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breakingsomething · 4 years ago

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Fall Crickets - Part One

Basic summary: What would you do if you had a year left to live? This is the question that Mark and Ethan's newest creations are asking themselves after they discover the catch in their creation - they were given an expiration date.

Content warnings: discussions of car accidents and death, murder, violence, and cannibalism mentions, manipulation

[365:00:00:00]

In the beginning, they know three things. The clock, the channel, and each other.

The two of them are born with closed eyes, hands gripping the others tightly, knees already weak and heads spinning. The first thing the older entity sees when they blink in the light is pale blue eyes and white skin and a silky black suit, spotless and expensive. Parted pink lips and brown, wavy hair falling into a thin face. Haunting, in a sense. From the way they stare at them, the entity could see the other thinks the same of them.

"Who are you?" croaks the being in black. Their voice is hoarse, their Adam's apple bobbing in their throat. "I… head, I -"

Their legs give out, and the other entity follows immediately, grateful to have something to hold onto. Neither being has let go of the others hands. In fact, their grips have tightened, and they seem to drink each other in desperately, shivering with cold and fear.

"I do not… remember much of anything," murmurs the first entity. They look down at their hands; darker than the black being's, and their sleeves are a crisp white instead. A glance at their chest, their legs, tells them they're wearing a fine snowy suit with a vest and tie to match. They can feel something in the pockets. "Who are we, and... why?"

It's then that they glance around themselves. They seem to be in a rather fancy looking room, with white walls and pale cream curtains covering a window that shines through with light. A set of glossy black armchairs sit in front of it, right next to the two entities, and a white rug is sprawled out across the dark wood floor. The two of them turn in unison, and catch sight of the cameras; tall and complex, with mics and lights set up like something is being filmed. On the floor sits a laptop that's open to a page already. The white suited entity glances at the black one, and notices two more things.

"Your suit," they say, and note how their voice is smooth and deep, more certain than the other's. "You have the word "Unus" imprinted on the front. And you… you have a timer above your head."

The other entity's hands immediately release theirs and fly to their chest, running over the stitched embroidery, and then above their head, where the timer floats perfectly above them. Their pale hands pass through the numbers, the black numbers that read "364:23:57:32." Days, hours, minutes, seconds. As they watch, the numbers tick, tick, tick downwards. 31. 30. 29. 28.

"Annus," whispers the black entity. They lower their hands slowly and tap the black entity's chest, drawing attention to the inscription on their suit. "And you have a timer too. White. It says -"

"364:23:57:10," they chorus together. Their voices, so different, seem to fit together. Like they were made to sing one song. Blue eyes sparkle in the white entity's vision. They can't look away from them.

It takes a moment for them to draw away from each other and crawl unprofessionally over to the open laptop on the ground. They're greeted by a tab entitled "YouTube - Unus Annus." The names from their suits, say their eyes when they glance at each other. The header of the page is decorated with a black and white spiral, and there is only one video. Annus immediately recognizes Unus, in their black suit and white skin and waves of dark hair. But who… Oh. This other entity must be themself. Tan and bold, less skinny and small than Unus, black hair swept back from dark eyes. They're beautiful. A hand has found theirs, and they squeeze it without even thinking.

"Us?" Annus says softly, puzzled. They take a sharp intake of breath. "That is us, I think, Unus. Looks like us."

Unus shifts almost uncomfortably. "Do we watch? Why do I remember nothing of who we are or how we got here?"

Annus shakes their head. "Neither do I."

It's then that someone appears in the open doorway. A slim person who is also in a suit, this one mostly black with a white shirt and red tie, with a mess of wavy hair half pulled into a small bun. Tan skin and red-blue eyes, black tattoos etched into their skin. Annus squints. They look almost… like themself.

"Good morning," says the person in the doorway, a soft smile gracing their lips. "I take it you will be our newest -" Their gaze falls on Unus, and their warmth dims. "You do not look like us."

Unus blinks in confusion, struggling to get to their feet while still holding Annus's hand. Annus follows, and they stand before the tattooed person almost awkwardly. Unus clears their throat. "Pardon our… intrusion, my friend. We are not quite sure how we arrived here, and we seem to have found -"

"Yes, let me guess," the tattooed one starts, holding up a jewelry coated hand to stop them. "A video on Mark's channel, featuring yourselves. I am… not sure what the smaller one of you is doing here, but we shall welcome you all the same. Now, let us see your video, so I may get a better idea of what you are and what you do."

The entities step back as the other one comes forward. Annus opens their mouth to speak. "May I ask what we should call you? I believe our names are Unus and Annus. They seem to fit right."

The tattooed one pauses. "Unus and Annus," they murmur, tapping their chin. "Well, I go by many names, in many languages from many cultures. I believe the two of you may wish to know me as Tenebris." They extend a hand to shake. Unus and Annus use the hands they aren't holding the others with to shake back, silent. "At your service. Now, let us see this video…"

Tenebris picks the laptop gently off the floor, carrying it to one of the black armchairs that the entities spawned next to. Already they're frowning. "This does not make sense," they murmur, thick eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "This is not the correct channel. Were you made as a joke, like so many of them?" They suddenly look up as if remembering Unus and Annus are there, then pats the seat beside them. "Come, sit. This is very important for the two of you."

They do so. Tenebris is flicking through the channel, mumbling to themself, then taking a deep sigh. "Oh, dear. It looks as though the two of you are involved in Mark's latest project, which he is seemingly doing with another man, his friend Ethan - hence you." They look Unus right in the eyes. Something sad dances in them. "Oh, dear."

"Who is Mark?" Annus pipes up. Their chest feels strangely tight. "What project? Explain, why are we here?"

Tenebris blinks, their eyes falling back down to the screen. They look exhausted, like they haven't slept in weeks. Instead of answering, or maybe as an answer, they read.

""What would you do if you only had a year left to live?"" they begin, voice softer now, lighter. ""Would you squander the time you had left? Or would you make every second count?""

Their eyes flutter closed. ""Welcome to Unus Annus.""

Unus squeezes Annus's hand. They don't turn to look at them.

""In exactly 365 days,"" Tenebris continues, though how they're reading with their eyes closed is beyond the two entities. ""This channel will be deleted along with all the daily uploads accumulated since then. Nothing will be saved. Nothing will be reuploaded. This is your one chance to join us at the onset of our adventure. To be there from the start. To make every second count. Subscribe now and relish what little time we have left or have the choice made for you as we disappear from existence forever. But remember… everything has an end."" They pause, and open their eyes. ""Even you.""

Annus can't breathe. They don't lower their gaze, however, staring straight ahead with a steely glint in their eyes. Unus's grip on their hand loosens, just slightly.

"Mark and his friend," Tenebris says sharply, something dark in their voice, something furious. "Have given the two of you a death sentence."

[364:15:22:18]

They feel far calmer about this than they should.

Tenebris, to their credit, tries. They offer to introduce the entities to "the others" - more poor souls created by this same Mark person. Annus asks if they also are ticking time bombs, given expiration dates for which to go off. Tenebris sadly murmurs a no. Annus then nods, and politely asks for them and Unus to be left alone until they can adjust themselves. Tenebris leaves them, although their gaze seems to linger on the two of them as they go.

Now they're sitting on a roof. Neither is quite sure how they got here - they don't remember walking upstairs, but the times above their heads are the same, so they must have arrived quickly - but it doesn't matter, because they're both together. From here, the world is beautiful. They seem to have spawned in some sort of mansion, with a pool and garden and golf course and even an enormous chessboard down below, somewhere in the middle of the mountains. Around them, all they see is fog and rock and trees and sky and stars. Somewhere far off, lights dance. A city. Annus dimly wonders if Mark and Ethan, their reckless creators, are out there. They hear fall crickets sing loudly, searching for something in the dark.

"A year," Unus says aloud. Their voice is high, yet stable. Their eyes are trained on the far off lights. Maybe thinking the same thing as Annus. "We have a year to live, Annus."

"Mhm," the white entity agrees, trailing their fingers across the rooftop material. They're not quite sure when they let go of Unus's hand.

Unus looks at them. Something sparkles in their gaze. "A year is a long time," they say loudly, confidently. "A whole year. That is - that is such a long time, my friend! A whole year! What do you think of that, Annus? A year to do whatever we want!"

Annus takes a moment. One year. They still have so much time, don't they? So much time. What is there to worry about? 365 days is a great many days to spend being alive.

"A year," they nod back, and a grin cracks their face. "We have plenty of time. No need to start mourning now."

Unus's face lights up at Annus's agreement, and the two of them bask in the warmth for a moment. Because of course a year is such a long time. Why spend the days worrying? They should live instead.

Annus takes Unus's hand and they watch the stars.

[360:20:59:45]

They start to learn things.

First of all. Mark and Ethan, true to their promise, upload daily on the channel. Unus and Annus watch every video. It helps for them to know what their creators are up to, to know if they'll do anything else stupid that will affect the two of them. But no, it seems they're simply having a lot of fun - in the first few days alone, they cook a meal with the most unsavory of appliances, pour warm water in their nostrils, attempt to eat a great deal of hot dogs all at once, and create a homemade sensory deprivation tank. In all honesty, this amuses Unus more than anything. "Let them have their fun," they tell Annus one day, a playful grin on their face. "They have their year, we have ours. We do not need to concern ourselves with their ridiculous antics all the time!"

It does bother them that Mark and Ethan own suits identical to theirs, and seem to enjoy pretending to be them in certain videos. They would appear in front of a black and white spiral, talking seriously about time running out and video subscriptions - something Unus and Annus find ridiculous. "They wish they were us," is all Annus says to Unus about it. "Foolish idiots."

The two of them are also, gradually, introduced to the rest of Mark's creations. After a couple days of continuing to be introduced to more and more, Unus starts realizing why Tenebris was so nonchalant about them showing up. Mark is reckless, it seems. Very, very much so.

One of Mark's older creations, a man named Caleb, who everyone apparently calls "Silver" or "Argentum" as a nickname, tells them a bit more. "Mark has always been a little uncaring about who or what he creates," he says to them as they walk through the gardens, admiring the flowers that were allegedly planted entirely by the man known as the Host, who is blind and mutters narrations under his breath as he hurries around, dropping papers behind him. Annus picked up one of his sheets one day and refused to tell Unus what was on it, eyes blown wide. The others are very strange. "However, he doesn't know he has the power of creation, so we give him the benefit of the doubt."

Annus looks up sharply, startling Unus, who had been lost in thought staring at the flowers. "He does not know? How?"

Argentum sighs, tapping his hands on his dark blue jean pockets. Unus, ever unable to concentrate, stares at a red stain on the man's green plaid shirt as he talks. "A long, long fuckin' time ago, shit happened with Mx Dark - who you know as Tenebris, I believe - and Wilford. I don't know if you've met him - pink themed, mustache, bow tie and suspenders?"

Unus and Annus nod. Wilford was odd - calling Annus "Damien," and asking if Unus was there to serve them ice cream. Argentum nods with them, seemingly relieved he has one less thing to explain. "Right, well. They're the only two here who technically weren't created by Mark. A long time ago, like a hundred years or so, they were friends with some guy who was fucked up and did fucked up shit or something like that. He died over and over again, but always came back. Dark and Wilford chased him for years as the guy bounced from host to host… but now we're here. He's clung to Mark as a host and seemingly gave him creation powers. Mark isn't aware." Argentum shrugs at the entity's awestruck looks. "That's all I know. But now, whenever Mark makes Youtube videos that feature characters - and trust me, there's a lot of them - another one of us appears."

Unus has a great deal of questions about that. But Annus speaks first. "Then how did Unus get here?" they ask, gently knocking against the black entity's shoulder. "Does this Ethan have the same powers?"

Argentum looks uncomfortable. They walk slowly over to the wall that looks down on the forest below, extending into the mountains, and leans against it. "I dunno," he mutters, adjusting his glasses on his face. "Dark doesn't know either, but they don't seem too concerned, so it should be fine."

Unus clicks their tongue. "Weird," they whisper, then looks to Annus and giggles. But Annus isn't looking back. They're staring right at Argentum, and their eyes are dark as they bore into the back of the man's head.

"This man," they say, and Unus notices them clenching their fists tightly, then loosening them, then tightening them again. "This man who is possessing Mark, who's giving him these strange powers - how old is he?"

Argentum turns and shrugs, glancing at the leather strapped watch around his wrist. "'Bout a hundred or so. He lived in this very house, once, this mansion where we all live now. Achieved immortality or something and is off bothering humans like the bastard he is. We try to stay out his way."

Annus breathes unsteadily for a moment. Unus, unsure of what's wrong, takes their friend's hand. Annus jumps, then looks down. Unus tries to smile and look reassuring. The older entity seems to sag.

"Alright," they say, like nothing had happened. "Thank you, Argentum. It was pleasant talking to you."

Argentum looks up, puzzled. "But aren't you going to see the rest...of the... garden."

He's alone by the time his eyes have left the clock.

[325:09:17:16]

The entities, they discover, are not bound to the House like they had thought they were.

"Of course you can go outside of here," says seventeen year old Ayano, a small Japanese-Korean girl who is also apparently one of Mark's. "None of us particularly have to stay here, except for the Attorney. They stay in the mirror on the bottom floor."

Unus doesn't question that. They don't question much of anything anymore. "I was not aware that we could leave," they admit sheepishly, shrugging in a motion that they learned from Erik, the socially anxious boy with the yellow handkerchief who had run from the entities on their first meeting. They had made only a little progress since then. "Do you often go visit the humans down the mountain?"

Ayano tilts her head, and Unus unconsciously follows the motion. This makes the girl smirk slightly, and she brushes a scruffy red fringe out her eyes and draws her knees to her chest on the kitchen sideboard where she's sitting. "I'm homeschooled, so I have no reason to. Or, if Edward asks you, I have no reason to." Her brown eyes glint mischievously, and she lowers her voice. "I like to go check out the American boys at the nearby school."

Annus snorts. Unus ignores them. "Right, right... good to know. Thank you, Ayano. We may go down soon."

Ayano twirls her hand and says nothing. Unus and Annus leave the room, barely dodging one of the four coloured robots with the G's on their chests that often walk the house. Annus speaks before Unus can. "So," they start, grinning in the same way Ayano had. The mischief in their head shines through their eyes. "Do you want to go visit some humans?"

[325:08:53:00]

Tenebris's manor, it turns out, isn't too far up the mountain from the city below. In fact, given Unus and Annus's strange ability to seemingly teleport occasionally without meaning to, they get down pretty quick. It's only once they start coming across more humans, however, that things begin to feel different.

They're on a large street now, surrounded by shops and other roads and a bike rack and bins and what looked like a courthouse not far off and people, lots and lots of them, surrounding them completely. Annus can't help but feel curious. Humans, without timers on their heads. They wonder how long these people have to live. They wonder if they themselves look like they are near death. If people would act any differently if so.

They jump, however, when they realize Unus is talking. "Annus," they hiss softly, knocking the back of their hand against theirs. Annus notices they also look slightly overwhelmed, paler than usual, gnawing at their bottom lip. "This is weird - do you agree this is weird?"

Annus nods, grateful that they're not the only one having strange thoughts. "I know, right? Because there are so many people around us right now, and we were talking about how unlucky it is that we were created with an expiration date, but honestly? There could be someone here who could die within the next ten minutes. We are lucky we have a year, a whole year, because even though we could have had more, we also could have had so much less and it is beautiful how life works that we -"

"Actually," Unus interrupts, grimacing slightly. "I meant it is weird that no one is questioning the suits. Or the magic floating timers."

Annus deflates slightly. "Seriously? Tenebris literally told us that there is a magic called the Veil which manipulates the senses of humans to believe that we are completely normal. They gave us the rundown on all the different magics just yesterday."

Unus pauses. "Oh," they say, sounding faintly embarrassed. "I was not listening. Apologies."

Annus rolls their eyes. Already they're going back to thinking, and maybe it's bad to have so many philosophical thoughts in their head all at once, especially so early in the day - so they're lucky when Unus interrupts yet again. "So what do we do now? Mark and Ethan do odd things because they have a year left to live. Should we?"

That's a thought Annus had considered. "We do not have to be like them. They have decided to live ridiculously for their last year. It is completely undignified. There is no need for us to lose any respect we may have from Tenebris or the others simply for a bit of… whatever it is that Mark and Ethan get out of being idiots."

Unus, it seems, has stopped listening. Without Annus even noticing, they have slipped into the doorway of a nearby shop and grabbed something before immediately darting out again, falling into quick step beside them. They grin at the disbelieving Annus, proudly holding a bag of pink and white marshmallows in their hands.

"You completely just stole that," Annus says, stunned.

Unus shrugs. "Eh, no one saw. Somehow. This Veil thing really does work wonders. Say, Annus -" They pop open the bag, cramming a marshmallow into their mouth before holding it out to their friend. "Do you think we have magic like Tenebris's or Wilford's? We can sometimes do something close to teleportation, yes, but that is not exactly the kind of magic I -"

Annus holds up their hands, pausing in their tracks. "Hang on. Are we going to completely skip over the part where you stole a bag of marshmallows?"

Unus also stops, widening their eyes in a motion of mock shock. "I did, didn't I! How fantastic! I do wonder if I will be arrested!"

They almost skip ahead, humming to themself, the timer ticking noiselessly above their head.

[301:20:45:01]

To the entities, Mark and Ethan are an embarrassing mockery of humankind, and a childish, disgusting one as well.

"Bugs," Unus grimaces. The two of them aren't even watching the video in which the youtubers ate bugs; they're sitting in one of the dimly lit rooms Tenebris assigned for them, Annus's one, and watching today's video, which is about salsa dancing. But Unus hasn't shut up about the bugs since it happened. "Annus, I cannot get the bugs out my head."

Annus sighs. "They also ate Play-Doh and drank each other's piss, Unus."

"A whole bug head. He ripped it right off."

Annus pauses the video and turns to face Unus seriously. "We get it. They ate bugs. They are gross. Why are you so stuck on the bug thing, anyway?"

Unus leans back in his seat, slumping against the glossy pleather and sighing dramatically. "He tore the bugs whole head right off, Annus. Can you imagine?"

The room is silent for a few moments before Unus's dreamy expression wears off and they open their eyes to meet Annus's unimpressed glare. "What?" they say, throwing up their hands. "I just admire him."

"You are not supposed to admire him," Annus says through gritted teeth. Their shoes are tapping off the floor; they can't seem to stop it. "They are both fools and will likely get themselves killed before the year is up. What is there to admire? Their lack of survival skills?"

Unus bobs their head from side to side, staring at the paused screen. "They have fun. All we do is walk around and talk. The marshmallow stealing I did was the most fun I have had so far."

Annus's room is rather empty. There is a bed they don't use, because sleep is nothing to them, as they've learned, and there are white curtains over a large window, and there is a red rug and black wardrobe and a bedside table with a knife-carved spiral in it. Annus insists they don't care for mortal belongings and that physical objects mean nothing to them. Really, they think they're just scared to own anything, but they won't admit this to Unus. Especially now, when the emptiness seems to stretch, far beyond the room and into Annus's chest, tightening painfully. Something in them aches. The timer above Unus's head ticks, ticks, ticks without sound. Annus wishes there was sound. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"What sort of fun," Annus hisses, dangerously low. "Do you wish to have?"

Unus doesn't pick up on the danger in their voice. "Anything. We are wasting our time like this, Annus."

Annus closes their eyes. "We have all year," they murmur. "We will make the most of it. We have all year."

Unus hums. They say nothing more. Their thoughts are loud, however, and Annus almost drowns in them.

They unpause the video.

[292:17:22:10]

Los Angeles is big. There are lots of places for someone to hide, should they wish to.

Annus never wants to be separate from Unus, they don't. But today they are. It's for their own good. Of course it's for their own good. It's silly to get attached to someone who's going to die, and maybe Unus needs a reminder of that.

It wasn't hard to get Mark's address. And that wasn't even the scary part. No, no, that wasn't the scary part. Annus knows what the scary part will be.

Mark, when Annus sees him, is smaller than they expected.

