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chaosmultiverse · 1 year ago

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Stanley was frowning, a little more than his natural resting face but that was the only thing not matching a pokerface. He was admittedly a little nervous, while Cyrus seemed well mannered in their pervious conversations he also hadn't been saying anything he knew was probably a sore spot, his own Narrator never took criticism well, swinging from extreme denial to anger to depressive moments when it had came up.

But this was a topic that would have to come up at some point, after all what was the office without it's story? And the surroundings of Cyrus's made it in Stanley's mind likely that the story was the same, because of course, the end was never the end, never the end-

It was best to get this out of the way, and... There was no way to really try and soften his thoughts to be something 100% safe to say, because at some point he'd snap, and then he'd say it and he'd be in the state of mind of picking fights, not trying to at least not be cruel.

Still it didn't feel great to tell someone how much he hated their story, Cyrus didn't mean to have the same story that was his living hell. But also presumably at some point he had put some other Stanley within that story... So maybe he shouldn't feel bad at all.

Still, hearing Cyrus's voice, a voice he shared like his story, say he understood felt... Heavy, not like a sudden weight but... like someone had placed a far too heavy blanket over Stanley's head, like a sheet ghost.

Now the next sentences out of Cyrus do hit suddenly, like a ton of bricks thrown at his chest.

Stanley had been mentally preparing for a lot of different ways he'd take his answer but... A sincere apology? Wishing Stanley luck in regards to his own Narrator apologizing?

...Hoping he'd find freedom?

Stanley felt his throat close in a bit, as he gelt mucus in it, he felt a threat of tears and worse following that embarrassment, he... Was not someone who liked being vulnerable, especially this much and especially with someone he didn't know too well, yet, so crying sounded like actual hell to him. He'd rather talk about the issue, or have there be silence. NOT TEARS.

...

He did want to reply to what Cyrus had said, though... Cyrus was staring at the carpet right now. Stanley could understand, he... Vaguely remembered times in hard conversations where his throat was closing in on him and his heart racing he'd look at the floor, counting the lines of wood or make images of the random patterns of tile. Still posed a issue for using sign language, and Stanley's jaw felt tight, like someone had cranked it shut as it tended to get when he was having intense emotional conversations.

Stanley stepped forward and gently placed a hand on one of Cyrus's shoulders, hopefully just long enough to catch his attention to Stanley's hands, for now he would just finger spell anything that'd otherwise draw attention to his weepy face.

Stanley starts and stops twice, before finally actually getting words to form with his hands.

"I appreciate you saying that, really. There is no reason to apologize, you... Well again I appreciate the thought but remember you did not do that to me, so..." His hands trailed off, it was a reminder for himself as well, he felt guilty that Cyrus felt guilty but also he felt vindicated, that someone in his position could actually see how bad it was and feel remorse, it... Guiltly was like music to his ears.

Again he starts and stops, hands bumping into each other as he tries to find the right thing, he wanted to make it clear that he was glad, happy with how Cyrus was handling what he said but... It'd be a little, odd, he guessed to say something like thank you for Cyrus not... Acting like a different person, whi just happened to share a 'job' and voice with.

"What I shared probably was not easy to hear... I do not if you are looking for outside comment, but... I think you are handling it with grace... I am... Glad about that." If Cyrus was able to bring himself to look towards Stanley's face he could see Stanley's mouth stressed, made narrow and his eyes dart to the side as he finished signing.

( @chaosmultiverse - In response to this!)

Even after meeting other Narrators and Stanleys and knowing that they were telling the same story - the very story Cyrus thought that he and he alone had come up with - Cyrus still has a difficult time grasping that as truth. He worked so hard on that story. When he and his sister first set everything in the office up, trapped the Dampening mist, and before allowing the mist to take him as a host, Cyrus had put a lot of effort into creating the story. He knew the mist would take at least one other as a host, to preserve itself, and when he came to that conclusion he also came up with Stanley's story based on the set-up off the office they were to be trapped in.

Finding out that so many others had the exact same story to tell, well... that was a huge blow to his ego, and his creativity. It took him a long time to work up the courage and self-esteem to start writing again after that.

At first, after losing his memories to the mist, he just wanted to follow the script exactly as he wrote it. No deviations, no leniency, exactly as is, word for word. Understandably his Stanley grew bored with that very quickly and wanted to explore other areas of the office. It didn't take long for the two of them to essentially be at each other's throats. And things only got worse after Thursday appeared in the control booth.

It doesn't seem so important now, except it is. This man before him now may not be his Stanley, but he is still Stanley. His life and personality and experiences may not be the same, but his "story" was still the same. Stanley's opinion of the Story is the same as any Stanley's opinion, including his own. Ergo, he couldn't help but ask how this Stanley feels about it.

He listens to Stanley as best as he can. It's a lot to digest, especially since it's the very truth he asked for. A Narrator's pride is an impressive thing - it's as easy to break as it is strong. Right now Cyrus feels his pride melting into a puddle around his feet.

Does he really understand what it's like for every choice he has ever made in his adult life to be questioned? Maybe not. He's been an adult for at least the last century and not all of his choices were questioned, even with his twin sister constantly by his side.

But also, he does understand. He understands because he's seen outside the fourth wall. A persona of his creator lives in the ceiling of his office, scurrying around and tearing up the insulation and busting out ceiling tiles and leaving empty, shredded candy wrappers up there, much to his annoyance. He also understands because he can recall all too well how, about a year ago now, he discovered (along with Thursday) that the mist was in his blood, inhabiting him. He didn't know then what exactly the mist was or why he was infected with it, but it did call into question just how much control he had over himself versus how much the mist was controlling him.

Thankfully he still had full control over his own mind and thoughts and actions, but it was still a harrowing experience. So in that aspect, he does understand how Stanley feels. His efforts were also very nearly "rewarded" with the loss of all he holds dear. He lost his race, he lost his planet, he lost his Stanley, nearly lost his adoptive daughter, his own life. Yes, he understands the "benefits" of a cursed narrative.

He remembers his own lashings he took after everyone discovered what his and his sister's plan had been and that they were the ones responsible for the deaths of all the employees at ABC Company. So many accusations of how they could have come up with a different plan, a "better" one, how they were responsible for every single soul lost, and he knows all too well that it's true. His sister received even worse treatment. All from people who could never begin to understand the constraints and responsibilities they had to take on. And all the guilt.

And his Stanley, lost in the mix. Lost in everything. Cyrus had never anticipated that he might grow to have feelings for any of the humans. He never could have predicted that and now it eats at him.

When it all comes down to his response, all he can think to say at first is a soft, "I understand, Stanley." Because even though their circumstances are widely different, they're also very similar. But going into all that would take away from Stanley's experience with the Story and Cyrus doesn't want to do that. He doesn't think it would matter much to a man who just explained that the Story ruined his life and calls into question everything about his life, his very sense of agency. It'll just come off as sounding like one big tone deaf excuse.

He's quiet for a moment long, words tumbling around in his brain like a game of Bingo. Will the right words come out? Will they create a Bingo? Or will it all be wrong and just be one big disappointment, like the Story?

The words that finally find their way out are, "I'm sorry, Stanley. More sorry than you could ever know. I hope that your Narrator is sorry too, and... I hope he strives to do better by you in the future." Goodness knows he's tried himself, although he doesn't feel he's succeeded much. "I do appreciate your honesty. And I do hope you can find your real freedom."

Cyrus has never been too fond of making eye contact - it's uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons - and he finds it even more difficult now. He just stares at the carpet, as if that ugly orange staring back up at him might forgive him.

#I Guess That's The Least That I Owe Ya To Be Normal In A Way I Couldn't Be: Stanley & Cyrus ☆The-Haunted-Office☆#Stanley ☆The End Is Never The End☆ ☆Main Verse☆#Stanley ☆You're Completely Free Yet You Refuse To Leave☆ ☆IC☆#The-Haunted-Office

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nzia-writes · 2 years ago

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•{Infighting is lost}•

Pt 2

Part one

Interact. please and thank you.

Aneka eases at the waterside. The pristine wakandan water prances down the river. It is there to remind her of the peace that can not be bought, but gifted. Behind her her home bustles with the Dora and close relatives in celebration of a familial tradition she could care less about.

Days ago she tried to leave wakanda but she was met with a unit of the Dora at the borders, under the command of Ayo to seize her whether she fights or yields. She did not yield. She fought relentlessly, with a mean spear guiding her through bodies. She did not face chances of losing until being temporarily paralyzed with a newly branded weapon from Shuri’s lab. Since then she has been stripped of her weekly duties by Ayo, who has yet to show her face. It is said that she has been preoccupied with duties posed by King M’Baku.

Wherever she may be, Aneka has not yet accepted defeat. But she has had time to think and she holds herself accountable for her harmful actions. Had Ayo not initiated an end to her rebellion with what she assumes is the intention to protect her from not only herself, but those who would fall at the hands of her, she is not sure where she would be at the moment.

So here she stands before an easel to bring herself calm, painting her anxieties away, whilst plotting for her next escape, of course.

She eases her paintbrush in a clay cup full with tepid water. “If you were to step a little lighter I would be a dead woman, my love.” She swivels around with grace. Ayo stands before her, muscular body squeezed into a fitted dress. Her dark brown skin shines beneath its own light. And her gorgeously thinned eyebrows keeps her face stoic. Always stoic.

“I can’t resist you. No matter the effort. You drive me crazy,” Aneka admits softly as Ayo draws in closer. The woman in question smiles. She pulls Aneka in by the chin and pecks her juicy lips twice. She admires her lover’s feline bone structure, the rasp of her voice. It is a treasure worth praising.

“Now now…there is absolutely no need to resist me, beloved.”

”You stumble here after days of no contact to charm me with your words, eh?” Aneka laughs. “Say what you came here to say. I have no interest in fighting.” She trails a finger up Ayo’s thigh and cups her firmly round backside.

“That is unfortunate.” Ayo holds her beloved’s hands to her lips to press meaningful kisses. Soft brown skin smelling of freshly harvested thistle and cocoa pods from her farm. “I came with the intention of fighting.” She pauses. “For your forgiveness. I was out of line.”

“Tsk. Remind me, what is love?”

“We agreed it to be patient and kind.”

“I hold myself to that.” Says Aneka. “If anyone should be seeking forgiveness it is I.”

”The both of us have overstepped. We both apologize. We both forgive. We move on. I hate to fight with you. It hurts me more than I show.”

“Me the same,” Aneka whispers.

They sway in the intimate breeze of the evening. Their eyes and their breathing patterns scream louder than any verbiage could. It is at this time that they are on the same wavelength. Infighting…there has been enough of that. A vulnerable Wakanda could not hold another one of those—they could not hold another one of those.

“I have something to tell you.”

Aneka listens on.

“Okoye…” Ayo rubs a soothing hand down Aneka’s tense back. “Her wish was for me to keep this message to myself, but I must tell you.”

Aneka hums. Judging by the tone, she knows the trajectory of this confession. Okoye left willingly. Otherwise Ayo would not have been so sure of Okoye’s safety when she lashed out in the name of it.

“She left willingly,” Aneka states.

She is correct.

“She is on a search for meaning. She has not been the best at that, you know?”

“I do,” Aneka removes herself from Ayo’s embrace. She tends to her painting and her lover joins her, both brushing opaque browns across the canvas. The rippling of the water is there again. This time it is to unite, not stand alone.

“She doesn’t know where she will go, but she will rely on love and the wise guidance of bast and the ancestors to take her where she is needed. More importantly, where she needs herself.”

Aneka allows the word to travel to her heart. To unravel her worries running on unrest. Okoye left without a farewell. It is a stinging needle to bear, but she has been stung many times over. What is one more?

“She knew I would not hesitate to run with her,” Aneka says.

“Yes, my love. I would have lost my mind had you left.”

Aneka turns to Ayo. “I will never leave you. Not for a long time, anyway.”

“I’m sure your word is genuine,” Ayo smiles. “You are captain now.”

“Ah,” Aneka sucks her teeth and nudges Ayo. “That I knew.”

“Your keen intellect never fails you.” Ayo presses a lasting kiss to her cheek.

“I love you, sthandwa.”

“I, the same, beloved.”

Note: and we are done! glad you enjoyed.

