply. 

Before he got to know her, he was ready to give up his life at any moment if it meant saving his lord. Then - he was not so sure he’d be able to do that and have no regrets. Conflicted, he finally uttered: “ I promise”, and the doubts that clung to him for days turned into nothingness. 

He had more to protect than he could have ever imagined. 

[goshwrites]

business (yandere x reader) 1

warnings: swearing, ageplaying, obsession, unhealthy relationships

word count: 2.9 

A/N: still not completely my best writing oof but here we go

taglist: (none as of yet since i’m keeping the taglist for the ben solo blurb separate from this one)

  You know how like in some novels things happen right away one after another? Like the very next day or something?  Well that didn't happen with you.  The day after the whole fiasco with Romeo and Juliette... things were pretty chill. Boss of course seemed just a little agitated, but that was normal in your opinion since well... she always had a resting bitch face. Always. And then it was two days after it.  Still nothing. You somehow got hit in the head with a paper ball that was thrown so badly it flew over the small wall that separated the cubicles instead of the trashcan. Yeah. That person's aim was horrible, but eh. They offered you chocolate once so you were cool.  Three days after everything still was kind of cool. Someone's phone kept buzzing the Backstreet Boy's song I Want It That Way and of course any reasonable person would sing along with it which of course was you.  Then four- well that was Saturday. And that was your glorious dayoff of going to the store and getting facial masks.  And fifth was Sunday and with that you mostly chilled while working on editing your paper.  Six was... Monday to say the least.  No comment.  And then what do you know? A whole week went by the incident and it seemed that no one even remembered or cared or just... were even awake to see it.    Tuesday started out kind of nice. You didn't do that annoying thing of where you wake up like ten minutes before your alarm and then you try to go back to sleep because hey it's way too early but then you can't because anxiety and you spent like seven minutes inwardly arguing with your anxiety and before you know it- it's time to get up.  But that didn't happen. That happened on Monday, yes, but Tuesday? Nah you woke up to the beautiful bliss of birds using their vocal cords and like some violins playing in the background. Over all it was nice.  And you got a cheese bagel at your nearby bagel shop because they're everywhere.    You greeted the security man that stood by the door with a 'good morning' on your way into the large building that also housed other companies like some kind of shoe company and like maybe one of Jojo's bowties? You really didn't know and didn't really wanna know. You walked out of the elevator of the floor you were on and proceeded to make your way to your cubicle. You sat down with the rolling chair moving backwards a tad before you reached out and got out your laptop from the beach bag. You were just typing in the password and going to your documents when you heard a soft, "Good morning," from your left and you look over to the opening to see Ben standing there. A small grin came onto your face at seeing the dark skinned male.  "It is this time." You mused while thinking back on your grumpy mood yesterday. He chuckled while flashing that pearly white grin of his.  "And am I not glad for that?"  "Oh shut up." You said playfully towards the male as you brought up your latest project on your computer.  He just chuckled and shook his head as if he just knew that you wouldn't pull through on your threat. And well he was right.  "Uh huh. Anyways since you're in a better mood, I was thinking we could like go out for lunch?" He suggested with a shrug as you looked back up at him. He always liked to wear bright colors since he could always pull them off so well, so today he was wearing a neon yellow t-shirt and washed-out jeans. You weren't really wearing anything special. Just blue jeans, (f/c) shirt, and some converse so eh. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just the way you liked it.  But somehow Ben always looked nice in everything he wore.  You decided to just shove your writing abilities to the back of your mind as you pretended to think about it.  "Hmmmm. I don't know. I don't really know if I like you or not." You said while stroking your chin as if there was a beard there. He chuckled and shook his head.  "Awww. Come on, (N/n). I know you do and you know you love me." He practically whined to you with a childish pout making you giggle.  "Of course I love you. You're one of the few people that are tolerable here." You told him with a grin and a shake of my head.  'You know you love me' was that one inside joke between the two of you. Whenever one just wasn't budging on something for whatever reason the other would always play that card. And usually it worked.  He was probably about to say something about being offended by that statement, but your little bicker was irrupted.  "(L/n)! My office!" You heard your last name being called out causing you to sit up right in your chair. And there standing at her office was Boss. Now Boss... was an interesting woman. One, she was born and raised in Liberia until her family moved here causing her to have a very strong accent. Two, she was very... well... blunt. She was like the Simon Cowell or Gordon Ramsey of writing. And three, even though her natural hair was black, she had dyed it a sort of burgundy red that stuck out like on a traffic light.  But you've never been called to her office before. Not unless it was for another project. But... you were working on a project. So why did she call you?    You forced yourself to rise from the rolling chair before you took in a deep breath. Just... don't jump around conclusions. You and Ben shared a look of mutual look of worry and confusion before you forced yourself to walk out and into the hallway. Others had already stopped typing to give you the look of 'uh oh' as you walked. Honestly you felt like you were going to your own funeral at these somber looks. But alas you reached the glass down of Boss's office. It was that type of office from Superman of where the walls were glass. You had to admit, you liked it.  But at the moment you kinda wished the walls were concrete so no one could see you get fired. Wait.  Fired? Now that started the anxiety ball rolling.  But before you could turn away and maybe act like you were too sick to come to her office, she saw you and simply waved you in. Those glass walls. Traitors.   You took in a deep breath and entered into the carpeted office room. Besides being all fancy with her name on the door in a sort of Instagram font, Boss had a reddish, dark brown wooden desk with four small drawers on each side at the top, and two large drawers at the bottom. The desk was definitely an expensive one since the handles for the drawers had designs on them. Overall Boss just causally flexed with the desk.  And the carpet was like really comfy too as you shifted on it sort of nervously. Boss just looked at you before she picked up a Rubik Cube and just twirled it in her hand. She looked down at the multiple colors as she mixed the cube up.  And finally easing the growing of your anxiety- she spoke.  "Sit down, (L/n)." Obediently you sat down in the brown, leather chair that actually fit very well with the desk. She waited a few moments as if she was waiting to see if you were comfortable before she spoke again. "Do you remember what happened last week?" What? What happened? What week? Last week?  What happened last week?  You had no fucking idea.  But were you gonna admit that? Hell no.  "Yes, I do." You told her with a nod to make it seem like you weren't an idiot.  "Well, today... I got the phone call from Stevie saying that she and Issac have gone back to his home town to get married."  Wait... who? Then... ohhh yeeaaaah.  Last week... those two. Right.  "Wow. They didn't waste any time, huh?" You said while acting like you had an excellent memory of all things at all time. Yup.  No dummy here.  But that kinda brought up a question... why was she telling you this?  "No, they did not." She said with a shake of her head before she leaned forward in her seat. "But.. I'm sure you're wondering why I am telling you this." You nodded at her words and she took this as a cue to continue. "Well... I assigned Stevie to an assignment that I thought that she was ready for, but now that she's getting married... well... I will need someone else for it."  Huh. Why was she telling you this?  Then... wait... oh. Oh.  "You... want me for the assignment?" You asked as you couldn't hide the surprise that leaked into your voice.  Huh. So obviously you weren't the first choice, but at least you were the second. Better than none, right?  "If you will take it." Boss responded with a shrug as she looked down at the Rubik Cube while simultaneously solving it and speaking. Woah.  "Well I mean uh- I would love too, Boss. But..." You briefly trailed off as you shifted in the leather seat.  "Just what is the assignment?"  "It's actually an interview." An interview? Now... that is something you did not have that much experience on. Who would you be interviewing? Harry Styles?  Oh now that would be great. (But sadly this isn't a 1D fanfic) "Well uh... I don't really have that much experience with like journalism and like interviews." You awkwardly confessed as you scratched your head. "But... who is it?"  Boss paused as she stopped almost... completing the Rubik Cube. What. How did she that so fast? But your confessed and amazed eyes moved back up to Boss whenever she answered your question with, "Edward Gimmens." Then... wait.  Edward Gimmens… as in... that really rich guy?  That Edward Gimmens? You just stared at your Boss in amazement as she finished the Rubik Cube. But you weren't amazed by her skill- okay yes you were actually- but more with the fact as... "How... did you get an interview slot with him?"  As far as you knew the philanthropist, billionaire, and whatever he had on his resume didn't do interviews for magazines that centered around Millenniums and Gen-Zs. He did it for those really big and out there magazines, you know?  "Well, believe it or not, he came to us. But that is not important. You'll have to come up with your questions and such, but you can use Stevie's notes." She said as she set the cube down and pulled out a folder out from her desk.  You blinked a few times at her rapid explanation as just.. woah. "But of course that's if you are taking the job."  That... was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Or the billion in this case. Ha, ha, ha.  "I... well... I... what makes you think I can do this?" You found the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them. Uh- uh- uh- "Of course I am grateful you offered it to me, but umm... why?" You quickly added as to not seem rude.  "Well... Stevie was my first choice since she's done work like this before." Boss began with a shrug as she leaned back against the chair. "But when she had to go... well... you just popped into my head as the next capable person to do this."  You? Capable? You still got anxiety with ordering your own meal. "You... think I can do this?" You asked hesitantly and in an unsure way as your (e/c) eyes met Boss's. She smiled just a tad before she leaned forward.  "(L/n)… I see potential in you. You're a good writer and you know how to set a pace right in whatever you write. You're just... how do I put this? Not confident in your abilities. So... I'm giving you the old... shove-you-out-of-the-airplane thing."  That... did not sound ideal. Not at all. But still you slowly nodded your head.  "All right. Thanks, Boss, I'm honored you think so highly of me, but umm... can I have some time to think about it?"  "Ah yes. Of course, of course. Take as much time as you need." She said while waving her hand in the air and with her accent sort of slurring her words together making the 'course' sound like 'close.'  "But just not too much time. This does need to be written, you know."  You nodded before you stood up from the comfy chair.  "I'll... let you know by Friday." You decided on that day while your anxiety told you in one ear that you won't be able to decide by then and your self worth was whispering how she would find someone else in that time period. Fun times.  "That is good, (L/n). I'll be awaiting for your answer." She said with a nod as she stood up as well. You couldn't help, but slightly smile at the way she worded things. "And ah! Just in case you do decide to take the job, here is the notes Stevie had." She said while picking up the folder she had brought onto her desk previously. She handed it to you and you took it from her dark and freckled hands.  "Just read it over and see what you think."  "I will Boss. Thanks." 

  With one final goodbye and wave to Boss, you exited out of the office and back down the hall to your cubicle.

So... you weren't getting fired? You actually kind of got promoted in a way? I mean, if you did this interview right... others would be put on your desk. 

But this was Edward Gimmens, the CEO of Gimmens Incorporated. This was a man who's spent nearly three decades in making his name known in whatever way.

He was a well known and looked up to man in whatever he did. Whether it be taking mankind steps closer to having flying cars or what he was most known for, and you found it a little humorous, cosmetics. 

Yes that's right.

The philanthropist, inventor, and very rich guy was famous for his makeup. Somehow he had figured out a way to have any foundation or concealer or blush fit exactly to your skin tone. Instead of having to make a formula for each different skin tone, he was somehow able to make one for all. Needless to say, the product instantly became a favorite around the world. Even you had tried it once, and contrary to what you expected, it somehow blended perfectly. 

He was like the Willy Wonka of makeup. And you were suppose to interview him. 

  You sat back down on your rolling chair with a huff. But should you take it? It was a great- like really great- opportunity for you and the magazine. Of course Boss can always get somebody else, but still. 

It was great and big and perfect, but... also stressing. You were going to have to come up with questions... but Stevie did leave behind notes for you. And thinking of the notes- you had the folder. 

You set it on your desk before you opened it up to see the Instagram font that was Stevie's handwriting. 

Man. You'd probably kill someone for being able to write that elegantly.

You read over what she had so far in her notes and you had to admit that she had some pretty good ideas of what she wants to ask. You bit your lip and decided to close the folder for now. 

Hmm. Maybe... just maybe, this won't be so bad.

But of course- you needed another person's opinion on this. 

"Hey, Ben?" You decided to speak up over the clicking keyboards to your cubicle mate. 

"Yeah?" Came his one worded reply.

"I would love to go to lunch with you."

And even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling.

[marshmallow-phd]

Mutual Desires

Guardian Angels are everywhere. They look out for their charges and keep a distance. But why? What happens when they get too close? The answer is love. And between an angel and a human, it is the most forbidden connection.  

Genre: Angel!AU

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Baekhyun had been watching over you since you were child. Now as a grown adult, something new was brewing between the two of you. But with neither of you willing to admit it, with those feelings continue to grow, or will they push you apart for good? 

A/N: Part 3 of the special angel series inspired by @wolveswithblackpearls angel reaction! I hope you enjoy it! (moodboard made by admin C!)

Kyungsoo I Sehun I Baekhyun I Jongin I Chanyeol I Junmyeon

**

The wind was whipping at your face, but that didn’t stop you from giggling, eyes wide in wonder at the sight hundreds of feet below. Baekhyun had taken you flying over a dozen times before, but that never dimmed the amazement or adventure you expressed in your face. He was so focused on the fireworks in your eyes that he’d stopped paying attention to where he was flying.

“Baekhyun, look out!”

The angel barely noticed the flagpole he was headed towards in time to avoid a very painful collision. Finding a rooftop of a nearby building, Baekhyun set you down to both clear his head and give himself a rest. Angels didn’t really get tired, but somehow being around you always made him feel a little weak.

He’d been watching over you since you were a small child. There was always something a little different about you, something that the heavens deemed needing of close protection, so Baekhyun was designated to be your protector full time. He found it entertaining as he’d never actually witnessed a single human go through the different stages of life before. From a stumbling toddler to a curious kindergartener to an awkward middle-schooler, he watched it all like an endless movie.

He thought that he’d been cautious in those early years, keeping his distance and staying invisible. It turned out that he could have been as frantic and panicky as Junmyeon about being caught and it never would have mattered. Because you had The Sight.

It was a rare and unexplainable phenomenon. A handful of people throughout the centuries had been gifted with this strange ability to see all other-worldly beings – whether they be the good or the bad. It took Baekhyun a long time to realize that you had this gift. When you were younger, there were moments when you would be talking to yourself, but it sounded more like you were trying to converse with him. He’d boiled it down to an imaginary friend coinciding with perfect timing and thought nothing more of it. It was when you were a teenager that he finally learned the truth.

He'd been waiting outside of your school while you talked and laughed with your friends, taking your time before having to head home and work on your assignments that were due the next day. When the group decided to part ways, instead of heading in the direction of your house, you walked up to Baekhyun with determination. He was too stunned at this bold and unexpected move that he couldn’t run away or disappear.

“Is there a particular reason you’ve been following me around?” you asked blatantly.

Though there was no one else around that you could be talking to, Baekhyun looked in the surrounding area comically, shocked at this sudden turn of events. Then he pointed to himself. “You can see me?”

You laughed just a tiny bit and smiled. “Yes, I can see you. I’ve always been able to see the angel who’s been stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you!” he argued. “I’m assigned to watch over you.”

You pursed your lips thoughtful. “Wow. Your life must be pretty boring, then.”

“Since I only have you as an assignment, yeah, it is,” he snarked back. But rather than taking offense, you just laughed, your smile widening even more.

Ever since that day, Baekhyun no longer stayed in the shadows. He’d walk down the street with you side by side, most of the time being visible to everyone else as well so you didn’t look strange talking to yourself. He became more than just your guardian – he became your friend. Your constant friend as you grew even older, graduating and moving on to college and then your first job with your degree.

But it was only recently within the last few months that Baekhyun began to realize that he didn’t just see you as his charge anymore. He didn’t even see you as a friend he could talk to when the other angels just didn’t get it. He saw you as the colors of the sunset mixing in the horizon. He saw you as the first few flakes of snow welcoming in the winter season. You were leaves changing color and the breeze that cooled the skin on a hot summer’s day. You were… everything.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was against the rules. But he let himself feel this glow inside himself anyway. He just didn’t tell you about it.

Instead, he took in moments like this; when he could take you flying or get into a little mischief. The amount of pranks the two of you had played on poor, unsuspecting people you came across should have gotten him reassigned, but no consequences ever really came from them. The jokes were harmless, mostly just having you distract the target while Baekhyun moved their suitcase or switched out the sugar with salt for their coffees. Yes, it was childish, but he’d do anything just to hear you laugh and watching you smile with tears in your eyes. On days that were rough or when life was getting you down, he was always there to pull faces or imitate the actors on TV to make you feel better. He just wished there was a chance that you maybe you could see him in the same way – as something more than just your guardian.

“I swear, if you kill us by running into a flagpole or something equally as stupid one of these days, I’m coming back and haunting you,” you teasingly threatened. There was something in your eyes – soft and hidden – that he couldn’t quite read. He might not have even known it was there if he hadn’t been staring at you so intensely. But before he could get a better look, you turned away from him. “It’s getting dark out. We should probably head back.”

Baekhyun nodded in agreement before walking over to you and scooping you up in his arms. You let out a surprised yelp before frowning at him. He shrugged as he flapped his wings and lifted the two of you up in the air. Usually, he held you around your waist so you could as if it was your own set of wings carrying you through the air, but he liked this better. He could hold you closer and see your features as they changed along with your emotions. The surprise didn’t leave your face even as he soared through the air of the city, landing on your apartment balcony a few minutes later.

“Thank you for taking me flying,” you said as soon as you were on your feet. “I really needed that today.”

Baekhyun waved it off. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure you’re actually here to make sure that a piano doesn’t suddenly fall out of the sky and hit me in the head.”

He could hardly believe that you just said that. “Do you suddenly live in a cartoon?”

“I have the ability to see angels and demons everywhere and I have a guardian angel for a best friend,” you deadpanned. “My life is definitely an animated children’s education show.”