Not in terms of physical size. Physically, they're identical. No, it's the way Mark carries himself. He raises himself, tall and bold, but Annus sees what he hides behind. Not a lack of confidence. Not an unsureness. It's something more, and they can't quite pin it. But Mark feels small. Annus feels powerful. Annus feels big.

Mark is tired. Annus can feel it. The man is dressed in a pair of joggies and a white hoodie - merch for the channel, which makes Annus's heart rate spike with anger. Mark's hair sticks up at the back, like he's just awoken from sleep at six am. His glasses are crooked. His eyes are brighter than Annus's. Something about that aches.

Mark makes toast. Annus waits for him to see them.

And when Mark turns, when Mark's bright, keen eyes widen, when his mouth falls open and his plate slips from his hand and shatters on the floor next to his bare feet, Annus is ready. Annus is beside Mark before he knows it, a hand on the back of his neck, one hand over his mouth. Annus smiles. They can see the spirals in their black eyes reflected in their creator's glasses.

"Shh, shh," they soothe, pushing Mark's hair back from his face. "Good job. Quiet now, Mark. Quiet."

Time is strange. It flows in one direction at the speed of 24 hours per day, 1440 minutes per day, 86400 seconds per day. Annus is suddenly aware of all of it. They are aware of the over 11,200 days, the 270,000 hours, the 16,00,000 minutes, the 966,080,000 seconds that Mark has been alive. They are suddenly aware of all of it.

Life feels strange in their hands.

[291:11:56:58]

Unus Annus uploads "Mark Punishes Ethan." Unus is very silent as they watch it. Annus is also silent, but for a different reason.

"That was fake, right?" Unus says in a small voice after the video's done. "Ethan edited this one. Mark wouldn't have made him edit his own - he loves Ethan, right? Annus? That was fake, right, Annus?"

"Su-ure," Annus says. Unus bites their lip.

That night, Annus watches Mark hit Ethan over and over again and remembers the feeling of Mark being putty in their hands.

[275:10:49:59]

Annus has paid Mark a few more visits. It is, they find, almost too easy, to inspire bloodlust in a previously stable man. Or was he previously stable? Annus checks Mark's eyes. They can see a past in there. Maybe Annus's work isn't far off from what Mark does to himself anyway.

On their last visit, Mark sits up and grins with a fire in his eyes.

"Clever, clever," he purrs in a voice silkier and darker than his own. "Maybe this year will last well for you yet."

When Annus leaves Mark that day, they're shaken. They track down Argentum and corner him, immediately demanding to know the name of the immortal man who had possessed Mark, the one who'd given him the power of creation as well.

"Well, funny story," Argentum says, sounding slightly nervous with the way Annus has him pinned against the wall. "Funny story, but I believe his name was Mark as well. To tell them apart, we all call immortal Mark "The Actor." Why do you ask? Annus? You don't look well. Annus? Hey, Annus?"

[255:13:15:55]

Unus is many things, but they aren't stupid.

They know Annus is visiting Mark. They just know. Watching Mark's behaviour on the channel change, hearing the blood thump in Annus's veins when their creator appears on screen - they know. They know their friend is lying. And they know they broke their promise, the mutual agreement not to speak with the men who made them.

Therefore, Unus doesn't feel bad appearing in Ethan's house at three am one day.

Ethan is strange up close. Strange, because he's so Unus-like, of course, but there are the slightest differences. Ethan has darker hair, while Unus has found theirs to be lightening. Ethan has pinker skin, while Unus is paler, grayer. Ethan's chest rises and falls as he sleeps, small, whistling breaths escaping through his teeth. Unus's chest is still, most of the time.

Ethan's eyes, when they open, are a more vibrant blue.

"Do not," Unus says immediately. Ethan shuts up. Unus glances around Ethan's cluttered room, clicking their tongue at the piles of clothes and papers and workout equipment strewn across the floor before dragging over a chair, dumping the jacket and bag that was on it to join the rest of the mess. They sit. Ethan has propped himself up on his elbows, staring, eyes wide with shaky fear. Unus likes it. They find it's almost fun to make someone afraid.

"This is a dream," they say. Their head bobs slowly, hand tapping off their knee as if to some unheard rhythm. "You are dreaming, Ethan. I am not here."

A shaky breath leaves Ethan's lips. "Not here."

"Not here," Unus agrees. They drag a hand across Ethan's forehead, smiling softly. "Not here. Are you enjoying your year, Ethan?"

Ethan hums, eyelids fluttering shut. "Mhm. Been making good use of… time, think…"

Unus raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh. Have you noticed a change in Mark lately, Ethan?"

Even as out of it as Ethan now is, he still looks slightly distressed at the question. "Y-yeah. He acts… scary, sometimes. I think it's for a bit, but then he snaps a bit. His eyes change colour. They turned, like, white the other day… I dunno if it was a bit, he didn't say…"

Unus listens. Unus goes home.

[255:11:46:09]

"You lied," is the first thing Unus says when they arrive in Annus's room. "You have been seeing Mark. Manipulating him, even. What is your deal, Mori?"

Annus had been expecting this. They are standing by the open window, staring down at the golf course next to the cliffside below, but they turn when Unus comes in. The death omen is blazing with rage. Their eyes are black and hollow, and something seems to radiate from them, something dark. Annus decides to tread carefully.

"I want to drive him and Ethan apart," they say simply. That's not entirely a lie. "Why does it matter?"

Unus shakes their head in disbelief, momentarily stunned silent. "I - Why? What do you gain from that?"

Annus finds a smirk on their face. "Entertainment!" they exclaim. This is also not a lie. "Look, Unus, Mark and Ethan abandoned us. Created us with an expiration date then left. Why not fuck about with them a bit?"

Unus lowers their arms to their sides. Their black eyes melt back into their normal white sclera and blue irises, and they sigh through their nose loud enough for Annus to hear. "You said so yourself," they say quietly. "We are lucky to have the time we do. Mark and Ethan… this is their last year before death too. We need not ruin it for them."

Annus says nothing. Unus walks over to them and hesitates before taking the other's hand, holding it gently in their own. Both of them are cold.

"Let us live, and let them live," Unus says softly. Their eyes are burning cold. Annus could drown in them. "And let us not waste time."

[234:22:55:01]

"You start with casting on," Bim says loudly, holding up the yarn and knitting needles in his hands. "This is how you turn loose yarn into neat little stitchy stitches that sit oh-so perfectly on your needle. Now -"

"May I ask," Unus interrupts, tapping his own needles together on their lap. "Why do so many of Mark's egos wear suits?"

The sun is bright today. Unus didn't expect to be sitting on a bench in the garden learning to knit with Annus and a few other egos today, but Erik had come to their rooms and asked politely, all shy, and how could one say no? So now they're soaking up the sun, practically sweating in their solid black suit, breathing heavily and swinging their legs back and forth through the warm air. Erik, sitting in the grass with Ayano and the Host (who's at his most undignified that Unus has ever seen, criss cross on a picnic blanket and somehow weaving a daisy chain with bandages over his eyes), flashes Unus a grin and answers for Bim. "He thinks he looks good," he says, voice trembling slightly, which isn't unusual for him. Erik clears his throat and adjusts his collar. "So a lot of us have… interesting outfits. Annus, you got off lightly."

"I can imagine," Annus says dryly. They wipe sweat from their forehead, groaning softly. "I have seen King once or twice around here, although he does not seem very social. One of his squirrels broke into my room the other day and tracked peanut butter all over the floor."

"Is that why you told me to stay away from your room?" Unus says, a small smile splitting their face. "Aw, Annus, you do care. Guys, they care about me!"

Annus flips them off while Erik, Ayano, and Argentum, who is laying in the grass near Annus, laugh. "I actually hate you and I am terribly glad we need only spend a year together," they say curtly, raising their chin. "You are all awful."

"Notice how they go all formal and dramatic when they are trying to be angry," Unus whispers to Ayano, who giggles. Annus rolls their eyes again.

They've only been here a few months, and already, Unus and Annus have become quite close with most of Mark's other creations. Argentum, Ayano and Erik are the most friendly ones - Argentum cooks elaborate, unusual meals for them to try, Erik leaves them little trinkets outside their doors, and Ayano is teaching them both Japanese swordfighting and self defense. The Googles are seen around on occasion. Blue prefers to stay close to Bim or King, often hiding out in the forest, and Red stays out of their way, generally. Yellow and Green are the kindest. Unus and Annus once spent an afternoon with them while Erik repaired them after a fight with Google Blue, the five of them talking for hours. Then there's Ed Edgar, who's constantly high and speaks in proverbs. He doesn't seem to mind having the entities around, but makes for rather circular conversation. The Host is weird and mysterious, which the omens enjoy. The doctor, Edward, acts as a parental figure for Erik and Ayano, and therefore tolerates Unus and Annus. He taught them some medical terminology, just for the fun of it. King prefers to stay in the forest with the squirrels, and Bim is often not home, but when he is he has blood on his sleeves and his too-sharp teeth. Bing, the other android, is athletic and funny and acts as a fitness trainer for the both of them. And the Jim brothers, CJ and RJ, are excitable, noisy and far too in love with the concept of a self destructing channel for their own good. They're teaching Unus and Annus ASL, which is fun. Honestly, the two omens are starting to learn to love it here.

Because of all the people they're sharing a home with, they've had a lot to do. Lots to learn, lots to keep up with - cooking and languages, sports and exercise… and apparently, knitting. This one was Bim's idea, and Unus was pleasantly surprised to see they have a hobby outside of cannibalism. To be honest, the death omen has no clue what they're making, but the air is warm and smells faintly like rain and barbeque and it's fun, not thinking about the clock above their head. It's fun just simply being.

"Anyway," Bim says, sounding slightly irritated from being interrupted. "To cast your yarn, you need to pinch the yarn and make a small loop, leaving a yarn tail. Grab the unattached yarn and bring it up behind the loop -"

"Why do you two have to die?"

This outburst startles everyone, and they all turn to look at Erik, who is red in the face and whose lip is quivering like he's near tears. "Sorry," he mumbles, and it seems he really is near tears, eyes sparkling. He scrubs at them fiercely with his yellow handkerchief. "I just - it's h-hard, loving people and see-seeing them d-die all the - all the time - I c-c-care about you g-guys, and I - and I - and I don't want to l-lose more people -"

The Host is already moving closer to Erik, murmuring soft reassurances into his ear. Ayano is holding him in her arms, a fierce protectiveness in her dark red eyes. Argentum dithers nearby, staring down at the boy sadly. Bim is opening his phone, suddenly silent and refusing to look up. Annus just looks uncomfortable, twisting their hands in their lap. And Unus… Unus feels something heavy sinking in their stomach, something they can't explain. Without even meaning to, they slip off the bench and to their knees next to the crying boy, which startles him enough that he looks up. Unus and Erik stare at each other for a moment. Unus's lips part. Their skin feels like it's burning.

They don't realize they've placed a hand on Erik's shoulder until they're no longer there in the garden.

Their eyes open to the inside of a bus, bright mountain scenery going by the giant windows. It's small and cramped, and seems to somehow be fitting what looks like an entire family inside. Fifteen people and sixteen dogs, Unus counts instantly, all of varying ages and styles. The youngest looks to be about twelve, dressed in white overalls, while the oldest is a cheery looking middle aged man wearing all white and lounging across the seats at the front. Unus spots Erik immediately. Sitting in between two brothers - because these are brothers, of course they are, this is a family - and laughing. He's laughing. Laughing, and wearing a pair of shorts with a tucked in collared shirt, covered in orange flowers. No prosthetics. Not shaky, not near tears. Unus has never seen the young boy as happy as he looks here.

"Pass me the DS, Terik!" Erik crows, grinning as he makes a grab at the device his older brother is holding.

The other boy, pimpled and wearing a baggy yellow hoodie, laughs and holds it away from him. "Fuck off, I'm training Maggie! I just managed to get a new chihuahua and I'm gonna win gold with this gal, don't you think? Look at her! Look at her, don't grab - Larik, will you restrain the orange menace for me, please?"

The boy next to the window, who is short and stout with curly hair and braces, teasingly tugs at Erik's arms. "Give the man some space," he says in a deep voice, grinning. "He's playing his super important game, let's leave him to concentrate on his deeply intense gameplay -"

"Nintendogs is intense gameplay!" Terik protests, and shoves Erik into Larik's side. "If you two are gonna be assholes, go sit next to Smerik or something. He's passed out, probably stinks of vom - Hey, Denny, when are we getting there? We've been on this stupid school bus for hours!"

Unus turns to face the front. It's then that they focus on themself, and notice something strange - they are holding a long black scythe in their right hand, their face reflected in the blade. Their eyes are a solid, empty black, their hair a glossy white. Something about them seems much more gaunt and hollow. Unus takes a moment to gape at themself, and is disgusted by how old and brittle they look, grey and pale and broken.

"Listen, dude, I'm not gonna go over the goddamn speed limit!" someone shouts, startling Unus from their thoughts. A man, sitting in the driver's seat, with patchy facial hair and wearing a blue cap and jeans, a crumpled cigarette hanging out his mouth. He glances away from the road, making a face at his brothers behind him. "We'll get there when we get there!"

"Fuck the speed limit!" cheers another boy, this one wearing black sunglasses and a baggy hoodie that hangs over the ends of his arms. He kicks his flip flops into the air, whistling. "We're in the mountains, Den-Den, no coppers anywhere near here! Why don't you let me drive?"

"Because you're bloody blind, Sterik?" the driver deadpans, and the bus erupts with laughter. Unus watches the boy sink lower in his seat, face burning with humiliation, even as Denny continues talking. "And I don't wanna risk Dad getting a call. He's already gonna flip his shit when he gets a call from Renny's school about the missing schoolbus and connects it to us being missing. He'll fuckin' kill us, but hey - some time away from him and his stupid business will be good for all of us. Especially you, Erik. He hasn't let up on you since -"

"He got Mom killed?" Sterik suddenly snaps. The bus goes silent. Erik, previously giggling with all the rest of them, goes very silent. The youngest boy, frowning, shifts in his seat.

"Not his fault Mom died," he mutters. He brushes biscuit crumbs off his overalls and glances nervously towards Sterik, then towards his other brothers for support. "It was an accident -"

"Termites," spits the angry boy, flapping his sleeves and practically sitting. "She fell through the fucking floor because of him -"

"Language," says another boy loudly, this one with dyed blonde hair and black tattoos. This immediately earns him a harsh laugh from Sterik.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" the boy cheers. Erik, Unus notices, has shrunk down completely in his seat. Familiar tears well in his eyes. Unus grips their scythe and bites their lip, unsure of what to do. None of the brothers have seen them. They cannot intervene in what's happening.

Without warning, Terik stands and staggers to the middle aisle of the bus. "Course it's Erik's fault," he booms, waving his DS in the air. Erik, next to him and still sitting, visibly flinches. "But who fucking cares? I wanna get to the mountains and streak naked through the trees. Who gives a fuck about anything Erik did right now? Come on, Denny, speed up a 'lil."

Larik, still sitting next to Erik, sighs deeply. "Let's shut up about this," he says, sounding tired. "Hey, Killian, come here, kiddo -"

"Oh yeah, let's shut up." This is Sterik. He is standing now, facing Terik and grinning coldly at the ground. "Let's never acknowledge what happened and drive off to the stupid fucking mountains away from Dad and leave him alone to break his hand punching holes through the walls in Mom's room again when he's pretending not to miss her but he's sitting in her bed reading through her notebooks." He spins round, getting his bearings and stepping towards the driver's seat. "Come on, Denny, lemme drive. You're no fucking fun."

"Sterik!" choruses at least three brothers at once, not including Erik. Erik is covering his ears, sinking low in his seat, gripping his yellow handkerchief tightly. A jolt shoots through Unus - hadn't the boy said that had been a gift from his mother?

They aren't given time to comprehend it. A tall, slim boy with shaggy hair has also gotten up, pushing past Terik to get to Sterik at the front of the bus. "Enough," he shouts, tugging his little brother's arm roughly. "Siddown, bro, this is silly -"

Unus's body goes cold, and Sterik shoves and grabs the wheel, and a dog barks, and Erik - Erik. Erik looks Unus dead in the eye. For a moment, he sees. He looks so much younger and smaller than the Erik Unus knows. He has seen death, and - and he is about to see more. The tragedies in this boy's life are not yet done. Unus's pulse quickens, and a strange peace settles over them. They close their eyes.

The bus screeches, and then the wheels no longer touch the rocky ground -

Unus raises their scythe -

And they are in the garden again, and Erik's eyes are once again wide in front of them, full of the fear of death, full of guilt and grief, and Unus understands.

"You lost your family," they murmur, drawing their hand away from Erik's shoulder to his chin. His face is pale and sweaty, and Unus feels his breath hitch as their eyes meet. Unus's hand feels empty without the scythe to hold. "You have not yet finished grieving them. A mother, fourteen brothers, pets - and you blame yourself."

"H-how do - do you kn-ow that?" Erik whispers, fear piercing his trembling voice. He looks over at the others sitting near him, but Unus doesn't break eye contact. Erik swallows, and shrinks back from Unus's gaze. "Unus - Your h-hair, your - your eyes - Wh-what are you d-d-doing?"

Erik Derekson has seen death. Unus can see it in his eyes. There is something dark and haunted there. He doesn't understand, yet. Unus doesn't either.

"We have a year," they say to the shivering, unlucky boy who has seen more death than any child his age should have to. "You will not lose us just yet. Time is ours, for now. Do not be scared. We have a year."

[234:17:12:00]

Later, Unus tells Annus they have no clue what happened, which is true. Annus fills them in. According to them, one moment Unus had just been sitting there, then they had touched Erik's shoulder and the air had gone cold. Their hair had begun to glow white, and their eyes had melted to black before they suddenly started talking about Erik's family. There had been no explanation for it, and Erik had been rather terrified. Bim nearly threw a fit when the boy left his knitting materials to go back inside, Ayano and Argentum in tow. Unus hadn't meant to scare him. They'd merely wanted to offer reassurance.

"I am not sure what came over me," Unus admits, their shoulders rising to their ears. Their hair has faded back to brown, albeit a bit lighter than before, and their eyes are blue again, albeit slightly darker. Their reflection looks wrong. "I believe I… saw Erik's memories. I saw the deaths of his brothers when they went over the mountainside. I was there." They look Annus right in the eyes. "Mor, I held the scythe that killed them. What is happening to me?"

Annus can't answer. They take Unus's hand and they both look at their reflections. Unus sees death in their eyes.

The timers over their heads continue to tick. The soundlessness is beginning to drive the entity insane.

[233:15:23:12]

Unus speaks to Erik the next day.

"I am sorry," they say. "For what happened. I did not mean to get into your head the way I did. I… do not know my own power."

The two of them are on the porch, late at night, staring out across the gardens that spill close to the edge of the mountainside. Erik's glasses are fogged up, so Unus can't see where he's looking exactly, but they can tell the boy is shivering in his baggy red hoodie that they're pretty sure belongs to Ayano. "That's ok," Erik mumbles, tapping the wooden fence with his fingers. His nails are chipped black. Unus wonders which of Mark's creations painted them. "I know you didn't mean it. It's just strange, knowing you saw… that."

Unus nods stiffly. Their neck aches, and their collar feels like it's choking them. "Mhm. The abilities I have been given are strange." They pause. "I am sorry about your family."

Erik shrugs, glasses glinting in the light of the porch lantern above them. "Not your fault. F-freak accidents have killed just about everyone I love. That's just… a fact of life that I can't ch-change. I'm unlucky. I guess that's the - that's the c-curse Mark put on me."

Crickets chirp in the grass somewhere. Unus and Annus had gone out a few nights ago to hunt for them before eating tuna sandwiches on the chess board. They're thinking about that as they answer. "Does Mark intentionally create flaws in his creations, or does he really not know?"