Be sure to like, comment, repost. Tag your mutuals please! Thank you!

#ayo and aneka #ayo #aneka #black panther wakanda forever #black lesbian #wlw imagine #wlw fics #wlw love

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pa1nkill3r · 3 years ago

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"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

#george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #oml this is long

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justinewt · 2 years ago

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Darkness - UNTIL DAWN REWRITE Chapter Two

[UNTIL DAWN-MASTERLIST]

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Summary: After meeting up at the cable car, Chris and Synthya made their way up the mountain and reached the lodge. Synthya wasn’t too hyped about the whole thing, having kind of a bad feeling but she was doing this for Josh. It seemed important to him to get everyone reunited on this day and she would give Josh the world, so she didn’t really think twice before agreeing to come back here... despite her apprehensions.

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: Until Dawn spoilers (chapter 2 specifically), flirting, fluff, fears, angst, chase, lots of dialogues

Mount Washington’s Lodge, 10pm

NINE HOURS UNTIL DAWN

Synthya and Chris walked down the trail, the sole of their shoes sinking slightly into the snow, leaving their footprints in their path. She really couldn’t wait to get into the lodge and settle on a couch, maybe even take a hot bath to chill out a bit cause the uneasiness she felt while walking through this god forsaken forest was getting a little too much for her to handle, although she managed to keep up the appearances. She knew she didn’t actually need to pretend with Chris, but it was almost like she needed to make herself believe she was fine and as they approached the small gate cutting off the path leading up to the lodge, she noticed Matt, his arms crossed, seemingly upset for some reason and just standing to the side and Ashley was sitting on the porch stairs. Synthya let Chris open the gate and they were welcomed by Josh who walked up to them and at the sight of the latter, a sweet smile appeared on her face. He smiled at her and greeted her with an affectionate and soft kiss, drawing her towards him with a hand in her lower back. Chris cooed and whistled to tease them. Josh simply laughed as he stepped back.

“Man, I feel this mountain gets bigger every time I climb it.”

“Oh yeah? Feels the same to me.” Josh said nonchalantly with a cocky smile. He just had this overall laid-back and cool vibe coming from him, as always. She couldn’t help but be worried about him all the time but seeing him so calm and composed made her wonder, but she knew better. His behavior in public did fool her when she had first met him. She’d never thought he wasn’t doing so well and that’s why now, she tried to have a constant eye on him, but some things slipped from her watchful eyes. One definitely couldn’t tell that a year ago he attempted suicide. Only her and Chris knew about that incident.

“Oh come on, you grew up here. It probably feels like it’s shrinking.”

“I guess that’s true.” He glanced down, nodding.

“When are you gonna install some cell towers up here? I’m getting withdrawals already.” Chris complained lightly, lifting his phone up in the air. Synthya rolled her eyes, subconsciously adopting the same pose as Josh as she watched Chris acting all tech-savyy.

“You got a spare million lying around and I’ll fix you right up.” Josh retorted ironically, shrugging.

“Funny you should say that… Ah, I think I left it in my other jacket.” While Chris was being the comedian he is, Josh put his arm around Synthya’s shoulders and they walked the last feet separating them from the porch, approaching Ashley and Matt.

“Hey guys… Get up here, okay?” He greeted the two with his free hand.

“Yeah… well, more or less. But it’s so good to see you!” Ashley said.

“ ’Sup with him?” Josh wondered, looking at Matt and nobody knew the answer so there was a brief silence. Matt even eventually went a little further from the house and stood in the shadow of the trees, ruminating in silence. Josh let his arm slip down her back as he and the moment his hand left her back, she suddenly felt quite nervous and she looked into the dense forest, narrowing her eyes as if she was trying to see something. “Oh, hey, you all right, Syn?”

“Uh, yeah… yeah, don’t worry. I’m fine. Just… just a bit nervous. That’s all.” She cleared her throat, staring into the dark and Josh rubbed her back and climbed the porch stairs along with Chris.

She went the opposite direction and slowly came near the small gate and leaned on it, staring straight ahead at the forest path she had just walked up with Chris. Alone in front of it, it seemed so much scarier. She had this pending feeling of being watched and followed and this ever since she got off the bus almost a couple hours ago. Something didn’t feel right but she shook it off and took a deep breath. She stayed still for a second, her heart pounding in her ears and shallow breathing, she swallowed harshly and grabbed her phone and headphones from her bag and put music in her ears. The silence in which the forest was plunged did not help to soothe her. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, her hands now gripping onto the gate. But the nightmares came anyway, mocking her attempt at keeping her shit together. These same images kept haunting her mind. She was standing there by the gate but as the imaged flashed in the dark of her shut eyelids, she felt her legs moving as if she ran through the forest, as she did with Hannah and Beth, freezing, the cold biting her bones, and in panick at they reached a cliff. Right at the moment she saw herself fell, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes abruptly, letting out a sharp scream. She cut it off, putting her hand on her mouth for a second as she turned around, only to see Josh standing next to her. She had never told him about what had happened, not in details anyway. She only ever really told her therapist about it and the latter eventually diagnosed her with PTSD. She cleared her throat, taking off her headphones. Her hands were shaking slightly.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He tried to give her a smile, speaking lightly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Where did Chris go?” She asked, trying to compose herself, avoiding his gaze.

“He went to look for a deodorant to open the door from inside.”

“A deodorant?”

“Yeah, I gave him a lighter, so he can go all flame-thrower and unfreeze the lock.” He gestured, mimicking a flame thrower with his hand, making the crackling sound of the fire with his mouth and she flinched, her eyes blinking nervously as she took a step back reflexively, but she sketched an amused smile, nodding, to cover up her reaction, in case he had seen it. She never forgot about that man with the flame-thrower who at first chased her and his sisters down before actually saving her from a deadly fall and letting her run away, for some reason. It was still something confusing to think about. She was still unable to rationalize that event. And she never said the whole story to Josh because he had already hit rock bottom, she didn't want to upset him even more. “You all right, Syn?”

“Huh? Sure, I—” She was about to tell Josh how well she was when she suddenly heard a branch crach in the distance and she turned around, checking behind her instantly, startled. When she saw a deer just running across the path she cleared her throat, passing her hand in her hair, letting the hood of her jacket fall down her head, making her shiver when cold air blew down her neck, despite the scarf she had tied around it. She felt Josh wrap his arms around her waist, leaning his head against hers and she put her hand onto his. “I’m fine, really. Just a little on edge…”

“I know, but you’ll see, we’re gonna have a great weekend.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled at the smirk on his face and turned her head towards him. The way he pressed his lips against hers, sharing a soft and sensual kiss, made her think he had probably some making out in mind for the two of them, in order to make this the great weekend he promised her. They only broke their embrace when they heard a loud ghost-like noise coming from inside the lodge and Ashley letting out a gasp, jumping. Synthya smiled, amused and Josh and her walked to the door. “Hey man, shouldn’t be getting the lock open?”

“On it!” After a minute, he lit the lighter and sprayed the deodorant on the flame, melting the ice inside the lock of the lodge's front door. He grabbed the handle and opened the door quickly letting go, waving his hand with a quiet grunt from the heat. He then bowed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week—” He suddenly screamed when a little furball came out of the blue and rushed out of the house. Ashley, Josh and Synthya stepped aside in surprise. “That thing freaked me out.”

“What was it? Are you okay?” Ashley asked, laughing.

“It was like a… bear or a tiger or something—”

“Aww, it was just a little baby Wolverine!” Synthya joked. Unlike Josh and Chris, she wasn’t much of a jokester, but this seemed like the ideal occasion to make a pop culture reference. Josh gave her an amused smile.

“Baby?”

“Don’t worry buddy, you’re gonna be a big boy soon.” Josh teased with a smirk. They then walked in, joined by Matt, who was still sulking, walking behind them without a word, and went into the living room. All the sofas and armchairs around the fireplace were covered with plastic sheets. There was an eerie silence floating in the air until Josh spoke up, looking around. “Home sweet home.”

“Sweet is not the word I’d use.” Matt finally spoke, while putting down Emily’s bags near the wall. It had to be Emily’s bags because she was the only one who owned designer bags and stuff like that, and Jessica was now dating Mike.

“Oh my god, it’s so good to be inside. Even if it’s still kinda freezing in here.” Ashley sighed in relief.

“I’ll get a fire going.” Josh walked up to the fireplace.

“This place barely looks any different.”

“Yeah, like it’s frozen in time.” Synthya added, glancing at Matt with a nod.

“Nobody’s been up here.” Josh told them, crouched in front of the hearth.

“Even with all the police coming in and out?” Ashley wondered.

“Not a lot of action here lately.” Chris concluded, glancing at Josh.

“Nope.” Josh added. Synthya nonchalantly shuffled her feet, walking around the living room and she went near the windows, parting the slats of the curtain with her fingers, looking out. It took her a second to realize that she was looking outside as if she was awaiting a monster with that same anxiety that made her stomach heavy and she took a step back, startled, almost letting out a loud gasp when Mike came in, casually yelling to greet the rest of them.

“What’s up party people!” Synthya swallowed harshly, staring at the newcomer, trying to compose herself, ignoring the fact that Josh glanced at her. She used to be better at keeping her shit together but being back on that mountain was fairly triggering, but she would do anything for Josh so if it was important for him to bring everyone back up here, she wouldn’t say no to the invitation and the fact that he was there too made it a little easier. She didn’t like how Mike took things so unseriously.

“Heeey!” Jessica waved her hand at the five of them standing there in the lodge as they joined, with a high-pitched voice. Josh greeted them back, still busy near the fireplace and Synthya noticed Matt raising his head and glaring at Mike, for whatever reason. She thought that maybe Mike had something to do with how upset he was a moment ago when they were stuck outside the house.

“Make yourself at home, bro.” Josh told Mike. Synthya kept an eye on them, silent and she pulled the sheet covering an armchair next to the large sofa and slumped in the chair, sitting sideways on it, throwing her legs over the arm, facing Josh.

“Will do.” He gestured at his host and joined Jessica on the sofa.

“Yeah. Come on in.” Matt’s tone of voice was overly bitter, which only confirmed Synthya previous thought about the reason why Matt was so troubled, now he looked like he wanted to throw hands and have a beef with Mike right there right now. “Take a load off. Have whatever you want. You just take whatever you want anyways, right?”

“Woah, easy there, cowboy.” Mike seemed genuinely confused, or at least he was acting well. Synthya was watching them, as if she was watching some reality show on TV -which she actually never did- but it felt like it.

“What the hell were you doing with Em out on the trail, huh?” Matt inquired.

“What?”

“I saw you and Em. Through the telescope.”

“Before? We just ran into each other. It’d been a while, so we hugged, and I said hello. Is that against the law?” Matt looked away, clearing his throat, nodding, seemingly a little embarrassed to have gotten carried away. He ran ran his hand through his hair.

“Right… yeah... Duh. Sorry, it’s been kind of a long day. I overreacted.”

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it.” Mike said softly before joining Jessica on the couch and Matt went to sit down on the other end of the sofa. Synthya let out a quiet sigh and rested her head against the back of the armchair. She bent over to grab her phone in her bag on the floor. She let it fall right back inside upon seeing that it was dead already and returned to her previous position on the chair. That’s when Emily arrived. Synthya already knew there would be some drama between her and Jessica and no one had even said anything yet. She wasn’t really thrilled to see them again, after not talking to them at all for a whole year. Synthya had only kept in touch with Chris, Ashley and obviously, Josh.

“Oh. My god. This is so gross.” Emily chuckled, looking at them in a judgmental manner, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you trying to swallow his face whole? Seriously can she be any more obvious?” Matt stood up while Emily just kept going. This time, the fight would escalate, because Emilly was much more impetuous. “No one wants in on your territory, honey.”

“Excuse me, did you say something?” Jessica took a few steps, rising from the couch.

“Oh, did you not hear me? Was your sluttiness too loud?”

“Sounds like someone’s bitter she didn’t make the cut.” She said, looking at Mike still casually seated behind her. Synthya rolled her eyes and looked at the windows, watching the snow falling outside.

“Yeah. It’s all big cattle call with that dreambot. Congrats, you’re top cow.” Emily laughed.

“Cuts real deep calling Miss Homecoming a cow.”