“Not with some of the things that come out of your mouth.”

Your only response was to stick your tongue out at him.

He simply laughed at you before nudging you towards the sliding glass door. “Go on and get some sleep. I doubt your boss would want you to be taking a nap at your desk.”

“Okay, mom,” you giggled. When the sound died down, you paused, your hand hesitating on the handle. That soft, just-for-him smile grew on your face as you met his gaze. “Good night, Baekhyun.”

“Good night,” he nodded back before disappearing from view.

**

When you exited your bathroom, you searched all around your apartment to see if Baekhyun had returned. There were a few occasions that he came to see you before you fell asleep, but that was becoming a rarity lately. When Baekhyun said good night, you usually didn’t see him again until you were about to walk out the door to head to work the next day. Tonight was apparently not going to be one of those nights where you saw him again.

Sighing to yourself, you crawled under your covers and stared out the window that faced your bed. The bright lights of the city buildings spilled into your room giving it a comforting glow. It was usually this time of night, when you were alone with nothing but your thoughts and your imagination, that you taunted yourself.

The very thought of being in love with your guardian angel was laughable on the small scale and a disaster in the making on the larger one. But you had been in love with Baekhyun practically your whole life. He’d been your one constant companion as your human friend group changed throughout your childhood and into your adult life. He was the one you talked to whether he was there or not and you knew you could always rely on him. But the closest you would ever get feeling his lips against yours was in your dreams. And you’d certainly dreamed about it plenty of times.

You had no other choice but to keep this information to yourself. The fear of losing Baekhyun if the truth were to come out was paralyzing. Whether because he deemed it necessary or because whoever assigned him to you in the first place decided to replace, you knew that couldn’t voice what was in your heart out loud. You couldn’t imagine what your life would look like if he wasn’t around and you didn’t want to know. So, if living with this torturing feeling of him always being slightly out of reach kept him around, then so be it. You’d lived with it this long, what was the rest of your life?

**

You didn’t sleep very well meaning you were up way too early to be getting ready for work. But there was nothing else to do and Baekhyun still didn’t seem to be around, so you went through your morning routine as usual, albeit ahead of schedule. That didn’t stop you from hoping to see his smiling face waiting for you when you opened your front door. However, the hallway was empty so you made your way to work, alone.

Did you do something yesterday? Had your teasing finally gone too far? Did he, perhaps, see your deep, dark secret in your eyes and run away?

Your mood worsened as the day went on and your guardian angel was still MIA. He didn’t even bother to send word to let you know why he wasn’t around.

What if something happened to you? What if you got kidnapped while out at lunch or hit by a car when you crossed the street? So many things could happen to you and he wasn’t here to prevent them. What kind of angel was he, anyway?

The dark cloud roaming over your head was very much apparent to your coworkers. Their idea of trying to cheer you up was to invite you out for drinks. Normally, you would have turned them down, but not tonight. It was Friday, you had nowhere to be and – now it seemed – no one to spend the evening with. So when the clock struck five, you were waltzing out the door arm in arm with your wild coworkers for a liquor-fueled night of fun.

**

Baekhyun was in a panic. He’d stayed away too long and this was his punishment for it. Following the grid system of the city blocks, he flew over every inch of the area you lived and worked in, trying to find some sign of you. He could tell you were close, but angels didn’t have exact GPS built into their systems. A bit of a flaw, if you asked him.

After leaving you the night before, he thought he would give it a try to see how long he could go without seeing you, just to make sure that he wasn’t being delusional in his feelings. The emotions he felt for you were very much real, he discovered. All day long he thought about you, fought with himself as to whether or not rush back to you. Did you even miss him? Probably, but only because you were used to his presence.

It scared him, if he was being honest. It scared him how much he needed you, wanted you. He was always the angel without any cares. He was the one who could be relied on to make jokes or ease the tension in a heated conversation. Seriousness wasn’t really a part of his make-up. But now, nothing was more serious than the need to find you. If something had happened…. He didn’t even want to think about that, but he knew he would never forgive himself.

Flying no longer being of any help, Baekhyun landed in an alleyway near your office, changed his appearance to be more human-like, and began running through the streets. He whipped his head back and forth, searching every window he could see for any sign of you. After three blocks, he could breathe again.

Inside of a semi-crowded bar, you were sitting at the counter, laughing and talking to a few coworkers that Baekhyun recognized. It was obvious that you’d been drinking from the way you swayed back and forth. Confused, Baekhyun entered the establishment.

You didn’t notice him at first, continuing to sip at your cocktail and chat with the girl on the stool next to you. Before he could reach you, however, another guy slid in, blocking you from view.

“No, thank you,” Baekhyun heard you slur sternly.

“Oh, come on, baby,” the guy purred. “It’s just one little drink.”

“Go away!” You tried to push on the creep’s shoulder for emphasis, but he just snatched your wrist up. And Baekhyun marched forward, grabbing the guy’s arm and slamming him face down on the counter.

“She said no.” Baekhyun maybe not be built like Chanyeol, but he still had that angel strength that could take down Mr. Universe.

The guy struggled under the angel’s grip. “Let me go!”

“Only if you swear to leave this bar right now,” Baekhyun growled. The guy nodded, looking more like a bobble-head than a person. So, Baekhyun let go and the guy ran out the front door.

“So, I’m going to guess that you’re Baekhyun,” one of your coworkers cooed. She had a smirk on her lips, like she’d just hit the gossip jackpot.

Ignoring her, he looked to you, but you were blatantly ignoring him, tabbing out with the bartender who didn’t seem phased by the incident that just happened.

“Hello?” Baekhyun waved a hand near your face that you just swatted away. Sliding off your seat, you marched right past him and out of the bar. He chased after you, bringing you to a halt out on the sidewalk. “Whoa, whoa, where are you going?”

You staggered on your feet. There was no way he was going to leave you alone now, even though you were very obviously mad at him. “I’m going home!” you pouted. “Without you! Like I have been all day!”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun sighed. “Some… things came up.” He hated lying to you, but what else was he supposed to say? That he was in love with you and so he needed space in order to keep his big mouth from blabbing? “But I’m here now.”

“So what?” Little pools of water began to form on your bottom lids, spilling over after your failed attempts to sniff them back. He reached out with both hands, cupping your cheeks as he wiped the tears away with his thumbs. But instead of feeling comfort, you pushed him away. “Stop it! That’s not fair!”

Tilting his head to the side, Baekhyun couldn’t help but be utterly confused. “What’s not fair?”

You didn’t answer. You just broke down right there on the sidewalk while nosy people glanced at the two of you as they walked on by. Feeling extremely uncomfortable due to the fact that he was completely clueless on how to comfort you, Baekhyun pulled you into a secluded spot before taking off in the air to fly you back home.

The whole way back, you squirmed and fought against his hold, making him lose his balance several times. Back on the balcony, he let you go and you stormed inside the apartment, ripping off your work clothes and shoes and throwing them in every random direction until you were just standing there in your underwear and a tank top. Baekhyun stared up at the ceiling to avoid any possible ogling.

“Where were you!” you shouted as you whirled on him.

“I told you,” he whined, hating that you making him repeat the lie all over again. “I had other… things that I needed to do.”

“Am I not important anymore?” Your voice now came out in barely a whisper, the weight of his possible answer too heavy for your depleting energy.

Stalking up to you, Baekhyun pulled you into his chest, whispering back, “You’ll always be the most important.”

Rather than making you happy like he’d expected, you started to cry harder, the tears from your eyes soaking his shirt. Lifting you up, Baekhyun carried you over to your bed and laid you down on top of the comforter. He meant to sit in the chair that you kept by the bed, but your grip on his shirt was tight and forceful, so, against all the alarm bells going off in his head, he slid into the space next you and held you as you cried yourself to sleep.

**

Somehow, when you woke up the next morning, you were in both a blissful and painful existence. Your head pounded from all the alcohol that you’d consumed while out with your coworkers, but at the same time, a soothing motion that felt like fingers gently brushing the side of your face seemed to ease the pain. You buried deeper into the mass that was next to you, sighing in content. Until you recognized the smell of the fabric you nose was pressed up against.

Opening your eyes wide, you gasped at seeing Baekhyun… in your bed… holding you….

You sat up, flustered, and cleared your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“You drank a lot last night,” Baekhyun explained as he straightened up as well. He reached out to touch your face again, but stopped, letting his hand fall down to his lap. “I didn’t want to leave you alone and you wouldn’t let go of my shirt, so I stayed.”

“You didn’t mind leaving me alone during the day,” you grumbled.

He sighed. “Are you really going to make me say again how I had things to do?”

“I don’t remember much of last night,” you admitted shyly.

“You don’t?”

You shook your head, embarrassed. Just as Baekhyun opened his mouth to say something else, your stomach growled, loudly, making you giggle. Even Baekhyun cracked a smile despite the previous tension.  

“You should eat something,” he sighed.

Nodding, you slipped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. As you took ingredients out of the fridge and set them down on the counter, you caught Baekhyun staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answered a little too quickly before sitting down at the small island. You looked down and realized how little clothing you were currently wearing. But, both out of laziness and a bit of spite, you didn’t go put more on.

For a few minutes, the kitchen was silent, save for the sound of you putting your breakfast together. There was an awkwardness in the air that you’d never felt before with Baekhyun and you couldn’t explain what had brought it on. Something kept telling you that this was the time to confess, but that same old fear of losing him held you back.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

You glanced over your shoulder. The deepest frown was cutting lines into Baekhyun’s face, making you wonder what was going through his mind. “Yeah?”

“What’s it like?” he asked cryptically. You waited a few seconds before he clarified, “The domestic life?”

“The domestic life?” you echoed. “You mean, paying rent, cleaning, and doing laundry? You’ve seen me do that a hundred times. Don’t you know how boring it is by now?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “No, not that kind of domestic. I mean… for couples?”

W-what? Why was he asking you that?

In the past, you’d had a few boyfriends to try and get over Baekhyun, to see if a plain, boring human could mask what you felt for the angel, but none of them really lasted. You could never put your whole heart into the relationship and they deserved better than that.

“It’s… nice,” you finally answered. “Kind of like… home, I guess? Home becomes a person and even the simplest things, like cooking or watching TV, can become intimate moments just because you’re together. That’s what it's like.”

Baekhyun nodded, taking in your answer, but not replying in any way that would explain why he asked that in the first place. So, you turned back to the skillet that was cooking your eggs, more confused than ever as to what that boy could be thinking.

Suddenly, a pair of arms snaked around your waist and a chin pressed into your shoulder.

“Intimate moments like this?” Baekhyun whispered in your ear.

Your hands froze, the eggs in the pan popping from the heat. A small speck of oil landed on your arm, making you jump from the stinging sensation. You hissed at the tiny burn before taking the pan off the heat and turning the stove off.

“Sorry.” Baekhyun began to withdraw, but you twisted around in his arms to face him and keep him close.

“Why did you do that?” you asked breathily.

“I shouldn’t have.” Baekhyun avoided your gaze as he once again tried to step back.

You held onto his arms desperately. Leaning in, you took the chance, your heart pounding in your chance. But before you could get closer, Baekhyun took the liberty of closing in the gap, capturing your lips in his.

Wrapping his arms around you once more, he pulled you in close. His lips were soft yet teasing, acting like he was about pull away before he dived back in for more.

When you finally separated, both of you were breathing heavy. The wisps of each release of his lungs brushed your face. You felt like you were still dreaming, falling into the trap that was your own mind giving you just a taste of happiness before you woke up to reality again. You hated reality. Reality was what kept the two of you apart, held you back from saying out loud what you’d longed to confess. And now, those few short seconds of pure joy were immediately crushed as you remembered what is was that held you back in the first place.

“We’re not supposed to do that,” you said. Although reluctant to do so, you started to push on his arms to get him to let go. He refused to budge.

“I know,” Baekhyun swallowed thickly. “But after yesterday, I realized that I couldn’t continue to hold myself back. I lied. I wasn’t out doing other things. I was seeing if I could stay away from you. And I found out that I can’t. And it has nothing to do with my assignment. It’s just… you.”

You laughed, just once. “So, you don’t have to go away now?”

He shook his head, giving you back your hope. “I’m never going away. Who else will be my partner in crime?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the even greater laugh. He could always make you smile even when you felt like crying. It was one of your favorite things about him. But you couldn’t stop your thoughts from going down the darker road. “Will something bad happen-”

“Nothing bad will happen while I’m around,” Baekhyun scoffed nonchalantly. “Angels and humans go together like… bees and honey.”

“Bees and honey?” you said skeptically. “That was quite the analogy.”

“I’m not good at poetry,” he pouted.

What were you going to with him?

As if proving that he was here to stay, Baekhyun pulled you back in for another kiss. You could feel his smile against your lips as he led you out of the kitchen. Empty stomach or not, it appeared that breakfast would just have to wait.

[whats-the-story-tc]

26th-28th of April, 2020

"The Ones with the Series of Unfortunate Events"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY]

After what happened on Saturday, I could barely fall asleep at night. I had a splitting headache from all the crying and genuinely felt like shit. Morning came, and I immediately reached for my phone. Nothing from her. It still being quite early, I tried to go back to sleep, and spent a full hour tossing and turning, a head full of thoughts, until I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my phone on and checked the notification bar, only to see a very familiar name and face.

I submitted my essay to her already, way before it was due, so when she actually assigned it in Google Classroom, I just pressed 'Mark as done' and thought I was good to go. V has obviously seen it (two links here). And, even though I didn't submit jackshit this time, she still felt the need to send me a "Thank you :)". I was overjoyed. FINALLY. So, as I explained here already, I had an impulse thought and decided to respond. "And thank YOU for the "task". I had a lot of fun with it. (I mean, the [poet's name] one.) If you're ever curious about anything of this sort, don't keep it to yourself :)" Of course, I regretted it as soon as I sent it. And, of course, I knew I wouldn't get an answer.

I promptly took a full day of rest after that, like I was trying to recover from a bad break-up. I didn't expect to hear from her again the next day.

Monday morning. New notification. Same old love of my life. She assigned us a project we'd already spoken about last week — to reinterpret a monologue from the play I read, the one V really likes, in any shape or form. Painting, video, prose, or, to quote V: "tiktok (not that I know how that works, but it's your choice)". She also said that she wants to keep what we make, maybe even share them with our Geo/Art teacher. I got even mote excited than when she first announced this. I knew I wanted to draw something, to show her a side of me she'd never seen before. I'm starting it on Friday. Doing a bit of painting, too. Wish me luck.

At around 2 PM that same day, Pocketwatch Friend noticed V's reply to her essay and asked me how she should respond to her. Found it quite funny, not gonna lie, knowing my history with replies. And as my friends told me about the responses they got, I realised a fundamental difference. All of them were skimmed over going into detail. They noted them fine, but didn't take the time to explain why they were noteworthy. So basically, they lacked content. Meanwhile the only things she spent paragraphs pointing out about my essay were miniscule stylistic mistakes. This gave me a fair bit of reassurance about what I do. I did enough. I was enough.

Come Tuesday, I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I always am, when it comes to online classes, but especially so when I have class with V. I walked up-and-down in the room, listening to her talk, not daring to say a word. God, I wish I kept to that.

Before I get to the part where y'all laugh at my misery, a teensy bit of prelude. Here I mentioned that the first time I had spoken to V after class, the 11th of October, 2018, we spoke about Hamlet. In short, I was a bit oblivious, and didn't really know how to recognise the Oedipus complex I've seen associated with the play. We were covering the story of Oedipus anyway, so I trotted up to her after class to talk. I remember the afternoon Sun shining really bright that day, and V being very relaxed and fully in her element as she spoke, leaning against my desk (that I wasn't sitting at by then). I went home smiling, unable to get her out of my head after that. It should've been clear from that day.

Now, on to class. There were a lot of good bits, a lot of interesting bits... but I don't want to talk about those now.

Last ten minutes, V asks if there are any questions. "I might just have one." I said, and immediately regretted it, even though I could hear the smile in V's voice as she said "Off you go". Theatre/Literature buffs, I'm sure you'll know the line "Frailty, thy name is woman!" from, you guessed it, Hamlet. Now, in the poem we were talking about, there was a line with the exact same structure, only with different words in the place of frailty and woman. I tried to twist it and see if V made that same association, but luck didn't favour me that day. V had no last clue what I meant when I said the quote was familiar. I tried to explain it to the best of my abilities, though I didn't remember the exact Hamlet quote. Neither did V. "I don't really know Hamlet by heart." "Neither do I!" I tried to counter, but just made it more awkward. Bless her soul, V googled it there and then, but just by me saying it was said to Gertrude, it brought up another play with another Gertrude — coincidentally, the one V stroke up a conversation about with me on the very last day of actual school. Those being the results made V laugh, so at least that's a win from my part. I ended up looking it up myself, trying to remember the quote, and ended up answering my own damn question. "So it was the grammatical structure, then?" V asked, with that very same peace in her voice as last year, and I excitedly replied "Yes!". Conversation over. And even though she genuinely sounded interested, I hated myself for bringing up a totally unnecessary thing. Though I hope that I made V "pull [Hamlet] off the top shelf" after class, as she said she might, were it not for me finding the answer.