Another shrug, and Erik bites his nails. He doesn't seem to notice he's doing it. "A lot of us have weird catches in our c-c-creations. Like, Bim is a game show host, but his shows never take off, like, proper. The Googles have to obey whoever has their command phrase. Bing breaks easily. Dark has really bad insomnia. Wilford can't remember anything from his past. Host is blind and bleeds constantly from his eyes. Silver can't tell his girlfriend the truth about who he is or about Mark. The Jims only have each other. Ed is an asshole, although I don't think that's Mark's fault necessarily. King is a bit of an idiot - not that I don't like him! He's j-just an - an idiot. Doc didn't go to med school. Ayano can't keep a boyfriend cause she's too, uh, possessive. And… me." He takes a deep, shaky breath. "I'm unlucky. I g-get people I love k-k-killed."

Unus doesn't know how to respond to this.

"Death comes for us all," they say, which isn't the right response.

"I kn-know that b-better tha-an anyone," the seventeen year old boy responds. He sniffles and wipes his face. "I don't wanna l-lose - I don't - you and Annus -"

Unus pats Erik's shoulder gently. "We have time. We have time."

Fall field crickets, which is the most common cricket type in this area of LA, usually only live for up to a year. Just one year. They sing every night, searching for a mate. Searching for purpose. Unus can almost understand that. With a year to live, not much can be accomplished, and of course no one would want to be alone for so long. It almost hurts, hearing their neverending song. It sounds like loneliness. It reminds Unus of the days they have left, the days that they're desperately trying to cling to.

Above their head, the time drains in the humming of the lantern and the chirping of crickets who sings a year long song.

#unus annus #boop writes #markiplier #crankgameplays #darkiplier #the host #erik derekson #ayano aishi #bim trimmer #silver shepard #actor mark

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rrocketmann24 · 5 years ago

Text

'bye' Transcript

/Uploaded by OnisionSpeaks on December 4th 2019/

[Starts with Greg walking around with a camera]

So... Heh. A lot of my videos lately have been me kind of... Freaking out and I wanted to kind of... [He starts setting the camera down on a desk] I mean obviously it's not working.

Nobody's getting what I'm saying, so I just wanted to... Kind of talk to you guys [He sits down] um... For real for a moment. Uh, I think it's time for me to stop, and, um.

I haven't seen my therapist today but I'm sure he would agree that I've been pretty out of control. So, uh, I just wanted to formally apologize for my behavior lately, and um, let you know and announce my uh, retirement. Uh, from this... Everything.

Um so I, I, I went out and I got an application, I'm gonna go ahead and get a, a normal job, uh 9 to 5 or whatever hours they want to work me. And uh,

[He pulls up a paper for a McDonalds job application and shows it to the camera] As you can see... [He puts the paper back down] Um, it's McDonalds, I'm gonna be working at McDonalds, I, I hope to get a supervisor position, um, as a vegetarian it's gonna be a bit conflicting, for me.

It says 'are you presently employed?' obviously not. Uh, not for long, 'cause I've been cancelled, um... Have I ever worked at McDonalds before? No but I worked at Chick-fil-a. It says 'Have you ever been convicted of criminal offense for which you have not been pardoned?' The answer is, no, I've never been convicted of a criminal offense

Um, am I legally entitled to work in Canada?

[He doesn't speak for about two seconds, looking upset.]

[He quickly rips up the paper, obviously angry.]

[Angry yelling, some spit flying.] It's the wrong application! [He's still ripping up the paper.]

[He drops the paper and puts his hands over his eyes, and then sits back up.] Now I gotta go get a n- [He sighs, and then puts his face in his hand.]

[Still sounding upset] Uh, anyway, so, I just wanted to say...

[He looks down at the paper on the ground.] How did I get the wrong application? [Calms down a bit.] I'm gonna print out one to America and I'm go into an American establishment and I'm gonna apply there and I'm gonna get the job because I am super qualified.

[Cut to Greg standing up in his garage now.] Um, so, [He pulls his shirt off.] My whole deal is that I want to be the best employee I can be for McDonalds whenever I do get an American application.

[He turns around and walks towards a coat rack.] I want to practice with you guys.

Um, [Greg is now standing in front of the coat rack, facing the camera] Hello, may I take your order? Oh you want a number six? Uh, sure, that'll be $5.97. [He turns to the side and talks into his hand.] We have a $5.97 order number six. Next customer. [He puts his hand on the top of the coat rack.]

See I, I do a really good job.

I think that um, I'm gonna be pretty, pretty great at McDonalds because I think that I have a lot of leadership experience with YouTube, and um... [Greg pauses and looks down]

[Greg immediately starts yelling towards the camera.] You're laughing at me, aren't you! You're laugh- [He pulls on the coat rack as he's yelling and it, along with the several coats hanging on it, come crashing down on him as he falls.]

[Greg is laying on the ground underneath the coat rack. He then screams. He starts getting up, pushing the coat rack off of himself.] Stop, stop laughing! [He starts sobbing and then cries into his hands.]

[It cuts to his greenscreen room. He's sitting on a chair, facing the camera, with his shirt back on. He looks calm now.]

Anyway, so please don't tweet at McDonalds, please don't call McDonalds, please don't show up to McDonalds, please don't do anything that McDonalds, just let me live in peace and let me have my McDonalds job. Thank you. Bye. [The video ends.]

#james jackson #laineybot #anti onision #anti onion man #anti o #anti o memes #anti o community #anti onion boy #anti kai #anti coolguykai #transcript

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areyoureadyforsomemeatballz · 5 years ago

Text

Steve Rogers’s Day Off

Summary: For years Steve’s friends and coworkers have seen him as a stalwart stick in the mud. If only they could see him when he lets his hair down. But only one person seems to get that side of him- you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Swearing. Steve shirking his captainly duties?

A/N: This was my entry for @themaskedwriter ‘s challenge. Check out their account for wonderful fics and upcoming rounds. I had an absolute blast writing it and watching you guys guess. I wanted to re-upload for those that may have missed it! Enjoy.

Tony pushes his head into his folded arms, almost sending his plate of untouched eggs to the floor. “Can we all just take the day off? Mission debrief be damned.”

“Steve wouldn’t stand for that,” Clint chuckles as he takes a long drag of his coffee. “We all know he isn’t one to play hooky, especially when he’s the one that set the meeting”

Around the dining room table, there are nods and a few words of agreement. Bucky looks up from his phone and shakes his head.

“I don’t think you guys know Steve as well as you think you do,” he says with a small smile.

“I think you’ve lost touch, Tinman. We’ve all seen Steve in action this century,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Pardon my French, but he’s so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you’d have a diamond.”

In the kitchen, a glass shatters and everyone whips around in their seats toward the noise. There’s a flash of golden blond hair and the sound of hasty footsteps.

“I think he heard you,” Bruce murmurs, not looking up from his bowl of cereal.

Bucky moves to stand as you walk into the room. “Hey, do you guys know what’s up with Steve? He ran the other way when he saw me coming down the hallway.”

“Tony’s just being an asshole, as per usual,” Clint says.

You look away from Bucky and notice the sheepish expression on Tony’s face. “Tones, what did you do?”

“Clint said it too!”

“I wasn’t the one talking about his tight ass!”

Bucky rolls his eyes and moves to smack both men on the back of their heads. “Maybe you should go check on him, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you look back down the hall to where Steve disappeared. “Yeah, I can go see if he’s okay.”

You knock on Steve’s bedroom door softly and wait for a few minutes before peeking your head around it. Steve is sprawled out on his back staring up at his ceiling fan. You walk over to him and sit down on his bed. He lets out a long exhale and tosses his arm over his eyes.

“What’s got you so down, Stevie?”

He pulls his arm away from his face and his bright blue eyes meet yours. “Am I boring?”

You raise your eyebrow at him and grin at the face he pulls. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Because you think I’m a stick in the mud too?”

“Get up!” You reach down for his hands and pull the two of you up off the plush mattress. “We’re going out. I’m not letting you sit here and throw a pity party all day.”

“Leave me be,” Steve groans. “Hey! This isn’t a pity party and I wasn’t going to stay here all day.”

“You’re damned right it’s not. You do fun stuff all the time, you’ve just been busy lately.”

You grab Steve’s hand and he trails behind as you lead him through the halls. When you reach the garage, you look up to the wall of keys expectantly. “Pick one.”

“I don’t think Tony would want us to.”

“Tony owes you one,” you gesture towards the wall. “Now pick a car, any car.”

“Where are we going?”

You grin at Steve as he randomly grabs a set of car keys. “To see something good.”

He passes you the keys and you click the lock to find the car. Your grin only grows when you see it’s one of Tony’s favorites. Steve slides into the passenger seat as the car roars to life.

Steve fiddles with the knobs of the stereo and looks over at you. “Okay, you’ve successfully kidnapped me, now where are we going?”

“What’s the first thing that pops into your head when I say ‘fun’?”

His brows pinch together. “I don’t know? Baseball, maybe?”

You pull out your phone and shoot off a quick text. “It’s a little early in the year for baseball, but I’ve got an idea. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you start a route to Yankee Stadium? Also, send a message to the team that Steve came down with some nondescript illness.” You pull the car out of its spot and race off into the early morning sun.

Her Irish lilt fills the speakers. “Of course. Anything else, miss?”

“Yeah, start Steve’s favorite playlist. Thanks, F.R.I.”

She doesn’t answer but a different song pours through the speakers and Steve nods along to the beat. You weave through the mid-morning traffic and soon enough your stepping out into the parking lot outside the stadium.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here? The season doesn’t even start for another month.”

“I know that you’re a Dodgers man, but I figured you wouldn’t want to spend all day on a plane. That, and I don’t personally know anyone on their coaching staff.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow at you. “That doesn’t tell me what we’re doing here.”

“We’re breathing a little life back into our routines,” you say with a laugh and tug on his arm. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be fun.”

A smile overtakes Steve’s face and he lets you guide him through the empty stadium to a row of offices. You knock on one of the doors and a man with kind eyes greets you.

“I’ve been expecting the two of you,” The man says with a broad smile. “Mr. Rogers it’s an honor.”

“Please, it’s Steve.”

“Steve this is Aaron, he’s the team’s general manager. I saved his ass during one of the many botched alien take-overs and he insisted that he owed me a favor.”

“I am surprised you are finally cashing it in, though. The field is all set up for the two of you.”

Aaron winks at the two of you and Steve raises his eyebrows at the man. “Set up for what, exactly?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you singsong and push the confused blond back towards the field.

Steve smiles as you pull him onto the field and toss him a bat. “Ready to let out some aggression? I have a feeling this is going to be a baseball massacre.”

Steve scoffs and spins the bat in the air over his shoulder, catching it deftly. “This was my dream, you know? Buck and me went to any game we could. I uh- I thought that they’d let a little guy like me on a team if I was good enough. I practiced until my hands were raw.”

“You never told me that.” You look up from the pitching machine that you’re trying to turn on.

“Never told anybody. Not even my mom or Bucky,” he murmurs with a far-off look. “I’m sure they suspected.”

“I’m sure they did. You’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.” You tear your eyes away from him before he can notice you staring and finally turn the right knob. “Aha! You ready for the first pitch, Mr. America?”

His eyes narrow at you, but he can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up out of his throat. “Do your worst.”

You raise your brow and feed the first ball into the machine. A deafening crack sounds throughout the stadium. You flip around just in time to see the ball fly through the air straight over the back wall.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. “Steve! That was on the fastest setting!”

Steve’s smile is blinding as he takes off around the bases at breakneck speed. He’s not even panting when he slides into home plate. He stands and wipes the dirt off his pants as he jogs over to you.

A giggle bursts out of him as he pulls you in for a hug. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“If only the talent scouts could see you now,” you say breathlessly. “They’d be begging to get you on the roster.”

Steve’s cheeks flush as he lets go of you quickly. “That would sure be something. Is it your turn?”

“After that performance, I don’t know if I should.”

“C’mon its fun,” he smiles as you return to the plate and pick up the bat. “I’ll even turn the speed down.”

You hold the bat with one hand and raise your middle finger to him. Steve drops the ball into the machine and you manage to hit the ball over his head. You drop the bat and sprint towards first base. Steve scoops up the ball and darts towards you, just before you can hit the base Steve is there. You can’t stop your feet in time and you crash into Steve’s broad frame, his hands circle your waist to keep you steady.

“You okay there, doll?”

You grin and look up at him. “I mean I’d be better if I were safe, but I’m no match for the great Steve Rogers.”

He rolls his eyes and holds your arms to make sure that you’re okay to stand. “It’s the serum. I’d be almost as hopeless as you without it.”

You gasp and clutch your chest. “That’s a low blow, Stevie.”

“I couldn’t help-” his stomach growling cuts off his sentence and his cheeks flush a brilliant red again. “it.”

“It appears that even star athletes get hungry,” you say with a grin. “You wanna break for some lunch?”

“As much as I love ballpark hot dogs, I don’t think eating last seasons are such a good idea.”

“As good as that sounds, that’s not what I had in mind,” you scrunch your nose up and he laughs. “What’re you in the mood for, dummy?”

“You’re the mastermind here.”

“That’s not how it works! We’re having your best day ever. So, I ask again, what’s for lunch?”

Steve laughs and his eyes light up. “You know a hot dog actually sounds really good.”

“So, you do want a moldy-year-old hot dog? You’re a sick man, Rogers.”

“I was thinking Central Park? We could do some people watching. That and the drive shouldn’t be too bad.”

“If that’s what you want for your special day then it’s what we’re doing.”

You reach for Steve’s hand but stop midair, quickly rethinking your action. You feel your cheeks heat up and you turn to walk back to the car. Steve watches your retreating form before his brain catches up and he darts after you. You toss him the keys with a tight grin.

“Think you can handle it?”

“Doll, I was driving long before you were alive,” Steve chuckles. “Tanks and planes mostly, but they can’t be that different.”

“Hardy-har, grandpa has a sense of humor.”

Steve turns to you with a heart-stopping grin and stomps on the gas, pealing out of the parking lot. He expertly weaves through the mid-day traffic and pulls the sports car into a spot just outside the park. You make your way to a hot dog vendor and eat your lunch as you walk around, enjoying the warm weather.

The soft sounds of a few street performers draws you and Steve in, along with a small crowd. An older couple takes each other’s hands of the and the two start to sway to the music. Others in the crowd follow their lead and Steve offers his hand to you.

“Dance with me?”

You smile and take his hands and he spins you around. “It’s only right.”

“Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen,” the singer croons. “Save those lies, darling don’t explain.”

“I recall Central Park in fall,” Steve sings quietly. “How you tore your dress, what a mess. My heart says danke schoen.”

You laugh softly and lay your head on Steve’s chest. “Too bad it’s spring.”

“Just pretend, doll.”

You close your eyes and he continues to murmur the words, his chest rumbling as the two of you dance. All too soon the song is over and the couples around you begin to separate. You squeeze Steve’s warm hands and he smiles softly before stepping away from you.

“What’s next?”

“I was thinking something with art? I think they’ve got a new exhibit at the Met,” you say as you start to pull out your phone to check their website.

Steve stops you and nods towards another street artist, this one sketching people for money. “How much do you think he’d charge for a sketch pad?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you say with a grin as Steve approaches the man.

It turns out the going rate for a sketch pad in Central Park is twenty-five dollars and a selfie with Captain America. You and Steve find a nice spot where he can draw, while still having people around for him to sketch. You sit next to him, content to watch his intense concentration as he shades. The park begins to grow quiet as the afternoon wears on.

“What are you sketching now that there’s nobody around?”

Steve bites his lip and his eyes dart down to the pad in his lap. “One of my favorite subjects.”

“Oh, Tony then?”

He laughs but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know I prefer to not draw from memory. Besides Tony’s a terrible muse, he’s always moving too much.”

“What is it, then? The city? New York’s got to be the perfect muse.”

He shakes his head. “How could I waste time drawing buildings when I’ve got something so beautiful sitting right in front of me?” His hands shake lightly as he holds out the pad of paper to you.

You look down at the sketch pad and notice a familiar form- yours. He’s somehow captured the slopes and angles of your body perfectly as if he had drawn them hundreds of times. You can’t take your eyes of the radiant woman smiling up at you. Steve’s somehow put a sense of untouchable longing into the portrait.

“I’m really sorry if you don’t like it,” Steve whispers. “It’s creepy. God, I just can’t help but draw you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his and the needy noise he makes in the back of his throat sends you into overdrive. His hands find your waist and he drags you impossibly closer to him. The sketchpad falls forgotten at your feet as you tangle your fingers into his short strands. You both pull back panting, desperate to catch your breath.

“I take it you like the picture?”

You bury your face in his chest. “I love it.”

“Doll?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Tony shrieks as he looks down at his phone and everyone comes running into the common room. He shoves a picture of you and Steve kissing into Natasha’s face. “Since when are they together?”

“According to this very real looking TMZ article, they’re secretly married,” Sam says as he reads over Natasha’s shoulder.

“How rude, we didn’t even get an invite,” Natasha smirks. “And to think Steve told us he was sick.”

Bucky grins from the couch. “Oh, that’s not Steve, that’s Abe Froman. And his lucky lady.”

“The sausage king of Chicago,” Tony sputters.

Bucky laughs and nods as the rest of the group look at Tony as if he’s grown a second head. “It’s the name he uses when they’re playing hooky. Looks like he finally got the balls to do something about his feelings, though.”

“What the actual fuck.”

“Language,” Bucky mock-gasps.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Rogers has got a lot of explaining to do.”

Likes/comments/reblogs mean the world!

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve/Reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/ reader #steve rogers/you #Ferris Bueller's Day Off #the masked writer #marvel fanfic idea #fanfiction #fic #ash writes

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nitewrighter · 5 years ago

Note

I loved the Mercy mood swings chapter. Can we see some pregnant Pharah mood swing shenanigans please?

I got an ask about widowmaker mood swings and remembered this was collecting dust in my inbox.

—–

“I always wondered why you didn’t step up earlier,” said Winston, as Pharah frowned over the holographic globe map in the middle of his lab. She was about five months along, clearly showing, though attempting to project her selfsame toughness in a leather jacket, white tee, and elastic waistband acid wash jeans. She fidgeted with her dog tags.

“I guess I didn’t want to become my mother,” said Pharah with a shrug, looking over the map, “Easier to throw myself at missions than throw other people into them. And back in the early days you know it was just us pinballing all over the world, sending whoever we could wherever we could. Then Mum and Jack showed up and… I know everyone tells themselves they didn’t assume their old roles but at the same time…” she trailed off.

“I think you’re going to do great,” said Winston, warmly clapping her on the shoulder.

“…so you’re sure it’s a definite ‘No’ from Torbjörn and the Doctor on the Maternity Raptora suit?” said Pharah.

“I understand your unease, but thankfully we have Echo manning air support while you’re running mission oversight,” said Winston.

“I should have known they would replace me with a robot,” Pharah sighed mock-dramatically.

“Well this robot is honored to be under your command, Agent Amari,” a pleasant, pinging voice came through the comms.

“Oh–Echo?” said Pharah

“Reporting!” the voice replied brightly.

“…You could have stood to say that we already have audio,” said Pharah, under her breath to Winston.

“Just clicked in,” said Winston.

“And uploading my visual feed now!” said Echo.

A new screen blipped up, displaying the bridges of Stockholm gently rolling underneath with Echo’s graceful flight pattern.

“I’ve taken the liberty of uplinking the team locations from Lúcio’s biofeed as well,” said Echo, and several icons blipped up on the screen.

“Huh! Well that’s convenient,” said Pharah, “You know, I was a little worried, but as long as we all stay focused, Null Sector won’t know what hit them!”

—–

“WHAT DID YOU JUST HIT!?” said Pharah, slamming her hands down onto the holo-table.

“it–it was just a traffic light—” Echo stammered over the comm.

“Just a–That’s the third one! I use a rocket launcher and I can operate with more precision than that! What, you think Overwatch can just blow up public property?!”

“I thought if I made an opening for Zarya—” Echo started.

“Zarya is pulling her weight. You don’t need to worry about her,” said Pharah.

“The intent is appreciated?” said Zarya.

“Stockholm sure as hell won’t appreciate it,” said Pharah, “Null Sector is doing enough damage. We aren’t adding to it.”

“She was just trying to–” Mei started.

“Mei, I already told you, your job is on damage control,” said Pharah, flatly, “Which now apparently includes Echo damage control.”