“Em, come on—” Matt tried to defuse things, but he got told off by his very girlfriend.

“Shut up, Matt.”

“Stay out of it, you dumb oaf.” Jessica added and from what Synthya heard, because she got tired from looking at them, Emily didn’t like that one bit.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Oh, you’re the only one who can put him down? No one else can play with your toys?” Jessica rose her voice.

“You’re such a bich.” Emily complained.

“Whatever. I don’t give a crap what you think.” Synthya heard Jessica stepping back to the couch. She glanced at Josh, still working on getting the fire lit. He would probably put a stop to this fuss as this was surely not what he had in mind with this little winter get-away for the anniversary of his sisters’ disappearance.

“At least I can think. 4.0, bitch, honor roll. Suck on that when you’re trying to sleep your way into a job.”

“Who needs grades when you’ve got all the natural advantages you can handle?” Jessica retorted with pride, spreading out her arms in a manner to show off her figure. “You couldn’t buy a moldy loaf of bread with your skanky ass.”

“Are you serious? Do you think that’s insulting?” Emily giggled at the attempt.

“Emily, stop! This is out of hand. There’s no reason to fight like this.” Matt spoke up, trying to play peacemaker once again.

“Yeah, Em! Why you pickin’ fight over your ex boyfriend, huh?” Before Emily could retaliate, Josh stood up and rose his voice. Synthya straightened up, bringing her legs down from the arm of the chair and looked at the latter.

“STOP IT! This is not why we came up here. This is not helping. It’s not what I wanted. If we can’t get along for ten minutes then maybe we need a little bit of a break, right? Mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin. The one I told you about.”

“Yeah… Yeah, all right.” He got up, and invitated Jessica to come along with him, to take her away from Emily. “Want to go do that?”

“Any place without that whore…” Jessica sighed, one hand resting on her hip, she took Mike’s hand and followed him.

“It’s right up the trail.” Josh added.

“Phew…” He mimicked an explosion of his head with his hands and sighed in relief. “Glad that’s over.”

“Yeah.” Josh whispered back as he returned to the fireplace, which was still unlit after a few minutes already.

“So, Josh, uh… should we get this fire going?” Matt asked.

“Where’s my bag?” Emily inquired out of the blue. Matt turned to her, confused. “My bag! The… the little bag with the pink pattern! The one I got on Rodeo! Matt, are you listening?” While Emily talked about her stupid bag, Synthya stood up and walked over to the Grand piano. The top was closed, and it was covered with a sheet as well. She grabbed a corner of it and pulled it over before she pressed a key on the piano, and it made a sharp noise. She winced and brought her hand back to her.

“You can't play us a masterpiece today, Syn.” Josh joked. “The cold surely ruined it.”

“That’s sad.” Synthya observed. She couldn’t even really play the piano anyway, but she saw the beauty in these big instruments and loved them.

“Not as sad as my missing bag.” Emily whined. “Matt, I need my bag!”

“Oh my god, Em, maybe you just forgot it—”

“Do you seriously think I’d forget my bag?” She exclaimed, as if it was crazy of him to suppose that.

“Well, I—”

“Do you?” She cut him off again. She had been doing that ever since she joined them in the lodge.

“Guess not.” He said, shrugging.

“You must have left it down by the cable car station.” Matt grumbled at her insistance. “C’mon, hun. We’ll be back soon.”

“And then we can get warm?” He asked softly.

“We can get very warm.” Emily cooed. Synthya smirked slightly, looking around the room. It made her think of the similar lusty offer Josh implied in the sensual kiss they shared outside. She played with her septum piercing, walking in circles as she didn’t know what to do know after the storm finally calmed down after Josh’s ultimate intervention. She shivered slightly and the image of a nice hot bath came to mind.

“I think I’m gonna take a bath. I dream of some hot water right now.” Josh stood up, turning to her and she looked at him after taking just one step towards the huge staircase, on which Chris and Ashley had been sitting in silence for the last few minutes of mayhem.

“Hey, wait for me upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute. Just gotta give some directions to Mike and Jessica, or they’re gonna get lost in these woods.” He told her in a low voice, almost whispering and he chuckled. She smiled before he gave her a soft kiss and left in the direction taken by the other couple.

“All right, I’m off. Get cosy.” She said at Chris and Ashley’s attention as she climbed up the stairs. Ashley giggled nervously. Synthya walked past the bathroom, and she noticed a door ajar at the end of a small corridor on the side of it. It was either Hannah or Beth’s bedroom if she remembered correctly.

The lodge was so enormous that it was fairly easy to forget where everythign was, or where you were even going in the first place. She even wondered if she had really seen all the rooms of that big house. She looked down the railing before entering the bedroom, climbing the few steps at the entrance fo the room. Everything had been left untouched, like the last time anyone ever came in. Synthya found an old tattoo artist card on a desk and behind was a date “March 18th 2013” and the time of the appointment along with the tattoo design she wanted, the little butterfly she had gotten tattooed on her shoulder. Synthya frowned, letting out a heavy sigh as she walked to the other end of the room to a busy cork jumble on the wall beside the chimney with various papers and photos pinned on it, she noticed a large rectangular blue box with Hannah’s initials painted in gold on the top. She carefully opened it and a soft smile stretched her lips as she saw a ballerina spin around and realized it was a music box, and given the inscription she found inside, it was an old Christmas gift from Josh and the smile quickly turned into a sad one. It made her heart sink in grief, and she closed the box quietly. On the cork jumble, she took a look at everything Hannah had put on it, trying not to get overwhelmed by how it made her feel; she was, along with Beth, her best friend after all and the trauma she got from watching them fall to their deaths was hard to come to term with. She swallowed harshly and lifted a pinned party invite to one of Hannah's birthdays and beneath was concealed a polaroid picture of Mike in a suit.

“Oh, Hannah…” Synthya mumbled under her breath. She entered the dressing room on her right and noticed a torn magazine paper lying on the carpet. She crouched down and picked it up. On the back of it were results of some love test and Hannah got the result telling her it wasn't going to work, and to try something daring to get his attention. Mike's attention. She shook her head, put the paper back down and walked out of the room, giving a sad look around as she closed the door behind her and went near the guard railing and saw Josh climbing the stairs.

“Sent the porn stars on their way.” He said jokingly.

“All right, cause I’m dreaming of that hot bath so now’s your time to shine, big boy.” She teased and chuckled when he picked her up, kissing her languidly as he carried her to his old room further down the hallway.

Mount Washington’s Lodge, 10:44 PM

Synthya leaned over the tub, her knee pressed against the edge as she turned the switches to open the water supply and take a nice hot bath in which she could bask for a while after this little hooking up session with Josh. The latter had then joined Ashley and Chris in the living room and continued to try to light a fire in the fireplace. She let the water run for a second and passed her hand through and frowned at the cold water sending a chill through her arm. She kept turning the switches around, trying to get the water to warm up but after a minute, she sighed. As she walked out of the bathroom, she heard a strange noise and looked around, freaked out and fastened her pace as she went to climb down the stairs to join the three others. She chose to ignore the noise she had just heard. It must have been her imagination. She needed to calm down, because nothing could hurt them. They were safe in the lodge and hopefully, the bath would help her chill out.

“How long do you think it’ll take him?” Chris’s voice echoed a little in the high-roofed room. He was probably talking about Josh still struggling to get the fire going.

“My money’s on blankets for everyone!” Ashley laughed.

“You can do it, man. We believe in you.”

“Yeah! Totally! Woo-ooh!” She cheered. “Let’s go Jo-osh, let’s go!”

“All right, peanut gallery, you know what? I got an idea for you two.” Josh said, seemingly giving up on the idea of getting a fire started in the chimney.

“What?” Ashley inquired.

“Okay, well, I am pretty sure that somewhere in this crazy place we used to have… a spirit board.”

“Wow, you have a “spirit board”?” Chris asked.

“Yeah yeah. They’re fun right?”

“Wait, are you saying… we should have a séance?”

“Those things are a joke, man. They don’t do shit.” Chris declared. Synthya descended the last step of the stairs and walked towards them.

“No way, bro. We used to do it all the time. Me and… well…”

“Hey, josh.” He turned his head to her upon hearing her voice. “There’s no hot water.”

“Oh yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler. It’s in the basement.” He looked at Chris and Ashley. “You guys see if you can find the spirit board.”

“Chris let’s go find it! It’ll be like a scavenger hunt!”

“Ummm… okay… guess so.” Chris was apparently not as excited about the idea, but he followed Ashley anyway.

“Rad. You’re not gonna regret it.” Josh assured. “You up for a ride along?”

“Let’s go fire up that boiler.” Synthya followed him past the main staircase, and they climbed a couple of flights of stairs to reach the basement. He opened a drawer and got a flashlight out.

“Hey. You notice how I gave Chris and Ash a mission together?” He had a cheeky and mishievious grin on his face. “Yeah, I was thinking they could use some “alone time”.”

“That’s very clever.” She smiled and nodded. “They are sweet together. I wish they’d just freaking get on with it already.”

“I swear they just need like… something to bond over, y’know? Some sort of traumatic event to send them into each other’s arms. I mean at this rate they’ll be in the geriatric ward before Chris makes a move.” She laughed, agreeing with the statement. They needed a little help to get together finally after dragging this flirt situation on for years. Synthya looked around as she walked after him. He opened a door, and they entered a corridor where he stopped, waiting for her. “You know, Syn…”

“Yes, Josh?” They resumed walking.

“I just wanted to say…”

“What…?” He came to a halt and turned around to face her.

“It really means a lot to me that everyone came back this year and you know, that… you came, Synthya.”

“Oh, Josh… We’re here for you. I’m here for you. Always. Whatever you need. Whenever. We’re all gonna make it through this.” She paused, looking away for a second. “I should have been there for you more. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He said softly and Synthya cupped his face in her hands, gently caressing his cheeks with her thumbs and they rested their foreheads against each other for a few seconds. She softly kissed his lips and drew him into a hug and eventually they kept walking down to the basement. “Hey, watch your step.” He warned as they climbed down a flight of stairs.

“I think I can handle a little old set of stairs.” Synthya chuckled.

“Uh-huh.” He smirked, pointing the flashlight in front of them to light their way into the basement. He opened a tall metal cabinet and bent over, taking a look at the boiler. “Sorry to drag you down into the bowels.”

“Ugh, just get me some hot water and I’ll be super-fine.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want you coming down here on your own, you know?”

“Well, it’s definitely creepy down here.”

“Yep. Not a place to be on your own.” He straightened up and walked to a board with switches and buttons to the side of the cabinet. Synthya looked around them. She really had no intention of coming down here again once the hot water would be turned on and she could chill in the hot bath she longed for so dearly. As her eyes wandered, she noticed something inside the cabinet, leaning against the side and she took a few steps towards it. It was an old baseball bat. She picked it up and turned to Josh.

“What’s that doing here? Is that yours?”

“You bet it’s mine.” He smiled, taking it in his hand. “I used to play ball with my dad all the time. Of course, that was before he got too busy to hang out with me… oh well, save it for the couch, right?” She gave a compassionate look as he put the baseball bat down on the ground and got back to fixing up the boiler. “Okay, lemme see what I can do with this old hot water machine.” He turned a switch, but an empty click sound was all he got so he walked back to the cabinet and handed the flashlight to Synthya. “Here, can you… can you hold this?”

“Sure.” She took it and was about to bent over to light up the interior of the cabinet for Josh when a noise echoed around the basement and she instantly stiffened up, glancing around worriedly, moving the flashlight to the side. “What was that?”

“What was what?” He asked, one knee on the ground, before moving on. “Just shine it here so I can see what I’m doing.” After a moment, he straightened up. “Nice one. Ok, first things first: we gotta increase the water pressure before we get the boiler fired up.

“Uhm… sounds kinda complicated.”

“No, it’s actually pretty simple.” He said, now standing in front of the panel with the buttons and switches. She approached it as he returned to the cabinet. She turned the switch, waited a couple of seconds and pressed a button with a little flame symbol on it when the red light right above it lit up. She looked up at the huge boiler sitting behind as a loud noise sounded throughout the basement.

“Whoa!!”