I was already feeling horrible. Then, V brought up the assignments mentioned earlier and sounded really excited about it, starting to list what she imagined us doing. "A rewrite of the scene in the play..." and as she was saying my name, I grinned and asked her "Was this an indirect reference?". I needed no further convincing that she, indeed, read what I texted her. But here comes the part I laugh at now, but right then it was horrible. She actually chuckled at my teasing question, and God I wish I remembered what she said. Then I said: "I was actually planning on something else, but..." because I found it an interesting idea, and I have been meaning to do that, too. And that's where it got awkward. V, the usually unfaltering and confident V, was startled. Proper startled that she might have accidentally changed my mind. She started saying "oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to predict things..." and that made me worried, so after the oh no, I immediately started rambling "no, no, of course, I know what you meant, I understand". So there we were, talking over each other, both of us a nervous mess that we may have said something wrong we didn't mean. Right now, I find it absolutely hilarious, because how on Earth did we manage that?? But there and then?

I started crying. Silently, of course, not to worry her even further. (I didn't want to turn my mic off because I was scared it would malfunction again.) But I was so tense, that all my gasoline pool of nerves needed was this little spark of awkward, and it caught flame. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, blaming myself for speaking and thinking I should've just shut up.

Soon after, V told us not to stress about the assignment, because "it's just homework". Everybody's favourite Cynical Twat, who is even worse at social situations than I am, tried to express he was glad to hear that, but did so in a very confusing and sarcastic way that V didn't really understand. "It would be pretty shitty of me" to make us stress, she said. So I dried my tears and jumped in, because she deserved to hear the compliment. "I don't mean to speak for [Cynical Twat], but I think he meant that we're all glad you said that. Not many people do it like that." I told her something along the lines of that. "Oh, okay." she said, disbelief thick in her voice. Hey, V. We bloody love you. It's time you start believing it.

Class ended soon after, and I spent about twenty minutes sobbing and cursing myself. The message from Pocketwatch Friend saying "I can't believe [V] replies to everything" as they were talking about her essay, only made it worse.

That night, I had a conversation with one of my underclassmen I talk to every once in a blue moon. We were discussing school and teachers, and I intentionally didn't bring up V. I waited for her to. Though, okay, I did provoke it a teensy bit, but just slightly. So, we talk about her, and through the things the girl says, I find out that... heh, of course, I'm not the only one she strikes up convos with. Turns out, after a joke, V even winked at her! (Okay, she did that to me once, too, when I stood up for her in class, but that's not the point.) After that, I was carrying the convo on just fine, but inwards, I was spiralling into a great big void of 'You ain't special to her, bitch, the fuck were you thinking'. The girl ended the conversation with "the woman's weird (...) but that's how we love her". Right. Yeah.

Now, two days later at current, I'm back in the room where all the crying went down. Bit surreal, thinking back. I'm sure I won't forget this for quite a while. Will my unlucky strike stop anytime soon? I don't know. We'll see. But I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.

You may take that as a challenge, V.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[aka-willow]

The Weird Kids

gif

Words: 826

Characters: Willow Wren, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Lagos coverage continues to plague those at the Compound

Timeline: June 2016

Song: Tilted - Christine and the Queens

A/N: ahhh the girlsss

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The news seemed extra loud that night as I finished homework in the lounge, while Rhodey flipped between channels and Natasha and Wanda had a quiet conversation at the counter while they prepared dinners. For weeks, the event in Lagos seemed to have dominated the news, and as coverage turned to the regulation of enhanced people, people like me, I was starting to get more nervous. High school finals were hard enough without the threat of the government swooping in at any moment. For the first time in my life, I was ahead in school, almost finished a few weeks early, besides a few assignments my teachers hadn’t prepared and sent over yet.

I sighed and turned back to the Spanish essay I was trying to finish—a two-page analysis of a series of short stories we had read. I had been stalling turning it in for about ten minutes, playing around with the title formatting to pass the time. It was the best I could do—but it didn’t seem good enough. I was sure it was riddled with mistakes, even if I had tried translating it back to English to catch the bigger ones.

“Natasha?” I called, taking out an earbud. “You speak Spanish, right?”

“Si,” she said, looking up from her conversation with Wanda. “Why?”

“Uh… would you mind reading my essay really quick?” I asked. “It’s just two pages. I need to know if it makes sense.”

“Yeah, bring it over here.” I picked up the laptop and brought it over to the counter, setting it down in front of Natasha, watching nervously as she scanned through it. “Looks good,” she said finally. “Just watch out for your accents. You’re all over the place.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief and shut the lid of my laptop. “Thanks. I’ll fix those later. Can’t believe this is my last paper of the year. Hopefully.”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha responded, turning around to turn one of the ovens on. “I’ll find stuff for you to do.”

“I know,” I sighed, which earned a small laugh from Wanda.

“Wish they’d talk about something else on the news,” she said, as coverage on the TV behind us continued talking about the enhanced threat, something that seemed to have been dominating the news cycle ever since Lagos. Between that, and the Inhuman stuff I kept seeing in the limited news I was consuming while grounded at the Compound, both Wanda and I seemed to be especially on edge.

“Sounds like straight Watchdog propaganda,” I said. “It’s like they’re not even trying to hide it.”

Wanda shook her head, playing with the rings on her fingers, pulling one off and putting it back on, spinning it around her index finger. “I had a friend from before what happened… happened. I tried to reach out to them, for help, when we got away from HYDRA and they wanted nothing to do with us. The minute they realized my brother and I had abilities; ten years… all gone.”

Natasha turned back around, leaning against the counter as she gave Wanda a sympathetic smile. I shut my eyes and tugged at a hangnail. “Sounds like my friend Kate,” I said. “We were like best friends and she even loves all that paranormal stuff. Then she found out about... me... and that was it.”

“People fear what they don’t understand,” Natasha said, nodding and crossing her arms. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah. But I thought she’d be different,” I said. “But she ghosted me after... that night when everything happened. Didn’t see her until the funeral and she said she didn’t want to be friends anymore. That she couldn’t. And like... I know it’s just one person. But that’s how she sees me, and she knew me.”

“I know how that feels,” Wanda said quietly.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, looking back at the television. “You know I always thought that if one day, there was a pill or something I could take that would make me normal…” I pulled the hangnail out, letting a thin sliver of blood begin to run in the valley next to my nail bed. “I would probably do it.”

“Willow!” Natasha admonished, softly, but with a force behind it.

“What?” I said, shrugging. “It’s true.”

“Don’t say that,” Natasha said, stepping over to where Wanda and I were sitting. “There is nothing wrong with you. Either of you. Do you understand?” I stared down and swallowed, glancing over at Wanda, who was nodding. “Willow?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Natasha leaned over the counter to look me in the eye. “You don’t need to change yourself for them.” She reached out, hesitantly, before placing a hand on my shoulder and gently rubbing my left wing with her fingers. And, for maybe the first time, I didn’t pull away. It was soothing, and somehow, all the fire behind my previous statement left me. “You love flying, right?”

“More than anything,” I said.

“Then it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Okay?”

“Okay.”

[viggwigg]

Pretty Faces |  Chapter 1

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You are a rising makeup artist whose talent is quickly taking off.  When one of your closest friends happens to be a big-shot director, you get the gig of a lifetime working next to him and his crew. No one could ask for a better workspace when surrounded by people you already love. Just what happens when the biggest crush of your life walks onto the set, ready for his close up?

Disclaimer: Cursing

A/N: OOPSIES totally my bad. Got kinda busy and put this off until now. But here it is! 🤩

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SFX, beauty, costume, you name it. You had done it all. No makeup challenge had ever held you back from a 110% attempt on your part. 

Even if you didn’t do so hot on your first try, you continued to perfect your technique with every opportunity you got. You had the kind of drive that inspired other artists to pull out their own strengths in their work. To take pride in their profession. 

Not to mention your humble personality about your talent. In your eyes, your abilities were earned through blood, sweat, and tears.

With how much fun you had playing around with it, it just made sense to enter into entertainment. You didn’t mind using crappy written tv shows to jumpstart your career. Nothing really slowed you down in your mind.

From weddings to the Halloween photoshoots, your name circulated around L.A. in a slow burn. And then an all at once fire.

Your credibility doubled as multiple directors could vouch for your performance. It took a load off their shoulders seeing their actor’s bloody lip look completely real.

You were called on last-minute set emergencies with how reliable your skills were.

And when your buddy Jesse came to you with a job offer, you knew that you were at least somewhat qualified for what he would throw at you.

It’s not to say you weren’t shitting bricks, no, of course you were. However, you would have to admit to yourself that you were doing significantly better than when you started out.

Due to how highly acclaimed Jesse’s movies were, he never offered you a spot on his team in the past. It’s not to say that he wasn’t impressed in your work; he definitely believed you would become great. But he didn’t want to hand you a job without you having earned it first.  

And with the last production you were a part of wrapped up, Jesse thought the timing couldn’t have been better.

He invited you to be an artist in his upcoming movie. Casting for the roles had just been finished and filming would commence within the month. 

He had a devilish laugh when you curiously asked about the casting list, yet he wouldn’t budge and insisted that you had to wait like everyone else to find out.

Being the director’s best friend seemed to have little benefit at this point.

You rolled your eyes as you thought back to your conversation with him. If he was gonna be stingy with his information, you were going to be stingy with your kindness.

Currently, you were walking with a multitude of bagels and coffee in your arms, on your way to the meeting point. The makeup artists usually weren’t invited to the production meetings but today they were assigning departments and groups to certain divisions.

This was the first day that all crews and actors would see each other. 

The treats you were bringing were for your fellow artists who you have met a couple times before today. You guys went over your individual techniques so that you could have a consistent result when the time came around.

Had Jesse not been selfish with his list, an everything bagel (bro I love these bagels so much) would have been delivered to him as well.

But alas, he would have to suffer.

Your arms were starting to cramp up at the odd angles you were holding everything at. The short walk from the cafe to the set proved a harder trek with the extra baggage. 

Although, thankfully, the doors to the right place were insight. Today’s meeting would be held at a regular building and later in the week you would move to the actual set.

Your heart was beating a little faster than usual. Your fellow beauty gurus were nice for sure, but who could tell how these next few months would go.

Still, working with your best friend was gonna be awesome.

You walked in and flashed your ID badge to the receptionist, quickly greeting her. It was surprisingly quiet in the building considering the whole place was rented out. 

However, as you neared hall doors, you could hear the muffled voices of everyone behind them.

You took a quick breath and turned the door handle.

The room was fairly large with little decoration. An elongated table sat in the middle of the room with many people around it. Some were sitting in the various chairs scattered about, but most just stood in a group of their respective departments.

First impressions were positive. Many smiling faces, a few dead stares, and a single person completely asleep on the table.

You could make out some well-known faces in the quick scan through you made.

Jesse looked away from the production manager he was talking to and caught eyes with you. 

“Y/n!!” His eyes lit up.

 The production manager was cut off mid-sentence. Jesse hit him on the chest playfully and excitedly in happiness. 

“Dude, this is who I was telling you about,” he said as he dragged you towards them.”She’s the leech that always hangs around me and my sister.”

“Ouch-and here I thought we had something special,” you said dramatically. 

The two of you paused and stared at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. The excitement of working together seemed to hit both of you simultaneously.

The production manager just stared at you both before moving to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Justin. It’s nice to meet you…”

You shushed Jesse and offered your hand, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you too-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ll get through intros later,” Jesse interrupted. “Right now there are much more important matters to attend to.”

He guided you both to some seats and began.

“Okay, so we’re just waiting on a few people before we begin. We should start- wait what’s with all the stuff?” Jesse gestured at the coffee and bags in your arms. His mouth began to water.

You made eye contact with the group in the back of the room and smiled, “Oh these are for the other artists actually.”

“Aw, how sweet of you! Where’s mine?” 

You moved your arms away just in time to miss his grabbing hands at the bags.

“Hands off, Jess! I didn’t get any for you.”

“Yo, what hell, y/n,” he whined. The sense of betrayal he went through could not be described in any other words than unforgivable. You knew this place had his favorite danish. 

You had to be the devil.

“I invite you to be on my crew, MINE, and this is the thanks I get? That’s it, we’re through. I mean it.” 

He huffed and turned away from you.

Justin looked at you with entertained admiration and chuckled to himself.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you picked up the coffee and pastries.”Just let me hand these out and then I’ll figure out how to make it up to you.”

“Whatever”

However, just as you began to stand from the chair, the doors to the room swung open yet again. 

A man tall man with glasses walked into the room. He nodded at the various people in the room and moved along.

A shorter man with chocolate brown eyes trailed behind. He wore some comfy joggers and had a cap covering much of his hair.

All eyes shot to the second newcomer, everyone unanimously recognizing the familiar face.

Jesse recovered from his depressive state and replaced it with a shit-eating grin.

Justin rose to greet the man and give him the rundown.

You paused mid-air from your seat with wide eyes.

Tom Holland stood before all of you with a friendly smile and wave, “Hey, guys, I'm happy to finally meet you all. Sorry I’m a bit late.” 

...What the actual fuck.

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A/N: My god this is so unrealistic. I literally don’t know anything about where they do all their meeting and how they film so that’s why its so vague. I am so uneducated on this 🤦‍♀️ Lol thanks for the love on the prologue though! 💌🥰

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Tag list: @greenarrowhead @diamonddia-mond @jackiehollanderr

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Chapter 1

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

A/N: It’s finally here! And I even got it up before the end of the year like I said I would. Enjoy!

I’m trying out a slightly different writing style this time around, so please let me know what you think!

Read on AO3

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Preview:

"It is said that all the Greats are connected. Some even believe they are one soul inhabiting nine bodies that is reincarnated every generation. I, however, in studying the history of the most closely connected Greats, those that control Aether and Time, believe that they are not one soul. Rather, they are inimitable individuals who are highly bonded to one another through the magics that unite us all. However, there is evidence to suggest that the Greats possess the ability to communicate with the Greats of the past."  Excerpt from A History of the Horae Greats, Introduction by Petra Abell

Last night I dreamt I was a king again. At least, I assume I was a king. I suppose I could have been an emperor or a lord or something, but I'm going to go with king for now.

As always, the dream starts like any other dream, a bunch of nonsensical scenes that somehow make sense while you're asleep, but when you wake up, you realize how crazy it all was. This time, I only got to enjoy a few bites of delicious marshmallow pizza with Babe Ruth before I was pulled away into the throne room.

The room looks the same as it always does. I sit up high on a marble throne painted green. There are nine other thrones spread out on either side of me all painted different colours. On the floor beneath me, an intricately carved flower is engraved into the tile.

I have no idea what kind of flower it's supposed to be. A lotus, maybe? I don't pay enough attention in biology class to know all my plants. And it's not like knowing that kind of stuff is going to help me out in life anyway. Sam would disagree and argue that everything we learn in school is important, why else would they teach it to us?

I am not alone in the throne room, and unfortunately, it's not Babe Ruth with the rest of our pizza. Instead, I gaze forward and see a long line of people each holding a random object. One man is holding a golden trophy. A woman farther down the line is leaning on a grandfather clock. The first person in line is holding an hourglass, the sand slowing slipping into the bottom. That's the only thing that changes with these dreams. The hourglass seems fuller and fuller every night. For a time traveller, that might be a bad omen. For the future Warp Wizard, it's definitely a bad omen.

One by one, the people in line vanish into nothing starting at the back of the line. They all fade until it's just me and the hourglass holder. I open my mouth to ask them all of my questions, but no sound comes out.

Sometimes, we stare at each other for what feels like hours. Other times, only a few minutes. But the dream always ends the same way.

The room darkens, shrinking down on us. The darkness creeps closer and closer until it's suffocating me, and I wake with a scream.

---

My body lurches up, my hand flying to my chest to make sure my heart is still inside. I take several steadying breaths as I glance around my room. Everything is exactly the way I left it the night before. Clothes in a messy pile by the door, backpack flung under my desk, and The Book sits on my nightstand, unopened.

Sighing in relief, I fall back onto my pillow. How many people wake up each day and are glad to stop dreaming?

I blindly fumble around for my phone and eventually find it on the floor. Before I even turn the screen on, I know exactly what time it is: eight thirty-six. If I really concentrate I can feel the seconds tick by. My phone screen blares to life and confirms what I already know.

After a whole year of being "magically awakened", all I have to show for it is always knowing the time and having disturbingly bright green eyes that practically glow in the dark.

My eyes wander back to The Book, landing on two small slips of paper sticking out of the top. Without thinking about it, I pull them out and read the words that I've seen a hundred times before.

Dear Joe,

Sorry to leave in mid-warp. I had some urgent business to attend to.

~ Uncle Joe

P.S. Congratulations on graduating to the next level! You are now a time page.

The edges of the letter are worn thin and torn. The pocket watch that came with my promotion rests next to The Book. Uncle Joe's been missing for over a year, and despite my best efforts, I can't find any clues as to where he is. It's becoming harder to believe he's okay and still alive.

I grind my teeth together. I know he's alive. My uncle is too clever and good at magic to be dead. He's just busy on some magic mission or something. Maybe even fighting off my other uncle, Mad Jack, who's also been MIA the past year.

I unfold the other piece of paper I keep stored in The Book. The gold script on the invitation is just as dazzling as it was when I first opened it last summer. I don't look at this one as often, other than a few random attempts to warp back to Horae Manor, it pretty much stays in my book.

Dear Mr. Joseph Arthur,

We would like to formally invite you and your closest friends to Horae Manor. A place for the magically inclined and gifted. Where people like you can learn to hone your craft.

We request that you join us at your earliest convenience. Time is of the essence.

Sincerely, 

WW

Now that normal school is officially done for the year, I'm going back to Horae Manor soon. Soon as in today, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to get there. Hopefully, the letter will do its thing again, and Fred, Sam, and I will just be warped there. But something told me that wasn't going to work this time. Rowena and Cassius probably expected me to warp myself there, maybe like some kind of test? To see if I'd been practising my time magic while I was away or reading any of the books Cassius lent me.