“Uh–Fareeha…” Winston nudged Pharah’s arm slightly.

“Mm?” Pharah looked over at Winston.

“Not everyone on this mission was in the military. While I appreciate your, um… passion… maybe you could–”

“Hold on a second–” said Pharah, looking back at the screen, “Echo, what are you doing!? You get too close to that Null Sector amplifier bot and he’ll scramble your systems!”

“I just thought—” Echo started.

“You get too close and you WON’T think!” said Pharah, “You’ll get overtaken by Null Sector’s jury-rigged God AI and have to shoot yourself in the head before you kill your teammates! Or you’ll screw up shooting yourself like you’ve screwed up everything else in this mission and end up killing your teammates! Is that what you want?!”

“No–” Echo’s voice was getting choked up.

“IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!” said Pharah gripping the edge of the holo-table.

A sniffling sound was heard from Echo’s end of the comm. Winston was looking between the biofeed data and the rest of the team’s own comm channels. At this point they seemed to be focused on getting the mission done as soon as possible, rather than exacerbate the situation between Echo and Pharah.

“What–what are you–?” Pharah started.

“I’m trying my best,” Echo’s voice was breaking down.

“…why are you sniffling? Isn’t your face a hologram? I mean, you don’t technically have snot–”

“I can still cry—!” Echo’s voice cracked on the word cry.

“So get it together. Or at least cry quieter, we need to keep the comm channels clear,” said Pharah, folding her arms.

Echo muffled her own crying.

“The Null Sector forces are shutting down!” said Mei, suddenly.

“Hey so-uh…D.Va and I managed to take out the command module and the Ironclad forces are moving in,” Lúcio’s voice came in on the comm’s.

Pharah’s shoulders eased up as she pushed herself up from the holo-table. “About time. Use your biofeed to check for any injured civilians before regrouping at the drop ship.”

“Gotcha. Over and out,” said Lúcio.

“Over and out,” Zarya, Mei, and D.Va’s voices overlapped over the comms.

“Over and out,” sniffled Echo before the screen blipped out.

Pharah chuckled a little, “None of my missions felt that fast,” she said, looking over at Winston, “You were right, Winston! That went well!”

Winston was staring at her, horrified.

“…what?” said Pharah.

—-

“You are an asshole,” Pharah was muttering under her breath to herself as she huffed up the stairs to her and Satya’s apartment, “You are an asshole, you are an asshole, you are an asshole—”

She moved to open the door to her and Satya’s apartment, but the door swung open on its own.

“There’s my intrepid commander!” said Satya, standing in the doorway and cupping her hands around Pharah’s face and kissing her, “How did it go?”

I was an asshole, was the immediate flinching thought in Pharah’s mind.

“uh…” Pharah rubbed the back of her neck uneasily, but Satya kept going.

“I’m so excited you’re taking on mission oversight! This way you can spend more time on the watchpoint with me!”

“Satya…” Pharah started.

“Well–not necessarily with me, you’ll be working with Winston and I will still be running surveillance and the turrets, but this means fewer long orca flights, more dinners together, we can work more on the nursery—”

“…I bit Echo’s head off,” said Pharah.

“Pardon?” said Satya.

“It started out great but she just… I was yelling at her, and constantly criticizing her, and I made her cry.”

“…Echo can cry?” said Satya.

“I know, right? Like how does that even–No–no–that’s not the point,” Pharah caught herself, “I just.. this little voice in my head kept saying, ‘Someone in the air should know better’ ‘She should know how to do this.’ It didn’t even occur to me that maybe she had her own way of doing things.”

“Did you apologize?” said Satya.

“I tried to hail her on vid-com but I think I’m just going to talk to her when she gets back,” said Pharah, huffing, “I don’t know, maybe I was projecting from my time in Helix… or maybe I just hated that she was flying and I wasn’t…” she glanced down at her stomach, “…or maybe I’m just a hormonal monster.”

Satya gently took Pharah’s hand in hers and kissed her fingertips. “You are not a monster. Just being in Overwatch is an emotional experience for you. And actually commanding on missions is a step much further.”

“…When I was younger I wanted to join Overwatch’s fight so badly…” said Pharah, gently setting Satya’s hand over her stomach, “And now I… just want the fight to be over so these guys don’t have to see it,” her lips thinned, “So they don’t have to see me…” she trailed off.

“They are going to be so proud of you,” said Satya, touching the side of Pharah’s face.

“I’m not proud of me,” muttered Pharah, “Not today.”

“Would the ‘Hormonal monster’ excuse take some of the weight off your shoulders?” said Satya, a half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t know… I–I know I have to give it another try. We need more people capable of calling the shots on missions and I could do it back in Helix…”

“And you can do it here,” said Satya, “Just… maybe not immediately directing your stand-in.” She played with Pharah’s hair beads. Pharah chuckled a little and pushed her hair back, her smile fading.

“Your first time commanding…” Satya mused, “You must have wanted it to be perfect so badly…”

“And I took it out on Echo…” Pharah sighed as they both walked over to the couch. She slumped down into it. “If I’m already treating my team like this–” Pharah shook her head. “I can’t let this fight poison my relationship with our kids like it poisoned me and my mum…”

“It won’t,” said Satya.

“I want to believe that,” said Pharah quietly.

“So believe it,” said Satya, “You believed in Overwatch. You believed in me,” she put a hand over Pharah’s stomach, “And you believed we could do this. And I believe it too.”

Pharah looked at Satya’s hand over her stomach and put her own hand over it. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Tackle me and jump out a 25th story window,” said Satya, leaning her head on Pharah’s shoulder.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” said Pharah.

“Well, if that experience taught me anything, it’s that these things have a way of working themselves out,” said Satya.

“Let’s hope so…” Pharah just closed her eyes and leaned back in the couch, guiding Satya’s hand on her stomach over to where she could feel the kicks.

#symmarah #pregnancy cw #symmarah kids

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 5 years ago

Text

Gold Digger - Chapter 8 | Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: What? Double upload? In one day? YES. Surprise, lovies! Also, I won’t be able to upload next week, so I decided to give you all a treat. There will be an ask game once this is posted, too.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, implied smut?

Word Count: ~2K

The Playlist (Updates Regularly)

Chapter List: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

"You're bleeding!"

Lizzie looked down at the back of her hand and sighed. She hadn't noticed she started picking at a scab, leftover from when one of the kids scratched her during a playground fight a few days prior. She got up with a groan and went to the sink to wash the blood off and press a paper towel to the wound.

She was absolutely shattered. Lizzie wasn't sure if it was just exhaustion and burnout or if Gwilym not really speaking to her all week had anything to do with it. She tried to reach out, only to have him tell her he's busy every time. At some point, she decided to give it up. If Gwilym wanted to see her, he knew where to find her.

"Will you be okay while I'm gone?" Shelly looked genuinely concerned for her best friend's well-being.

"Yes, Shells. Thanks," Lizzie nodded. "It's not like you'll cancel the trip anyways."

"Yes, but the guilt trip..." Shelly's voice drifted as she looked at her friend's fallen face. "He'll call you, you know."

"I must've come on to him too strong. Asking him to spend the night like some... some... some floozy!"

"Nonsense," Shelly snickered. "He probably is just busy, babe. Don't overthink it."

"Too late!"

"My taxi will be here any minute now. Are you sure you're alright?" Shelly asked again.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Lizzie rolled her eyes and started pushing Shelly towards the door. "Go! Tell Joe I said hello!"

"Hopefully Joe won't remember who you were when I'm done with him..." Shelly muttered as Lizzie pushed her out the door and closed it in her face. "That was rude!"

"Have a safe flight!" Lizzie's muffled voice came through.

Shelly laughed and pulled up her luggage's telescopic handle.

_______

Electric blue eyes stared into baby blue eyes. Gwilym had invited Clara out for lunch to talk the Jamie situation out and it was not going as well as he'd hoped it would. The conversation quickly turned to Clara's concerns about Lizzie's motives. Gwilym bit the inside of his cheek as he counted to 10 in his head, not letting Clara's words rile him up. Or at least attempting to remain calm while he had his own doubts, thanks to her and Ben.

"The fact Ben thinks so, too, speaks volumes, my love." Clara shrugged and pursed her lips.

"Don't call me that." Gwilym snapped. "You have no say in the matter. You left me, Clara."

"That doesn't mean I don't care for you anymore," Clara said, her eyes playfully twinkling. "Or that I don't love you anymore."

"I know what you're trying to do," Gwilym announced and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not going to work."

"What?"

"You can't leave me and expect me not to date anyone else, ever again, Clara!"

"That's not what I'm doing," she smiled sweetly and put her hand on top of his. "I do still love you."

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for you to finish playing these silly little games," Gwilym retracted his hand from under hers. "And, like I said when you left - I'm not going to be put 'on hold' until you figure out what it is you want."

"I'm not expecting you to, it's just..." She paused as she tried to organize her thoughts. "Merida? Is that what you want, really?"

"Her name is Lizzie."

"Right, Merida."

"You're an insolent child, for fuck's sake!" Gwilym shook his head in frustration. "Look, I don't know what her motives are, alright? I just know that she's beautiful, she wants the same things I do and -"

"She's not me, though." Clara shrugged nonchalantly. "Nor will she ever be."

"Thank God!" Gwilym clasped his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "One of you is more than enough."

_____

Joe was like a rubber ball, bouncing around as he waited for Shelly in the arrivals hall. He felt like he could explode just from the anticipation. He didn't tell anyone about his plans to fly Shelly out to him, and he had no one to share his excitement with. Not even Annie or Rory. He saw a flash of her behind a group of people and stretched his neck up, trying to spot her again. He almost jumped out of his skin when she showed up at his side.

"Hello, hello," she drawled.

"Hi!" Joe gave her an awkward side hug. "I didn't see you there!"

"I can tell, you almost hung from the light fixtures."

"I can't believe you're here!" he put his hands on her shoulders and searched her face for any sign of her being a hologram. "This is crazy!"

"I'm crazy like that," Shelly smirked. "Plus, a free flight to the states? Count me in!"

"I planned so much stuff to do. You're about to have the best weekend of your entire life." Joe tapped on the tip of her nose with his finger.

"Oh, yeah?" Shelly asked, taking his other hand off her shoulder and intertwining her fingers with his. "Lead the way, then."

_____

'Not sure what it is I did or didn't do, but if you don't want to see me or talk to me anymore, you really should say so. I deserve that, at least.'

Lizzie bit her bottom lip and sent the text, her hands slightly shaky. She was drunk and lonely. She thought the silence without Shelly will be calming - but it only unnerved her that much more. She turned the volume up on the telly for more background noise and grabbed the bottle of wine to take a long swig. Glasses be damned.

'I know I disappeared, and I know it's shitty, but it's not what you think it is.' Gwilym replied.

'I asked you to spend the night and you bolted right out and never spoke to me again.'

'Are you home?'

'Yes.'

'I'm coming over in a jiffy.'

Lizzie scoffed as she powered the screen off. Her mind was racing. On the one hand, the thought of seeing Gwilym again made her excited and giddy. On the other hand, she was absolutely livid with him. She glared at the door when the bell rung through her flat.

"Hi," Gwilym greeted her at the door, his eyes soft.

"Hello." Lizzie stared at him coolly.

"Is it alright if I come in?" He asked apprehensively. Lizzie stepped aside to let him pass. She closed the door behind him and crossed her arms, keeping a safe distance from him. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes." She replied curtly.

"Alone?"

"Yes. Why are you interrogating me?" She countered.

"I'm not," Gwilym flushed slightly. "I understand you're cross with me..."

"Cross?" Lizzie scoffed. "I'm fucking hurt."

"I'm so sorry," he sat down on the sofa and beckoned her over. "I just..."

"Where were you?" Lizzie obliged and sat on the other end of the sofa, shrinking as far away from him as she could. "I called and I texted and you just ignored me!"

"I needed to think."

"About what?!”

"Why do you fancy me?"

"Pardon?" Lizzie raised an eyebrow, unsure if she heard correctly.

"Why do you fancy me, Liz?" Gwilym repeated.

"Are you joking right now?" Lizzie glared. "What kind of question is that?!" "Is it because of who I am or because of me?"

"I think you might be drunker than I am," Lizzie muttered.

"You know what I mean." Gwilym fired back. "And the fact that you won't answer the question -"

"You think I only want you because you're famous?" Lizzie chortled. "You're bonkers. A bloody loon."

"Well, I -"

"I was so afraid that this would happen and it fucking did. Christ!" Lizzie brushed her curls away from her face. "You stupid idiot, I don't care about your celebrity status!"

"You avoided me like the plague at first, then you're all over me..."

"Because I thought you had no job and no money, you bloody tosser!" She hissed. "You don't know me or my heart. How dare you even assume..."

"I'm sorry." Gwilym cut her off. "I'm sorry. My friends got in my head. You were acting so... different."

"Your friends?"

"Clara." Gwilym clarified sheepishly.

"You're friends with your ex?" Lizzie blinked in confusion.

"Not exactly friends... It's complicated," Gwilym shook his head. "Look, I was just with her, I told her off about it -"

"You were with her?!" Lizzie guffawed. "Gwilym, you should leave."

"It's not what you think, I was with her to tell her to stop doing what she's doing to me!"

"What is she doing to you, exactly?" Lizzie raised an eyebrow and squinted.

"Holding me back." Gwilym shrugged.

"From what?"

"Well, this," Gwilym said and lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and pressing his lips to Lizzie's.

He cradled her face in his hands and nibbled on her bottom lip, prompting her to kiss him back. When he was just about to pull away, she did.

_____

“So!” Joe said as he opened the passenger’s side door for Shelly, “let’s go get you settled in!”

“Joe.”

“Yeah?”

“As much as I’m enjoying your frantic ramblings,” Shelly smirked, “will it be totally out of line for you to kiss me already?”

“What?” Joe’s brows knotted as he let her words sink. “Oh!”

“Oh!” Shelly mimicked, her nose just bumping with the tip of his nose. “So…?”

Joe grinned and chuckled as he closed the miniature gap they still had left.

______

“Give me some of that!” Gwilym slurred slightly as he reached for the bottle in Lizzie’s hand.

“No, this one’s mine!” She protested and leaned back, stretching her arm up and away, over her head. “Get your own!”

“Oh, come on!” Gwilym pouted and batted his eyelashes at her. “Please?”

“Nuh-uh!” Lizzie sing-sang and laughed when Gwilym laid flush on top of her, reaching for the bottle.

“You’ll spill it.” His voice was raspy and low, his lips grazing hers. “Reckless girl…”

Lizzie poked her tongue out and licked at his lips sloppily, making him grunt and rut his hips onto hers. His trousers rustled against her leggings as she opened her legs slightly wider, accommodating him.

______

“We need to make it out of the car, Joe,” Shelly giggled as he nibbled on the crook of her neck, leaning over the console. “Joseph!”

“I’m just -” he started and nibbled her again, “you’re just so yummy I’m -”

“Oh, I’m yummy?” Shelly smirked.

“God, yes.” Joe sighed and leaned back into his seat. “But okay. Okay, we’ll continue this soon enough.”

_______

“I feel like a bloody teenager again,” Gwilym laughed and kissed Lizzie’s neck, thrusting his hips into hers. “Dry-humping like some horny puppy…” Lizzie’s melodic laughter filled his ears. “You think this is funny?”

“Mhm!” Lizzie shifted slightly and bucked into him, making him wince. “Very.”

“I’m in actual physical pain, here!” Gwilym protested and sneaked his hand under her top, “and you find it funny?”

“Hilarious, actually.”

“Bad woman,” Gwilym nipped at her earlobe.

His warm hand left a searing trail behind it wherever it went. He cupped her breast in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as he pushed her top up her torso with the other.

“No.” Lizzie murmured and wriggled under him. “No!” she said a bit louder.

“What?” Gwilym froze and leaned back, searching her face.

“I don’t…” Lizzie slurred and mentally kicked herself for getting so drunk and turned on after being so angry with him. “I wanna stop.”

“I’m confused,” Gwil said as he sat up.

“I know, me too,” Lizzie kept eye contact and shrugged. “Feels wrong to do this, so I wanna stop.”

“Oh,” Gwilym pouted. “I’m…”

“And I’m still fuming at you for ghosting me,” Lizzie remarked. “That was a dick move.”

“It was. I’m sorry,” Gwilym frowned. “I’m also in pain.”

“Good!” Lizzie smiled triumphantly. “Now you know what happens when you hurt me!”

“Where’s Shelly, by the way?” Gwil wondered.

“At Joe’s.”

“What?”

________

“You said you made plans?” Shelly asked Joe as she pulled his shirt up over his head and straddled him on the sofa.

“Fuck plans.” Joe gulped when she pulled her own shirt up over her head and revealed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Holy moly.”

“Mmmm…” Shelly gently grazed her fingernails over his skin, watching his muscles spasm in her wake. “Are you ready?”

“Ride ‘em, cowgirl,” Joe murmured in a southern accent and grabbed Shelly’s hips.

“Yeehaw!” she whispered in his ear.

______

TAGLIST: @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976 @mrhoemazzello

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #gwilym lee blurb

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junionigiri · 5 years ago

Text

and you say, stay Chapter 5 - Fly Me To The Moon

[former title: just another secretary story!]

Summary: Director Todoroki takes Secretary Uraraka out after work.

Rating: T

The Office of the Executive Director begins the next day in abject and utter suffering. Struggling through their hangovers, they each draft out their gravely-worded apology letters while passing out a bottle of aspirin between them.

“Oh my god, I can’t even remember how we got home, Kiri!” Mina whines, slapping a cold compress over her forehead. “I woke up on the bedroom floor feeling like I got punched in the face! Where were you? You should have carried me to bed!”

“I was home too,” Kirishima groans through a hefty chug of his protein shake. “I passed out on the stairs, remember? I felt so bad I couldn’t do a single dragon flag this morning! Not manly!”

“I, too, awakened in a most uncomfortable position! My head was at the foot of my bed, my feet were on my pillows, and my pyjamas were inside-out!” Iida adds in utter humiliation. “How did we arrive home safely? Did the Director teleport us home, somehow?”

“No, he drove all of us home,” Ochako answers, gathering all their letters for them. “So you should all thank him when you can, okay?

“Really? The Director was there last night?” Monoma grumbles irately. “Figures. All I remember is the vague stench of evil and existential dread. I bet I drank so much so I can ignore his demonic aura.”

Camie snorts. “Cuz, you sat right in the bossman’s lap. You got no rights anymore.”

“What?!”

Monoma demands to see evidence, and Camie happily complies to everyone’s horror. Her many blurry selfies of the night before painted an awful, embarrassing picture. Only the owner of the phone finds this amusing. Her promises not to upload anything can only do so much to stave off the shame.

“Utsushimi-kun! I implore you to get rid of this evidence!” Iida begs.

Camie hums. “Change my mind. You can start with an orange frappuccino~”

As another argument goes forth, Ochako leaves them with an amused smile and makes her way to Director Todoroki’s office.

With a gentle knock, she enters the room and finds him seated behind his computer. Unlike her officemates, there is no evidence of a headache or exhaustion in him. It would have been infuriating if she had the same terrible hangover as the rest of them, but luckily she watched her intake last night and her head’s clear.

Not-so-luckily though, she clearly remembers laughing at the Director and everyone else. And she can’t pretend to forget if he asks her about it, because just thinking about everyone cuddling the Director makes her want to burst out laughing again.

Because of that, she places the apology letters over to his desk with her own letter on the top of the pile. “Here is all that you asked us to accomplish, Director,” she says as politely as she can.

Todoroki hums in disinterest, eyes not moving from a set of data on his computer. It’s obvious that he’s going to ask her to shred these documents later without so much as reading them. It’s some small relief for them at least, because then they can pretend none of this happened. “Asui from Marketing requested an emergency meeting with us about the art center project. You have all the proposals for the launch ready, right?”

“Of course, Director. We just need the Chairman’s approval. I’ve already sent an email to their office about it.”

He clicks his tongue and tugs on his tie in thought. “Send another reminder to Takami-san. I need an answer before lunch.”