“That’s more like it! All right! Five, girl.” She smiled with a laugh, and she high fived him as he held up his hand. Josh closed the boiler cabinet and came back next to her when another strange noise suddenly caught her attention and she turned around, frightened.

“What the hell is that…?” She asked in a whisper, glancing at Josh and he shrugged.

“Could be a lot of things… and none of them nice.” He teased, with an overly dramatic tone, tickling her arms to mimick spiders crawling on her. She turned around instantly. “I’m just… just “joshing” ya.”

“Ha-ha-ha.” She faked laughed and ended up chuckling for real, shaking her head.

“You were really freaked out.” He observed, a smirk on his face.

“I was not scared.” She protested, knowing damn well that she was totally scared, scared shitless.

“No, no, you just jumped because you wanted to squeeze in some aerobics?”

“Totally. You didn’t know your girlfriend was into fitness nowadays?” He shook his head with a chuckle. Then, there was another noise, followed by another and another, like something was hitting on the pipes. “Okay, so you hear that too, right?” He stepped past her, frowning. “Josh…?”

“…What?”

“The rhythm’s like, weirdly regular…” She noted.

“Not… no… nothing “regular” about it.”

“I’m gonna check it out.” Synthya declared, swallowing harshly. She was freaked out but somehow not as much as in the forest.

“What? Why?” Josh inquired.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s probably just like, not anything.”

“Why don’t you hold down the fort while I make sure?”

“Okay, whatever you say, madam.” She held tight onto the flashlight as she walked down a hallway towards where the noises were coming from, her free hand hanging down her body as she fidgeted her fingers anxiously. She might have been a brave person, but she was still pretty scared. She swallowed harshly, taking one step at a time. Suddenly, a masked man came from behind the corner of the wall and jumped, screaming as she ran out of the basement with Josh. In the panick, she pushed a mattress on the ground. The mysterious man tripped over and grunted. Her breath was quickening, and her face was distorted by fear. She felt like when she and the twins had been chased into the forest by this scary man. It was almost as though the muscle memory kicked in and she ran as fast as she could. In her mind, and whether or not it was true, her life was in danger right now. Synthya ran into the door, feverishly forcing on the handle, trying to get the door to open, letting fearful cries out along with some swearing in various languages, a mix of russian and greek, mostly. When she saw that the man had stopped down the flight of stairs leading to the door, she stared at him.

“…What?” She caught her breath, only feeling now that her cheeks were wet, and she had cried a little. She cleared her throat, wiping the tears, staring at the man who started laughing and booing like a ghost. “…what the hell?”

“Boom! You just got monked!” He lowered the hood, revealing his face and she made an annoyed face upon finding out it was Chris. She had gone through such intense up and downs in the last minute that she just stood there, not really knowing how to react.

“Nice. Nice one. That was good.” Josh giggled behind her.

“Why w… why would you do that?” She inquired.

“There’s all this old movie crap down here. What, was I… was I not supposed to take advantage of the opportunity?”

“Are you… are you serious? I—” She had almost snapped and unpacked what had happened to her in that forest, a year ago but she let the words die in her throat as she sighed and turned to Josh, slapping him on the chest, pushing him lightly. “Were you in on this putz?”

“Nope. But I wish I was! That was too good.” He laughed. Of course, if he knew what she had went through and what this stupid prank had reminded her of, he wouldn’t be smiling and laughing like that but still, she didn’t say anything. It didn’t feel like the right time to trauma dump. She took a deep breath while the two boys high fived and she followed them, silent. Josh locked the door behind them and put the flashlight on the piece of furniture by the door to the cinema room before catching up with them as they climbed up the stairs to the living room. Ashley walked up to them, looking at Chris in disbelief.

“What… in god’s name… are you wearing?”

“I found my true calling.” He joked, pretending to give her a blessing. Synthya chuckled, shaking her head and climbed up the stairs to go to the bathroom. She could hear Ashley, Chris and Josh chatting downstairs, talking about the Ouija board but she had had enough for the night. She desperately needed that hot bath, to calm down and relax and maybe, enjoy a moment on her own, without anyone’s company.

[To be continued…]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Published (08/24/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @maverickscorner

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clockworklozenges · 4 years ago

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So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

choices

PAIRING. kim taehyung x reader

GENRE. assassin!au, angst

WARNINGS. mentions of a gun,

WORDS. 1.2k

NOTE. an old wip that never really got developed from here :( but I enjoyed this small part so !!! here it is :D mayhaps I'll develop it but !!!! no promises

“So this is it, huh?” Taehyung asks, a little breathless but so were you.

Though, you recognise the glint in his eyes. The one that never quite dies but burns brighter every time you look.

“Anything we did would’ve brought us here anyway,” you tell him. “This is our duty.”

Taehyung chuckles, and he looks far too nonchalant for someone on top of a three hundred foot tall building, nearly dangling off the edge.

There is fire, and it’s searing. The heat scaths you and the inferno in your chest is nothing in comparison to the everlasting flames that blind your rationale. Everything in you is telling you to pull the trigger—to do your duty and forget what you know. What you feel.

“Ah.” Taehyung looks away just so you could catch his side profile. “And what a duty it is.”

You purse your lips, the metal feeling heavy in your grip. A gun has never felt heavier. It’s never been a weapon of regret until now.

Just do it.

“I don’t have a choice, Taehyung,” you whisper.

And after all this time, you still find yourself needing to justify your actions to him.

Taehyung smirks.

“We always have a choice.”

No, you didn’t. Because your choice was either your life or his. And you weren’t ready to go, not yet. Not when you had a life to live and the world to see. Maybe it was greed and selfishness, but you were sure Taehyung would do the same.

Right?

“Can you look away?” You ask him, and it’s weird because it’s his life that was at risk and not so much yours.

Taehyung, as usual, doesn’t listen to you. Instead, he smiles at you with a grin you’ve grown familiar with and draws closer. Each step he takes makes your finger shake—the digit so close to granting you emancipation.

You don’t breathe, not until he’s right in front of you—barring his head to the side—both to look away and for a target.

You gulp, eyes blinking at the smile that still remains etched on his face.

“Do it then.”

It’s a challenge.

But it’s not the same. Not when you know that at any other moment, you would’ve pulled the trigger without thinking twice, allowing your victims' blood to pool at your feet while you cleaned the soles of your shoes.

It’s a challenge you never thought you would meet.

Still, you take a deep breath and bring your gun to his head.

His hair was so soft, and it ruffled against the harsh wind of the rooftop you were on. Even the circumstances it took to get him up there hurt. A promise of a forever that ended with him.

Your hand shakes so much but you put on a brave face. You haven’t failed once and you wouldn’t need to fail now.

But Taehyung wasn’t one of your usual victims.

They were vile, disgusting and scum on Earth. You had absolutely no remorse for pulling the trigger or suffocating them to death. They deserved it for the sins they’ve committed.

Taehyung was … evil. But were not all humans capable of being evil? You were flawed, a pathetic excuse of a human being that sought to seek justice by removing the moles that polluted this Earth. You picked and chose who was worthy; with your gun as your toy and humans as your targets.

So why was it then he had to go and you stayed?

But his evil was interpreted as necessary and just—at least to you. Or at least when you tried enough to understand your victims then pull the trigger.

It was a naive choice on your part, and you suppose Taehyung was right. You always had a choice. And this time you had a price to pay at the expense of your shattered heart.

“Why won’t you kill me, _____?” Taehyung whispers, but his smile is wide—as if he has all the time in the world.

You suppose that the brink of death showed people how finite time is.

“I will,” you snap.

Taehyung laughs, carefree and unbothered. He withdraws his head, turning to look at you against your wish. And he looks the same as the first time your client hired you with a target on Taehyung’s head. The same boxy smile that didn’t belong to a man who’s killed hundreds.

But then, you were a killer too.

“Why drag it out further?” Taehyung hums. “You say you don’t have a choice but you’re not shooting.” His face is familiar and you hate that it is. That you’ve grown to understand the man was promised death from the moment you allowed his name to roll off your tongue. “Your choice is not shooting.”

He leans in, face close to yours when you blink at his vicinity. He’s warm in the Autumn night, his beige tones matched the season but nothing like the dull grey of the intent that laid in your hands.

“I said I need a moment.” You repeat, weaker.

“Or maybe you need me,” Taehyung grins.

Your eyes widen.

“You’re fooling yourself.”

“Then prove it,” he tells you. “Shoot me and it’ll all be over.”

But you don’t shoot. You stare at him as if it was your last chance at memorising his face to remember how he looks and feels right in front of you. But a part of you says it’s unnecessary because people leave yet feelings stay; though you don’t look away.

You shakily bring up your gun, placing it right at his temple when his eyes continue to bore into yours. And you’ve never felt despondency this early on to your kills. In fact, you rarely ever felt it. But Kim Taehyung brought out parts of you that you shielded away long enough for you to forget how to hurt.

Taehyung still pins you with his intense gaze, and you don’t want to appear weak in front of him when he’s so close. But you can’t bring yourself to pull the trigger—not when his face is inches away from yours and you were sure that you’d feel the blood splatter.

“Say something,” he challenges.

“I’m going to kill you,” you tell him, soft and nothing unlike the fire you had when you’ve killed hundreds of people like him.

Your finger rests upon the silver, ready to pull when you close your eyes. You take a deep breath and pretend that tears aren’t threatening to fall, that your knees are seconds away from giving out and that Taehyung was a breadth gone from disappearing forever.

“Are you?”

“Yes, goddamnit,” you hiss, eyes fluttering shut. But even the world goes dark for a moment—Taehyung is all you can see. You feel him, too. The warmth from his skin radiates against your palm. Even now, when you knew he could turn the stakes so that they were against you; you weren’t afraid.

Because deep down, you knew that Taehyung wouldn’t kill you.

“Then why aren’t you pulling the trigger?” He poses you with a question you can’t answer yourself.

Why couldn’t you?

You’ve pulled a trigger more times in your life than you could remember. But this almost feels like the first, the trepidation that lingers deep in your bones only makes your finger feel heavier. You wish it’d do the job for you—rather it be an act of familiarity rather than conscience, but you knew that it wasn’t your body who killed. It was you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sneer at him but it’s anything but hostile. It’s desperate, it’s a plea for help that’s as helpless as you are in the same moment.

“You don't want to kill me,” Taehyung states.

You hate that he reads you.

But you don’t have a choice.

"It's not me that wants to kill you," you say softly.

"But it's you who will," he says with a tilt of his lips.

“Goodbye, Taehyung.”

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #bts x reader #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung scenario #kim taehyung fic #taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung au #assassin au

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Text

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door.

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?”

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #spoilers

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story: {That Fourth Of July👀}

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Lite Angst, Plot, Stand Alone/Addition Chapter, Flirting, Slow Burn, Tease

Words: 2.7k

Note: This is a standalone/addition chapter. I wanted to give you guys a glimpse of what Fourth Of July was for Chris and Reader as it is referenced a lot and does hold significance for both of them. This is where it all began.

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Slightly Interactive***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 | Q17 | Q18 | Q19 | Q20 | Q21 | Q22 | Q23 | Q24 | Q25 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Fourth Of July, 2017-

“I can’t believe you said that to him,” Tara said as everyone around you busted out laughing.

You did your best to stifle yours, but it was difficult. You took another swig from your beer bottle and leaned back to brace your elbows on the lounger behind you. Your elbows bumped into someone, making you tilt your head backward to see Scott sitting there. He winked at you before he took a sip from his bottle, and you did the same.

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, I like the way your swim trunks look on you?”

“I think that would have been better than you’d look a lot better with them off,” you replied.

Snickers followed.

“Okay, Ms., I always know the right thing to say,” Scott began. “Let’s say you approached whoever it is that you’ve been eying all night. What would your opening line be?”

“Oh no, you will not drag me into this,” you objected.

“No, no. I think that’s a good question. What would you say?”

You sighed and guzzled from your beer bottle, trying not to answer.

“There are many variables. With you, you probably just wanted to get your tip wet,” you blurted out.

“Okay, let’s say you also wanted what I wanted, the same thing. What would this opening line be?”