Had I been practising my magic? Yes, not that I'd had any real progress. Had I read any of the books Cas told me to? Yes. Well… not exactly. To be fair, I did skim through them, but there was a lot to read and take in. My normal school teachers wouldn't really understand if I skipped out on their assigned homework to do magic homework instead. Not that I could ask them to find out. I really hope my summer at Horae doesn't start with a pop quiz.

Maybe I could do a little last-minute cramming before it was time to go. I have a lot to learn if I want to catch up with Tessa.

The thought of my Aether partner makes me frown. She had gotten to Horae first because my letter had been sent to the wrong person. She also seemed to be just naturally gifted with magic. She could already tear herself pretty much anywhere she wanted and could manipulate space to create mazes to confuse and trap people. People like me.

I think back on everything that had happened last summer. Had I overreacted with Tessa? Maybe a little, but she had proven herself to be untrustworthy and selfish. We went from friends to enemies pretty quickly after that. Part of me wishes I could change out partners. I really don't want to be stuck with Tessa for the rest of my life. 

I collapse back on my bed with a heavy sigh. This summer hasn't even started yet, and I'm already done with it.

---

Time passes by quicker than I want it to. Maybe Cas can show me how to change that. Before I know it, it's after four in the afternoon and Fred and Sam are knocking on my door. Like always, Fred saunters into the room without waiting for a reply.

I shut the book that I've been staring at all day, the words still swimming before my eyes. I'd barely made a dent in it. Cas had given me five thick books packed with magical knowledge. There was a whole other world out there filled with magic users, literally. It was called Mancika. And there are more kinds of magic than just space and time. There are ten in total. Or was it nine? All the details were blurred together in my mind. I somehow had even more questions than I did before I started learning about magic and reading about its history.

I slipped the book into my backpack along with all the others I didn't read. My Warp Wizard mentor will not be happy with me.

I turn around to greet my friends, but Fred beats me to it. "Hey, dude. How excited are you right now? I am so ready to get back to Horae Manor. Man, I bet Cassius and Rowena have some amazing magic kung-fu skills they're going to show us this year. I mean, you guys saw how well Arwen fought off that drake last summer. I can't wait to kick some magic monster butt."

I shake my head at him. "You just can't stand that a Red Sox fan is stronger and cooler than you."

His cheeks flush. "She is not!"

"Sure."

Fred crashes on to my bed, mumbling something to himself that I can't fully hear. But I'm sure it's something about how much the Red Sox suck, and why anyone would be a fan of them over the Yankees is insane.

I nod to Sam, who smiles at me in greeting. "I'm actually pretty excited to head back too. Did you know Horae Manor has a library? I can't wait to learn about all the science of magic and history of it all."

"The science of magic?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "I don't think there is any science. It's magic. Kinda the opposite."

"Of course there's science. Nothing can break the rules of physics. Not even magic."

I roll my eyes, deciding not to argue. With Sam, you can't really convince him that he's wrong.

I grab the letter off my desk, hoping for something to happen. Of course, nothing does. Time to face the other problem I've been avoiding: how to get back to Horae Manor.

"You don't know how to get us there, do you?" Sam asks, guessing my thoughts.

I blush. "I totally do. I just need a second to, uh, figure out how to do it."

"We're never going to get back there, are we?" Fred turns to Sam, who nods in response.

"Hey! I can do this. I am the future Warp Wizard after all. Just give me a moment."

"And what I great Warp Wizard you'll be," Sam sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, I think with a little training Joe could be a great Warp Wiz. Of course, with me by his side, we'd be a swell pair," a new voice says.

We all jump. I slam my knee against the bottom of my desk, hissing in pain, and gingerly try to massage it away. My eyes narrow at the intruder. A mix of emotions fight it out in my chest. Anger ultimately wins out.

Tessa giggles from where she's perched on my window. "Missed you too, bunny."

"How did you get here?" Fred asks.

"The same way I get around everywhere. Magic. Duh." She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and slides into my room. Her eyes roam around, inspecting everything, and land on my Houdini poster. "Cute," is all she says. Whatever, it's not like I care what she thinks. 

"Thanks," I say dryly. "Why are you here?"

She spreads her arms out wide, ever the showwoman. Her signature red leather jacket is like a cape on her. "Isn't it obvious? I'm your ride to Horae Manor. Seeing as you and Cas haven't started any real training yet, you can't exactly warp yourself there."

I press my lips together and decide to keep quiet. This summer, I'm going to start my magic training, and by the end of it, I'll be just as good as her. No, better than her. I had so many questions for Cas, and I'll finally be practising magic. Real magic. Tricks that I can use to find Uncle Joe.

"So, are you ready to go? Cas is kind of a bluenose when it comes to being on time. As if he can't just make more of it." Tessa rolls her eyes.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and stand up. "Yeah, I guess." truthfully, I'm just as excited as Fred and Sam are to return, but I'm not planning on letting my guard down around Tessa. I square my shoulders and stare at my Aether partner. We're supposed to be partners for life, but neither of us signed up for this. We can be civil with each other, but until I know I can trust her, I have no desire to be her friend.

She stares back, frowning. I almost feel bad for her. Almost. "Are you going to be like this all summer?" she asks, guessing my thoughts. "You know we're stuck with this for the rest of our lives, right?" She gestures between the two of us, referring to our Great Wizard commitment. "And I did apologize."

Fred wraps his arm around my shoulders, pushing me over with his sudden weight. "Joe will be fine. He's just a little butt-hurt over everything that happened last time. He'll get over it."

I shove his arm off of me. "We should get going. It's already four thirty-six."

"What? No exact second this time?" Sam teases me, drawing attention to my weird ability.

I look down at the ground and can feel my face heat up. So far, none of my new abilities had proven useful for anything other than being teased by my supposed friends.

Tessa tilts her head, her purple eyes never leaving my green ones. "Would you like to know our exact latitude and longitude coordinates right now? Or how about our exact position within the infinite space-time continuum?" She shrugs. "Knowing what time it is seems better than that. At least you'll never be late to anything."

"And yet, he was still tardy to math class almost every day this semester."

I shoot a glare at Sam, mainly to distract myself from Tessa. Coming to my defence now means nothing. "Can we just go already?"

Tessa pulls out her sabre, the Focus she uses whenever she tears. "Fine by me. I'm starving, and they'll be serving dinner soon enough."

I can practically see Fred's mouth watering. He remembers the feast from last summer just as well as I do. To be fair, I don't think I've ever had more delicious food in my life.

Encouraged by the growls in our stomachs, Sam, Fred, and I stand next to Tessa, ready to be pulled into our next adventure.

[yves-saintlaurwang]

gossamer

[requested: so starting off in a relationship with jinyoung → accident → amnesia → relying almost  entirely on jaebum (hint at love triangle) + the choice of ending was left up to me]

FIN

“Why don’t we just let it go?”

🌙

Have you ever loved someone so much, you can barely breathe when you’re with them?

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Was that before or after you had to carry me home?”

His laugh reverberates in his chest, tickling mine as I feel it against his back. I lift my head to rest it on his shoulder and nudge my temple against his neck.

“You didn’t have to,” I say softly even as my arms instinctively tighten around his shoulders.

“True, and you are kind of heavy.”

“Park Jinyoung!”

He laughs again, letting his head fall against mine before his arms – hooked under my knees – lifts me a little. “You said you were dizzy! And you live ten minutes away.”

“Twenty,” I mumble defensively to express my guilt.

“No one drinks wine like you, okay? You’re supposed to hold it up to your nose, smell it first, and then sip.”

“I did that!”

He stops walking and tilts his head, staring at me incredulously. “You chugged it from a paper cup.”

“I take big sips,” I snort.

He’s silent as his eyes narrow judgmentally. I have a clever remark waiting at the tip of my tongue for him, but he pecks my cheek and a laugh spills from my mouth.

“Hey.” I tap his arms for him to let me down, nudging his side with my knee until he carefully lowers me, never letting go until my feet are on the ground. I hold out my hand and he takes it as we continue the short way back to my place.

I know he was indulging in my vanity when he carried me from the studio. Knowing I wanted to show off a little, that I was proud of being able to say that we were together, even if for tonight.

For all I know, he could rethink the entire thing and decide to stay friends. It’s not like we were in a relationship. He was just the guy who asked me to get food with him sometimes. Some guy from my philosophy class I painted for an assignment.

But I sneak a glance at him as we walk along the empty streets and he’s so entirely his own.

Jinyoung was the kind of person who didn’t care what people thought of him. Maybe he indulged in his own vanity, but he never struck me as the type who could be someone else’s somebody.

I envied that. And I was self-conscious as somebody he wanted to know. The truth is, I go back and forth between reassuring myself that I’m doing what’s best for me and reminding myself what a fuck-up I am for it. I mean, I did take pride in my work and I was afraid to show that sometimes I didn’t. It just never occurred to me that what Jinyoung thought of me would ever be important.

I want that. I want that to be important to me. I want him to be important to me.

As we stand together waiting for the light to turn, maybe because I’m a little disoriented, I can’t stop thinking about his hand in mine and the warmth of his palm. And my hands being so grossly sweaty, but he hasn’t said or done anything to indicate he notices.

I take a step closer and he takes his hand back, to my disappointment. But he wraps his arm around my shoulders and gently brings me into his side as we wait. His jacket is soft against the skin of my cheek and I hesitate before wrapping my arm around his waist.

Between the cars passing us, I can just barely hear him murmur to me, maybe even to himself, “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Without thinking, without stopping to wonder what I’d meant to him then, nothing else seemed to matter. I was so used to having to explain myself to the people who told me it was a hopeless dream, an unproductive, uncertain thing to love. When he told me not to, I couldn’t help myself.

I held back hot tears, hid them under gasping laughter because, for the first time in a long time, someone believed in me. Even just the littlest amount, however much it is, Jinyoung believed in me.

“They were beautiful,” he said softly under the streetlights, “I’m proud of you.”

And he squeezes my shoulder, but I bury my face in his jacket. He lets me catch my breath. I manage to whisper, “I’m sorry,” and repeat it again and again only for myself to hear.

I’m sorry because I fell in love tonight.

🌙

I found him sitting outside the art department waiting for me, just like he said he would. Even after I told him I could walk myself home, he stopped answering those texts. That was almost an hour ago.

As I get closer, my footsteps become lighter and I tilt my head only to smile at the book in his lap. Always had a book in his lap, his knee crossed over the other, and his hair fallen over his forehead.

I bend down behind the bench and put my hands over Jinyoung’s eyes, holding back a guilty laugh when he visibly jumps. His hands grip the book just for a moment before he relaxes against his seat.

“Guess who,” I sing coyly.

The muscles in his face move under my touch, his cheekbones too, as he wrinkles his nose. “It’s pretty obvious, I know your voice.”

I roll my eyes and throw my hands up, resting them on his shoulders. “You’re so broody.”

But I kiss his cheek noisily, smiling when he turns to me with one of his own. That serene, relaxed kind that looked sleepy when I first met him. Soft. Jinyoung was so terribly soft.

His hand reaches out to touch my cheek. The back of his knuckles skim my jaw and chin, stroking the corner of my mouth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me and I don’t want to move. I’ve never been touched so tenderly by someone, never felt so entranced by the way someone’s eyes can hold mine.

He has touched my lips and kissed every inch of my skin, but I’m still getting used to being loved by him.

“And you’ve got too much energy for me,” Jinyoung murmurs before kissing me gently.

Beside myself, my lips twitch and I lower my head, laughing silently as I press my hand over the one he cradles my face in. I lace my fingers through his and stand up as he extends his arm so I could walk around the bench, never letting go of him.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

He shakes his head, “I had to get some reading done anyway. I’m standing in for a professor next week and I really don’t want to blank in front of eighty kids.”

“Kids?”

“Freshman,” he corrects himself, exasperated. “I want to be respectable.”

I look down at his pale blue button-down shirt and pressed black slacks, blinking at the patent leather shoes before meeting the amused expression on his face.

“What?”

“Jinyoung,” I sigh out, “You already dress like their grandfathers, you don’t have to worry about being respectable.”

He blinks, tilting his head up at me. “Why are we together again?”

“Because you feel safe going completely unhinged around me?”

“Huh.” He lets go of my hand and puts his book in his shiny, pressed leather messenger bag that I thought was so damn pretentious. “Thought it was because you’re charming and ridiculously full of life. Could have something to do with your ability to paint me extremely well.”

“If you love me, you can just say so. I mean, if your pride can handle it,” I grin widely.

“And spoil you? Absolutely not.” He stands up and takes my chin between his fingers again to kiss my forehead. “Besides, that’s too simple. And there are other ways to say it.”

“Like?”

“Like, I can’t wait to have dinner with your parents next week and tell them what an incredibly talented daughter they have.”

I lower my eyes, biting my lip to hide the girlish glee bubbling in my stomach. “My dad wouldn’t let you in the house after that.”

“That’s too bad,” Jinyoung shrugs, not feeling sorry at all. “Guess I’ll just climb up through your window. Get real Shakespearean with it.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You love this nerd.”

I shake my head and pull him away from the bench. “Can’t argue with that logic. I call Romeo!”

“You don’t want to be Juliet? She owns the last half of the play.”

“No way, you’d look way better in the dress.”

He laughs next to me, nudging his shoulder into mine before putting his hand on the small of my back and pulling me to him, walking together in strides.

“So what kept you?” he asked.

“Struggling with a piece,” I shrug, “Couldn’t quite get it how I wanted.”

“Another block?”

“Something like that.”

Jinyoung squeezes my hip as we stop at the crosswalk. “You’ll figure it out. There’s nothing you can’t paint.”

That gentle, so certain confidence in his voice takes my breath away. I want to tell him that that’s not true. There are plenty of things I couldn’t put on canvas, not even the best artists could.

But I look at him and find the pride I searched for in people I’ve known all my life. So does it even matter?

He’s going to say I painted the sun and stars and the moon in the sky if I tried to argue anyway.

He turns his head to look back at me knowingly and shakes his head with an amused smirk.

But I could never paint the depth of his gaze when he’s reading words off a page out loud. Or hear his laugh even though I’ve memorized every line in his face, every curve and crook of his hands when he covers his mouth.

Even though it’s never stopped me from trying, I could never capture Jinyoung in all that he is.

There are no colors, shades, hues of any kind that could give life to the light he brings out of me or the one I spark in him.

🌙

I don’t expect Jinyoung to come to the studio. I don’t expect anything, or even allow myself to want anything from him. Not when he hasn’t tried to contact me and knowing that what was left between us was all we had left.

In an entirely selfish way, I think maybe it’s better if he decides to never see me again. At least then he could forget me. It’s only fair when I’d forgotten him. I try not to listen to myself, to that little part of me that is getting easier to ignore whenever the thought that I deserve to be forgotten creeps into my mind.

Still, it doesn’t stop me from waiting for him.

But six o’clock passes, then seven, and eight. K leaves at nine after he hands me the keys. The time passes either like a blur or achingly slow, and I’m caught between looking over a work-in-progress and washing up. In the end, I’m just waiting and trying to hide it.

He comes, I’ll talk to him.

He doesn’t, then he doesn’t.

He comes, I’ll tell him the truth.

He doesn’t, then he doesn’t.

He comes, I’ll tell him to forget.

He doesn’t, then he doesn’t.

If he comes, I deserve it.

If he doesn’t, I deserve it.

I’m not ready. Whether Jinyoung will show up or not, I’m not ready to face him now and Jaebum is right. I’ll never be ready to face him. I’m afraid to do the hard thing if it means that I’ll be hurting him.

But I’m afraid that if I don’t, I won’t be—

“Hello?”

Run.

A chill runs up my spine as I put my dirty brushes in the sink and take a step towards the door. With hesitating hands, I push it open. He’s not up yet.

“Hello?”

Hide in the cleanup. Maybe he’ll leave.

He won’t. Jinyoung is not someone who just gives up after not even trying. He doesn’t believe in doing the easy thing. He cares too much to ever choose the easy thing.

I’m scared. But I step outside and work up that bit of bravery he saw in me to call out, “Up here! Cleaning!”

Like nothing’s wrong. As if he didn’t leave my hospital room with his hands balled into fists and his head down because he couldn’t bear to look at me.

Be brave, I tell myself and shut my eyes, opening them when footsteps echo from the steps. Be brave.

I walk over to meet him halfway, but the sight of him leaves me breathless. His chest is heaving slightly like he was trying to catch his breath and sweat gleamed from his temple down his neck. Tucked under one of his arms is a small shoebox.

Did he run here? To give my stuff back?

My eyes are fixated on the white box, at the little bits of paper tucked inside and instinctively wrack my brain for what it could be that I gave to him. Thinking it could distract me from this gnawing emptiness in my stomach.

“I wasn’t sure—“ His voice cuts through the silence between us.

I look to him and find that he’s staring right back. Jinyoung, who was beautiful even with tears shining in his eyes, the beautiful boy who waited for me. Who told me that everything was going to be okay when I didn’t even know his voice anymore.

Jinyoung who promised to love me if he never saw me again.

“I honestly didn’t know if I should have come,” he murmurs. And I hear it in his voice, the uncertainty and that doubt he tried so hard to hide from me. If it meant protecting me, he’d choke on his own pain before any of it could touch me.

I smooth my already dry hands on my jeans, not knowing what to say. “Sorry. I mean, thank you,” I add quickly, blinking at the floor. “Sorry, it’s late.”

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“How can you ask me that?” I blurt out before I can take it back.

He flinches as if I’ve just hit him.

I purse my lips and look up at the ceiling so he can’t see me, but I know he does and that makes it so much worse. My fingers squeeze the thick fabric of my jeans, trying to stay calm. To keep myself level, think good thoughts, think real and good thoughts.