“Yes, Director,” Ochako says, eyeing his fingers on the tie. While at first she hated that she had to fix his tie for him so often, it’s now a point of pride for her to keep the Director looking neat at all times. So much so that it annoys her to see it so crooked.

It’s pure muscle memory at this point that she’s stepping over to his side and her hands are flying to his tie, pulling at it expertly until it’s tidy. She took all the trouble convincing him that morning that he can wear this diamond-patterned tie instead of the solid dark blue ones that he preferred. She has to make sure that he looks perfect.

“You’re perfect.” Satisfied with the results, she looks up at him and directly meets his eyes.

The demon Director’s stare is famous for a lot of reasons--the color, the intensity, the way they make you feel like you’re both burning alive and freezing at the same time. It’s not a metaphor Ochako likes because being burned must feel terrible (his scar tells a story all on its own), and also she’s used to being the target of that stare when he’s irritated or dissatisfied, so she knows it in a way that cannot be enjoyed.

But now he’s staring at her the way he was last night at her doorstep. The burning feeling behind it is less like fire and more like the warmth of her blood rushing through her veins and the throb of her pulse. It’s intense, unwavering. Ochako’s hypnotized for exactly half a second too long.

“Thanks,” he says absentmindedly. “I could have done that myself.”

She snaps herself out of the trance. “With all due respect Director, you didn’t. But, noted.”

All the strange thoughts fly out of the window of the 65th floor office. It’s good that she’s reminded of how infuriating he is. His vague warning about how he shouldn’t underestimate her might be making her see him in a different (inaccurate) light, but she should know better. She bows and turns with a suppressed huff when he calls to her again, “Secretary Uraraka.”

She turns to him. After a thoughtful pause, he asks, “You speak with your colleagues differently, don’t you?”

She blinks. “Not that I know of, Director. Has anyone sent a complaint about the way I speak? I should apologize and clear up any misunderstandings--”

“No, not them.” He gestures out the door. “Iida and the others. Last night you spoke with them informally. Using ‘ sure thing’ or ‘ yup’ instead of ‘ of course,’ for example.”

“I… see.” Gosh, he sounds so weird just trying to talk in a casual way. “It’s only when we’re drinking. But if it offends you...”

He shakes his head. “It’s… fine. In fact, you may use that sort of language with me. Provided that it’s just the two of us, of course.”

Ochako stares at him incredulously. “Beg yer pardon?” she mutters by accident.

“Yes, like that.” Todoroki gives her a reassuring nod. “That’s what they call the Kansai accent, right?”

She tries not to slip into her accent again when she asks, “May I know what brought this on, Director?”

“Are you offended?”

“No, but… this is a strange request.”

He shrugs. “You seemed more comfortable speaking that way instead of the usual way you converse with me. Since I am giving the same freedom to Utsushimi, I am granting you the same thing.”

Well, Camie hasn’t talked to him directly since the interview and since she got drunk in front of him so she can’t say that it’s exactly the same freedom. Plus Ochako isn’t sure that the Director is just telling her that she can talk more naturally around him, or if he’s commanding her to do so. Frankly it’s making her sweat figuring out what he wants.

“If you say so, Director. Of course I’ll--”

“Not of course, ” Todoroki insists. “ Sure thing .”

Ochako gives him a strained smile. “S-sure thing, sir. I’ll keep it casual in front of you.”

Director Todoroki nods in satisfaction and gets back to work. Ochako walks out of the office and tries to do the same thing, but it’s suddenly hard to concentrate.

A few days later Ochako comes home tired as all hell and not in the best mood, as she does when the Demon Director is extra demonic. Honestly, for all his talk about wanting her to be more comfortable around him, he’s making it impossible for her to even breathe normally within his vicinity.

The art center project is now top priority to beat their competitors, so suddenly the office is rushing through all the things they were scheduled to do for the next two months, over the course of three weeks. The stocks of energy drinks and orange juice in the pantry is running dangerously low from their efforts to keep awake. It’s so bad that Monoma was even caught drinking ‘peasant’ instant coffee instead of his usual French press ones.

And Camie… oof. Ochako knows that she’s trying her best and that this is a lot of pressure for someone who’s new to the team, but she missed one of the financial reports completely during the staff meeting. And while both of them apologized for her mistake, Todoroki only directed his ice-cold glare at Ochako.

“Is this how you do transfer of duties, Secretary Uraraka?” She flinches just remembering the cutting edge of his voice. She hates it when he uses that because even though his standards are impossibly high, it tells her that he expected more from her, and she let him down.

Well at least she’s home an hour earlier than usual. Director Todoroki told her not to collect Victoria at his home as previously ordered. There’s just enough time for her to eat the convenience store katsudon she got on the way home, take a bath, and watch her soaps before angrily passing out on her couch.

… if only her phone would stop ringing! It takes all of her strength not to throw her food over her kitchen table when she fishes for her phone. The name on the screen gives her pause, however, and she’s extra careful to mind her tone when she answers, “Chief Midoriya?”

Midoriya Izuku opens up their conversation with another alarming cough. Ochako wonders if this is merely an unfortunate butt-dial until he stammers over the line, “A-ah! Hi, Uraraka-san! This is Midoriya Izuku from Endeavor’s Marketing Division! Oh, wait, you know that already, haha.”

Ochako laughs cautiously. Even over the phone, Midoriya’s usual nervousness is palpable. “Yes sir! How may I help you?”

“Er, yeah! So there’s this urgent thing that I need your help with that’s, um, related to work. It… it’s not weird or anything, it’s totally normal, nothing to be alarmed about. So the Director wants--no, not the Director, I mean-- koff koff koff! ’

Midoriya suffers another coughing fit so violent that it sends Ochako close to panic. “Are you okay sir?! Do you need someone to take you to the hospital?!”

“No, I’m fiiine. Please don’t ask. ” The chief takes a deep breath through the phone which seems to calm him down somewhat. “I’m expecting a package for work, but Secretary Hagakure made a mistake with the shipping address. You’re the one closest, so I was wondering if you could pick it up for me?”

That sounded like a weird mistake to make, but she also knew about the time Tooru-chan accidentally ordered twenty Hawaiian pizzas instead of the single calzone that Chief Midoriya wanted to eat for lunch. “Where do you want me to go?”

Midoriya gives her the exact address and pleads with her to be there in twenty minutes. “I hate to be a bother, but this is important for the company, so you can’t be late, okay? I’m counting on you, Uraraka-san!”

“Okay Chief! I’m heading out,” she says, rushing to her door. Twenty minutes to the address given to her is tight, but she’ll make it if she runs to and from the train station.

It’s good that she changed out of her office heels and into sneakers. She makes it to the address in fifteen minutes. It’s only then that she realizes that she’s in the location without knowing who to look for and what to expect.

Also, she’s in front of MightyLand, the amusement park in the middle of town dedicated to their governor, All Might. It’s closed today for some reason. It’s dark, quiet, and scary as amusement parks which are completely dark tend to be.

Ochako calls Midoriya in pure confusion and tells him, “I don’t think I’m at the right place, Chief.”

Midoriya laughs. “You’re exactly where you should be, Uraraka-san.”

Wondering what he means, she turns around just as the lights click open all around her, and the stagnant water of the fountain at the entrance springs to life.

She almost drops the phone from her hand as the fake castle gates of MightyLand flash and glow in pinks and blues and greens, sparkling prettily under the night sky. Soft string music plays in the background. The lights along the pathway light up one-by-one like fireflies, guiding her eyes to the entrance of the park.

Breathless, she watches Todoroki Shouto emerge from the gates. And while her eyes dart everywhere trying to make sense of what’s happening, his eyes are on nowhere else but her.

“Secretary Uraraka,” he calls as soon as he’s in front of her. He’s in the same three-piece suit and tie she picked for him this morning, but somehow he looked impossibly devilish in it tonight. “Fancy meeting you here on this ordinary night.”

She should pick her jaw off the floor any second now. “G… good evening, Director Todoroki,” she stammers. “Chief Midoriya sent me here on an important errand. I’m afraid I don’t understand what--”

“I allowed you to speak as you normally do around me, Uraraka.”

“Er… yeah, so,” what the fuck, she wanted to say, but instead she squeaks out, “What’s goin’ on?”

Satisfied, he says with an enigmatic smile, “Nothing special. Come.”

He signals her to follow him with a bend of a forefinger, and with very little strength in her to ask any further questions, she silently follows him into the park.

She should have known that there wasn’t anything ordinary waiting for her that night.

Even though everything is lit up and functional, the park is entirely empty except for them. While Ochako is busy gawking at all the sights, Director Todoroki is leading the way with brisk, purposeful steps. It takes some effort for her to keep up with his relentless pace until he gets to the destination in mind. Before she realizes it, they’re at the Smashville area of the park, where all the big, scary rides are.

Ochako stares up in horror at Todoroki’s first choice of activity: The Carolina.

“It’s a drop tower, 100 meters tall. We rise to the top at an excruciating pace of 10 km/h and drop at a speed of 100 km/h. Not the tallest or the fastest in the world, but it’s in the top ten,” the unfazed Director explains like he’s talking about the latest performance review. He holds a hand out to the seat at the very center and says, with a smile that looks evil, “After you.”

Ochako doesn’t know how she wills her feet to move, but with nobody to help her escape, she gets strapped in right next to her calm boss.

“D-Director--”

“I know you’re excited,” Todoroki says when they’re fifty meters above ground. “Don’t hold back.”

There’s nothing to hold back, not even her internal organs, when the first drop occurs. And the next one, and the next one. Ochako screams as she’s never screamed before, while Todoroki is so silent that she legitimately worries if he passed out in the middle of the ride.

He didn’t. With a spring in his step, he hops off from the ride and assists her shaking body off the ride. “You must be excited. Don’t worry. There’s more to come.”

Oh, god.

He takes her to the other extreme rides: The Nebraska, The California, The Detroit. Ochako never imagined that there’s more than one way to drop and spin and tumble anyone via a machine, but with each new ride she loses part of her soul and all sensation of her legs. Todoroki’s unnervingly steady after each ride, however, and just brings her to the next one without an ounce of hesitation.

By the time he brings her to the coup de grace of all the rides--The United States of Smash, the biggest roller coaster in Japan--she’s sure of it. The Demon Director brought her here to punish her for all her misdeeds.

“You must be looking forward to this one all night, Secretary Uraraka,” Todoroki says with that same dark smile. “If you’re ready to get on, then…”

He wants to kill her.

Rushing to the nearest wastecan, she hurls up an entire rainbow consisting of all the colors of the energy drinks she ingested that day.

Dammit, how embarrassing! She would have cried but it already takes a lot of effort to stop the earth from spinning in the wrong direction. She hurls for another solid minute when she feels a cold, comforting hand tentatively rubbing circles on her back.

The rush of cool surprisingly makes her feel better in an instant. She stands up and bows to him apologetically. “Director… sorry. This is really icky,” she whimpers helplessly. “I’m super weak when it comes to rides like this. I get dizzy real easy.”

He holds out his expensive silk handkerchief to her. “No, it’s my mistake. I should have anticipated that you had weak labyrinths.”

Were her ears deceiving her, or did that sound like an apology? She takes his handkerchief and wipes her face gratefully. “No… you looked like you wanted to do all those things, so I did my best to keep up.”

Todoroki blinks. “Ah. But I thought you wanted to…” When Ochako stares at him curiously, he pauses and considers his next words carefully. “I assumed that you liked this amusement park like everybody else does. I must have made an error in judgment.”

She laughs weakly. “Nah, I’ve always wanted to go back to MightyLand… just not Smashville.”

He ponders on this briefly. “... okay.” He holds his hand out ahead of them and tilts his head ever so slightly. “Secretary Uraraka, for tonight, you lead and I’ll follow. What do you want to do next?”

She doesn’t hide her surprise at that. And thinks about it. And smiles excitedly.

A long walk to the other side of the park later, Director Todoroki looks up at her ride of choice blankly. “Space World.” he deadpans.

It’s a cutesy, slow ride made for kids that simulates a gentle ride through outer space, complete with planets and aliens and constellations. In front is a statue of Thirteen, the famous space explorer that she idolized when she was in grade school.

“Let’s go in right now!!! Hurry, Director!”

She can hardly believe it. She had promised herself to get on this ride after her resignation, and she’s even willing to line up with all the little kids on a busy weekend just to get here. Yet here she is, no lines, no embarrassing explanations necessary, just her and the Director and the fake stars. Once the little train brakes in front of her she’s climbing on it in an instant.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s dragging Todoroki by the hand until they’re side by side in the car and the lights grow dim around them.

“Oh. Sorry,” she squeaks, thankful that outer space is supposed to be dark and he doesn’t get to see her blush.

Even then, she feels his gaze on her. But he says nothing as the first comet passes them by.

Ochako gasps. It’s a lot prettier than she imagined. The narration drones above them as an emulation of the Big Bang blooms above and around them like a flower. “Oh my gosh, look at that! I can’t believe it, it feels so real! Director, isn’t this pretty?!”

She feels the subtle turn of Director Todoroki’s head toward her. “Yes. Beautiful,” he mumbles somewhere close to her. After a pause, he adds, “I don’t think it feels real, though. If it did, we’d be suffocating by now. There’s no oxygen in the vacuum of space.”

“Geez, Director, just enjoy it.”

“I am,” he assures her, as the little car follows Jupiter into orbit.

But just like that, the ride is over. Ochako is sad when they have to get off--that is, until Todoroki tells her, “We can stay here if you want to go again.”

So she happily pulls him down on the seat next to her, pulls the bar down, and goes through the ride again.

Seven more times.

To his credit, Todoroki sits with her the entire time without complaints. Although she hears him silently fuming in his seat every time she goes “again, again!” She’d feel guilty over it, but dammit he made her go through the Carolina and the Nebraska and the California and the Detroit--twice!--and she needed this after all that he put her through that week.

Anyway, she makes it more tolerable for him by telling him everything she knows about the planets and the stars that the narration doesn’t tell them. “You know, Saturn has 150 moons! Some of them are bigger on Earth, and most of them are frozen solid! Some of them might have oceans under the surface too!”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But keep going.”

Of course he knows everything. But he doesn’t seem to want to ruin her mood, so there’s that. She continues feeding him all the space facts she knew happily.

The moment she says “Okay I’m good,” Director Todoroki gets them off that ride so quickly he almost lifts her up off the seat. “Back to earth with you, Secretary Uraraka.”

She giggles. “Why, Director! Speaking figuratively? I didn’t think you knew how.”

He blinks, as if astonished with himself. “Huh. I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

He drives her out of the park and into a different part of the city. There’s a field decorated with fairy lights, flowers (all hypoallergenic, he says when she braces herself for a sneeze attack) and a table set for two. Below them is the city, and above them are the stars. It’s mind boggling how beautiful the set-up is.

Todoroki leads her to the table. As soon as she sits down, there’s fancy vintage wine being poured in her glass. From a distance, she sees Sato doing finishing touches on a pretty plate. He winks at her when she catches his eye.

They’re served steak, and pasta, and fancy vegetables with violets on them. They’re all delicious as expected, but then Sato comes out with what seems like an unlimited supply of strawberry mochi for them and she’s instantly melting.

“Everything is so good, I can’t believe it,” she gushes. Oh man, the mochi is so good. If she kept up at it, she’s seriously going to explode.

“Good. I’m glad you like it.” There’s a smug look on his face when he says this. Dangerous…

“Director... what’s this about?” she asks suspiciously. This isn’t another ploy to get her to not quit, is it? If he ends up proposing again, she is seriously going to break something expensive (and probably regret it later).

He hums as he cuts up his mochi neatly. “We had a welcome party for Utsushimi. It’s only fair that you had a goodbye party of your own to show my appreciation before you leave. Nothing special, but something ordinary that you liked.”

No proposals then? That’s a relief. She was going to say no (really, she was!) if he had asked, and that would have ruined such a beautiful night. “Director… I’m sorry, but there’s nothing ordinary about what you did for me!”

He blinks. “Taking you to an amusement park and treating you to dinner isn’t ordinary?”

It’s almost amazing that he’s genuinely baffled, but then again she expected nothing less from Todoroki Shouto. “Closing an amusement park so we had it all to ourselves and then treating me to a five star dinner prepared by a famous chef to a picnic under the stars is not what I’d call an ordinary date, Director.”

Wait. Date? Did she say date? Is she out on a date with the Director?

“I see. I’ll take note of that.” Oh no, he didn’t deny it! “For next time.”

Next time?! Oh no. No no no. She can’t date the Director! Reiko and Yui would kill her if they found out! And she didn’t mean it, he suckered her into it, she didn’t want to, not really--

“But you really enjoyed yourself, so I consider this a success,” Todoroki says, satisfied. “You made me ride Space World seven times. I’d give you a salary deduction if you said you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

He is never going to let go of this, is he? Despite that, she laughs again. “I went overboard, didn’t I? It’s just that I’ve wanted to ride that since I was a little girl. You wouldn’t wanna hear it, it isn’t exactly a happy story.”

He stares at her. “Tell me.”

She swallows a bit of mochi reluctantly before starting her story with a sigh. “Well… Director, if you remember from my job interview nine years ago, I told you that I started working for you because I needed to earn money as quickly as possible. It’s obviously because my family wasn’t well-off, and I was the only one who can earn money somehow.”

“... I remember.”

“Well… even when I was little, we were poor. We lived where MightyLand was before the houses there got demolished, so that space is kind of special to us. Sometimes Ma and Pa had extra money to bring me and my cousin Yui there, but the money wasn’t ever enough for passes to get to rides like Space World. Even though I wished for it so hard, I never had the chance.”

Todoroki unexpectedly watches her tell her story in rapt attention. “I see. Why Space World?”

She shrugs. “Why not Space World? Outer space is great, isn’t it?”

She would have studied astrophysics in university if she could, but there’s no point in telling the Director that. He doesn’t seem like the type who feels guilty over anything, but she doesn’t want to test that by admitting that she chose to stay by his side instead of doing what she really wanted.

“So, that’s the sad, sad story of my youth. How about you, Director? You must have been a more interesting kid than I was.”

Todoroki keeps those distinct eyes on her--a black hole and an entirely blue galaxy, she suddenly thinks, moons with oceans hiding under frozen wastelands, the waves beneath straining to reach the surface. He seems to want to reveal them to her, just for a second, but the second passes, and time remains locked.

“No, not really,” he finally decides on saying. “Nothing much happened to me. I grew up as Enji’s heir from the start and worked hard from the moment I learned how to talk. I had no choice, because my older brother failed. Fuyumi and Natsuo were never given the chance to try.”

An older brother? Is he talking about Natsuo? While it’s true that Todoroki Natsuo won’t ever be the heir of Endeavor because he chose to become a physician instead, Ochako could have sworn the Director was talking about someone else.

“It was difficult, but I met most of his expectations, and now I’m here.” His eyes become cold again. Knowing that he gets this way after talking about Todoroki Enji is just the basics of dealing with Todoroki Shouto.

It was her mistake to even suggest bringing up his childhood. Now it’s her job to ease him out of it. “You did great, Director. If we were friends when we were kids, I’d have been the first to cheer you on.”

He freezes for just a second, a look of pure enigma in his eyes. “... is that so? Do you think we would have been friends if we met earlier?”

He seems to be expecting an honest answer out of her. Ochako guesses it has to do with certain parts of his past that he obviously doesn’t want her to see. She can’t blame him, but in all honesty, if they were both young and innocent, being friends with him wouldn’t have been hard. “Yes Director. I don’t doubt it.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. A second passes before he allows himself a relieved smile. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. I’d believe you more if you don’t quit.”

“Don’t even try it, sir.”

He clicks his tongue. And then, in true Todoroki fashion, the conversation’s suddenly over.

With the taste of strawberries lingering in her mouth, she follows as he leads them to a grassy knoll some ways away from dinner. Flowers of all colors surround their feet, glowing ethereally under the moonlight. The city below, the stars above. It’s a beautiful night.

And… cold. Ochako is painfully reminded that she’s in a thin silk blouse and the denim shorts she wore at home when a particularly sharp gust of wind blows past them.

Todoroki observes her with a stern look. “You’re not in appropriate clothing.”