You thought for a few moments staring down the beach at nothing in particular. After a few moments, Chris’s face came into focus as he walked toward the group of you from the direction you’d been looking. Of their own accord, your eyes roamed over him, taking in every detail the dwindling daylight allowed. His khaki shorts fit his frame perfectly, clinging to the right places. You could tell he was slim but also that he had plenty of muscle mass. When your eyes took in the unbuttoned salmon color short-sleeve button-down he wore that showed his white undershirt, it gave you full sight of the muscles he was still sporting thanks to Marvel.

He was a good looking man. There was no denying that Scott’s brother was a good looking man. It was clear with how many conquests he’d had and how many women lusted after him. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and traced the spout of the bottle along your mouth, completely unaware of what you were doing. As he got closer, your eyes met, and Chris’s eyes zeroed in on your mouth.

“You look like you were made for sin, and I have a long list of ways we can do it together. The list begins with suck, but there is no end to what I want to do to you,” you said as you stared at Chris.

No one around you spoke, but you wouldn't have known if they had. All you saw was Chris. The way he looked at you made you feel--plain and simply feel, and you hated it. Over the last few months, you’d taken notice of this lingering thing between you. Whenever you looked at each other, spoke to one another, or even hung out together, it was present. You didn’t know how to explain what it was, but just because something couldn’t be explained didn’t mean it wasn’t present, no matter how you wished it wasn’t so.

Everyone around you erupted with applause forcing you to look away from Chris’s eyes.

“Impressive,” Tara complimented.

“Shiit, I’d take you up on that offer,” Scott added, making you giggle.

“No end, huh.”

Embarrassment filled you, but something else entirely brought your eyes to Chris, who was still looking at you, and the way he was doing it made a slow tingle journey up your spine.

“What about a game of football before we lose the light?”

With that, everyone began to scatter to make it down the beach to begin a friendly game of football. Only this was not a friendly game of football. It was a teasing one. You and Chris were cast on opposite teams. After one play, it was clear to see that everyone was either drunk or very tipsy because no one made a touchdown or even came close to it. All anyone accomplished was stumbling over their own feet, bumping into each other, and nearly losing the ball to the water. It was a mess, but a fun mess.

Play after play resulted in absolutely nothing but a face full of sand, or your legs tangled with someone else’s and plenty of laughter. Halfway through the game, in a play that Scott formulated, he thought it was a good idea to throw you the ball expecting you to cross the volleyball net being used as the goal point. With the ball in hand and several beers and glasses filled of dark and light liquor in your system, you attempted to run for the goal. You heard the loud cheering of those around you and dodged everyone who was coming at you. You felt like you were Tebow, Romo, or even Sanders. It didn’t take you long to start feeling yourself and begin imitating the Heisman pose every chance you got. Everyone erupted with laughter at your antics. When you thought you were home free, someone threw you over their shoulder and ran you to the water, then threw you in.

Your scream was loud as you sputtered from the water in your mouth and the sheer shock of the temperature of the water. When you stood, you saw Chris standing there with the football under his arm.

“Cool off.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as did everyone around you. Taking the opportunity of Chris being distracted, you ran to him then tackled him sending him back into the water as an incoming wave crashed over the two of you. When you came up, you saw everyone running to the water shouting as they began flinging water everywhere.

Chris had a smile on his face watching you stand. “Ha, you cool down!”

He laughed but then charged you, making you take off down the shore as if you could outrun him. Within a few seconds, Chris managed to throw you over his shoulder again and began wadding out to the open sea. Your laughs melded together until he tossed you over again. The two of you remained in the water playing together, laughing and just enjoying each others company.

By the time you returned to the sand, you were soaked, and because you hadn’t gotten to take off your clothes before being mercilessly thrown into the water, your clothes were also drenched. In the bathroom, you thought of your options. You could always just walk around in your bikini. It wouldn’t be inappropriate because you were at the beach after all. It may draw eyes to you, though, you thought. You began to regret your bikini choice, mainly the bottoms that left very little to nothing to the imagination.

As you dried off, you peeled off your clothes off of your body and examined yourself. After contemplating your options for a few minutes, you heard a knock at the door. When you opened it you saw Chris standing there, shirtless. His eyes looked over your body twice before you realized you’d fully opened the door rather than cracked it. Fixing your mistake, you left your head poking out.

“Hi.”

Chris cleared his throat, then dipped his head before he spoke. “Em, since it’s my fault, here you go.”

He held out the shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Just looking at it, you knew it was going to be oversized on you.

“Uh,” you began while slowly reaching for it.

“Take it as a peace offering,” Chris added flicking a lopsided grin on his face, a grin you met with rolled eyes.

“You’re lucky this is my only option, but don’t you think this makes up for what you did,” you teased, taking the shirt

“Oh really. What do I have to do to make it up to you then?”

The way he asked had you meeting his eyes, and that was where they stayed. You bit your bottom lip then looked away. “I’m sure you can figure something out with all your—experience.”

You smiled, then held up his shirt. “Thanks.”

You closed the door, then threw on the shirt and tried to find a way to rock it without it looking like it wasn’t a planned look. It took you longer than you liked, but when you finally made it out of the bathroom and back to your friends, you were comfortable with how you looked. Everyone was now around a bonfire broken off in their own conversations as a movie played on the projected screen. You didn’t see Scott right away, so after getting your phone, you found a free blanket and laid down, getting comfortable.

About ten or so minutes, Scott joined you, filling you in on his quick sexcapade. As you listened to him, you thought, of course he’d disappeared for a little fun. You didn’t knock him for it; hell, it wasn’t a bad way to enjoy the Fourth of July. By the time he finished giving you all the details, everyone had begun making their way to the beach to watch the fireworks that would blast out over the water. You told Scott to go ahead and save your spot so you could grab another beer.

At the back of the lawn, where there was a makeshift bar set up, you rummaged through the bucket searching for the beer you wanted, but you couldn’t find not even one.

“I think I took the last one,” a familiar voice said.

You turned and saw Chris standing there in a tank that showed off some of his tattoos and your favorite beer in hand.

“Seems you did.”

“If I gave this to you, would I then have made it up to you?”

You smiled and stepped closer to him, close enough to take the beer with no resistance. “Nope.”

Chris smiled while staring down at you. You didn’t move and decided you wanted to see what he would do. The way he’d been looking at you all night had finally had your curiosity overflowing. You’d heard the rumors and stories of the conquests Scott’s brother had and how he enjoyed one night stands. You were not above them, especially if the man was good looking and not an asshole. Chris licked his lips, then spoke.

“So what do I have to do?”

“I think what you have to do might be the same as what you want to do. If that’s the case, try it.”

Long moments stretched with the two of you gawking at each other, both waiting for the other to make their move. You decided that if he made a move, you wouldn’t reject him, but you would not be the one to make a move. The first thunder of fireworks exploded across the sky, lighting up the lawn with bright red light. Everyone at the shore erupted with applause and cheers, but you and Chris still held each other’s gaze.

He lifted his hand, hesitated, then lowered it to your cheek. He then slid his thumb across your skin. You didn’t know if he were wiping something away or just touching you because he wanted to.

“What do you want, Y/N? hmm?”

He looked lost in your skin as his fingers continued to enjoy its suppleness.

“For you to take what you want,” you slid in, walking away from him toward the shore.

Every few steps, you looked back at him only to turn back around in a teasing way. You were teasing him and hoped he took the bait.

-Chris-

He wanted to take the bait more than anything. He had been watching you all night, and he had seen you staring right at him with what you’d said about your chosen pick up line. He wondered if you were gearing it to him. he wondered about it so much that it drove him crazy the whole day. He purposely threw you in the water, knowing you hadn’t brought a spare change of clothes. It was slightly manipulative, but the part of him who decided was not the logic-driven Chris. It was the desire-driven one.

From the day he’d met you, he knew you would be a problem. He knew you would tempt him in a way he hadn’t been before, a way that made him uncomfortable and went past wanting to stake a claim sexually. For months, your intellect tempted him. The mental sparring that was so natural with you was attractive as hell. Then the whole night peeks of your body tempted him coupled with your wit and charisma, which made it incredibly difficult to resist you.

Earlier in the bathroom, he didn’t know if you’d opened the door so widely on purpose or if it was unintentional. He’d imagined pushing you back until your ass collided with the sink, then he imagined hoisting you up and kicking apart your thighs. He’d wanted to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side so badly. He’d suppressed the urge, but the sight of you in his shirt didn’t help matters. You looked like his. As he approached the crowd at the shore, he decided he’d claim it because possession was nine-tenths of the law, after all.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” you said with a gasp as you gaped at the sky in awe.

The colors that light up your face had him even more hypnotized with you. The wind blew, and the hem of his shirt lofted enough for him to see the almost thong cut of the bikini bottoms you wore, and he moved before he even thought not to. He rested his hand at your pelvis and waited. It took a few seconds, but you placed yours over his and made a swirling “s” along his skin toward his forearm.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

The hushed word brought the eyes of Scott and Tara. They both looked at him quizzically, silently asking him what was wrong. That was all it took for him to remember his promise to Scott. When Scott looked away, Tara’s eyes remained on him. They seemed to be sorting through his layers until they found what they wanted. She lifted her hand and tapped his temple, then turned back to the fireworks. Fuck, he thought.

No matter how badly he wanted you, he couldn’t have you. The facts were simple—you weren’t his. You can’t possess that which isn’t yours and that which does not want to be possessed. Softly he sighed and lowered his hand from your body. You didn’t let it fall, though. Instead, you hooked your fingers with his and held him. His eyes lowered to your entwined fingers, and he hesitated for longer than he should have. When he glanced back up, your eyes were on him, but your lip clenched between your teeth.

Another crack of fireworks lit up the sky, but your attention was on him rather than the green in the sky. Every color was your color, he thought, then wondered if these colors would still look good glowing off of your naked body. Recognizing his thoughts, wants, and desires were dangerous, he released your hand the minute you directed your attention to something Scott was saying. You kept your hand out, waiting for him to take it again, but he didn’t. Instead, he took several steps back.

He stood there debating with himself, going back and forth, telling himself to take your hand, but the second he even moved a muscle, he chastised himself, telling him to resist. This was the process for several agonizing minutes. With his eyes glued to your ass and the skin that taunted him every time the breeze blew, he fought the urges that came over him one by one. When he looked up, he found your eyes on him. You looked so good, as if you were the child of two pure angels. There was an innocence about you that he didn’t understand, and something that radiated off of you that had him coming to one final realization. You deserved better than this. He saw you held our hand out to him, but the only thing he knew he should do was walk away. So, he backed away, all the while staring into your eyes. The confusion he found there, he understood. He was confused too. The hurt was what took him by surprise. Unable to stomach it, he turned and walked away from you, the colors and the light you brought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @kikimiyazaki @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @chris-butt@nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls@thinkxlovexloud @swinchestersgirl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official@twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @anandalambert @kreolemami @aysha1447@cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @snowpiercer21

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@ramp-it-up @october505 @k347 @liquorlaughslove @thotti3evans @reignandrain @shar74nett @littlebabexdebby @laricebabe @est1887 @songtoyou @msblkfire84 @bforbbgirl @acciolove724 @shipatheart @captainchrisstan @ramp-it-up @brownskinafro @jhayes6984 @badbo1-evans @ak329 @msblkfire84 @jovanaprime @poshgirl2 @marvelatthis30 @cleopatra-knowles @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @alookintohersoul @xsweetdellzx @cxmfort @i-just-like-fanfics @storiestoldbyjazz @jennmurawski13 @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle @helenasmirkedno @labella420 @roseasweet @6lackfiction @chezdricks @krrose3 @parkker-barrnes @lilac-tea-time @elisaboricua

@secretswiftymarvelfan @kaiya-ch4n @zeelmol @maeleeme @7soulstars @talley84 @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @kalesrebellion @msblkfire84 @queenshikongo3 @tantricevans @harrypotheadnerd @mrs-captain-evans @cevans-fics @pretendlifeisnormal @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fanfictionaffair @blackgurlkillinit @cessamjrmr @sohani02 @baby-i-am-fireproof @annabarbara101 @koko-michelle @inmoix @rainbowkisses31 @jbrizzywrites @m90schick

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#quarantine: a love story fic #q standalone 1 #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #quarantine fanfic #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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blutopaz15 · 4 years ago

Note

How about "You're a softie", or rather "Ye're a softie" ?