I am not broken. I am not broken.

My throat feels tight as I watch Jinyoung watch me in stunned silence, but I can’t keep him waiting like this. I take a shaky breath in, then carefully out.

“All this time, even now, you’ve put me before you. Even when it hurt to hear me say that I-I forgot—“

I covered my mouth and breathe through my nose, keeping my eyes up. Keep the tears back and show him that I am not this broken thing. I am not fragile, not the glass girl he was too scared to even touch in that hospital bed.

“I’m sorry, Jinyoung.” I raise my chin and meet his eyes even when all I want to do is put my head down. “I wanted to tell you that you didn’t deserve that. And I’m sorry for making you wait for me. I’m sorry for every minute and every second that I ever wanted you to wait for me.”

I’m sorry to him even now for wanting him to meet the distance between us, knowing it could drag him to sink with me.

He clears his throat and it echoes through the empty room before he takes the steps closer to me.

As he nears, I notice how tired Jinyoung actually looks. His shoulders slightly slacked, footsteps heavy. There was a bit of color under his eyes and a barely noticeable sag in the lines of his mouth.

He stops in front of me with the box still securely tucked under his arm. And he says to me very carefully, “You could have died.”

“I—“

“I almost lost you,” he cuts me off, drawing closer until he’s standing over me. “Maybe it’s selfish. I’m sorry if it is, but I almost lost the girl I love. The last thing I wanted is for you to apologize to me for losing yourself.”

I shake my head, not knowing what else to say or do to make this better or how to tell him that that wasn’t what I meant. I want to run away. I’m not ready. I need to run away.

The box falls with a loud clack, flutters of paper and pit-pats of things I couldn’t discern. All I know is that Jinyoung has his arms around me. He can still find it in himself, in all the pain I didn’t mean to give him, to wrap me up.

His fingers find my hair, trying to give me tenderness when all he wanted was to know that I feel it, to want to make me feel it. His other hand is at my back, squeezing me to him.

“Why did you wait?” My question is a whimper against his shoulder and I want to hook my arms around them, but it still feels too scary. Too terrible to want someone so much.

“I told you. If there was a chance, I would. I told you,” he says, so sure of himself. So unfamiliar, but I know. “So why don’t we just let it go?”

The weight of his arms lifts, but he takes my face in his hands and I search for him as he searches for me. I don’t want to let it go. I don’t want to this to be all that we’re living for.

“I said I’d wait for you to be you,” Jinyoung says with a forlorn smile. It didn’t reach his eyes and neither did mine. “And in the meantime, I’d be me. I thought, Im Jaebum – maybe – I didn’t think. And I forgot you too when I was angry.”

I held his wrists in my hands, allowing myself this selfishness. I let myself need his closeness, to want his tenderness, want his longing for me. I want to wrap him up, want to kiss his lips. I want him to be wanted.

But all too soon, the warmth of his touch leaves my skin. He takes my hands in his, his own fingers twitch before he squeezes mine. “I didn’t come here to change my mind.”

“Even with what we have left?” I ask in spite of my selfish thoughts. “Even when it’s broken?”

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he answers hoarsely, stopping to clear his throat again. “We aren’t broken; this isn’t your fault. I want you to be you and I’ll still be me and I still want what we have. It was never broken for me. You were never broken to me.”

“Then why did you bring my stuff back?”

He bends down and picks up some of the papers that’d fallen, all creased from folding and covered in ink or pencil shavings, easel stains, oil blots. Jinyoung holds them out and up to me, unfolding them carefully.

“You can’t keep this, these are all things you gave me,” he says defensively, eyes wide and determined. “I didn’t come here to give it all back, I wanted to show you that they’re real. And so are we. And so was this part of you.”

“Then I want to know the part of me that had you.”

Maybe we can’t ever be the same. I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could fix what’s wrong or replace what’s gone. So why shouldn’t we let that go if it means we can start here?

I put my hands at the sides of his neck and I look at Jinyoung the way he has always wanted. He doesn’t dare touch me now and I see his hesitation despite wanting to.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask as he lowers his head to mine. His nose brushes along the length of mine and I can almost taste his warm breath as it fans over my mouth.

He cradles my chin between his knuckles and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

We don’t know if anything is going to be okay. We don’t even know if this could turn out the way we want or if Jinyoung and I would find what we’re hoping to find. I don’t need him to fix me. He cannot whisper the aching in my bones away or lick my wounds to vanish.

Only I can do what I need to do for me, on my own, to live with the scars.

All I know is his kiss, how he says, “I love you” in all the different ways he knows how without making it simple.

All I know is this moment, I cannot say that I don’t remember him when I know this happiness. I know the depth of his love brimming in those glassy eyes that I can’t paint. I know the sound of his laugh as it’s one that’s hard to hear.

He crushes me to him with his hands in my hair and his mouth coaxing mine open. I hear myself whisper his name and feel us both let it go.

[romancingromanoff]

Dream At Dusk Part 3/? OFC x Cullen Family

Ellen show with Scarlett Johansson part three is next :)

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Three months later

Esme

The amount of time that had passed since Maggie was first welcomed into their home was usually a blink of an eye for most people. Humans could always be counted on to say, “Wow, summer went by so fast,” or “I can’t believe it’s the start of a new school year already” this time of year as September was about to roll in and kids were preparing to head back to classes. Parents were snapping shots of their kids on the first day, much to many students’s dismay (especially the older ones which were becoming way too cool for such childish things now), and incessantly crying about how the little ones grew up so fast and that they would freeze time if they could.

For the Cullens, however, it should have felt even quicker; less memorable considering the fact that each of the “kids” had experienced several dozen first days of school but this one was definitely worth pulling out all of the stops for.

“Emmett, you’re not leaving until we get a first day of school picture outside,” Esme stopped him as he was reaching for the keys from the bowl.

“Seriously? You know we’re basically going to go in there and quietly keep to ourselves like we do every year, right?”

“Come on, this is really important to Maggie and I know you’re not actually in any kind of rush to get there,” she quickly shuffled him along through the front door where Carlisle had set up a camera and tripod a couple of yards away from the house, opposite to where the rest of the family had grouped together. Esme couldn’t help but smile seeing Maggie, their newest member, engaged in conversation with her siblings before enthusiastically sending them off to Forks High.

She was still a newborn and probably wouldn’t be allowed to attend school with the others for the next few years at the very least but Maggie was excited to at least have the ability to live vicariously through the others. Hearing stories about high school drama or whatever gossip was running through Forks’s teenage population would definitely be good for her to hear after three months of being cooped up inside the house. She was desperate to know what was going on in the outside world but obviously didn’t want to risk putting anyone in danger either, so this was the closest she could get for now.

“Promise me you’ll bring home extra copies of your assignments so I can do them?” She held her small pinky finger up to Alice who simply laughed in response before shaking it.

“Of course! I don’t know why you’d want to put yourself through a high school English literature class on Chaucer but be my guest! You can even do my homework for me if you want.”

“Well, I really don’t have much else to do. And it’s not like I can just sleep whenever to pass the time anymore either,” she shrugged, quietly laughing at her own situation. How different things used to be just three months ago when she could spend more time sleeping than anything else, yet still feel exhausted and drowsy. Nowadays, napping was more of a hobby for Maggie who was still in amazement trying to process the fact that narcolepsy didn’t rule over her entire life anymore.

Since the incident with her fainting and the floor suddenly becoming wet, no other sleep attacks had occurred, though Carlisle was still suspicious that it could happen again if Maggie was ever triggered by a sudden, extreme emotion like fear or anger. In the last three months with the Cullens, she’d felt like she was much more in control of her life and wakefulness despite being a slightly peculiar case amongst vampires. They still hadn’t figured out exactly how much her condition of narcolepsy now influenced her second life but unlike her human state, which was constantly disrupted by exhaustion (a consequence of her inability to get any productive sleep no matter how many hours she got at night), she rarely felt tired. It wasn’t like she needed to sleep and she could potentially go throughout her indefinite existence without ever shutting her eyes again, but there was just a little vibration in the back of her head that buzzed a little too loud if she went too long without a short nap. Staying awake wasn’t impossible but it was a nuisance that ate away at her emotional state. If she went a month without a break of a few minutes of sleep in between time she’d get noticeably crankier. Maggie would become more irritable and, as a result, also lost a lot of her self control when it came to her thirst. And that was something they definitely did not want to risk.

They found that Maggie could easily relieve vampiric equivalent to exhaustion by taking a few minutes to nap every two weeks or so. The duration was usually 5-7 minutes with 10 being the absolute longest she could stay asleep. It was usually a lazy Sunday afternoon when she’d lightly tug on Esme’s arm and look up at her with those big brown baby eyes of hers to signal that it was time for her to lie down. And each time, Esme would gladly allow the young one to pull her into her bed (the first an only one ever actually needed for sleeping purposes in the Cullen house) and cuddle up to her before drifting off into a realm mysterious to all others of their kind.

Esme had always been a cheery, tender spirit; the epitome of a devoted mother, but even Carlisle had never seen her in a more naturally maternal state before Maggie came along. Sometimes her naps would be preceded by some soft humming or even singing on Esme’s part, which tended to lead to relatively dreamless sleeps for Maggie. This usually prevented random things from spontaneously popping up and out from her imagination.

As a narcoleptic human, Maggie had always had vivid dreams and unfathomably realistic hallucinations or nightmares. As a vampire, her tendency to dream had been greatly subdued, but every once in a while her mind would wander off in its sleep to a place she had been thinking of earlier. The first time she’d taken a nap after the water incident was shortly after Carlisle and Esme had been describing one of their anniversary trips to Yellowstone. She’d unconsciously gotten swept up in the vision of tall, breezy grass fields filled with wildflowers and inhabited by giant fluffy bison roaming across the sun setting in the distance. Luckily, only a few tiny dandelions and other harmless flowers sprouted up around her pillow as a result. No bison this time.

“Just promise you won’t dream of some freaky ‘Canterbury Tales’ shit and flood the house again,” Emmett playfully teased at her, sticking his tongue out. Maggie had quickly become the little sister he had always longed for. She was certainly the only one in the family with a similar enough childlike attitude to keep up with all of Emmett’s pranking without getting too annoyed by his immaturity, which made them a dangerous duo. Rosalie was by far their favorite person to mess with even if the consequences were terrifying to face afterwards. Just last week they had carefully replaced her hairspray with bright orange spray paint and then spent the next few days being chased by an shrieking, angry ginger all around the house.

“If I do, your room is getting flooded first,” Maggie rolled her eyes at the big buffoon she was surprised to be able to call her brother. Usually loud individuals like Emmett were nothing but intimidating to her and she’d spent almost all of her human life avoiding those that reminded her of him. But in her second life, she’d found Emmett to be the most chill in the family and he seemed to capture all of the positive possibilities that awaited their kind. He often took her exploring and they could find themselves wasting hours flipping from the tops of mountains and parkouring through miles of the wilderness. Esme and the rest of the Cullens had all noticed that he definitely brought her out of her shell.

“I don’t foresee that being a problem,” Alice said with a smile.

“Well, if you ever do see it becoming a possible problem then it stops right away because I will NOT tolerate water damage to my room and especially not my closet,” Rosalie towered over her with the white stiletto heels she had chosen for their first day of school. “You all are lucky the orange paint was able to wash out of my hair by today or else Emmett wouldn’t be going to school either.”

“Rosalie, back row please,” Carlisle stood behind the camera trying to organize all of them by height. When they all finally settled in with Maggie and Alice at the very front, Esme just behind Maggie with her hands on her shoulders, Jasper holding Alice with Edward standing next to him, and Rosalie plus Emmett in the back, Carlisle pressed the timer button and walked on over to Esme’s side and each of them then smiled. A few quick flashes of light burst from the camera.

“Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, Edward? Watch over Jasper, okay?” Esme quickly hugged each of her children while reminding them to steer the newest vegetarian convert away from the humans if it ever got too bad for him. There hadn’t been an incident in quite a while but a few recent close calls had them worried. Esme also knew that it was eating at his self-esteem though. “You can do this, honey,” she gently brushed her hand against his cheek and he gave her an encouraging smile.

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he slipped into his southern gentleman’s accent which happened every once in a while. He and Alice then got into their car and drove off behind Emmett and Rosalie’s before being followed by Edward’s. They had headed off to school, Carlisle was about to leave for the hospital, and the two remaining Cullens would have the house to themselves for the next few hours.

Maggie

“I could hunt, take a shower, and then do my piano practice,” Maggie suggested as the two entered the downstairs living room. Edward had been teaching her how to play the piano and she was meant to practice on her own for two to three hours each day.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know about that,” Esme hesitated to say yes. Every time that she’d been outside it had been with Emmett and Jasper nearby as well. Emmett had never had to use force before but he was, in fact, the strongest of the group and the most capable of restraining the newborn if she got out of control and Jasper could also help control her emotions to an extent. If it was just Esme accompanying her this time then it would be the first. She looked out the windows and into the forest before them. Grey clouds were covering up the sun as usual but it hadn’t rained in the past few days so that also meant the mountain was relatively dry. That meant people could certainly be hiking nearby. “Humans could be enjoying the outdoors on a day like today and I just don’t think it’s completely safe.”

“Esme, please?” Maggie was insistent and couldn’t imagine herself not going crazy today if she spent the whole time waiting for the others to get back home. “Carlisle’s been bringing home some of his dirty scrubs from the hospital. The blood residue is basically harmless to me now and you know I wouldn’t risk it if I thought I might hurt somebody.” She tried her best to keep a straight, serious face. Even though she’d struggled with being assertive when making decisions before, there was this inexplicable newfound strength inside of her which brought her self confidence to the surface. Her body wasn’t really her body anymore; at least, not the body she had known for the last 16 years but she had also never been this in touch with her senses before either. She felt as if she could do anything in this new body so long as she willed it in her mind.

“Alright,” she smiled seeing how happy Maggie was as she jumped up and down with excitement. “But I’m coming too and I want you at least 30 feet within range at all times, okay?”

“Yes, of course, just thank you! Thank you, Esme!”

She quickly tied up her newest favorite pair of sneakers and was out the front door as soon as she saw Esme following close behind. Nothing felt more freeing than the wind blowing back her hair as she ran against it with such power. She was like a force of her own, unstoppable by nature itself. And even after months of experiencing this she still couldn’t help but laugh as she sprinted along. It was actually a pretty bad habit of hers keeping her mouth open when she ran. If it weren’t for her precise vision, she probably would have accidentally run into a swarm of bugs and swallowed dozens of them by now. The wind also helped her to hunt since it picked up various scents from her surroundings. Today a flock of geese flying in from the north appeared on the menu but Maggie only sniffed the air with disappointment, searching for something else. She needed something more substantial than poultry and was at least hoping that there would be some deer in the nearby clearing.

Then she caught a whiff of something else. Well, it was more like she was hit by the scent considering how strong it was. Maggie stopped in her tracks, immediately pivoting her body 90 degrees towards the direction her nose was being pulled towards. It was definitely a large animal; the red meat she was looking for, though it wasn’t something she could make out right away. It was giant whatever it was and at first Maggie was convinced that it was a cougar she had targeted but then the scent did the strangest thing. It soured.

Her nose crinkled up into her disgusted face the same way it used to when she caught the smell of expired milk, but worse. This time it was like the chunks of milk were just one individual ingredient in some sort of rotting disaster dish along with spoiled eggs and molding bread. But despite the mystery meat slightly turning off her appetite, there was something else still laced in there that had her mouth watering. As she trotted closer towards its origin the faint thumping of its pulse grew stronger and stronger along with her desire, which had now completely undertaken her mind. The only thing that stood in her way was a fairly wide gorge with a seemingly intimidating stream cutting through it. It was too small to be considered a river, but the jaggedness of the rocks surrounding it and the sheer speed at which the current seemed to slice through the middle made it more than just a simple hop over a puddle. But as the venom began pooling in her mouth it was like it gave her the strength to accelerate even faster as she raced towards the edge. The beast on the other side was bigger than any other creature she’d hunted before but that wasn’t going to stop her. She had latched on to the scent of its blood. That meant that it was hers. Even when the animal finally turned around, noticing her about to pounce, its vicious snarl and strange intensity in its eyes didn’t stop her. Just as she felt her feet lifting off of the ground, something else did. And it hit her like a bus.

Esme

As soon as she saw her turning her body from the corner of her eye, she knew she had lost her. For the first few milliseconds of time that passed in between, she hung on the prayer that it was just a bear or some other predator she had caught the scent of. Whatever it was, Esme certainly wasn’t going to be able to outrun her. Still, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to; that it was just an animal a little bit larger than usual that would satisfy her thirst before they could quickly return home without a trace. But then she smelled it.

“Maggie, no!” She screamed to no avail. Her cries begging her to stop might as well have been yelled at a waterfall or a hurricane. Esme felt herself falling apart from the inside as she watched the girl that was so precious to her near the edge. She moved very much like a storm and shared its disregard for borders and boundaries but, unfortunately, the wolves didn’t. And they wouldn’t be so forgiving of her nature. In turn, Esme didn’t think she could ever forgive herself if they touched her so she stood there petrified by the whole sense that she, an immortal and nearly all-powerful being, had somehow fallen flat to the helplessness of fate. She wanted to scream at herself. She wanted to scream at the world, cry for help, something, anything!