“I didn’t know you were going to bring me to such a windy place, Director.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. This is a surprise, after all.”

Still, he looks frustrated that she’s so cold--not a good look. Her secretary instincts tell her to do something about that. Trying to smile meaningfully through her chattering teeth, she suggests, “You know, ordinary guys offer their jackets to their dates when it gets chilly.”

He blinks twice before he makes that eureka! face again. “I have an idea, Uraraka. Since you’re cold, you should wear my coat.”

“Oh--but you’ll get cold.”

“No, I’m always temperature regulated,” he says with a voice that doesn’t leave her much room to (pretend to) argue.

He drapes his coat around her easily. He’s much taller than her and has wider shoulders, so naturally she’s swallowed instantly in fine woollen bliss. She suppresses a sigh when she feels the toasty warmth, and suppresses a shudder when she feels his fingers brush around her shoulders and her neck.

“Is this okay?” he asks earnestly when he notices her shiver. His warm breath tickles her ear.

She nods through the overwhelming feel of his voice vibrating through her body. Oblivious to this, he nods in satisfaction and looks up at the stars. She stares at his profile against the moon, feeling light-headed and mesmerized at everything.

Oh, gods, this is a date . Reiko and Yui are going to kill her in her sleep.

When he notices her staring, he gives her an odd, puzzled look. “Secretary Uraraka. Since you like the stars so much, you should take advantage of this. I suggest keeping your eyes off me and keeping them to the sky.”

A vein pops on her forehead. Okay, so the Director is still the same clueless demon with no sense of romance. No surprise. This isn’t a date, after all.

She follows his orders and looks up at the sky, lined by a myriad of shooting stars.

After the star-gazing session, they both decide that it’s late and he brings her home. He drives the car, and thankfully this time the drive goes by smoothly. He parks at the narrow street in front of her home and follows her out of the car, looking strangely self-assured.

“Director, thanks for the great evening,” she says. “I’m honestly speechless. For a surprise, that was…”

A small smile is on his lips when he asks, “Ideal?”

“Yes, exactly, ideal.” Wait. Ideal. Where has she heard that before?

“Hm. I thought you’d say that,” he says smugly. “I doubt that anybody else will give you as much mochi as you had tonight.”

Describe your ideal partner.

A tall, handsome guy with a stable job who will feed me mochi until I explode!

“And I don’t think anyone else will bring you to an amusement park and a picnic under the stars in the span of a single evening.”

Describe an ideal excursion with your ideal partner.

A date in MightyLand, where we can ride all the rides I like as much as I want!

A simple picnic with tasty food where we can go stargazing afterward is pretty neat too!

This guy is a sneaky, sneaky bastard. Ochako crosses her arms in front of her as Director Todoroki ambles confidently to the trunk of his car. “Finally, I doubt that any other ordinary man will give you…”

Describe an ideal product that you would like to receive from your ideal partner.

A giant stuffed toy that I can hug in my sleep!

(I don’t care what it looks like as long as it’s soft and cute!)

“Director,” she cuts him off with a controlled smile. “There’s… a giant stuffed toy in the back of the trunk, isn’t there?”

Todoroki freezes just as he pulls out the offending item--a giant stuffed cat.

“... how did you predict this,” he says stiffly as he presents the gift to her.

She laughs. “Chief Midoriya almost had a heart attack giving me that survey, you know. You should make it up to him.”

“... maybe,” he says, although the sudden dark look in his eyes tells her otherwise. She should apologize to the freckled Chief when things happen. “In any case, this is for you, if you’ll have it. It’s your very own Victoria. You should be grateful to have such a beautiful object.”

The cat is white and about half as big as her, with a squinty smile and a little bell on its collar. She won’t admit it, but she loves it immediately. She takes it from the Director. “Thank you, Director. I am filled with such gratitude.”

“Formal language, again?”

“I’m just teasing.”

He huffs. “You seem to be getting used to that, Secretary Uraraka. I don’t approve.”

She snickers. “Yeah? Well, approve this! ”

She playfully smacks the cat’s face right into his. She doesn’t know why she suddenly had the balls to do something like that, but the small surprised mmph he produces makes it all worth the risk. When he pushes the cat off of him to glare at her, she’s in another fit of giggles.

“I thought you had a good time. Is this how you say goodnight?” he asks in mild annoyance.

“I did! And, yes,” she says with a confident smile.

“Strange. That’s not what I know of ordinary people saying goodnight on ideal dates.”

Without warning, he steps closer to her, and closer, and closer. She should be backing up to keep a safe distance, far enough that he doesn’t hear her blood rushing or her heart beating or her mind racing into oblivion. She should, but she doesn’t--all she does is hold her breath.

Even when he meets her eyes.

Even when he leans in closer.

Even when her eyes are suddenly squeezing tight in anticipation of something she shouldn’t.

Whatever it is she was waiting for doesn’t come, however. Because what she feels in that cold, dark, anxious and excited void is something cold pressing into the very tip of her nose.

When she comes to, she’s staring cross-eyed right at his index finger.

Todoroki Shouto is poking her on the nose.

He gives a little satisfied smile and steps back. “That’s how they do it, right?”

She stammers, face impossibly red. “No? That’s not a thing anyone does in any planet! Where did you even learn that?!”

He chuckles lightly, the sound of it another shock to her senses. “I guess being ordinary is more challenging than I thought. Goodnight, Secretary Uraraka.”

Why is he so weird? Why is she feeling so bamboozled? Before she can make any sensible words out of her mouth, the Director is already behind the wheel and smugly driving off into the night.

God, all she can do is to run into her apartment, dive on the bed and hide her face over Her Very Own Victoria’s face to hide her blush. But then she remembers what she made this doll do (read: smack the Director in the face), and then she remembers that smooshing her face against it is exactly the wrong thing to do.

Great. How is she supposed to sleep now? Stupid Director!

#bnha fic #todoroki shouto/uraraka ochako #todochako #my writings

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morikothehalfangel · 6 years ago

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InuKag MirSan AU~ The Amusement Park Princesses

I was inspired by reading a coffee shop AU earlier by @eternalnight8806-3

I’ll also upload this to FF.net!

@keichanz Thoughts?

I wrote this in under an hour and on a whim, so forgive me for any mishaps, y’all.

_____________________

“Well, why didn’t you tell me that you get motion sickness? Aren’t you part youkai? I didn’t even know you could be affected by that.”

“Can you be quiet?!” Inuyasha hisses annoyedly near his best friend’s ear. “Maybe that’s because I don’t want people knowing, ever think about that, ‘Roku?”

“Touché, my friend, touché. But other than your… Hinderance—” Miroku chuckles under his breath as Inuyasha softly growls. “How did you enjoy the ride?”

That stops the hanyou’s growling as he mulls over his answer. “I could do without the loops.”

“And other than that, you’d probably like it?”

“Maybe.” He huffs.

“Great, then let’s move on to the next ride!” He grabs his buddy’s clawed palm and makes a beeline for the nearest coaster, Inuyasha grumbling the whole way. “This one is my second favorite, and it doesn’t have any loops! It just locks you in, and your feet hang out the whole time.”

“Greaaaat.”

Miroku rolls his eyes and glances down at his friend’s sandals. The young inu hanyou strongly dislikes having his feet confined in any way. Kinda like an actual dog, heh. The thought nearly has Miroku laughing out loud, but as he glances back up at Inuyasha, the teen’s scowl quickly rids him of his huge grin. “Ehem, well, let’s not wait around to get in line!” Miroku starts moving once again, Inuyasha following… Slowly behind him. “You’ll probably want to take your shoes off before we lock in. Pretty sure tons of people have been hit by airborne shoes around here.”

“Keh, please, what kind of idiot would leave loose shoes on while— GAH!”

Miroku turns his head in surprise to see his friend’s face blocked by a flowery pink sandal.

“I’m assuming the owner of that flip-flop is the idiot?” Miroku laughs as Inuyasha angrily rips the shoe from his face.

“The biggest idiot!” Inuyasha goes to toss the shoe behind him, but Miroku stops him.

“Hold up, let’s return it to the nice lady. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting them to fly off. Besides, if she’s alone…”

“You could get a date, ha ha. Maybe I’ll just throw it at her face?” Inuyasha waves the shoe threateningly in front of wide violet eyes.

“Now, Inuyasha! You and I both know neither of us would ever harm a young lady!” Miroku gently grasps Inuyasha’s wrist and pulls his hand down. “I was going to say that you could use the shoe as a chance to maybe get a date. You know? You’ve been single for an eternity.”

“I’m only 19!”

“And you’ve never been laid.”

“Say another word and this sandal will become a part of your fucking face, Miroku.”

“Oh thank goodness!”

A bird-like voice rings out from behind Miroku, and the boys’ attention are drawn to the newcomer.

Well, newcomers.

“Thank you so much! I was worried that I’d lost it after it fell off! Sango said I should’ve taken them off before, but I was afraid they’d be stolen or something stupid… Oh, my, I’m so sorry. Did it hit you in the face?”

“Good going, Kagome, you directly harmed a man with your anxiety.”

“Shut up, Sango! I said I was sorry!”

Miroku’s eyes dart back and forth between the two young women, both very short, one a dark braided brunette with chocolate eyes, the other with ebony curls and cerulean irises. He’s drawn in as he eyes the one named Sango. She gives off a sporty and strong, but still feminine vibe; Kagome a petite and soft aura. Both are now looking at them expectantly—

Oh, shit, what’d they say?

Miroku coughs as he’s brought out of his awestruck ogling, “Pardon me, I just wasn’t expecting to come upon two celestial maidens this fine afternoon.” He looks at Sango directly, her face showing that she’s not at all impressed. Kagome squeaks and flushes red. “My name is Miroku, and this is my good friend, Inuyasha.”

Speaking of Inuyasha…

Inuyasha ascended to Nirvana at the mere sight of this woman. One would say, Love at first sight. But he felt more of a Stole my heart at first sight. For love would be cliché, no?

Wasn’t I gonna throw a shoe at her? Wasn’t I just calling her an idiot?

Stupid, she apologized and was just nervous, accept the apology! Get her eyes back on— AH, her eyes are on you! Her eyes are on me! Why are they on me?!

“Uhhh—” The sound escapes from his frozen throat.

“Inuyasha, say hello…” Miroku is nonetheless surprised at his friend’s current mannerisms. The young man has seen many a beautiful woman, and this is the first time he’s struck speechless.

“Uhh, hi?” He croaks.

Kagome giggles. “Hello, Inuyasha. I’m Kagome, and this is Sango… Again, I’m very sorry about the shoe. I could see the imprint on your face when we came up.”

Inuyasha seems to regain his senses and refocuses on the blue-eyed girl. “It’s… It’s fine. Just a shoe. Not like it hurt or nothin’.”

“Oh, that’s good! Can I, uh, can I have it back?” She holds a hand out sheepishly, scuffing her shoed foot.

Inuyasha nods and is about to hand it over when Miroku grabs his wrist once again. “Kagome, how about you go sit on that bench right over here, and he’ll slip it on for you?”

The dog-eared youth looks at him aghast. “W-why can’t I just hand it to her?!”

“My friend, these two lovely ladies are practically royalty in our eyes, we must treat them as such!” Miroku admonishes him and flicks his friend’s ear.

Kagome’s eyes are drawn to the odd movement, and she gasps at the sight of the two ears upon his head. “So cute!” She whispers.

“I agree, Kagome-sama.” Miroku chuckles, and she blushes at being heard.

Sango pushes Kagome towards the bench. “Why not be a princess for today, Kagome-chan? Maybe we can get a royal foot massage!” The girls giggle as Kagome takes a seat and holds her bare foot out.

Miroku rests his palm on Inuyasha’s back. “Romance is in the air, my friend… You’re welcome.” And with that, he gently shoves his best friend towards what he sees to be a blossoming romance.

Inuyasha stumbles in embarrassment, and he slowly moves to bend down onto one knee. He takes the girl’s ankle and quickly slips the floral flip-flop back onto her foot.

Anti-climactic, to say the least.

His ears catch Miroku’s whispered words from behind him, and he actually decides to listen to them for once, cause damn, everything’s actually worked so far?

Smooth, Miroku. For real.

Inuyasha stands and reaches to take Kagome’s hands and pull her to her feet.

Kagome giggles at the little show. “Man, I haven’t felt like such a princess since I was six!”

Inuyasha falters at what to say. He’s never been much of a talker, especially not to girls.

Isn’t there a story like this? With a princess and a shoe or something? A prince did that for her or something, right?

“Well, I’ve never been a prince before.” He blurts out.

Kagome laughs airily behind her hand with a pretty blush when Sango snickers beside her suddenly. “Who said you two were the princes? You could just be servants.”

Inuyasha nearly has an internal panic attack of Oh crap, I just screwed this up, just as Miroku jumps in beside Sango with a smug grin, “Sure, but I don’t think servants go on amusement park dates with princesses, do you, my dear Sango?”

“Who said we’d go on a date with you two?” Sango quickly moves away from the dark-haired man and crosses her arms. “We could just be wanting to be on a girls’ outing, right Kagome?”

Kagome, still holding Inuyasha’s hand, remains silent as she continues staring at her honey eyed prince. “Ehhhh, I dunno, maybe we can reschedule a date or something… Right?”

“Kagome-hime is quite smart, don’t you think?” Miroku moves closer to the now scowling, flushed brunette.

“I won’t disagree…” She starts.

“Great! Then what would you like to reschedule? I mean… We’re all here now… No problem there.”

“Miroku, quit harassing her, damn it.” Inuyasha finally decides to butt in.

“You wound me, my fellow prince.”

“Don’t push it.”

_____________________

Tell me ya’ll’s thoughts? :)

#inukag #mirsan #writing #oneshot #drabble #inuyasha

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megamanx1994 · 6 years ago

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Rise of Smithy Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Geno Rises (Nicholas’ P.O.V) The 4 remaining Axem Rangers were staring at us. “Take no prisoners!” shouted Axem Red. “Let’s do it!” I said. “I say 3 of each of us takes down one axem ranger!” said Cross going in. “Now that’s a plan!” said Bryan, “Let’s put it into motion!” He transformed and went into action. Axem pink was going up against Elma, Asia and Maddi. “You’re all fools to come against me,” she said getting out her ax. Maddi started shooting paintballs as her and she sped past them. Asia closed her eyes to see where she was about to attack next. “Elma behind you!” she said. Elma did a flip and kicked Axem pink in the back. Asia then pinned Axem Pink down with her Neon power. “Nice shot Asia,” said Maddi. “Thank you,” she said. Steven, Bryan, and Cross were fighting Axem Green. Steven was guarding himself with the shield. “You can’t hold it forever,” said Axem Green. “You’re right,” said Steven, “Then again…. I’m not really trying to.” Bryan picked him up and threw him down. Axem Green quickly got up and jumped into the air. “Cross, fly me up!” said Bryan. “Got it chief!” said Cross. He picked Bryan up and they followed Axem Green to the top. “Wait for my signal,” said Bryan, “Ready…….. NOW!” He dropped Bryan and he came falling down on Axem Green like a meteor. “That’s how we do it, Xeno Style!” said Bryan. EJ, Denise and I were handling Axem Yellow. He threw his ax around like a boomerang and we evaded it. “That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all,” said Denise. “I’ll say,” said EJ. “I know how to handle him,” I said jumping out of the armor, “With a little Karate!” I came running at him. “Multidoken!” I said. I shot multiple Hadoukens at once at Axem Yellow. He chopped through them all. “Alright,” I said, “Hurricane Kick!” I spun around and kicked him in the face. I did a backflip. “EJ, power move me!” said Denise. “Got it,” said EJ. Denise ran around Axem Yellow enough times to make him levitate. EJ kicked him making him land down. I saw this as an opportunity. I came right below him and charged up for a rising dragon punch and landed it right on him. I then went down with my fist and struck him again. “Nice moves X,” said Denise. “You got some moves Speedbreak,” I said, “Where are you from?” “Queens,” said Denise. “Brooklyn,” I said with a smile. Colleen got out a special device and stabbed Smithy with it. It managed to cut him off from the Smithy drones in the car allowing Chun-Li to take the cradle. “That barely even phased me,” said Smithy. He grabbed Colleen by the neck. “I’m not the kind of person to kill human beings,” he said, “But with you I might make a suggestion.” Colleen grabbed Smithy and forced him down while doing a flip. “Falcon KICK!” she shouted. She did a flying kick at Smithy and her leg was on fire. Smithy evaded it. “You’re a fool if you think you can defeat me,” said Smithy, “I’ll just come in with a new body.” “I wasn’t tryin’ to,” said Colleen pointing to the bottom. Chun-Li got the cradle and jumped into the jet. “Bye-bye now,” said Colleen as she got away. Smithy grinned. “They can’t do anything with it,” said Smithy. Xenoblade, Frosty, and Jet were battling Axem Red. He grabbed his ax again. “Now you die,” he said. Frosty tried freezing him in place but he cut through the ice. “This guy’s tough!” she said. “Not tough enough to stop us!” said Jet. He charged up lightning and dashed at Axem Red. He then punched him hard and he landed on a building. Xenoblade saw a vision of Axem Red about to throw a car at Frosty. “Micah watch out!” he said. He pushed her out of the way and cut the car in half using the monado. “Alright motherfucker,” he said, “Nobody tries to hurt my sister like that and gets away with it.” He made his monado into two blades and went after Axem Red. He managed to get some cuts on him. “When Smithy created us, he gave us the task of perfecting this world in his own image,” said Axem Red, “And we will accomplish that task, if it means we have to kill you to do it.” They started battling. We were still dealing with Axem Yellow. Denise ran fast and punched him hard in the stomach. “You’re not gonna stop us little girl,” said Axem Yellow. He grabbed Denise and put her in a bear hold trying to strangle her. “Pardon me,” I said tapping his shoulder. I punched him in the face making him let go. “Why thank you,” said Denise. “Any time,” I said. Captain Falcon appeared on the scene and helped Asia handle Axem Pink. She charged up and did her signature Falcon Punch landing her in a pit of lava made from one of Maddi’s paintballs. “Nice work Colleen,” said Elma. “Thanks Colonel,” said Collen. Steven used his shield to block Axem Green’s attacks. He then did a flip to land behind him. “Try this one on for size!” he shouted. Using his shield he decapitated Axem Green. “Not so tough without a body are you!” he said as he kicked the head away. Xenoblade was still fighting Axem Red. He had a few injuries but he still kept going. With assistance from Frosty’s ice blasts and Jet’s lightning, he was more than a match for Axem Red. “Come on!” said Xenoblade, “Come at me!” Their blades clashed for a second before Axem Red pushed him back. Xenoblade dodged another attack and managed to cut Axem Red’s right hand off. He had the ax in his other hand and tried attacking Xenoblade. He kept dodging everything thrown at him. He then did a combo move before finishing it with a stab to Axem Red’s stomach. “Game over,” said Xenoblade as he pulled the blade out. “You may have stopped us,” said Axem Red, “But you’ll never stop Smithy…..” His eyes went blank and he fell into the water. “That takes care of that,” said Micah. “We got the cradle,” said Colleen, “Its on its way to GSI as we speak.” “Good,” I said, “Let’s get over there quickly.” Smithy was at the lab watching his new body be created. “They’re trying to stop me from ‘poisoning the world’?” he asked himself, “They think they’re better off as they are.” He looked at himself in the mirror. “I’m not the one who’s out of his head,” he said, “Once my world is complete, there will be no more outcasts, no more destruction.” He had more drones and weapons made. Smithy was looking at a map and saw Shanghai as his starting point. “They think they’ve beaten me, but as the saying goes,” said Smithy, “What doesn’t kill me, simply makes me stronger.” His new vessel was complete. “The humans don’t understand what I have in store for them,” said Smithy, “I can save them!” He then threw a knife at a picture of us. “You’re not gonna get in the way of my world Nicholas Shay!” he shouted. Michael and I were looking at the body inside. “Extraordinary,” I said, “It seems as if the gem on the body fused the wood with the labranyum making it a hybrid of machine, and wood.” “Anela what kind of schematic did you upload on this?” asked Michael. “Just some old wood and metal parts,” said Anela, “I didn’t think it would actually make something like that.” “Good thing it was unplugged before Smithy took it over,” said Jet. “Actually,” said a voice, “I kind of had something to do with that.” It was R.O.B. His mainframe was put on another hard drive. “He’s alive?” asked Luna. “Exactly,” said Michael, “Before we left I managed to rewire R.O.B and place him back together. He’s been helping us fight Smithy without any of us aside from me knowing about it.” “So what’s the plan?” asked Denise. “The plan, is to make our own version of Smithy’s perfect vessel, only without the crazy mind of Smithy himself,” said Michael, “With it on our side we just might stand a chance.” “But how are we gonna pull it off?” asked Professor Gadd. He looked at R.O.B. “We use R.O.B as its conscience,” said Michael. “This is a crazy idea,” I said. “I believe its worth a go,” said R.O.B. I went to talk to Cross. “Nicholas I think I realized something,” said Cross, “I like Elma. Like…. I ‘like her’ like her.” “Well then what are you waiting for?” I asked, “Go ask her out.” “Um in case you forgot, we’re at war with a mechanical menace who’s hell bent on creating his perfect world.” “Dude, you can take on an army of soldiers, you can regenerate limbs at an instant, and come back from a battle without so much as a scratch, but you don’t have the balls to ask out a woman?” I asked. “I’m just scared,” said Cross, “I’m not sure she feels the same way.” “I think otherwise,” I said walking away while smiling. Elma was wiping the oil and blood from her blades. “Sooooooo let’s hear it,” said Colleen. “Hear what?” asked Elma. “Colonel stop,” said Colleen, “Almost everyone at B.L.A.D.E knows you have a thing for the Blue Angel.” Elma started to blush. “I…. well…” said Elma. “You can tell me anything,” said Colleen, “I won’t tell a soul. They’ll probably find out by the end of this story anyway, and the audience reading this probably know too.” “HEY!” said Michael banging the wall, “Stop stealing my 4th wall gag!” “Well, I guess it was while I was talking with him at Ken’s house,” said Elma, “He told me that a friend of his was having trouble confessing his feelings to someone he cared about.” She smiled and looked to the sky. “It took me some time to figure it out, but it seemed like he was talking about himself and me, and reminded me of how I was starting to feel for him,” said Elma, “I then realized I started to fall for him ever since I found him in that stasis pod.” Cross entered the room. “Well would you look at the time,” said Colleen, “I should go.” “Is everything alright?” asked Cross. “Yes, your concern is much appreciated, but I’m ok,” said Elma, “What about you?” “Well, I took quite a beating but I’m getting better now,” said Cross, “I do have my ability to regenerate limbs and scar tissue.” The two of them chuckled. Elma smiled at him. “I never thanked you for saving my life,” she said. “Well… I never thanked you for not letting me fall on my head at the party,” said Cross, “So I guess we’re even.” “I should check if my weapons are….” said Elma about to leave but Cross stopped her. “Elma?” asked Cross, “There’s something I need to tell you.” He started moving closer to Elma and she did the same. Their lips were about to touch when Steven busted the doors down. “What’s up?!” he shouted with joy. They both were blushing a dark red. “Boy are you glad to see us,” said Michael. “We are?” asked Cross and Elma in unison. “You’re gonna be once we tell you what’s happening,” said Steven. We explained our plan to Cross and Elma. “So basically we’re downloading R.O.B’s mainframe into this vessel,” I said, “With it on our side we may have a bigger chance at taking on Smithy.” “That’s a genius idea,” said Cross, “Although it was Elma’s to begin with.” Elma blushed and smiled. “I’m happy to have helped,” she said. I heard a crash. “That came form the lab,” I said. Michael, Steven and I rushed in the room where the vessel was. Star was on top of it about to do something. “Star wait!!!!” said Steven. It was too late. She did some kind of thunder magic attack and the force was so hard it blew us all back. A body emerged from the cradle and looked at us. It then looked at Star and lunged at her. She evaded and kicked it from behind. Michael threw his monado at it like a boomerang and it phased right through the body. It then had a one on one fist fight with him. Colleen tried tackling it but the body shot one of its fists at her knocking her back. The body then picked Michael up and threw him at me. “Shit he’s strong!” I said. We all kept fighting it. Chun-Li did the spinning bird kick knocking it into a window. The body looked at itself and then back at us. “I’m sorry, that was…… odd,” it said. It saw the doll that Asia had and made a form based off of it donning a cape and hat, and a wood like body. “I had a vision, where we were all battling against Smithy with the twins on our side, and in the center was him,” said Star. She was pointing to the shiny object around the chest area of the body. “The gem?” asked Billy. “It’s the Mind Jade, one of 7 Cosmic Gems scattered through Earth and Space,” said Star, “They’re said to be the strongest power in the universe.” “So why help create it?” I asked. “Because Smithy’s right, we can’t stop him,” said Star. “Not alone,” said the body. Star recognized its voice. “Why does this thing sound like R.O.B?” she asked. “We reconfigured R.O.B’s matrix into this body to create…. Something new,” said Cross. “You need not to fear me,” said the body, “Despite the fact that I have most of Smithy’s memories and abilities, I am not his pet, I am…..” He looked at the doll again. “Geno,” said Geno. “I saw chaos when I looked in your head,” said Asia, “But I look now and I see…. Peace.” She touched the gem. “Everything that’s happened so far, it all came from the power of the Mind Gem,” said Star, “But now that we have it on our side…..” “But how do we know its on our side?” asked Micah. “Because I am on the side of life whereas Smithy is not,” said Geno, “Whether he wants to admit it or not, his true goal is to destroy humanity.” He looked at us. “And now only one thing stands between him and his goal; you,” said Geno, “I did not wish to destroy Smithy, as I could see that he was in pain, but it will roll over the earth and crush it. So he must be destroyed.” We were listening. “That means every machine he’s built, every trace on the webs, and everything else, and we must act quickly, as a team,” said Geno. “He’s right,” said Michael, “With all of us combined we can stop him before he does anymore collateral damage.” “I do understand that I am not what you intended me to be,” said Geno, “And I understand if I cannot make you trust me, but if we are to have any hope of defeating Smithy, then we must act now.” He was lifting Star’s wand. Needless to say that we were all surprised as hell. He then gave the wand back to Star. “Ok…..” she said. Colleen looked at us. “We got a few minutes,” said Colleen, “Grab what you need.”