Ackk!! This took me SO long to get to, I’m sorry!! It ~did~ turn into practically a whole oneshot though, so woooo! hope you enjoy ;)

also oops I lost the initial prompt post so I forget which number this is lol

#??: “You're a softie.”

Callum wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting when Rayla had banished him from their room, saying that she had a “surprise” for him, but it certainly hadn’t been this.

She’d beaten him back there by a longshot. The “super short” evening audience that one of Ezran’s advisors had requested was not super or short by any means, and by the time Callum had traipsed back to their room, feet dragging and head foggy, she was already ready for bed. When the heavy door creaked open, though, rather than remaining comfortably and impatiently cross-legged on the edge of his matress, ready to curl up with him for a little bit before bedtime as usual, she’d popped up off his bed, shoved his pajamas into his arms, and quickly ushered him towards the washroom.

“Uh, okay,” he’d responded, curiosity over what she was up to clearing the fog from his mind. He deliberately leaned his weight into hers, stalling as she pushed him towards the door so he could ask: “What’s all this about?”

“I have a surprise for you!” Her voice had his favorite teasing cadence to it, and Callum felt a little flutter of anticipation, warm and pleasant, in his chest.

Satisfied and eager from the answer, Callum stopped resisting just as she shifted her hands from his shoulders to his waist and pressed her weight more insistently against him. This successfully sent him stumbling through the open washroom door. She gave him one more direction, accompanied first by a smile that was softer than he would’ve expected and then her lips on his cheek, before she sharply shut him away back there.

“Ten minutes,” she said.

The typical draw of their evenings spent together was amplified by the promise of whatever surprise she was assembling out there, and Callum realized that he might’ve been a little too eager when he called out to her through the door for the first time—his face already washed, his teeth already brushed, his limbs already pajama-clad—and got an exasperated sigh in response. He tried once more, twice more, then thrice more before—at long last—she finally confirmed that he could enter.

The washroom door swung open wide, and there, at the center of the room, was Rayla on the floor, surrounded by what seemed to be every spare pillow and blanket in the castle, beaming at him, eyes shining and bright.

Callum grinned back at her, his head cocked to the side as his shoulder hit the doorframe. “What’s all this?” he asked, nodding at the piles of pillows she was nestled between.

Rayla’s nose wrinkled up as she lobbed the blue cushion laying across her lap at him, and he was pretty sure—as he held up his hands to knock it away from his face—that he’d never seen her smile so wide.

“Sleepover!” Rayla flung her arms open, gesturing towards the multi-color mountains all around her. “Last night you were saying how you wished I didn’t have to go back to my bed, and this isn’t technically sleeping in the same bed so…”

He bent to pick up the blue pillow and tossed it back to her—gently. That was a pillow-fight he would—absolutely, without a doubt, for sure—lose. She caught it—of course—and laid it back over her legs.

“I’m pretty sure this is still against the rules,” he said, shrugging at her, still in the doorway...trying to decide if he cared enough about those rules to deny her.

Opeli’s ‘no sleeping in the same bed’ rule probably translated to ‘don’t sleep next to each other’ too, Callum thought. Though...he was pretty sure it also translated to ‘don’t lie in the same bed’...a rule which they’d been breaking daily...

But, attendants never came in to check on them in the evenings when they were bending those rules. The mornings were a different story, though: someone was always bustling in first thing, earlier than they could ever have a hope of waking up to separate themselves first, and Callum had to wonder if that was Opeli’s specific bidding.

Still though...like Rayla had said...technically…

“...and we care why, exactly?” Rayla asked, an eyebrow raised, arms crossed, outwardly annoyed. Callum could see, though, that his hesitation—which wasn’t really his anyway—had hurt her.

Pre-bedtime pillow fort cuddles—no beds or sleeping involved—probably wouldn’t break any rules, Callum figured, even if their luck changed and they got caught.

Though, maybe, he considered, the strictest translation of Opeli’s rule might be that they just weren’t supposed to lie down with each other at all…

Rayla was frowning now.

He took a few steps closer before turning his back, spreading his arms, and collapsing back onto the stacks of pillows next to her. When he peeked an eye open, Rayla chuckled softly, reaching for the hand that’d fallen across her knees.

“Dummy.”

She looked over her shoulder and down at him, appearing not quite as deflated. Callum leaned on his elbow to offer up an explanation.

“I’m just saying, Rayla, I really don’t want to have to explain it to Ezran if Opeli separates us.” He’d meant that to be lighthearted...but it was also very true. He winced theatrically, and Rayla smiled back, rolling her eyes and squeezing at his fingers. When she stopped shaking her head at him, what she wanted was still lingering in the way she looked at him. She eased herself down by his side, matching his pose.

“Callum...please? Just for tonight?” The sincerity in the way her brow furrowed tugged at him...and she knew it. That teasing rhythm was back in her voice when she went on, her stare so very sweet. “Come on, you know you want to! It’ll be fun! The ‘it’s not a bed’ excuse will definitely work at least once.”

That was probably true, Callum admitted to himself. It was possible—likely, actually—that Opeli wouldn’t be happy about their rule-bending, but...feigning innocence was a possibility…

Plus...it’d be so nice to wake up at Rayla’s side. Her arms heavy with sleep and draped over him...her warm breath on his cheek...her lips parted and perfectly within kissing range…

Like she could see his resolve weakening, a mischievous smile crawled across Rayla’s lips.

“How can I convince you? We can snuggle all night! I’ll let you be little spoon?” She rocked closer, still up on her elbow like he was, and pressed a kiss, brief and enthusiastic, to his lips. When she pulled away and her eyes opened...she didn’t even need to tag on the last incentive. “Mmm, I don’t know, what else do you want? Anything!”

It wasn’t quite heat in her eyes...more like...a spark. An offer of heat.

A similar heat very quickly filled in underneath his collar, across his cheeks.

“Yeah, the answer to that question is definitely against the rules,” he laughed, eyes wandering to the ceiling before he smiled at her. “But...fine. Sleepover. If we get caught, though, you’re going to be the one who explains to Ez what Opeli is so worried about.”

Rayla’s hand wrapped around his almost as soon as Callum started poking a finger at her to go with the dramatized sternness of his stare, and, before he knew it, she’d used that leverage to knock him flat on his back. Rayla’s arms looped around his neck, her chest pressing him into the floor, and she was still for a moment, just holding him near. Her lips landed in his hair.

She stayed close to whisper, giggling in his ear. “You’re such a softie, Callum.”

“Maybe so,” Callum conceded, turning to press a clumsy kiss to her jaw before nuzzling closer, his lips drifting down to place tonight’s first of what he intended to be many kisses against her neck. “I was promised anything I want, though.”

The sigh she made wasn’t all that loud when he kissed her again—this time just under her ear, the skin there exceptionally warm and smooth—but Callum could feel it vibrate in her chest, and he was sure that she could feel the way he shuddered, too, as her fingertips ran along his spine.

“I thought you didn’t want to break any rules?”

#Rayllum #fanfic #rayllum fanfic #ficlet #fluff prompts #this was the last one in my inbox #what a surprise: it’s rayllum roommate/cohabitation spicy fluff!!#shocking!#<3 #thanks for asking! :)

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the-void-i-scream-into · 4 years ago

Text

White Tulips - Cut Chapter

Hey Everyone. I hope who ever reads this is happy and healthy. So I wrote this idea for my Han Seojun x Kang Sujin fanfic but it didn’t really fit the story at the time, even though I had set it up in the published story twice, so I cut it. But I still loved this idea so I wanted to share it here.

I would have shared it earlier but I was trying to get the Joseon Era AU started before that but man, have I been struggling with that story. Writing historic fanfic is HARD! Anyway I still wanted to leave this here. Hope you all like it.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: Slightly Mature... or maybe PG 15? I dunno. I am bad with ratings

For all of his flaws, Han Seojun had one thing going for him. He was unashamed. Unashamed of his slight lack of academic intelligence, unashamed of his troublemaker persona, and definitely unashamed of losing to Kang Sujin at everything imaginable.

“Ah-nee, how could you get so good at basketball?” He panted, pulling up his shirt to wipe his brow, not because he was sweaty, but because he wanted Sujin to stare at his abs.

“I was always good, Han Seojun.” Sujin said proudly, holding the basketball by her waist as she unabashedly eyed his abs. “I told you, I was just off my game that day.”

“You were distracted by my face.” Seojun smirked.

“Of course, I was. I had a massive crush on you.” She grinned, kissing him.

“Ooooh, chagi, you had a crush on meee.” Seojun teased like a school boy who had discovered her most embarrassing secret.

“We’re practically married.” Sujin pointed out dryly, the fact that they had been together for over a year now.

“Still.” Seojun grinned.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I finally did beat you.” Sujin countered.

Seojun didn’t tell her that he had let her win today. Her loved her competitiveness and the giddy way she grinned when she won. If Seojun could, he would let her win everything her heart desired. But this he would never tell her, mostly because she would kill him. And Seojun really wanted to live, especially now that he had someone else to live with.

“Technically, we’re at a draw. You only cancelled out your win from back then.” He stated. The two had started packing their things. Sujin dumped her water bottle in their gym bag.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m about to win this argument.” Sujin grinned an evil grin, leaning closer. She spoke in a sing-song voice, “I know your big secret.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Seojun smirked. He was an open book, there was nothing he ever hid from anyone. And even if he did, there was nothing he was ashamed of.

Sujin took out her phone and pressed play.

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo,

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo

Really? Yes! Okey dokey yo

Say la la la la la la la la la la la

“Told you I would find out.” Sujin’s evil grin spread wide as Seojun’s smug smile wavered.

Oh no.

It turned out that here indeed was one thing that Han Seojun was ashamed of.

“Ya, Kang Sujin!” Seojun went for her phone but she bounced out of his way, skipping backward.

“What’s wrong, Seojun-ah? Don’t like this song?” She asked in mock innocence.

Oh God, the horror. The pain, the anguish! The embarrassment!

“Ya! Come here!” Seojun ran after her and she sprinted away from him, running around the court. “Stop playing that!”

“No way. This is my new favorite song.” Sujin shouted back breathlessly as she ran full speed. Seojun caught up with her and she squealed and laughed as he held her by the waist.

“Are you not going to stop?” He didn’t lunge for her phone. Instead opted to tickle her, making her squeal some more, laughing uncontrollably.

“I cave! I cave!” She said, her eyes tearing up from the laughing.

Seojun took her phone and turned off the song. Sujin was red from laughter and Seojun felt an ache to kiss her then and there. But he didn’t want to encourage her triggering the PTSD he had from that embarrassing incident in high school.

“Lim Jukyung is such a traitor. I can’t believe she told you.”

“I’m your girlfriend. Of course, she told me. Shouldn’t I know you were dancing around half naked in front of another woman?” Sujin wiped the tears from her eyes, still shaking from the aftershocks of laughing.

“Aish! That was so embarrassing. I never want to remember that happened.” Seojun admitted, going red as he thought back to when he had been dancing around in his house, wearing nothing but his underwear and had failed to notice that Lim Jukyung had been there with his sister the entire time.

“Waeeee? I find it funny.” And then she burst out laughing again. Han Seojun walked away in a huff. He couldn’t face the embarrassment any longer, especially not in front of Sujin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sujin chased after him.

Han Seojun would have buried the incident again, along with his memory of that song but then there it was again.

That dreaded song.

They were having lunch with everyone; Jukyung, Suho, Taehoon, Suah and his squad with Chorong, when suddenly, he heard the tune faintly.

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo,

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo

Seojun thought he was imagining it. But then Sujin took out her phone and the song played clearer. That damn woman had set it as her ring tone.

That dreaded song.

“Oops, getting a call. Be right back.” Sujin said with just enough pretend innocence that it passed off as sincere to others, but he knew. He knew.

Han Seojun glared at Jukyung accusingly and she made an apologetic face. Luckily, no one else seemed to pick up on Seojun’s discomfort. Suho did give him a pointed look but Suho knew that he did not have the privilege of making fun of Seojun the way Sujin did. And that wasn’t a matter of Seojun getting mad at him. It was a matter of Kang Sujin destroying anyone who would say one syllable against her boyfriend.

“Sujinnie,” Seojun pouted like a child that night as they made dinner, “I don’t like your ringtone.”