With a flash of light passing by, it was like her prayers were answered. Esme knew it was Edward just from how fast he moved as he came in from the east sprinting straight at the thirst-driven newborn. She gaped with a cry breaking through the breath she was holding as she watched him hurl his body like a catapult at Maggie who was going in for her prey like a missile. Luckily, with the element of surprise on his side, Edward was able to just intercept the smaller vampire before her feet could touch down into Quillete territory. As he began to take her down with him, Emmett came in full speed from the same direction Edward had come from and just at the right moment too. Surprised but still in primal mode, Maggie had only been set back momentarily after Edward shoved the both of them straight into a truck sized boulder before she brutally pushed him to the side with a loud hissing sound. She was just about to reset her body and leap back into the air when Emmett tackled her head on. In an instant, all of the momentum she was focusing was suddenly thrust backwards along with the rest of her body which drove straight through the boulder behind her like it was as flimsy as cardboard.

“Emmett, quickly!” Another voice sounded from nearby. Whipping her head towards the speaker, Esme’s eyes almost relaxed in relief when she saw Alice and Carlisle darting towards them. In the next second, her mate was by her side, stroking her arms comfortingly as she tried to sputter out a billion of the thoughts rolling through her mind.

“It’s all my fault,” she held onto Carlisle letting him hold up some of the weight she was having trouble with on her own. A dizziness had overcome her senses and she couldn’t keep herself steady. “I should’ve never let her leave the house.”

“It’s alright. Alice saw it on time… hopefully,” he tried to assure his mate best he could while also trying to remain as vague as possible. Because in truth, Alice had only seen that Maggie was in trouble somewhere near where the two territories met up. She hadn’t exactly seen how it ended or would have ended at the time but he knew he had to keep that information from Esme for as long as possible. He already frowned seeing how badly she was beating herself up

“Try to calm her down!” Edward yelled, finally able to pick himself back up. The distinguishable cracks that blemished his marbled cheek looked painful but he was still able to bark orders. On cue, Jasper swung down from up above in the trees as Emmett wrestled to get Maggie’s arms behind her. Alice catapulted herself on top of her shoulders and tried to force her down to the ground with her weight, but the newborn bucked back like a wild stallion, still trying to throw them off of her. Everyone stared intently at Jasper as he began to focus his complete attention on the newborn in front of him. With her eyes dilated and teeth showing Maggie was barely recognizable. No one could tell if it was working or not.

“Esme, we need you over here,” Jasper spoke loud enough to convey the direness of the situation but was still somehow able to keep calm. Nodding at her mate to show she was fine, Esme tried to follow his lead and kept as relaxed of a demeanor as possible as she approached Maggie. Emmett and Alice had her wrestled down to her knees but the screams of panic and pain that only got louder as she neared closer were unbearable to hear. By this point, the wolf who had remained in place and fiercely guarded the border had already signaled the rest of the pack. It was only a matter of time before more wolves showed up and they needed to get Maggie out of there before that happened.

“Maggie, it’s alright, shhhh,” she tried to soothe her into calming down. But it was like she was speaking to a stranger; her thirst had overtaken her entire perception and she was unable to recognize anyone. Family, friend, enemy, or foe, none of that mattered anymore. She only saw her prey and those that stood in the way of it. “It’s Esme, darling. I love you, please, calm down.”

As she cooed the little one’s screams down and her struggling gradually subdued, it seemed like she was getting through to the Maggie on the inside and she was surfacing back to her old self. Timid and unsure while it was all happening, Emmett subconsciously began to loosen his grip ever so slightly upon seeing that Maggie was settling down. Both Jasper and Edward, who knew the importance of never underestimating a newborn, cried to stop him at the same time.

“Emmett, NO!” They screamed just an instant too late. The other two boys immediately jumped into the scuffle as Maggie instantly reverted back to primal mode and began recklessly kicking at everything surrounding her. In the mix up, bodies scrambled to push her back down all at once, making individuals impossible for the newborn to distinguish. And in the chaos as she flung her limbs like weapons at everything around her, Esme felt a sharp kick to her abdomen and the brute force sent her flying backwards and over the wrong side of the border.

[cosmic-hearts]

thunderstruck | yang jeongin

yang jeongin x reader - highschool!au, badboy!au

genres; romance, fluff, slice of life

warnings; none

summary; in which you’re not afraid of the school’s resident bad boy, yang jeongin, but thunderstorms terrify you.

Unamused, that’s what you are. 

You remain thoroughly unamused as Yang Jeongin towers over your desk, his school blouse wholly unbuttoned, exposing the hideous graphic T-shirt within. You wonder why this delinquent even bothers coming to school if all he’s going to do is scare people into doing his homework for him. 

“No?” He asks, his voice soft, dangerous. 

“No,” you say, voice firm with conviction. Jeongin smirks, leaning his face closer to yours. 

“You’ve got guts.”

“I don’t have guts. I have common sense. Why would I let you copy the homework I toiled over for hours last night without you giving me anything in return? That’s not how business works, buddy,” you retort, patting his shoulder and leaning back in your chair. The whole class feels the tension rising up between you two like invisible tendrils of smoke. Some curse your stupidity for talking back to Yang Jeongin, but really you would respond in the same incredulous way if anyone had asked you to let them copy your homework. You might be a model student, but you’re certainly no pushover. 

“You’d better watch your back from now on,” he warns, pushing himself off your table. You can’t help but think of how cliche he sounds. Typical empty bad boy threat. He could have tried being a little more original, more intimidating.

“I’ll be waiting,” you call out, shaking your head and returning to your philosophy essay.

—

“Mrs Park, you asked to see me?”

“Ah, my dear Y/N, my model student! Come, have a seat.”

You do as you’re told, knowing that it won’t be long before Mrs Park drops some sort of bomb on you. Maybe you’ve failed the chemistry quiz last week. You know you should have studied harder but that darned philosophy essay—

“Am I in trouble?” You ask before you can let your thoughts run wild.

“No, of course not! You could never get in trouble,” Mrs Park peers at you through her glasses, smiling in a manner that makes you want to run from the room.

“I need a favour from you. The teachers and I are very impressed with your performance this year, so we’ve decided to get your help concerning… a particular, rather trying student. Would you be up for tutoring Yang Jeongin?”

For a moment you wish you had actually failed the quiz. That would have been much better news than this. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Park, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. I recently took up the philosophy elective so I’ll have a lot of assignments coming up—,”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’ve already spoken to your philosophy teacher and he says he’d be more than happy to extend your deadlines and let you off early from class. Plus, we all have perfect faith in your ability to manage all your work. Just to add, I know you won’t need an incentive, but you’ll be getting extra credit for this in your appraisals. Which would look really good in your testimonials and portfolio!”

You know you don’t have a choice. Mrs Park is practically forcing you into a corner; you’d look like a total ingrate if you don’t take up this offer. Plus, the extra credit you would receive would make it all worth it.“Okay. I’ll do it.”

—

And that’s how you find yourself wasting your Friday afternoon away in an empty classroom, waiting for a certain someone to show up. 

At exactly 4.30, the door opens with a loud bang! and Yang Jeongin saunters in, a swagger in his walk that grates on your nerves. You’re surprised he actually arrived on time. Heck, you’re surprised he even showed up at all. He slides in the seat next to you, a cocky smirk on his lips. 

“I told you to watch your back,” Jeongin drawls, tossing his backpack carelessly onto the floor. 

You turn on him, incredulous. “You mean you planned this?”

“Not so smart for the class valedictorian, are you?”

It takes all your willpower not to smack him across the head. Then again, he’s probably gotten into enough fights to be able to block it. 

“Whatever. At least I’m getting extra credit for this. Hurry up and get out your math stuff. We’ll be doing integration.”Jeongin surprisingly complies. You expected him to fire back with another snarky retort. 

It turns out that the teacher isn’t kidding. Jeongin needs a ton of help. He can’t even tell the difference between integration and differentiation, for crying out loud. Over the course of the next few hours you teach him the basics. He isn’t particularly rebellious or obedient towards you, he just nods and does what he’s told, and if he gets a question right he whines for a break which you deny him immediately. 

“I’m sleeeeeepy,” Jeongin whines, putting his head on the table. You glance up at the clock and get up with a start. It’s already been three hours?

“Okay, fine. We’ve done enough anyway. Next week, here, same time. You’d better show up,” you say sternly, before gathering your books and walking out. Then you hear a voice call behind you. 

“Y/N,” Jeongin says, his face serious. You’d never seen him look so austere before. Then he holds up a thin piece of material in the shape of a square. Recognizing it, you instantly blanch and scurry over to him, your cheeks rapidly turning a deep shade of crimson. In your haste to get away from him, your pad had slipped out of your pocket, fallen to the floor and got picked up by Jeongin. 

“One of those days, huh? No wonder you’re so snappish,” Jeongin remarks, smirking as you snatch the pad away from him before getting the hell away from Yang Jeongin. 

—

A week later, you’re waiting for Jeongin to show up, wondering if he’s forgotten about the lesson. Then again, it might not be such a bad thing if he fails to show up. You can get so much done for yourself without him.

Fifteen minutes after your supposed meeting time and he’s still nowhere to be found. You sigh, taking out your laptop to continue working on your philosophy essay. 

Right at that moment, the door opens with a soft click and you lift your head. Jeongin walks in quietly, not even bothering to make eye contact with you. He trudges over to the seat next to you, pulls out the chair and slumps down into it.

“Well, aren’t you punctual,” you say sarcastically. Jeongin keeps quiet, head lowered, his chin nearly touching his chest. His stormy countenance is an anomaly; usually, he’s mischievous, loud and obnoxious, even flirtatious if he feels like it. However, today he exudes a gloomy aura that stumps you. 

“W-Well, get out the stuff I asked you to do for homework.”

He reaches for his backpack stonily and pulls out a few sheets of paper, tossing them onto the desk. You take them and begin to check his answers.You’re absolutely astonished. He’s managed to get every single question correct, and his conscientious working (in his own handwriting) proves that they aren’t flukes or lucky guesses. 

“Woah, this is… this is good. No mistakes. You did well, so stop looking so glum.”

That’s when Jeongin finally looks at you, and you’re taken aback by the ferocity of his gaze. 

“Why are you surprised that I did well? You didn’t expect me to be able to do it, did you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering where this sudden bout of sensitivity is coming from.

“I mean, last week, you were pretty terrible. You couldn’t even tell the difference between differentiation and integration! So honestly, I didn’t expect you to get it all correct. But I’m impressed, really.”

Your response apparently displeases Jeongin, because he slams his hand on the desk, gets up from his seat and leans closer to you, towering over you. He keeps one hand on your desk and the other on your seat, practically trapping you within his arms. You look up at him, more puzzled and bewildered than afraid.

“You must think I’m a good-for-nothing, stupid delinquent, don’t you?” “Your words, not mine.”

He narrows his eyes at you, evidently not expecting such a defiant answer from you. “What?”

“If you think of yourself that way, then that’s what you are. My perception of you doesn’t matter, neither does anyone else’s. If you believe that you’re a hopeless delinquent, then you truly are one, and unfortunately I can’t help you with that.”

“You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to. The last thing I need is you looking down on me. I don’t need your pity.”

He expects you to launch into another tirade where you attempt to offer him your unwanted pearls of wisdom he clearly lacked, but instead you place a gentle hand on his arm and ask softly, “Yang Jeongin, did something happen? You’re not usually like this.”

The tenderness of your response throws him off and he recoils, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He was prepared for a fight, for a battle of heated confrontation, not for a counselling or heart-to-heart session with you.“You probably won’t want to talk to me, but I’m willing to listen if you need it,” you say, looking straight at him, a gentle look in your eyes.

“How come you’re not scared of me?” Jeongin asks, unable to come up with anything else, “How come… you’re so strange?” You shrug. “What’s there to be afraid of?”Jeongin stares at you for a moment. Simply stares, seemingly without intention to speak.

“Look, I can tell something’s bothering you. I think we should take today off because obviously we’re not going to get anything done. So, what’s the matter?”

Jeongin throws you a stony look before finally conceding.

“Coach threatened to kick me off the basketball team and replace me with freaking Kim Seungmin if I didn’t pull my grades up. Like, I know he gets good grades and all, but I bet he can’t even make half the number of hoops I can. And it’s not fair-- coach called me hopeless in front of the whole team just because I don’t do well for tests. What has my grades got to do with basketball, anyway? Just because I can’t study doesn’t mean he has the right to look down on me like that.”

You’re shocked. You would never have expected Yang Jeongin, with his exterior of toughness and steel, to be so tender-hearted within. The way he’s pouting obstinately right now reminds you of a five-year-old who got his candy taken away from him. You suppress the urge to pat him on the head in an attempt to be comforting.

“Your coach sounds like a jerk,” you say, and at this Jeongin’s left lip cocks upwards slightly. “But I’d be a hypocrite if I tell you I didn’t think of you like that before.” 

Jeongin looks up at you, hurt flashing across his eyes. 

“I did think that you were a delinquent, to be honest. I mean, you literally asked to copy my answers to our homework. Not exactly the best impression right there, you gotta admit. But after seeing this, how you got everything correct— you have so much potential, Jeongin. You’re definitely not dumb, useless or hopeless. When I started learning this topic I couldn’t even get everything correct like you. If you tried I bet you could do really well.” 

Jeongin stays quiet for a while, processing your words. 

“And, well, you kind of have no choice now but to buck up. I know how much you love basketball. There’s no way you’d let Kim Seungmin take over your spot.” Jeongin finally looks up at you. 

“You really think I can do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, you’ve already got yourself an amazing tutor. What more can’t you achieve?” You suppress a smile as Jeongin judges your elbow in protest, a grin spreading across his cheeks. 

“You just need to start believing in yourself, buddy. If you don’t, then why should I?” 

—

You never thought that your words would have such an effect on Jeongin, but apparently they did, and he begins to actually put effort into his studies, something he’s never done before. 

He scores well on pop quizzes and common tests, shocking the teachers and especially his coach, who decides to keep him on the team after all. 

“This is good,” you say, looking at his perfect score on the most recent quiz. “You’re doing so well! Keep this up and I’m going to lose my title of class valedictorian,” you say jokingly, feeling genuinely happy for Jeongin. 

Within the span of time you’d spent tutoring him, you learned that he was actually rather diligent and really did try his best, and he had a quick ear and sharp wits. He picked up the foundation quickly, and soon moved on to solving advanced problems with a strong sense of mental agility that definitely proved his intelligence.

“Yeah, you’d better watch out. You wouldn’t want me as your rival,” he says, smiling.You simply smirk and turn your head to look out the window at the dark clouds quickly taking over the sky. The premonition of a brewing storm. 

“Maybe I should give you today off,” you say to Jeongin, still looking out the window. 

“What? No way. Are you actually afraid that I’ll overtake you in class ranking?” Jeongin teases, poking your cheek with his finger. 

“What? No! Fine, forget I asked. I was just trying to be kind. Let’s continue then,” you stutter, trying to hide your blush that blossomed from the fact that Yang Jeongin just touched your cheek. 

Over the next fifteen minutes, the sky turns into a massive grey-black expanse and you feel yourself getting tenser with every minute. 

“Hey, what’s up? If you continue holding your pen like that your knuckles are gonna break,” Jeongin jokes, tapping your fist with his pencil. 

“Shut up,” you say, and right at that moment an electric bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, just before an ear-splitting peal of thunder rocks the classroom. You squeal and clamp your hands over your ears, dropping your pen onto the floor with a loud clang! 

Jeongin stares at your cowered form in disbelief, unsure how to react. “So you’re not afraid of me but you’re afraid of thunder? Really Y/N?” He says, and you expect him to go off in a fit of raucous laughter at your unexpected fear. 

However, another loud clash of thunder reverberates throughout the tiny classroom before he has a chance to mock you, and you bury your head into your hands and slump down onto the desk, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. 

How this fear developed, you have no idea. You just weren’t a fan of loud and sudden noises, and you hate the mini heart attack that occurs whenever you hear the sound of thunder. You had no idea how people could just carry on and act like nothing happened each time thunder struck. 

Jeongin looks at you for a moment, incredulous, but also finding the sight of you cowering on your rather endearing, as strange as it sounds. He thought you were fearless, what with the way you skillfully shut down his attempts to threaten you, something no one had ever done to him before. Turns out you had something you were afraid of as well. He smiles slightly. 

Seeing as you aren’t about to get up anytime soon, he inches closer to you, practically closing the distance between you two. You don’t notice this with your head buried between your arms. And then he proceeds to put his hands over your ears, drawing you close to him. 

Your heartbeat, which had finally begun to slow down a little, picks up again, this time faster than before. You two stay like that for a while, with his hands over your ears, your back against his chest as he shelters you with his body. 

Though you would never admit it, you felt safe in his half-embrace. Funny how Yang Jeongin, self-proclaimed gangster-in-training, had the ability to make you feel safe. 

“You okay now?” He asks as you slowly remove your hands from your ears. “Y-Yeah, thanks.”He stares at you for a moment before breaking out into a smirk. 

“You’re adorable.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What was that, Yang Jeongin? I am many things. I am fierce, intelligent, charismatic. But I am not adorable.”

Jeongin taps your nose with his pencil. “So adorable. But also pretty stupid.”

“You’re really calling your tutor stupid, Yang Jeongin? You’re treading on dangerous waters here—,” “You’re stupid for not being able to see how much I like you, idiot.”You do a double take, your eyes widening to the size of saucers. 

“Y-You like me?”

“How could I not like the girl who turned me into a math genius? Or rather, how could I not like the girl who believed in me, unlocked my potential and showed me that I wasn’t useless and dumb after all? You really can’t expect me not to fall for you, can you?”

Your head swirls with Jeongin’s unexpected confession, unsure of how to react. 

“Let me return the favour. I can protect you from thunderstorms,” Jeongin says, tilting your chin upwards to look directly into his eyes. 