#smash bros #mega man x #mega man #captain falcon #FFEU Phase 2 #fan fiction extended universe #xenoblade #xenoforce #geno #xenoblade chronicles #cross xenoblade #cross x elma #elma xenoblade #steven universe #star vs the forces of evil #star butterfly #steven universe crossover #super mario rpg #axem rangers

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bangtaninink · 7 years ago

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another summer day

two eight year olds grasp flowers tightly in their fists. it’s the middle of july, and they’re running around the field, watching petals fly off, trailing behind them.

“yoongi!” one cries out, laughing as she calls out to the boy running ahead of her. “yoongi, i’m getting dizzy!”

yoongi falls to the grass, clutching his stomach as he laughs heartily, the sky above him spinning.

“these are for you,” he says, holding the remnants of the flowers up above his head, now just petal-less stems.

“you’re an idiot.”

“what’s wrong? what happened? who hurt you?” concern is written all over yoongi’s face, watching as tears leave tracks down your cheeks, drops falling from your chin.

“i’m... i’m leaving,” you say, words interrupted by sobs.

“what? what do you mean, leaving? where’re you going?”

“far.”

“far, like... like, seoul?” he asks.

“no, far. like, over the ocean,” you say. it hurts to say it out loud, to let it manifest into fact instead of letting it remain as an idea.

“wh-- no. no, you can’t go. you can’t leave me.”

a hand calloused from numerous basketball drills holds one of your own tightly, squeezes around your fingers, eyes glazed over with sadness.

“dad, he... he got a new j-job, and... now we... we’re all going.” yoongi, stubborn, shakes his head before you even finish.

“no. no, i’ll... i’ll talk to your parents. i’ll tell them t-that you can stay here. with me. you can’t go, _____. we planned everything out already, remember? we... we’re gonna finish high school together, go to the same college. we’re gonna live next door to each other forever. remember?”

your sobs get louder, and by the time yoongi is finished, you feel like you can barely breathe because of how hard you’re crying. you lean over to throw your hands around him, hold him close, and gradually, you start to feel the back of your shirt start to dampen, and not because of the heat of this summer night.

silently, you watch your dad put your suitcase into the trunk of the taxi, standing on the sidewalk with yoongi beside you. you’ve kept a firm hold on the hem of his shirt since you’d stepped out of the house, and he holds an umbrella over the both of you to shield you and him from the summer rain. both your mothers are talking to each other; they’re looking very emotional -- they were childhood best friends too, after all -- and wordlessly, yoongi reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“i think that’s about everything,” your dad says, reaching out to shake yoongi’s dad’s hand, bidding him goodbye. somewhere off to the side, you hear your mother and yoongi’s sniffle softly, and you can see them embrace out of the corner of your eye, but you pay no attention to either of your parents because you’re too busy staring at yoongi’s profile, desperately trying to memorise every curve and line of his face because you have no idea how long it’ll be before you see your best friend again. yoongi stares forward, too afraid to meet your eyes, because the both of you have shed too many tears because of this, and he doesn’t want to cry anymore.

“you’ll stay in touch, right?” you ask, hating the way your voice shakes.

“always.”

yoongi is almost knocked over by the force of your embrace, but manages to catch himself in time to save the umbrella from tilting. he can feel you trembling when he wraps his free arm around you tightly, face hidden in your shirt, eyes shut tight as he wishes for this all to be one sick dream.

your father calls your name, and instinct makes you tighten your hold on yoongi just a little more.

“love you, cub,” you hear yoongi whisper in your ear, loud enough for only you to hear.

“love you too, cub,” you return, teeth digging into your lip hard enough that you almost draw blood, desperately trying not to cry.

you and yoongi lose contact.

it’s inevitable, what with international calls wracking up crazy phone bills over time, letters getting lost in the mail, and too many changed addresses to keep track of.

it hurts, it really fucking hurts to lose your best friend, to have no idea where or how they are. and in the deepest recesses of your mind, you still keep a piece of yoongi with you, where he lives as a part of your conscience, that little voice in the back of your head that helps you out when you need it most.

it’s been over a decade when you’re travelling back to korea, to your homeland, but staying in seoul. it’s close enough, you think, seoul is closer to daegu than the myriad of countries you’ve had to bounce around, and this is a step forward you’ve been wanting to take for a long time.

quiet whispers and vague conversations have told you that yoongi is here too, and he’s in the limelight now. ( you remember finding that out, the quiet chuckle you’d let out that night, knowing that he hated being the centre of attention, and how ironic life turned out to be; but then, you found yourself wondering if yoongi had changed since you’d last seen him, if maybe, somehow, he’d come to learn to love it. it scared you enough to lose sleep for a few days. )

it’d been by chance that an old classmate had found you online, linked you to the facebook page for the high school reunion for your class. you hadn’t gone, stuck on the other side of the world, but you’d refreshed and watched the page like a hawk long enough to know that yoongi hadn’t gone either. you’d searched the uploaded group photos for any signs of him and come up empty. it had taken two beers and a vodka cranberry for you to muster up the confidence to ask someone what yoongi was up to; they’d told you that no one had been able to contact him since the end of high school, when he’d left for seoul to pursue his music. it was hard, they told you, now that he was a big deal, a celebrity of all things. ( you shed happy tears after the conversation ended, overjoyed to learn that he’d still kept at it. )

your new job as a director’s assistant has you here, now, in your home country, and damn, does it feel good to be back. it’s been too hectic to find time to look yoongi up; you’ve spent too many late nights with director yang, helping him prepare for his up and coming project, a lot of overtime and extra hours under your belt that were dedicated to helping the crew get ready to leave los angeles.

you have twenty minutes to set down your personal belongings in your hotel room before you’re being driven to the set; apparently, things are happening immediately. you’ve got folders in your arms, chatting away with director yang, going over memorised details and learning new ones.

you know this: the crew will be filming a music video over the next three days. you’ve sat in with director yang for back and forth video calls with this band’s managers and bosses for the last three weeks. the band is made up of seven members. bangtan sonyeondan is their name, and you know nothing else about them except that the entire country loves them. this is, then, a big deal, having an international director be flown across the ocean to film a local act’s new video, and you’d be nervous if it wasn’t for the fact that you had no time to be.

the crew has been given a short time frame of no less than five days to have the music video filmed, and a primary edit to be done and ready for presentation to the band and their management. it’s tough, and accounts heavily for director yang’s stress and unnatural snarky attitude, fuses too short to stay calm. even now in the hired car taking you to the set, you’re forced to repeat details you’ve already gone over with him because the crew is paranoid they’re going to mess something up.

“pardon me. we’re arrived to the set,” the driver’s voice cuts in, interrupting a steadily escalating conversation over the camera equipment.

“alright,” director yang says. “i’m sure i don’t have to remind you all of how big this is. our reputation rides on this. let’s be professional. let’s be good. let’s show the world what soleil productions can do.”

the entire ocean of people on set turn their heads towards you where you stand frozen, folders and papers strewn across the floor where you’ve dropped them.

“what the fuck?” one of the sound guys whispers harshly, elbowing you hard in the side. you barely even notice the pain because...

“yoongi?”

your old friend stands not even ten feet away from you, wearing the exact same look of shock and surprise as you. you hardly register the mix of scolding and hasty apologies around you because you’re walking forward, steps getting more urgent the closer you get; you watch yoongi shove someone aside ( you’re not sure if that’s a staff member or a band member yet ), hear him whisper a, get out of my fucking way, and it’s disgustingly cliche how it feels as if time stops the moment you both meet, arms wrapping around each other without a second thought, exasperated gasps leaving the both of you.

“shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck,” yoongi says, words rapid fire, holding onto you, your shirt held in his fist. “this is fucking real, right?”

“holy fuck, it better be,” you say, laughing with disbelief, completely unaware of the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“god. jesus fuck. god.”

“hyung?” comes a nearby voice.

“fuck off, taehyung,” yoongi says, voice muffled by your shoulder.

“hyung, you’re crying.”

“cool. leave me alone.”

“uh... okay.”

with a soft chuckle, you pull back, but only just enough to get a good look at him. his eyes are rimmed slightly red, but he’s smiling that old gummy smile of his that you’ve so fucking missed. you don’t know where to look first, your hands with a mind of their own, reaching up to run the pads of your thumbs across his cheeks, his jaw, everywhere. his hair is dyed a deep shade of pink, and his makeup ( he wears makeup now? ) is starting to smudge and run because he’s crying. you probably look a sight yourself.

“eleven y--”

“don’t,” yoongi interrupts. “don’t remind me. not right now. god, i...”

“excuse me, miss. i’m gonna have to ask you to step aside.” the both of you turn to look at the man who’s approached you, one hand firmly wrapped around your arm, thankfully not enough to hurt. yet.

“what the hell, hyung? let go of her,” yoongi says, and it might have been eleven years since you last saw him, but you can still recognise his anger when you see it. “don’t touch her. don’t even talk to her like that. what the fuck?”

“min yoongi, have you forgotten where you are? what you’re doing today?”

“listen. that can wait. i haven’t seen _____ in fucking forever, okay? no one’s ripping her away from me again, understand? go micromanage jimin or something. i know he’s your favourite.”

the muscles in the man’s jaw shift as he clenches his teeth, lips pressed in a tight line before he’s turning around to walk off, but not without a stern look over his shoulder directed at the both of you.

“you’ve gotten angrier, i see,” you say, snorting quietly. “oh, yeah. i’ve embraced my inner hulk since we’ve been separated,” he replies.

“that guy though... he was kinda right. we’re supposed to be working right now.”

“pfft. no, screw that manager. he’s just salty because i beat him at poker the other night. don’t worry about him.”

“but we do need to work.”

simultaneously, as if to prove your point, both your names are called out from different ends of the room. yoongi sighs, and hangs his head, rubbing your arms gently.

“fine,” he says. “the lunch break though. you’re all mine. we’re sitting together, okay?”

“like i’d say no to that,” you reply, rolling your eyes and smiling.

“cool.” yoongi leans forward to give you another hug. “god, it’s so fucking good to see you again, cub. you have no idea.”

“i think i do, cub.”

it’s no surprise that neither of you can keep your eyes off each other.

it doesn’t take long for you to figure out who else is in yoongi’s group and who is a staff member under their management, but for the most part, you’re glued to director yang’s side most of the time as his right hand man. the day is filled with fleeting glances, weird expressions and funny faces from a distance, shy and apologetic smiles woven in between when you’re caught not doing your jobs. it’s interesting and entertaining to watch yoongi ( you learn his stage name is suga. how cute. ) completely change demeanour in front of the camera, and you take the brief opportunities to breathe to pull your phone out and do lightning fast google searches on his group.

as it turns out, bangtan sonyeondan is a really big deal in korea, and their growing fanbase seems to expand every month, week, day even, with international prospects becoming more and more possible by the minute.

“hey!” you’re quick to snap your head up, suddenly face to face with... jimin? “are you _____?”

“uh... yeah, i am. jimin, right?” you return.

“yeah! nice to meet you! like, really nice to meet you. yoongi hyung hasn’t shut up about you since i met him, and it’s nice to know you’re, like, an actually real person, and not just someone that lives in his head.”

“oh... uh...” you have no idea how to reply to that, but it turns out you won’t have to because before you can think of something to say, jimin’s name is being called.

“oh. i need to get back. but, yeah! it was nice meeting you, _____.”

“y-yeah. you too, jimin-sshi.” a little confused, you watch him walk back, slinging his arm over another band member -- the one called v, you think -- and vaguely, you think you hear him say, ��dude, that’s her.” you can’t be too sure, but the way v turns around to look back at you seems to confirm your suspicions.

the first half of the day passes in a weird blur of too much information and things to take in. it isn’t long before the set is being filled with the scent of freshly cooked meat as the caterers start to set up along the far wall, ready to feed everyone.

“oh my god, food,” someone says, running past you -- you’re almost eighty percent sure that was jeongguk. other band members call out after him, running too, ready to grab plates.

“hey,” yoongi says, sidling up beside you.

“hey yourself,” you reply, wrapping an arm around him as he wraps his around your shoulders.

“that kid eats so much. you better get your food quick. jeongguk wolfs down, like, two plates of food -- and then leftovers if there are any.”

“he’s young though.”

“the youngest, yeah. but still. a man’s gotta eat, and he makes that hard sometimes,” yoongi says, giving a small bow of his head when he’s handed a plate, easily handing it over to you.

yoongi snorts at the noises you make as you eat.

“calm down, cub,” he says, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “the food’s not that good, is it?”

“do you know how long it’s been since i’ve eaten real korean food? i’m dying right now. this is so fucking good, i’m gonna cry,” you say, pouting, cheeks stuffed with rice and bulgogi. yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but is quick to eat another mouthful before he can be caught smiling.

“tell me everything, cub. what’ve you been doing for the last decade?”

“getting dragged all around the states and europe. life sucks when your dad’s a travelling doctor, y’know? it was so fucking hard, and like, i’d get so damn angry when our calls cut out, or letters wouldn’t get to me, like...” you don’t even realise how hard you’re holding onto your chopsticks until yoongi’s nudging your thigh with his knee gently. “sorry. i just... i just hated it so much, cub. i hated not being with you anymore, i hated wondering if you were mad at me for leaving--”

“no, what the fuck? no. no way,” yoongi interrupts, putting his food down to grab your hand. “hey. listen to me. i wasn’t mad. i never will be mad at you. shit happens that you can’t control, and it was pretty shitty that you had to leave, but we’re here now, aren’t we? we found each other again, didn’t we?” you sigh before looking up at yoongi.

“i guess so. it just sucked, cub. that was eleven years of hell.” you suddenly aren’t hungry anymore, resorting to just numbly pushing your food around with your chopsticks. “what about you though?” you ask. “how the hell did you end up here?”