Her phone had been ringing all day. A little too frequently, Seojun had noticed. It was almost as if Sujin had scheduled all of her calls to today just to mess with him.

“Oh, should I change it?” She asked causally, “Okay, you pick something you like.”

Seojun grinned and padded over to the counter, setting her ringtone to one of his songs.

That night Seojun had gone to sleep thinking that chapter of his embarrassing event was over. He dreamed peacefully of being on stage and serenading Sujin with the songs he had written for her. But then his dream was interrupted with that jingle again.

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo,

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo

Seojun woke up with a gasp. No, it wasn’t just his dream. The song was actually playing. Sujin stirred and shut off her alarm.

Her alarm that was set to play Okey Dokey.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooo! Seojun screamed in his head, cursing the storm he imagined himself drowning in. He loved Kang Sujin. He could never deny her anything, even if it led to his own torment.

But why, why out of everything she had to choose this.

Sujin got up, and didn’t even notice Seojun stuff his head in his pillow as she went to the bathroom.

“Hyung, are you okay?” One of his bandmates asked upon seeing Seojun’s dark circles and dead expression.

“Huh? I’m okey, dokey.” He responded dreamily. The band member backed away in concern.

ii.

Ever since they had gotten close, Seojun had stopped challenging her. True, they would still tease and play the push-pull game but it wasn’t like it had been before. Before they had felt like equals. Now it felt like Sujin had all the power and oddly enough, she didn’t like that. She worried it might get too boring for Han Seojun. She worried it wasn’t good for him to coddle her so much. He needed to have just as much of a say in things as she did.

She had meant the song to just stir some new challenge between them. He would respond with embarrassment and demand that she gets rid of the song. He would finally set a line for her; a restriction and she would comply to and balance would be restored. No longer would she be the one dictating everything.

But it had the opposite effect. Sujin hadn’t realized how it was torturing him till she saw him jump when they passed by a store that had been coincidentally playing the song.

“It’s following me.” Seojun had hissed. Sujin became worried she had gone too far. She hadn’t realized how much the incident had affected him.

Fortunately, Sujin knew what to do.

Come home early tonight. Sujin’s text came.

“Is everything okay?” He asked the second he entered. Sujin never asked him to be home early, knowing his busy schedule. He was lucky that his other band mate had gotten ill, and practice had been cancelled.

“Yeah, gimme a minute!” Sujin called from their bedroom.

Seojun threw his jacket on the sofa and unbuttoned his sleeves, getting ready to make dinner. But then he froze.

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo,

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo

He groaned, “Aaaaah, chagiiii! Geuman-hae already.” He turned and then froze again, dropping his phone on the floor.

In the door frame of their bedroom stood Kang Sujin wearing leopard print camisole and a blue bathrobe, striking an exaggerated dancing pose. The camisole reached just below her thighs. The rest of her long, long, long legs were available for him to gawk at.

Seojun gulped. Good God.

You ready?

I'm ready

Yea, okey dokey yo

Sujin began dancing to the song just like he had, singing along as she moved through the hallway with the graceful movements of a more practiced dancer. It was funny but all too captivating at the same time.

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo,

Is that true? Yes! Okey dokey yo

She came in and danced her way to the fridge, taking out a water bottle, and pouring it over her head.

Really? Yes! Okey dokey yo

Say la la la la la la la la la la la

She didn’t have the chance to continue as Seojun picked her up in his arms. She squealed in joy as he kissed her.

“Ah, Kang Sujin that’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He said, leaning her over as she laughed.

Seojun forgot all about the song as he bridal carried a squealing Sujin to their room. They both fell down on the bed, laughing. Sujin ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, Sujinnie. Guess what underwear I’m wearing today.” Seojun grinned.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #true beauty soojin #true beauty fanfiction #kang sujin #kang soojin #Kang soojin and Han seojun #Kang Sujin Fanfiction #han seojun #han seojun fanfiction #seojun x sujin #seojun x soojin #park yoona #hwang inyeop #honestly Park Yoona and Hwang In Yeop should be in a drama as the leads

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denkamis · 4 years ago

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hq characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! aside from some swearing, it’s just some fluffy valentine’s day scenarios for you. reader is gn.

characters: keiji akaashi, kenma kozume, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara.

notes: dedicated to @koushisun,, for being an exceptionally kind individual and having immaculate taste in 2d men. i hope we can get closer the more we talk, kris. thank you for being my first friend here on da tumbz. <33

keiji akaashi

confessions behind the school building

were you nervous about finally confessing your feelings to akaashi on valentine’s day of all days? absolutely

he was one of, if not the prettiest, impressively athletic, and overwhelmingly intelligent boys in your class

he probably got at least ten confessions on the daily

and valentine’s day simply doubled the number

and here you were, with your tiny valentine’s day card and box of chocolates in hand

you had heard from all the girls that he had been turning down confessions left and right, only adding onto your mountain of nerves

little did you know that he was waiting for you

cherry blossoms bloomed above your heads, falling gracefully like something right out of a shoujo anime. you tapped the tip of your shoe against the pavement, a nervous tick you had garnered that helped keep you grounded. this was it. this was the moment today was leading up to. you and akaashi were standing behind fukurodani, stealing away a bit of privacy. you didn’t need the prying eyes of the other girls watching as you confessed to your year long crush.

akaashi waited with a patient gaze, unmoving from his spot a few feet ahead of you. he gave you space, and didn’t force you to talk right away. it was as if he already knew the intricacies of your thoughts, the way your mind spiraled if you were suddenly put on the spot, especially when it was as intimate and open as confessing your feelings.

“i wanted to tell you, i mean- what i’ve been trying to tell you for years is that i, well,” your tongue felt like it was two sizes too big. your fingers fidgeted behind your back, holding onto the tiny note and chocolates you had made for him yourself. “i like you a lot more than i really let on. you’re always so thoughtful and considerate. you listen to me when i ramble, and you help me with homework or even small things i don’t completely understand. that’s um, that’s really nice of you. i know you’ve probably received a lot of gifts today, but if you could spare a bit of your backpack space to accept mine, it would mean the world to me.” you bowed towards him, eyes glued to the floor as you held out the small box of chocolates and the note you had written.

you didn’t catch the way a smile tugged at his usually stoic features, or the way he tilted his head in thought while wondering how much courage you mustered up to confess like this. still, you felt nimble fingers brushing against yours, the weight of your gift leaving your grip.

“thank you, y/n,” akaashi told you gratefully as you stood up to your full height, “i’m glad that you feel the same as i do.”

“... wait what.”

kenma kozume

heart shaped candies

kenma rarely has plans for valentine’s day tbh

he treats it like any other day because it’s just a day to play some animal crossing and farm more on stardew valley

however, when you waltz into his life, he panics a little bit as the date draws closer

he wants to make you feel special on valentine’s day

he settled for those tiny heart shaped candies, knowing that you had quite the sweet tooth

he wasn’t gonna leave you hanging on valentine’s day, sweetheart

kenma held your hand in his as the two of you walked home together. the day was rainy, small droplets of water pattering against the shared umbrella the two of you were situated beneath. you were talking about school, something or other about the clubs you were in and how passionate you were about starting your very own this year. kenma listened tentatively, an easy smile on his face as he watched your eyes light up and your free hand gesture and fly about as you spoke.

you were adorable.

the two of you soon arrived at your house, and you promised kenma that you would call him tonight so the two of you could play games or watch some netflix together over the internet. you two had been particularly invested in some k-drama that always left the two of you at the edge of your seats. you planted a gentle kiss to his cheek, his face erupting in crimson right to the tips of his ears. giggling quietly, you wished him goodbye, your hand beginning to slide from his as you went to leave. to your surprise, he held on tighter.

with his gaze cast down, you watched as he pulled out a tiny bag of heart shaped candies from his pocket. “i know it’s not much, but i saw everyone else getting their partners gifts and kuroo said that it would be good if i got you something too.”

you accepted his small token of affection with shaky hands and flushed cheeks. peering inside the clear bag, you saw a whole collection of multi-coloured candies reading cheesy phrases such as ‘b mine’, ‘true love’ or even a ‘cutiepie.’

“kenma, i love it. oh my.. haha! i thought you forgot since you didn’t mention anything about gifts for today.” kenma’s hand squeezed yours, his eyes lifting from the wet ground to meet your own with a small yet confident smile.

“i wouldn’t forget something as important as you.”

yuu nishinoya

big teddy bears

an absolutely chaotic mess on valentine’s day

he’s so excited that he finally has someone to spoil, so he wants to go all out

he figured that the best present to get you was the biggest teddy bear he could find

he went to 6 stores and dragged asahi and tanaka with him

he saw a teddy bear that was literally twice his size and went “I’LL TAKE IT”

mans has no chill, he spent literally his entire allowance on it

his grandpa didn’t even bat an eye PFFT

when nishinoya showed up at your doorstep with a chunky teddy bear in tow, you had no words. truly. it had been at the stroke of midnight when he texted you to come outside and see the valentine’s gift he had gotten you. you had said that this could wait until morning, but he insisted that this could not wait another moment. it was technically valentine’s day, after all! this resulted in you dragging yourself down the stairs of your home to greet him at the door. to your surprise, yet at the same time not surprising you in the slightest, was noya carrying the largest teddy bear you had ever laid your eyes on. not only that, but tanaka and what appeared to be a very exhausted asahi accompanied him.

“y/n-chan!” nishinoya shouted boldly and triumphantly, getting down on one knee which instantly made you panic. he wasn’t going to propose, was he? no he wouldn’t. would he? oh god. your words got caught in your throat, trying to formulate some kind of response to his sudden and incoming declaration. yet, a proposal never came. he held up the teddy bear as if it were simba from the lion king, the entire stuffed animal basically shielding his shorter form from your view. you suppressed a snort with your hand.

“i searched far and wide for this gigantic teddy bear for you, please accept it this valentine’s day!” nishinoya said loud and clear from behind the bear. you were having trouble stifling your laughter because from your angle, it looked like the bear itself was saying these words to you. you attempted to take the huge bear from his arms but it ended up being a lot heavier than you anticipated.

“noya, really this is-”

“take the picture!” noya whisper shouted to tanaka, who was holding up his phone camera with a thumbs up. noya posed beside you with an arm tossed around your waist, throwing up a peace sign and sticking out his tongue. leave it to yuu nishinoya to spoil you with the biggest bear he could find. it was incredibly endearing, especially when you found out from asahi that he nearly got kicked out from a walmart after knocking down the entire teddy bear display. he could be the biggest dork sometimes. but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

koushi sugawara

baking together

he saw the idea on pinterest and he had to try it out with you

they were cupcakes red velvet with pink, buttercream frosting

easy, right? it would be a cute little date, you could even stay over at his house while you watched a romcom or something of the sort while they were baking

turns out it wasn’t easy

at all

“shit fuck, oh god- shit!” koushi mumbled to himself as he was spilling some of the red cupcake mix over the side of the bowl. you were trying your best not to laugh too much but you couldn’t help your giggles when koushi shot you a playfully annoyed glare, his nose powered with sugar and flourmaking him look straight out of a victorian magazine. baking with koushi had gone just as well as you thought it would. there was a lot of flour being thrown around, a few stray chocolate chips and sprinkles now on the floor serving as reminders of past quarrels. koushi had always been a rather chaotic individual behind his “soft boy” demeanour he liked to flaunt. he could be so goofy and fun. he could be your greatest hype man but also the person you knew could be in your corner when it counted. and here the two of you were, making a mess in your shared kitchen at nine at night for a valentine’s day date.

“honey, you’re mixing it too fast!”

“i’m mixing it just fine, see look! it’s supposed to be this thick,” his ahoge bobbed back and forth atop his head as he mixed with quite literally his entire torso. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused hardcore on the making sure the mixture was abolished of any and all chunkiness present. you rolled your eyes, a wide smile on your face despite his stubbornness. “the oven’s been preheating for thirty minutes now.”

“well the oven can wait,” he huffed, tapping the neck of the whisk against the bowl to remove the excess mix before grabbing a ladle to begin scooping all the mix into the muffin tin. not without another mess, of course.

“kou, stop moving the—”

“i’m not moving anything, you’re just making me laugh!”

“hand me the spoon, hand it over.”