You look at Yang Jeongin, the boy who intruded into your life, and you wonder how you managed to grow so fond of him in the past couple of months. You couldn’t even stand being in his presence just a while ago. Maybe you should give this a try, let him hug you close and cover your ears during thunderstorms, and most importantly, open up your heart to him.

“Okay, I’ll let you,” you say, breaking out into a huge grin, just as a rainbow emerges from behind the dark clouds, creating a beautiful spectacle, marking the start of something new. 

a/n; badboy jeongin is such a concept smh;;;  im hardly satisfied w this but i rlly wanted to put smth out!!! idk why but i always take sooo long to write and i’m rlly bad at coming up w ideas eesh... but anyway happy 2019 everyone!! i’m rlly excited for my next story can y'all guess which member it is hehe

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

☆ MGA5 EPISODE TWO ; JULY 4 #5008 HA SUNGWOON ; skills performance ( singer ) performance: sorry (고백) by yang dail (양다일) ( 1:10 - 2:10, 2:20 - 3:15 )

perhaps one of the only perks of being a ha in this competition is that sungwoon’s survival is confirmed fairly early on. exhaling, he stumbles over a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and sags against kenta in relief, his fingers automatically scrambling to grip someone’s hand but finding purchase only in the fabric of kenta’s shirt. palms slick with sweat, he can only offer kenta a silent promise to take care of his laundry later while holding on for dear life.

sungwoon closes his eyes and waits until minhyun’s name is called, then daniel’s, then woojin’s and even kenta’s before his face splits into a wide grin. is he allowed to feel relieved that he still has a future on this show? that they call do? that empty enigma survived the proverbial axe-blow? letting out a triumphant whoop, he tries to drape his arms over as many of their shoulders as he can (which is not many, admittedly, but he makes the attempt) and pulls them close. “we’re through!”

he doesn’t know if it’s fate or the universe or just the force of their skill that ensured their survival, but he’s grateful they can continue on this journey together for a little longer. he feels like he’s getting greedier with each hurdle they cross—let them get through just this round, just next week, just till the end of the show—but sungwoon has never fully learned to curb his ambitions. with each victory, he allows himself to dream a little bigger and bolder, envisioning a future in which all of empty enigma—

win? but they can’t. last year had two winners, which seemed like enough of a stretch. at the end of the day, this is a competition, and his beloved friends are his rivals. as if to drive the point home, the next challenge is one of skills: contestants are grouped together by their main talent, with eliminations slated to take place at the end. naturally, singers make up the largest category, with dancers following after, then rappers. conversely, this means the largest number of people eliminated will come from the singers, and sungwoon is not cocky enough in his own abilities to believe he doesn’t have to worry about his own position.

minhyun and daniel are singers too, and while sungwoon is grudgingly impressed by minhyun’s skills, he can’t say the same for daniel. as much as he loves daniel as a performer, sungwoon is aware just about everyone else in their group is a better singer than him. he can name five or six more skilled than himself, and he feels… dread settle in his stomach at the thought of daniel ending up near the bottom of the list. at the thought of, perhaps, him or minhyun making it through without daniel. sungwoon is less worried about woojin and kenta; woojin has an amazing talent for dance, and kenta… he believes in kenta with his whole heart and prays it’ll be enough.

he doesn’t want to compete against empty enigma yet, not one-on-one in such a cutthroat atmosphere, but part of sungwoon wants to embrace the challenge head-on; it was the skills performance which sent him home last time, when he’d been assigned to dance when all he wanted was to sing. this is his chance at redemption, and yet… he casts his gaze over his friends, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. not at their expense.

“i’m switching to rap,” sungwoon announces, climbing to his feet. it’s a snap decision, more of a joke than anything else, but in his heart of hearts, he wishes he could just so he wouldn’t have to compete against his friends. the rap category is the only one an empty enigma member doesn’t already have a claim to. one of the people sitting around them snarkily asks if he can even rap, and since sungwoon is committed, he asks someone to drop a beat for him. he does a small lap while pumping up the crowd before launching into an ill-thought out, terrible, no-good freestyle.

my name is ha sungwoon i never sing out of tune you will cheer for me soon and then i’ll fly off to the moon

by the end of it, those who aren’t laughing are looking at him with a dumbfounded expression. “it’s just a joke, guys. don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. “trc won’t be picking me up any time soon.” sungwoon only intended for his performance to ease some of the tension around them, but then daniel announces he’s actually switching to rap. and all sungwoon can really think is, why, because he knows daniel has some experience with the skill, though surely not enough to be confident in for this stage of the competition? but daniel reminds sungwoon of the last time it was only his voice up on that stage, and sungwoon’s expression immediately clears in understanding. “you know what you’re doing,” he says, giving daniel’s shoulder a squeeze.

he still has some reservations, but sungwoon trusts daniel; only he knows what’s best for himself. besides, sungwoon has enough to worry about on his own.

this is where it all becomes real.

-

sitting through the first episode is excruciating, mostly because sungwoon cringes every time his face pops up on screen. of course they highlighted his height again, and of course his little stumble with his keyboard aired. he supposes he shouldn’t complain; his edit wasn’t malicious. mnet can (and has) done worse. at the end of it, he’s exhausted all over again, but it does give him more of an idea who to watch for—and who to worry about. keep your rivals close, as they say. or at the very least, stay informed. sungwoon refuses to be caught off guard.

his phone blows up with messages after the episode—most a variation of jokes on his height again (hyung, you grew .5 cm? ㅋㅋㅋ) or expressing shock over the fact that he’s in a band (empty enigma?? lol what kind of a name is that?). his sister calls to profess her love for minhyun and sungwoon yells NO ANYONE BUT HIM (and variations thereof) into his phone for a solid eight minutes before she sighs and tells him the heart wants what the heart wants.

one of his friends just sends him a quote: ‘the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result’. sungwoon is confused and annoyed enough to call him immediately and ask what the fuck he’s on about. “do you really think anything will change this year?” his friend asks. “shit, dude, you’re doing this hellish show again and for what?”

“all of empty enigma is on it this time,” sungwoon says, throat dry. “i’m doing this for them. us. it’s not—”

his friend is quiet or a long time. “it’s okay to say you want it too, you know? you don’t always have to hide behind other people. it’s alright to admit you just want—to win, or to get a contract. whatever.” when sungwoon doesn’t answer, he sighs. “good luck, though. hope it works out.” the distinct click of the call ending fills his ear, but sungwoon doesn’t move for a long time.

he hasn’t—well. he hasn’t thought about winning in those terms. with four other peoples’ survival hanging on the line, sungwoon doesn’t have the luxury to entertain thoughts of winning. his natural competitive edge wants to accept nothing less, but winning (or even placing high enough to receive something) comes with caveats he can’t afford to think about yet. empty enigma is a unit, or have been operating as one so far, but as this stage (and every stage from now on) has been driving home, they can’t be one forever. sooner or later, they’ll be pulled apart. sooner or later, one of them won’t make it through. and that day could come as quickly as thursday.

a full body shudder runs through him at the thought. not yet, sungwoon thinks desperately. he’s playing with fire by making so many demands of the universe, but what else does he have? not yet. we’ve got a ways to go before i’m ready to say goodbye.

-

woojin and kenta are often absent during the week, busy preparing for their performances elsewhere. it makes sense; as dancers, they need a different kind of environment to practice in. thankfully, the acoustics aren’t bad in their sharehouse, so sungwoon and minhyun can more or less manage here. daniel comes over during the week to hang out, though he’s secretive about his own performance. sungwoon guesses he wants to keep it a secret (daniel seems to be writing his own rap) so he tries not to pry too much. the curiosity really is killing him, however, along with the anxiety. but the snippets he manages to catch aren’t that bad, and they go a long way in smoothing over some of his worries.

his own performance is, in some ways, equally as complicated to settle on as the previous round. sungwoon hoped it would get easier, but his tendency to overthink always comes back to bite him in the ass. this time is no different. after two rounds of songs in english, he knows he wants to sing something in korean, but the question still remains: what, exactly, is fitting for a performance of skill?

sungwoon’s mind wanders to their album tracklist again, or any of the songs buried in his laptop—the ugly children that didn’t quite make the cut. he wants to sing his own music up on the stage. he didn’t realize how strong the desire was until he heard daniel perform his own song last round, and then joohyun sing for empty enigma. he too wants to stand up there and say, this is something i created. this is my work. this is something only i can sing.

as always, he calls his sister for advice. sunyoung is opinionated and drawn in easily by a pretty face, but she knows how survival shows work and is surprisingly shrewd for a thirteen year old with no musical talent whatsoever. sungwoon trusts her opinions. but once he tells her he’s considering singing an empty enigma song, it’s her turn to drown his eardrums out with a shrill NO! “oppa! your image!” when sungwoon doesn’t get it, she explains long-sufferingly, as if it should be obvious, “you just revealed you’re in some super weird band! you can’t get up on stage and sing your angry music. you’re going to alienate people.”

“since when were you using big words?” she may have a point. “but that’s my music, you know? i… we all worked hard on it, and i want to—”

“mom and dad watched episode one,” sunyoung cuts in, and for a split second, sungwoon sees—red and blue and pitch black in a sequence, his breath catching in his chest. this has to be a fucking joke, but sunyoung has never sounded so serious and solemn in her life. “they didn’t recognize you till your dumb introduction, but they definitely saw you after that. they were paying attention and… i don’t think they were...” she doesn’t say it. happy. of course they weren’t happy. sungwoon wants to laugh. like he cares.

“you expect me to give a shit about what they think?” and once again, sunyoung doesn’t say what they both know. he does. after everything, after all their crap, the little boy inside him cares, craves their approval, wants to still make them proud. the pragmatist in him knows that time is long past; his parents would be horrified to learn of what he’s done, what he dreams of doing, who he loves—his angry music might be the least of it. and yet so much of who he is in empty enigma is their doing. the long-simmering rage he holds inside his chest is for them. they should know.

“no angry metal songs, please,” sunyoung repeats, her voice small. “they’re going to watch episode two with me.” her tone turns pleading. “just sing something nice, oppa.”

“fine,” he says, and his sister heaves a sigh of relief. the blood still roars in his ears, drum beats in his mind gearing him up for war. but sunyoung is not an enemy, not an opponent, not a rival. she’s a teenager caught in a difficult place, and some days sungwoon wishes this wasn’t her burden to bear. that she didn’t have to play middle-man like this. none of this is her fault, he reminds himself, rubbing his temples. “i’m sorry,” sungwoon adds a moment later. a poor substitute for a hug or anything remotely brotherly, but it’s all he has to give.

“talk to you later?” she phrases it as a question as always, accepting the apology with more grace than sungwoon could ever possess. he says yeah before hanging up and throwing his phone onto his bed. he wants to believe this is all a sick joke, but it was naive of him to think he could somehow skate through another year of the mgas without his parents finding out he was on the show. sunyoung did inform him they were keeping a closer eye on her after last semester’s grades, and there’s no way she was going to miss the mgas for anything.

it would be easier if sungwoon knew why they wanted to watch him. they haven’t cared about anything he’s done for a long time. they haven’t cared about him in general, not once they pawned him off on his grandparents. it took sungwoon a long time to come to terms with that fact, and he’s not going to pretend it was easy. neither is he going to pretend that coming to terms with it means forgiveness or letting go or any of that feel-good bullshit. what he feels is closer to resignation, a dull acceptance of the status quo and his role as the unwanted child.

maybe it’s as simple as them wanting to make sure sungwoon doesn’t embarrass them. keep up appearances and everything. he wonders what they tell people he’s doing, if they mention him at all. he imagines it’d go something like ‘my son goes to snu! he’s pre-med!’ because they always hoped he’d become a doctor. or he’s being too charitable in assuming they even tell people they have a son. that sounds about right. either way, he’s not pre-med—he’s a singer! surprise and sorry for bringing shame to the family and all that. he dares them to chastise him either way. dares them to say anything, knowing they won’t.

if it weren’t for sunyoung’s request, he would’ve said fuck it and sung one of the extreme songs he’s written about his parents over the years, consequences be damned. it might be his only chance to make them listen to him. they’ve never had a good track record with that. sungwoon remembers being five years old and clinging to his mom’s skirt, begging her not to leave him behind only to be met by a blank stare. or being eight and waiting next to the phone on his birthday for his parents to call (they don’t). or even to be nineteen, wrapped in his own grief and coming face to face with strangers who are supposed to be his parents and finding—no recognition, no sympathy. he stopped trying after that, figuring it was no use. and he sang, because he couldn’t do anything else, praying one day they’d listen.

god. his unfulfilled hopes stack up one by one, and he’s surprised to find they still hurt when what sungwoon wants is to feel nothing at all. “guess that takes find yourself out of the running,” sungwoon says out loud. it isn’t funny.

after spending the rest of the day in bed rebuffing any concerned inquiries by his housemates, sungwoon throws himself into preparations with renewed vigor. sunyoung asked him to just sing something nice? he can do that. it only takes a quick search to land on a fitting song. a ballad, of all things, but one he thinks can showcase the strength and beauty of his voice. it’s a risk, in a way. the real challenge of this stage is to captivate the judges, to deliver a performance worth remembering.

the temptation to resort to a flashy stage or a gimmick is strong; after all, they’re competing against forty nine other people all hand-selected by the judges as worthy contestants. you need to stand out somehow. sungwoon can already imagine the influx of remixed songs and girl group choreographies, the original songs meant to impress even though they’re unfamiliar. desperation mixed with a desire to win means the performances will be… interesting.

but sungwoon is not a gimmick and doesn’t want the world to see him as one. he can’t pull out a metal song and hope it’ll work out, all for maybe a minute of screentime. the ballad—just sungwoon and his voice up on that stage with no instrument to hide behind—is the perfect way to make this all about the singing, the way he’d wanted it to be last year during the skills stage. no fancy tricks, no showing off on the keyboard, nothing else. the lone spotlight on himself stripped down to his bare minimum should scare him, but all he feels is anticipation. it’s finally time to be heard.

(the bitter part of him wants to say, look, mom and dad! at least a ballad singer is presentable, right?)

practice keeps his mind off the mess that is his life. he’s grateful for it keeping him occupied through the lonely hours. sungwoon sings himself hoarse, then spends hours nursing his throat back, reminding himself he has better technique than this. he knows he’s pushing it too far this time, but it’s do or die. with just his voice highlighted, he can’t afford to make any mistakes. no going off tune, no voice cracks, absolutely no observable strain. when he begins feeling restless, he practices in the mirror to make sure he doesn’t grimace or look ugly while hitting the high notes.

sungwoon feels something akin to ready by the time thursday rolls around, if not fully confident he could sing this song perfectly in his sleep. he just hopes everything will go off without a hitch during the actual stage. everyone will be watching, he thinks before bed. and damn if that doesn’t fuel his desire to give the best performance possible.

-

when they arrive at the venue on thursday, sungwoon is momentarily taken aback at the sight of the reduced chairs. last week’s elimination didn’t feel like much, but looking at the stage now drives home just how big of cut the judges made last week. he wonders if this week is going to see their numbers halved as well. twenty five sounds too low for this early in the competition, but with all the changes, sungwoon can’t predict anything either way. he has no idea what to expect.

what he does know is that he does not want to be sitting in the same place as last time; the row behind them was emanating hostile intent, while the one in front had dumbass energy. neither are vibes sungwoon wants to be surrounded with at the moment, not during this round, and he’s glad daniel seems to feel the same. after exchanging a look, daniel directs them to sit across the room and sungwoon happily follows, already feeling lighter than last week. daniel (rather forcefully) tells him he’s sitting next to him this week, and sungwoon holds back a laugh. “you want to hold my hand that badly?” he asks teasingly, but with real warmth as he thinks, i do too.

of course, the peace is shattered when kenta waves over their loud seatmates from last time. sungwoon considers getting up and moving in a game of impromptu musical chairs, but daniel’s hand on his arms roots him in place. maybe it wouldn’t be fair to abandon daniel to this—or maybe sungwoon is just easy when it comes to him. regardless, he sighs and covers daniel’s hand with his own before settling back into his seat. “the things i do for—” oh, cameras. remembering them a moment too late, sungwoon presses his lips together and shakes his head. not love, not out loud.

thankfully, the performances begin sooner this time, though it’s a double edged sword. with the singers performing first, sungwoon’s name is called all too soon. he doesn’t have much to measure himself against, no room to adjust his performance accordingly based on what he’s seen so far. that might end up being a good thing, but for now, he feels the tiniest bit nervous as he approaches the stage. will he be good enough? no, he thinks. fuck that. he is good enough to stand here among this group of talented individuals. he’s not doubting himself.

he bows once he’s on stage, mic in hand. “hello! this is the still-growing sprout ha sungwoon!” his introduction is cheerful and a little cheeky; he is a good few centimetres taller thanks to his insoles, but no one has to really know that. “i’ll be singing sorry by yang dail today. i hope you enjoy my performance.” maybe he should’ve made a joke about how it’s no toxic and he hopes it won’t put people to sleep, but if he’s doing his job right, it shouldn’t.

taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes as the first notes of the music wash over him. it’s a pretty ballad—but not a love song, which feels strange to sing after two rounds of the same thing. sungwoon is better at embracing heartbreak, however; it’s been a constant companion in his life and hasn’t fully left him even now. he channels that heartache, the weariness into his tone during the first verse.

your cold face our fights that come all the time all the scars that were sent and received sometimes, we feel bad and it builds up for a while so now none of you remains in me

it feels strange to do this without playing an instrument, but this is what sungwoon wants. his voice and his voice along. beginning gentler than he normally would, he keeps his voice smooth throughout the verse, lingering on notes where required. the song tells a story of a love crumbling apart, but sungwoon thinks in that moment of his parents—the scars sent and received, the guilt he still feels in his weakest moments for his own emotions. now none of you remains in me, he thinks, eyes fluttering open at the line. he wishes that were true. maybe it can be. he’s certainly all himself, with nothing of his parents in him.

i know it can’t be helped but i don’t want to let you go but when i call your name i don’t feel anything i’m just here

the chorus builds and sungwoon rises with it, his clear voice growing louder and more powerful before easing back into something softer and fragile. he finds it surprisingly easy to shed his personas from the first and second stages in this competition to emerge onstage as a versatile vocalist who lays it all up here. bares it all, because he sings every song like it’s his own, like the lyrics belong to him. he doesn’t have to sing his own music to connect and to make other people feel it too. he doesn’t need his crutches—his instruments—or even squall to feel like he’s soaring, to feel like he’s doing something worth doing. and he doesn’t need anyone’s approval to be here.

sungwoon hopes his parents are listening, not for their sake or even his own; he just wants them to get the message. this is him, this is what he can do, and here is what he thinks of their interest and their disapproval and their olive branches: i don’t feel anything. whatever hopes he’s secret held onto—he lets go. the final lines of the chorus are a soft admission, equal parts resignation and acceptance, and in the pause between them and the bridge, he looks at the judges without seeing them at all. maybe he’s not singing for them in this moment but himself. still, the corners of his mouth lift slightly as he makes eye contact with katie lee before turning away.

i used to draw you out every day now i can’t i don’t want you anymore

the bridge reminds him of climbing a staircase; as the music swells, so does sungwoon’s voice, his head tipping back as he pulls the microphone away from his mouth by the slightest amount. he doesn’t want his words to get muffled or slurred, and thankfully, his pronunciation remains clear as he sings. instead of embracing anger, he sings the song like a goodbye, a farewell with years and years’ worth of sentiment behind it. kinder than his parents deserve, maybe, but sungwoon is tired of it all and thinks he could, for once, afford to be kind. with the final line, he transitions easily into the vocalization and thinks, this is the end.

the end can’t be helped but you’re trying not to let go but even that is meaningless to me

here is where he unleashes his voice fully, emotion mixing with power and control to deliver an impactful chorus. the high note comes easily, and sungwoon holds it with little effort. he feels his voice come from deep inside, bursting out of him with a force that surprises even sungwoon. but he can do this much. he can show this much if he wants to get any further. as sungwoon sings the final lines of the song, he feels none of the triumph of last week—this is a denouement and the soft epilogue, the vulnerable action of saying, i’ve done enough and now i’m spent. he is spent. he’s said all he needs to.

feels like something i’ve procrastinated now i think i should tell you

he stays on stage for a few seconds following the end of the song, waiting for the music to fade away. sinking into another bow once he’s done, sungwoon gives the judges a smile before returning to his seat. he feels lighter, like he left the weight, the pain, the sadness all on stage. unlike his empty engima performances, he doesn’t carry any of the emotions off with him to brood on later. he’s—free. buoyant for once in his life, sungwoon nearly skips back to where empty enigma sit—only to realize how bad of an idea it is when he suffers a slight shoe malfunction. also known as: the slow-motion horror movie moment when his shoes fall off and his insoles—

sungwoon scoops them up and hugs them to his chest as he sits down, noticeably shorter. kenta doesn’t let it go without a comment, and sungwoon bristles because he doesn’t need this from his fellow shortie, of all people! “you can’t judge me for this,” he huffs. “you know what it’s like.” he’s pretty sure kenta is also wearing considerable insoles. maybe not as much as sungwoon, but then again, he’s also not sandwiched between the freakishly large daniel and minhyun. “expose your shoe lifts right now,” sungwoon continues. this is a matter of pride. but kenta protests even as sungwoon says, “take off your shoes if you have nothing to hide!”

and kenta, being kenta, says something extremely weird which has sungwoon wanting to rub his temples. “you don’t put… you don’t put makeup on your feet?” they’re feet. which is, admittedly, a very strange hill to die on, so he accepts kenta’s explanation without comment because he wants this to end. after fixing his own shoes, sungwoon straightens up and thinks about asking kenta to elaborate on his point when daniel squeezes his hand, a soft you did well bringing a smile to sungwoon’s face. daniel pulls away too soon, but sungwoon doesn’t chase his warmth, not willing to ask for more than he can give right now. he’s lucky he gets this much.

sungwoon endeavors to pay attention to as many of the other performances as he can, but his attention starts to wander near the end. though he tries to keep his muttered asides and bad jokes to a minimum, it feels natural to share them with daniel, like they’re back in 2018, being… well, dumb and happy. god, he loves it.

when the performances switch over to the dancers, with joohyun leading the group, he grows more alert—enough to see her stumble even with his untrained eye. wincing, he turns to daniel on instinct; seeing wrestle with indecision, sungwoon touches his arm, his voice dropping low. “go see if she’s okay.” and daniel bolts. maybe some other day he’d feel something. even a week ago, he would’ve felt something. but none of that is joohyun’s fault, and sungwoon—wants her to be okay as well. so he swallows whatever else he could’ve said and waits for daniel to return.

his attention is split until woojin takes the stage, and once again sungwoon is awestruck by how powerful and precise each of his movements are. kenta follows shortly after, putting on a cute performance that has sungwoon grinning and cheering the whole time, even if he and kenta did beef earlier (for like five minutes, over something very stupid. it’s how they roll). once the dancers are done, the rappers begin taking the stage one by one. at some point, sungwoon realizes daniel is holding his hand again. it’s probably the nerves coming through, and hell, sungwoon is nervous too. he doesn’t know what to expect, but daniel has never had a bad performance, so—

“go kill it,” he tells him seriously, before daniel has to take this stage. and because it’s daniel, he does light the stage on fire with his self-written rap. it’s a lot better than sungwoon ever expected; once he picks his jaw up off the floor, he’s cheering along, playing the hype man for daniel. every single line packs a harder punch than before, and by the time daniel is done, sungwoon is pumped, and all he can see is daniel. the proud smile on his face doesn’t slip as daniel returns to his seat. “so,” he says. “that was a lot better than my freestyle.” but he’s joking and lacking the words to tell daniel just how much he loved the performance and hopes his excitement says enough.

once the rappers are done, sungwoon runs his eyes over the fifty left, all of them having given it their best up on that stage. there’s no way all fifty of them can move on even if they all deserve to, but he hopes that empty enigma are some of the lucky ones. they have been so far, right?

we’ve got a ways to go yet.

[chronictyro]

KotOR: Chapter 1

I’ve decided to try to write my canon KotOR story down. Here’s the rough draft of chapter 1. Let me know what you think and whether it’s worth continuing:

Chapter I

I awoke from a dream, more like a memory. It was of a woman fighting a Dark Jedi. Her face was familiar to me but I didn’t know her. She stood with a few Jedi at her back facing the Dark Jedi as he brandished his red lightsaber at her. Suddenly there was an explosion and everything went dark. That’s when I woke up. Only to find myself surrounded by very real and very near explosions. Shaking off my restless sleep I quickly stood from my bunk and turned towards the bulkhead doors when I saw a man rush through them. 

 “We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet! The Endar Spire is under attack! Hurry up – we don't have much time,” he shouted as he slammed the bulkhead doors shut. “Why are you still laying in bed, private?” Recognising him as an Ensign, I saluted. “What’s going on; who are you?”

 “Did you fall out of your bunk and hit your head? I'm Trask Ulgo, ensign with the Republic Fleet. I'm your bunk mate here on the Endar Spire. We work opposite shifts; I guess that's why you haven't seen me before. Now hurry up, we have to find Bastila! We have to make sure she makes it off the ship alive!” I went to my foot locker and opened it. “Bastila? Who is she and why is it so important that we keep her safe,” I asked. 

“Bastila's the commanding officer on the Endar Spire. Well, not an officer, really. But she's the one in charge of this mission. One of our primary duties is to guarantee her survival in the event of enemy attack! You swore an oath just like everyone else on this mission. Now it's time to make good on that oath!”

Of course. Bastila. The oath. Our mission to the Outer Rim. It all came flooding back in an instant. I had been assigned last minute to the Endar Spire, some kind of special request. I hadn’t had a chance to ask anyone why I was requested. I had tried to gain an audience with this Bastila but she refused to see me. Jedi were high and mighty like that sometimes; too good to talk to a lowly private. 

“Why are you just standing there?! We need your help! I heard what everyone's saying about you: you've explored the farthest reaches of the galaxy, you've visited planets I've never even heard of. People with your skills and abilities are hard to find; it's no wonder the Republic recruited you for this mission. But now's the time to prove yourself! I know you're a scout and not a soldier, but Bastila needs all troops at her side during this attack! So hurry up and grab your gear. You need to suit up so we can get out of here.”

“Of course.” I reached into my footlocker and pulled out my uniform. I had it on and was armed and ready to go in less than a minute. “I’ll follow you.” 

“Okay, let's move out.”

Trask opened the bulkhead doors once more and stepped into the hallway. As I stepped forward to follow him my communicator beeped, alerting me to an incoming message. I stopped to listen. 

“This is Carth Onasi – the Sith are threatening to overrun our position! We can't hold out long against their firepower! All hands to the bridge!”

Trask had heard the message too. “That was Carth contacting us on our portable communicators. He's one of the Republic's best pilots! He's seen more combat than the rest of the Endar Spire's crew put together. If he says things are bad, you better believe it. We have to get to the bridge to help defend Bastila!” 

“Let’s get going then.” I gestured down the hall with my rifle. 

Trask turned and ran toward the next set of bulkhead doors. He pressed the keypad on the wall… Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Again, nothing. 

“Blast! The kriffing door won’t open. It must be on lockdown due to the attack.” Trask started entering more codes. “None of my codes are working.” 

“Let me give it a shot.” I reached into my utility pack and pulled out a security spike. “That’s not standard issue.” Trask raised his eyebrow. I inserted the spike into the keypad as I replied. “You pick up a few tricks here and there when you’re a ‘scout’ for the Republic.” A few clicks and beeps and the door unlocked. “Scout. Right.” Trask continued to eye me with suspicion as I opened the door. It opened to reveal a Republic soldier in a firefight with two Sith soldiers. “These Sith must be the advance boarding party! For the Republic!” Trask shouted and ran through the door firing his blaster as he went. I followed though admittedly with a little more discipline. Between the 3 of us we quickly took down the Sith and the hall was quiet once more. 

“Arg!” The Republic solder grunted as he grasped his side. He had taken a blaster bolt to the ribs. Trask quickly ran to him and helped him sit on the floor against the wall. “Move your hand, soldier; let me see the wound.” Trask examined the man. “I've got a feeling that won't be our last battle with the Sith.” he said, looking to me.  “Good thing I’ve got a couple medpacs here we can use to heal any wounds we sustain. Now hold your breath,” he said, looking back to the wounded soldier “this might hurt a bit.” He pulled a can from a small pouch attached to his waist and pressed the nozzle against the soldier’s wound. “Son of a bantha! That’s not pleasant,” the soldier grunted. “I haven’t even started.” Trask pressed down on the nozzle. 

“Dark side take you, Trask!” The soldier flinched as Trask laughed. “I just saved your life, boy. Show some appreciation. “Yeah right; it wasn’t that bad.” The man grimaced once more as Trask removed the nozzle and tossed the can away. “We should get going,” I say, helping the man to his feet. “Let’s stick together; you’ll have more success with us than on your own.” The soldier nodded and lifted his blaster rifle once more. 

We continued down the hall and into a storage area where we met two more Sith soldiers. This time our Republic friend wasn’t so lucky and caught a blaster bolt square in the chest. He went down hard. Trask didn’t bother trying to revive him. We finished off the Sith and moved on without him. Just one more casualty in a war I had no control over. 

We stepped out of the storage area and continued down the hall. We once again heard blaster fire and rounded the corner into another small firefight. This time there was a team of five Sith soldiers and three of ours. Two of them were blasting away at the soldiers across an intersection while the third was locked in a vibrosword battle. Trask and I quickly stepped in to help. After a few minutes of exchanging blaster fire we emerged victorious. All but the vibrosword wielder. He had fallen in his battle and his killer was now slowly stalking towards us. He held his double-bladed sword out towards Trask. “Republic scu…” I blasted him in the chest before he could finish his insult. We didn’t have time to waste listening to Sith trash. Trask stepped over the body but picked up the vibrosword. He handed it to me, saying “You might need this.” I accepted it gratefully. 

 When I approached the next bulkhead I heard a strange clashing sound beyond. I cautiously opened the door, prepared to face whatever it was that was making the noise. What I saw was a large man and a petite woman. Both wore robes though his were much darker and he also had some armor. They were facing each other wielding melee weapons. But not vibroswords like the soldiers behind us. THey had lightsabers. They were Jedi! I was about to fight with a real live Jedi! Against a true Dark Jedi! I have to admit I was excited.  But before I stepped through the door, Trask pulled me back. “Hold on. That’s a Dark Jedi! This fight is too much for us - we’d better stay back. All we’ll do is get in the way.” He pressed his hand against the door’s keypad and closed it. I was disappointed, but Trask had a point. I wasn’t ready to face a Dark Jedi, no matter how badly I wanted to… And I really wanted to. 

“That was one of the Jedi accompanying Bastila. Damn, we could use her help! Let’s try another way around.” I followed him through several more hallways and through a few more bulkheads. Luckily we didn’t run into any more Sith, or Dark Jedi. Finally we reached a door and Trask stopped. “The bridge is just beyond that door. You’d better put your blaster away and pull out that sword I gave you earlier. There isn’t much room on the bridge, and it’s suicide to use a blaster in close quarters. I’ll have to use my standard issue vibrosword.”

“What if they have lightsabers?” I asked. I wasn’t ready to face one Dark Jedi let alone a room full of them. “Hmm, let me see that blade… Yep, as I suspected. It was made using a cortosis weave. It’s strong enough to stand up against anything, even a lightsaber,” explained Trask. Somehow that didn’t make me feel better. I didn’t get a chance to argue though because Trask was already keying in the code to open the door. I stood ready, holding the blade with two hands, trying to remember the little training I’d had at the academy in double bladed weapons.The door slid open and I charged in…

There was no one there. No Sith, no Republic soldiers either. Not a soul. “Bastila and Carth aren’t on the bridge!” I shouted back to Trask. He followed me in, lowering his blade. “They must have retreated to the escape pods,” he exclaimed. “We should head that way too, The Sith want Bastila alive, but once she’s off this ship there’s  nothing stopping them from blasting the Endar Spire into galactic dust!” Trask moved toward the door on the opposite side of the bridge. I followed him through and down another few hallways. 

I was just about to step through yet another bulkhead door when Trask stopped me. “Wait… There’s something behind here.” He pushed in front of me and opened the door himself. Standing there as though waiting for us was a man. He was wearing similar robes and armor as the Dark Jedi we had seen fighting the Jedi in the hall. He extended his hands and ignited his weapon. He smiled in the heat and glow of the lightsaber. 

“Damn! Another Dark Jedi! I’ll try to hold him off, you get to the escape pods! Go! He dashed through the door. Before I could pull him back or join him or do anything he slammed his hand against the keypad on the other side and the door slammed closed in my face.

 I was angry. Trask had just killed himself so that I could escape! Why would he do that? He didn’t even know me. I tried keying in a code to the keypad but the door was locked tight. I would have tried a security spike, but Trask was likely already dead. I didn’t want his sacrifice to be for nothing. He had bought me time to escape and I wasn’t going to waste it. I had to make my way to the starboard section of the ship, to the escape pods. 

I turned away from the door when I heard my communicator beep. I answered the transmission. “This is Carth Onasi.. I'm tracking your position through the Endar Spire's life support systems. Bastila's escape pod is away – you're the last surviving crew member of the Endar Spire! I can't wait for you much longer; you have to get to the escape pods!” That confirmed my suspicions about Trask. I wouldn’t forget him, but now was not the time to mourn. That Jedi could break through the door at any second. I started to run back down the hall I had come, and turned at an intersection. “Be careful. There's a Sith patrol just down that corridor!” Carth was still in my ear. I slowed but not for long. I pressed a button on my stealth field generator on my belt (not exactly standard issue to most Republic soldiers) and continued forward. 

I slipped past the soldier unnoticed and continued onwards. I felt as though I had been running for hours and that this damned ship never ended. But Carth assured me I was almost there. Just one more room. And one more problem. “There's a whole squad of Sith Troopers on the other side of that door! You need to find some way to thin their numbers.” Carth sounded almost as nervous as I felt. I looked around the room I was currently in for ideas. There was a computer console and a broken down patrol droid. Inspiration struck. I could repair the droid but that could take hours and I wasn’t sure I had the parts or could find them anyway. The computer console. I ran over to it. I keyed through the commands. Opening up a video feed of the room beyond, I had my answer. There was a bare power line that was clearly in the middle of repair when the attack had started. All I had to do was enter a command to send a power surge to that particular room and… CRACK! Electricity crackled out from the wall and zapped the soldiers that were standing guard waiting for last minute escapees. I had only meant to injure or slow the soldiers but I guess I sent a little too much power because they all dropped dead. Oh well, less cleanup for me. I shut down the power again and proceeded through the room, past the bodies, and out the opposite door. 

“You made it just in time!” This must be Carth, I thought. “We’re the last two crew members left on the Endar Spire. Bastila's escape pod's already gone, so there's no reason for us to stick around here and get shot by the Sith. There's only one active escape pod left. Come on, we can hide out on the planet below!” 

I gestured towards the escape pod door. “After you.”