“it’s not a spoon!”

“it’s a big ass spoon.”

“y/n!”

you were bickering like an old married couple as your hands reached greedily for the ladle that already had some cupcake mix in it. koushi held it out of your reach, causing him to back up into the counter while you hopped in an attempt to get it back. in your desperate attempts, you slipped on the flour from your little past war and caused the two of you to collapse to the floor in a heap of giggles and laughter.

yeah, you two would definitely never be touching any sort of recipe after that day, you absolute menaces.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

#hq scenarios #haikyuu!!#akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #nishinoya x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #sugawara x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #denkamis.scenarios

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kpopmalereader · 4 years ago

Text

make ; choi chanhee

• summary: you’re very friendly with all of the boys but they notice you getting shy and nervous around chanhee and figure out you have a crush on him • pairing: choi chanhee x male!reader • word count: 2517 • to do

You lean down, knocking the excess powder off the makeup brush. You hold Kevin’s chin with your pinky, steadying your brush against his eyes. You bring a fair amount of red eyeshadow from the center of his eyelids outwards, smoking and fading out the ends. You look at him for a second and nod, repeating the action on the other side. You add the slightest bit more red and blend it out.

You narrow your eyes and pull back, holding a mirror in front of Kevin’s face. He examines himself in the mirror. He tilts his head, looking at himself in different angles and lighting.

“It-”

Kevin’s words are drowned out by Chanhee walking into the room.

Your body stiffens as Chanhee shouts your name. Kevin notices your ears beginning to turn red but chalks it up to you being distracted. The brush feels foreign in your hands, and you put it down. You smile at Kevin and turn to Chanhee.

He stumbles slightly as he makes his way to you, smiling as he navigates through the mess. He smiles the whole way. “Hey! I was wondering if you could do my makeup for me? I like it when you do my makeup.”

You nod a bit too quickly at him, your smile growing. You have a strange mix of excitement and dread on your face as you turn around back to Kevin. “Let me finish with this, and I’ll do your makeup.”

Chanhee hugs your back quickly, and you choke on your breath. He runs off, yelling back at you. “You’re the best!”

Kevin almost thinks he can hear a squeak out of you as Chanhee crushes you. He raises an eyebrow, and you clear your throat. You lean down and examine the rest of his face makeup, tilting his chin so he can no longer make eye contact with you.

You finish up with Kevin’s face and let him out of the chair. You fidget with your hands for a second, stretching out your fingers. You clean off the makeup brush and tidy up your space. You calm yourself and attempt to eliminate your face and ears’ redness before you stand up fully.

Chanhee notices your free seat and hops over with a goofy smile. He points at the space, and you nod. He takes it and settles in, pulling his phone out to show you the picture.

You look at it for a second. “I can do that.”

“Really?” He looks at you with full eyes.

The blush you dissipated begins to return. You nod slowly and try to steady your hands. You pull out the black eyeliner, pretending to search for it to attempt nonchalance. You roll your shoulders back and lean down.

Chanhee’s eyes follow you, even as you get closer, and you find it difficult to concentrate. You shake your head and focus on drawing straight lines.

“Can you close your eyes for a moment?”

Your voice is small when it would typically be boisterous and fun around the boys, which a few (including Kevin once more) take notice of.

You draw a curved line across his eyelid, winging out the eyeliner. You go over the lines to add a fuller look and step back, looking at him closely. He opens his eyes and looks up at you. He watches your face move. Your eyes are scrutinizing every aspect of it. You lock eyes and your heart rate picks up. Your face begins to flush, causing him to tilt his head to the side. You ignore it and lean back in, reaching for a light reddish-brown color. You place the stain lightly, dragging it along his bottom water-line.

He follows you, waiting for the nod of completion. He turns to look at himself, and you busy yourself with putting the rest of your brushes away, knowing you would openly gawk at him if you had the chance.

He poses in the mirror for a few seconds before breaking out in a small laugh. He nods and stands, ruffling your hair. “You’re the best! It’s perfect!”

You stutter over your gratitude, barely barking out the words “thank you.” He walks away. You take the moment of peace to lean forward on the chair. You scratch at your neck and begin packing up your things. Changmin walks up to you. He raises an eyebrow at your movements, so you smile at him and feign ignorance. He rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know why you are doing that.” You start. “And I do not want to know.”

He doesn’t shift his expression, a raised eyebrow look you don’t like much. “Why-”

You repeat. “I don’t want to know.”

He switches tactics suddenly. It almost knocks you off your feet. “Are we friends?”

“Yeah- Yes?”

He waits. “Are you and Chanhee friends?”

You look around. Your eyes finally settle on your workspace, too long after Changmin asked the question. You finally begin to nod. “Yeah, Chanhee and I are friends.”

“Then why do you look at him like that?”

“I don’t look at him like anything.” You stop him before he says anything else and shrug your shoulders. You zip up your crate and smile. “Have fun with your performance. I have to go.”

Everyone yells bye to you, and you wave at them. Chanhee jumps up before you can get to the door. You startle slightly and look at him, blinking twice.

“Thank you for the makeup today. I appreciate it.”

“He’s here!” Jacob turns his head and yells through the apartment before greeting you at the door. He smiles and waves you inside.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your bag. You watch as he rushes into the living room. You follow him slowly, apprehensive. Hyunjae is the first you notice as you walk into the living room. He can’t, or doesn’t, hide the weird smile he gets on his face and the glances between you and Chanhee. You watch him for a second and shake your head, willing him to stop whatever it is that he’s beginning.

Kevin is the next to get your attention, a confident smirk over his face. He stands and looks at the clock. He moves to stare at you, amusement bubbling in his eyes. “Since you’re here and we want to hang out for a while, we figured we could get some food.”

“Oh, I’ll go!” Changmin volunteers first, giggling at you as he passes to the door.

The rest of the boys follow in suit, offering their services to pick up food. Soon the only ones left in the room with you are Sangyeon, Eric, and Chanhee. You glare at Kevin, trying to grab his wrist as he passes.

“I have to keep my word. I already said I would go.”

Sangyeon and Eric look at each other. Suddenly, they nod at the same time and stand together. They mumble different things they need to do and walk out of the room simultaneously.

Sangyeon winks at you, almost running himself into the wall after he turns around.

You roll your eyes at them and look over at Chanhee, who’s now decided it’s the perfect time to look at you with the prettiest expression you’ve ever seen. You smile, nervousness seeping out of your pores. He sits with one of his headphones in, tapping the side of his phone.

“Have fun!” Kevin calls out before a bedroom door slams shut.

You look around for a second and sit down on the couch. You sit on one of your hands, trying to stifle the shaking you know will occur if you don’t. Chanhee pulls his headphones out and draws himself closer.

“Do you-” You sigh and pause. “Do you know why I was invited over here today?”

Chanhee shrugs his shoulders. He looks at you with an expression spelling out innocence. “We wanted to hang out with you. We don’t get to see you outside of work often.”

You nod and clear your throat. “Right, right.”

He stands up and moves along the couch, finding a seat next to you. He smiles and looks down, watching your hands pick at the seams of your jeans. “Why did you think you were invited?”

“I didn’t know. I was just wondering if Kevin was getting at something.”

“Why would he do that?”

You look up at him and shake your head. “He does things like that sometimes.”

Chanhee nods his head and taps the back of his phone. He pokes at his leg, not broaching the silent territory. His voice stops in his throat, halts before he can get the question out, and he changes his mind.

“What’s your favorite color?” His eyes are shining.

Your heart stops in your chest before picking up in double time. The question doesn’t make sense in your head. “What?”

He smiles and repeats himself. “What’s your favorite color? I thought it was yellow, but I didn’t know if that’s what it was. Do you like yellow?”

You turn towards him, the slightest smile creeping on your face. You pull at your fingers. “Yeah... I didn’t know you knew that about me.”

Chanhee shrugs. “I know we’re not as close as you and Kevin or some of the others, but I listen when you speak. I like hearing your opinions and your stories. I like your laugh and your smile too.”

You giggle slightly before calming yourself. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t think anyone noticed those things about me. I don’t remember ever saying what I liked the color.”

“You did. I don’t remember who’s makeup you were doing. I really couldn’t focus on anything other than you.” He pauses for a second in his retelling, taking a long look at your increasingly more red cheeks. “But anyway, you said you liked certain colors more than others. You talked about color combinations and said you liked every combination that had yellow in it even if other people thought they were ugly.”

You furrow your eyebrows, not remembering any of that conversation.

“And you have this yellow shirt. It’s just a plain yellow shirt, but you wear it so often. It’s a good shirt. I know you’re hesitant to say it’s your favorite color, but it’s the color of your favorite shirt.” He nods his head and smiles, thinking up random facts and stories you don’t know of. “It’s also the most used color in all of your makeup.”

You blush darker. The color travels up your cheekbones and to your ears. “I like all colors.”

He smiles and looks in your eyes. “I like all colors too.”

You try to look in his eyes but, in the moment, you can’t stand being so close to him for much longer. You pinch your arm lightly and look down. The feeling of his eyes trailed on your face feels hot. Hot and overwhelming.

“Do you- Do you like Kevin more than you like the rest of us?”

“What? No, no.” You laugh and shake your head. You scrunch your nose up at the thought of it.

Chanhee leans ever-so-closer, probably not much to him, not much to the world, but your heart beats faster and faster, jumping further and further up your chest into your throat. The air around you feels heavy. It’s dense and makes you droop your shoulders.

“Do you not like Kevin more in the same way you don’t like yellow more?”

“No.” You shake your head immediately. “I don’t like Kevin like that.”

Chanhee finally stops looking at you. He looks forward, not long enough for you to calm yourself, before he gazes back at you. “Do you like anyone like that?”

You clear your throat, hoping the red on your face isn’t too noticeable but knowing it is. “Yeah? I don’t know.”

“Really?” Chanhee lights up and smiles. “Who? Are they nice? Do they... like the color yellow?”

You smile, the beginnings of a laugh bubbling in your chest, and you nod. “Yeah, they’re nice. They-”

You roll your eyes at yourself before you even say the next sentence.

“They remind me of the color yellow. Bright, happy, endlessly comforting. He’s-”

“He?” Chanhee asks.

It almost sounds hopeful. If you were anyone else, if he was anyone else, you’re sure it wouldn’t, and you’re aware you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You tell yourself it’s only the shock. You tell yourself these things but know you don’t believe them.

“He.” You answer. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No! No, it’s not. It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t know. So, color yellow?”

You laugh at yourself and lean back, shaking your head. “Yeah. It’s stupid. It’s stupid, but he is. I like him, though he doesn’t know how much.”

He stops. He turns forward and holds. He squints at the wall in front of him.

“I...” He begins to speak slowly. Too slowly for your liking. “I hope the “he” you like, the personification of the color yellow, the one that makes you get the distant look and beautiful smile on your face, I hope that’s me.”

Your brain computes slower than ever. Your mind can’t take in the meaning of his words, and he waits. He waits, patient, with a worried yet calm look on his face. You finally shake your brain into functioning and lean forward.

You whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Are you- Did Kevin put you up to this?”

Chanhee shakes his head. He holds your knee. “I’m not lying; it’s not a joke. I want the person that you’re blushing about to be me. So, I ask you, is it me? Could it ever be me?”

“It is you.” You breathe out the words. Not a whisper but nothing above it. “It is you. You’re the person that reminds me of the color yellow. You’re the reason eight people went to pick up food, and two others ran away so they could force me into a room alone with you without handcuffing me. You’re the reason every time I look at you or talk to you or do your makeup, they stand and giggle and gawk.”

He leans forward, the beginnings of a bright and confident but still nervous smile forming. He speaks at the same level as you. “Kevin has been badgering me for a week about talking to you. I may or may not have confessed everything I felt for you and told him I wouldn’t blame him if you had feelings for him instead of me.”

You and Chanhee nod simultaneously before he continues.

“He laughed.”

“He laughed at me when I told him I was scared to tell you. He said it would be easy.” You shake your head and smile at him. You start to laugh, and Chanhee’s smile grows next to yours. “I guess it was pretty easy. Though I think it was only because you said it was first.”

He leans back. He pauses, giving you the last few moments of peace before he asks. “You think I’m the color yellow?”

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