“god. okay.” yoongi pulls his seat closer to you, further blocking the both of you off from the rest of the staff and crew. “so, after you left, i kind of couldn’t stay in daegu anymore because everything just reminded me of you, you know? it was hella gross and shit, like, you would’ve laughed at me for how much i cried.” you snort but let him continue. “so, like, yeah, i decided to move up to seoul to become this ‘big and successful music producer’, but you know me. i never think things through properly. so i’m out here, selling my music for free--”

“that’s not exactly selling anything, cub.”

“don’t i know it. i’m working three part time jobs, highkey dying without my best friend, and life is just t-o-u-g-h. anyway. on some weird whim, i go audition for this company, somehow fucking get in, and... yeah. that’s about it. here i am. writing pop songs and shit.”

“god, i bet you love being in front of the camera, huh.”

“oh fuck, i adore it,” he says, sarcastic.

“how’re your parents?” you laugh, changing the subject.

“they’re good, yeah. they come up here every now and again, but they’re still in daegu for the most part. they were very against everything. but now that i’m makin’ bank, your boy is suddenly the golden child.”

“i’m glad you stuck with your music. might’ve cried when i heard you did, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“you cried?” he asks. you shrug, embarrassed. “cute. but, hey. you’re a director’s assistant now, cub. guess all those movies we stayed up all night watching actually fucking paid off.”

“hey.”

the both of you turn to watch jimin pull his chair up beside the both of you, carefree smile on his lips.

“get lost, jimin,” yoongi groans. “me and _____ are talking.”

“uh, we had to listen to you constantly yap on about your long lost best friend for years. i think we deserve to talk to her too,” jimin replies, getting comfortable.

“yeah,” another voice calls out, and then suddenly, another chair is being dragged closer. “we practically know her too with how much you talked about her. i’m v, by the way! but just call me taehyung.”

“nice to meet you. i’m _____,” you say, chuckling.

“listen. _____ is too nice to tell you guys to fuck off, but i’m not,” yoongi says. “so fuck off.” taehyung scrunches up his nose in distaste.

“i hope you’re not as mean as yoongi hyung is,” he says, looking at you.

“nah,” you say.

“coo--”

“i’m worse.”

“rest in peace, lee jumin,” yoongi says, dramatically crossing himself. “you will be missed.”

“who’s lee jumin?” jeongguk asks, sitting up, eyes wide with curiosity.

“some kid _____ cussed out in our sophomore year. it was quite the sight, man. you guys should’ve been there. she really ripped him a new one.”

“wow, okay. first of all, he deserved it,” you say, pointing a finger at yoongi. he holds his hands up and shrugs, feigning innocence. “second of all, he chose to move schools. i had nothing to do with it.”

“you made a kid transfer school? savage,” one of the group members says. “i’m namjoon, by the way.”

“nice to meet you. and, no. i didn’t make a kid move school. but it was a good thing he did, because if i caught him peeking into the girls locker room after basketball practice one more time, i swear to god...”

“but that’s the only thing that made high school bearab-- never mind. hi! jung hoseok. also known as j-hope.”

“and i’m seokjin. i have a question,” one of the members -- seokjin -- says, raising his hand. “why does yoongi call you ‘cub’?”

“oh. that’s a secret we’re taking to the grave.”

the rest of the day goes by smoothly, and by the end, everyone is ahead of schedule.

it’s crazy how easily you’re able to talk to the rest of yoongi’s bandmates, and suddenly it makes sense why he seems so comfortable with all of them when you feel the exact same way, even after a single day.

as the rest of the crew are busy packing up the equipment, yoongi comes up to you, looking like he was halfway in the process of changing.

“cub, where’re you staying?” he asks, voice lowered slightly.

“like, which hotel? the four seasons. it’s actually so cool, from what i saw when we dropped our stuff off. why?”

“let’s hang out, just the two of us. i mean, i love the guys, but i also haven’t seen you in over a decade.”

“sounds good to me, cub. pass me your phone. i’ll give you my number. surely you’re rich enough to afford international phone calls now, right?”

yoongi snorts, grinning.

“the phone plan is company subsidised, so you can thank bighit for all our future conversations.”

at around a quarter passed midnight, there’s a quiet knock on your door. so close to falling asleep, you stumble off the bed to get up and answer it. you know it’s yoongi, he’d texted you five minutes earlier to tell you he was on his way, but you can’t help the nervousness that rises, as if it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him after a long time.

“hey,” he says, smiling softly once you’ve opened the door. “sorry for stopping by so late.” you shake your head, opening the door wider to let him come in.

“it’s fine. i know you’re busy,” you say, holding back a yawn.

“and i know you’re probably tired.”

yoongi shuts the door behind him, walking over to hug you tightly. you hum softly at how warm he is, at how nice it is to be able to do this again after so long.

“god, i missed you,” he whispers, hiding his face in your hair.

“me too,” you reply. “i’m sorry we lost touch.”

“don’t be. it’s in the past now, cub.”

without letting go of you, yoongi waddles the both of you over to the bed, letting you both fall and hit the soft mattress together. he shuffles you both up until your heads touch the pillows, and this is dangerously comfortable.

“have you been happy, yoongi? in the eleven years we were separated?”

yoongi chews on his bottom lip, contemplating.

“i’ve been... content. but, no. never happy. not properly. not without you.”

you look at him wordlessly for a moment, nothing but the sound of you both breathing filling the space between you.

“me too,” you reply eventually. you shuffle forward, until your face is pressed up against the crook of his neck. “i feel like... like i never even got used to being away from you either.”

“yeah,” yoongi replies, nodding. “like i was just... constantly waiting to just run into you again.”

“and... it worked.”

you tilt your head back to look up at him, smiling back when he looks down at you.

“yeah. it did.”

you’re both woken up by the shrill ringing of a phone. yoongi groans before rolling over to grab his phone off the bedside table.

“hello?” he answers, voice still rough with sleep.

“uh... hyung? you should probably get back now. like, i’m just assuming you stayed with _____, but manager hyung just called jin hyung to ask if we were ready,” jimin says. yoongi sits up, panicked.

“oh fuck.”

“oh fuck is right, hyung. we got you covered for like, twenty minutes tops, so you better get down here. quick.”

with all the commotion, you roll over, rubbing your eyes as you start to wake.

“g’morning,” you say, mid-yawn.

“mornin’, cub. uh... i gotta go before i get my ass beaten.”

it takes a while for yoongi’s words to register, but when they do, you’re bolting upright too, now wide awake.

“shit.”

“it’s alright. jimin just called. the guys are covering for me, but, uh... i need to go,” he says.

“yeah, of course. yeah. fuck. go. i’ll see you in an hour anyways,” you reply, already climbing off the bed, yoongi right behind you.

things run just as smoothly as yesterday on day two of the music video shoot.

everything is infinitely more comfortable now that everyone knows who is who, and having left off yesterday ahead of schedule, there’s less tension in the air, and noticeably less stress floating around.

as easy as everything is today, however, you do notice that yoongi’s been acting a little... funny, not enough to raise concern, but enough that you can notice. the rest of the group seem to be fine, and nothing else seems to be out of the ordinary, so, for the most part, you think nothing of it. maybe he was still feeling a little nervy after almost being caught this morning. ( you make sure to discreetly whisper words of thanks to yoongi’s bandmates when you get the chance. )

“lunch later?” yoongi asks, a little out of breath as he takes a swig of water, having just finished a dance sequence.

“of course, cub,” you reply, looking up from the pile of papers on your lap. “as if you even had to ask.”

“hey, i’m just making sure, okay? wait. i gotta go change. i’ll see you later.”

you watch yoongi run off with little shake of your head.

at lunch, you notice yoongi constantly looking at you, trying to be discreet and failing.

“what? is there something on my face? god, you used to do this all time, making me paranoid as hell in the middle of eating, making me think there’s, like, sauce all over me and fucking messing with me. you’re the worst.”

yoongi chuckles softly, reaching out to grab your wrist to stop your hand from wiping your face.

“you’re fine. you don’t have food on your face,” he says. you narrow your eyes, not entirely convinced.

“taehyung, do i have food on my face?” taehyung looks up, eyes wide, cheeks stuffed with food.

“you look fine to me,” he mumbles. “why?”

“nothing. just checking. don’t worry about it.” yoongi lets go of your wrist with a smile, turning his attention back to his food. “why do you keep looking at me, cub?” he shrugs.

“just making up for lost time, i guess. haven’t seen your face in eleven years.”

you’re confused, but... it kind of makes sense, and yoongi’s always had his own way of going about things after all. you shrug, and go back to eating, trying to resist the urge to look back at him every time you catch him looking way in the corner of your eye.

“okay. yoongi. for real. i know we haven’t seen each other in ages, but you looking at me all the time is starting to get creepy,” you say, packing up director yang’s papers. “like, take a pic or something, cub.”

“can i?” he asks.

“can you what?”

“take a pic.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you look at him, surprised to find that he looks dead serious.

“oh, uh... sure? i mean, if you want to, i guess?”

“’kay. gimme a sec.”

you’re still confused when you watch him run off to the dressing room, where you assume he’s gone to get his phone. eventually, however, you realise you still have work to do, and rather than fussing over yoongi, you go back to doing your job, thinking you can talk to him later about his weird behaviour.

your head lifts immediately at the sound of a camera shutter.

“wh--” you look up just in time to see yoongi lowering his phone, grinning down at his screen. “yoongi!”

“nice. new wallpaper,” he says, lifting his phone once more. “gotta take one for the lock screen though.”

“wh--” he snaps a photo before you can say anything else. then he takes another photo. and another. and another, until he’s repeatedly taking photos rapid fire, thumb frantically tapping at his screen. “yoongi, for fuck’s sake,” you cry out, reaching forward to try and grab his phone, but he’s looking at you through the screen with one of his gummy smiles that you can’t help but start to laugh every time he dodges your grasp, ending up in weird positions every time. “yoongi!”

“wait! i haven’t taken one from a good angle yet,” he laughs, holding the camera under your chin.

“you fucker!”

heads start to turn towards the both of you at the ruckus, staff and crew watching you jump onto yoongi’s back, phone still out of reach, half laughing and half yelling in protest at all the photos he’s taking.

“oh, you look good in that one,” he says, holding his phone up so you can see the picture of you: blurry, your face contorted in a weird expression of half amusement-half anger, taken from a very unflattering angle. “asshole. stop taking such ugly photos,” you groan, making one last attempt to try and grab his phone.

“one more. just one more. together this time. and then i’ll stop.”

it’s a tempting offer that you’ve already agreed to in your mind, but you huff out a sigh for show.

“ugh. fine.”

yoongi grins, adjusting your position on his back before raising his phone in front of you both.

“alright. say reunited, and it feels so good,” he sings, thumb tapping at his screen in time to catch the way you laugh, hiding your face in his hair. definitely lock screen material.

“hyung, you like her, don’t you?” yoongi’s thumb freezes on his screen where he’d been busy scrolling through the photos he’d taken of you earlier, smile faltering when he turns to look at jimin, confused.

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“your friend, _____. you like her, don’t you?” jimin repeats.

“she’s my best friend, you brat. of course i like her.”

“no, i mean... you like like her. like more than a friend. romantically.”

“what the f--”

“i mean, he’s not wrong,” seokjin says, turning around in his seat to face yoongi. “you’re weren’t exactly subtle about the way you kept looking at her today.”

“hyung, we haven’t seen each other in over a decade. and what’s wrong with looking at my best friend?” yoongi asks, putting his phone down.

“nothing. until you’re looking at her like you’re in love with her,” seokjin replies, shrugging.

“in love with her?!”

“dude, you’re totally in love,” namjoon says, pulling out an earbud. “jeongguk’s usually completely oblivious when it comes to girls, but even he could tell something was up between you two.” yoongi glances over at where the youngest sits, lips slightly parted in his slumber, head resting against the window. “did you guys have sex or something when you slept over at her hotel room last night?”

“dude, what the fuck? no, we didn’t have sex! we just fell asleep together while talking. she just got off a goddamn plane from america, for fuck’s sake,” yoongi says, hostile.

“i mean, you’re being awfully defensive right now, hyung.”

“don’t you throw that psychological warfare shit on me, namjoon. you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. none of you do.”

the car falls into a heavy silence, the members who’d turned around to tune into the conversation turning back to face the front.

yoongi huffs, reaching for his earphones, ready to ignore the world. his phone chimes with a notification just as he plugs them in.

[ sms: 진형 ] what’s wrong with falling in love with your best friend, yoongi?

with furrowed eyebrows, yoongi looks up and stares at the back of seokjin’s head in front of him, the elder looking calm, acting like he hadn’t just texted his own bandmate in the same car.

[ sms: SUGA ] um. nothing?

[ sms: 진형 ] then why’re you so [ sms: 진형 ] idk [ sms: 진형 ] offended? or at least acting like you’re offended by the idea of being in love with _____?

yoongi looks back up at the back of seokjin’s head, willing his gaze to bore holes into his hyung’s head.

[ sms: SUGA ] i’m not.

yoongi watches seokjin turn his head slightly, a subtle suggestive gesture. yoongi exhales out from his nose as calmly as he can ( read: not very ).

[ sms: 진형 ] if you’re scared or something, you don’t have to be. if she’s as great as you tell us she is -- and we KNOW she is, now that we know her personally -- then shouldn’t falling in love with her be the best case scenario for your friendship?

yoongi reads the message. then, he rereads it. then, he rereads it again and again, until he’s practically memorised the words, thumbs moving of their own accord before he can stop himself.

[ sms: 진형 ] hyung. [ sms: 진형 ] i’m in love with my best friend. [ sms: 진형 ] fuck.

you’re frozen in the doorway of your hotel room.

you’d just opened the door to let yoongi in when he’d leaned forward, crossing the threshold to cup your cheeks and kiss you without warning. even after pulling away, his eyes are still shut tightly, forehead pressed against yours.

“y-yoongi?” you ask, voice nothing more than a mere whisper.

“fuck. fuck. fuck, i’m so sorry, cub,” he whispers back, shaking his head. you carefully shut the door behind him, before letting your hands find purchase on his arms. “i just... i...”

“i know.”

yoongi’s head snaps up, eyes opening immediately.

“wh-- how?”

“i know how to put two and two together. i did it on the drive back here. and i hate to break it to you, but you’re not very subtle, cub,” you say, smiling softly. “i wasn’t too sure if i was right but... i guess i am.”

“fuck,” yoongi sighs. “are you mad at me?”

“of course not. when have i ever been mad at you?”

“seven years old. i drank the rest of your apple juice without asking.”

“that was nothing, cub,” you reply, chuckling softly.

“you still got mad at me.”

“because i left to get you a glass just before you drank mine, remember?”

yoongi sighs again, hanging his head low. rubbing his arms, you bring him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and patting the space behind you, inviting him to join you.

“i don’t get it,” he says, sitting down. “i thought i got over you years ago, cub.”

“yeah, me t-- wait. what?” now it’s your turn to be surprised. “you... all this t--”

“yeah.” yoongi furrows his eyebrows. “wait. you too?” you nod. “what the fuck? since when?”

“the school summer festival in freshman year of high school, when we stayed behind to watch the fireworks together. you?”

“middle school graduation, when we went to go eat jjajangmyeon and fried chicken. you burnt your tongue on the noodles.”

“what the fuck?” you say, sighing. “you mean we could’ve been having this conversation before i left daegu?”

“wow. i hate us,” yoongi scoffs.

“yeah, i fucking hate us too.” the both of you sit quietly, taking in the new information. “well... what do we do now?”

“i dunno.” he turns to look at you. “can i kiss you? again?”

“yeah. hell yeah. fuck yeah you can,” you say, already leaning over.

yoongi meets you halfway, one hand reaching up to hold the back of your neck gently, thumb stroking your skin as your lips touch. it’s a kiss that’s filled with relief, soft and sweet, with a gentleness that not many people get to see from yoongi. you don’t know if you kiss for five minutes or five hours, but when you both inevitably pull away for oxygen, it feels like hell, like yoongi is way too far away from you the second your lips aren’t touching anymore.

“_____?” he says, and there’s an underlying hesitation in his voice.

“yeah?”

“have you... ever... y’know...”

“um... this?” he nods. “no, never. i... i couldn’t, knowing it wasn’t you.” nervously you play with your fingers. “how about you?”

“uh... a couple times, in, like, shitty attempts to try and get over you.”

“did it work?” you ask.

“nope. didn’t stand a chance. honestly, i almost said your name one time and i was this close to getting kicked in the balls.” the both of you chuckle, but when it dies down, you look up at him shyly.

“i mean, not that i don’t trust you, but... be gentle with me, cub.”

“of course. fuck. of course, cub. the last thing i want to do is hurt you,” yoongi replies immediately, reaching up to cup your face in his palms, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “you have total permission to kick me in the balls if i do.” you smile and roll your eyes.

“idiot.”

“your idiot,” he corrects. “if you want me to be, that is.” it’s your turn to cup his cheeks, smiling as he lowers his hands down to rest on your hips.

“of course i do, yoongi.”

“i... i love you, cub.”

“i love you too, cub. i always have.”

yoongi smiles, unnaturally shy, before leaning forward to kiss you again, with more urgency than the last, and just like before you have no idea how much time passes before the kiss is broken briefly for breaths of air. yoongi uses his hold on your hips to hoist you up onto his lap, and you gasp with surprise against his lips when they reconnect. you’re both impossibly close, a desperation that only a decade a part can create in your body language, the way you both wrap your arms around each other as if you’re afraid the other will leave again.

you feel his hands slowly reach under your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your back, and it’s like electricity runs up your spine at how warm his fingers are. he takes his time in pushing your shirt up higher, and for the moment, the both of you forget that there’ll be work early tomorrow morning, acting as if you both had all the time in the world.

“may i?” he asks, just as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, your shirt bunched up just under your bra. you nod, helping him pull it off of you, throwing it off to the side. his gaze falls to your chest, watching as it rises and falls with each breath you take.

your nervous when he reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands, thumbs brushing over the lace of your bra. you’re about to say something, complain about his staring, but the words die on the tip of your tongue when yoongi leans down to press kisses to the curves of your breasts, humming quietly at how soft and supple the flesh is.

you shut your eyes with a soft sigh when his hands squeeze you gently, still peppering butterfly kisses all over your skin. you don’t know how many times you’ve dreamed of this night happening, but everything is exceeding your expectations, all because it’s yoongi.

“can i take it off?” he whispers, warm breath tickling you.

“yeah,” you say, voice airy and light.

yoongi reaches around to work on the clasp of your bra, clumsy fingers struggling until you reach back with a soft smile to undo it for him, letting the straps fall off your shoulders. he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips just as he pulls your bra away to join your shirt, and when he pulls back, he feels all the wind knocked out of him when he takes a look at you.

you don’t miss the way yoongi’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of your bare chest, fingers taking their time to touch every inch of exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. you shiver a little when his fingers brush against your nipples, watching them tauten under his ministrations.

and then, just like that, something snaps, and yoongi is quick to bend down and wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking without warning. you gasp, your back arching at the sensation, pushing your chest out closer to him.

“oh,” you sigh, hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to touch you, taste you. he hums against your skin with approval, squeezing your other breast gently. “yoongi.”

“okay? do you want me to stop?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

“no, don’t you dare,” is your hurried reply.

yoongi chuckles as he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, suddenly standing and turning around with you still in his embrace, lowering you down to lie on the bed. he goes back to sucking on your nipple with sporadic flicks of his tongue that don’t fail to have you squirming beneath him. one hand smooths down the flat of your stomach, nimble fingers undoing the drawstring of your shorts with ease.

letting go of your nipple with a lewd pop, yoongi sits up on his knees to allow him to pull your shorts off, throwing them off the bed. his fingers graze against the garter of your panties, and god, you curse yourself for not putting anything sexier than plain white cotton panties on earlier. he casts you a concerned gaze, making sure you’re still giving him the go-ahead; you nod when your eyes meet.

yoongi is agonisingly slow when he starts to pull your panties off, smiling when you lift your hips off the mattress to help him. your underwear doesn’t even make it off the bed like the rest of your clothes do because instantly he’s been stunned silent by your naked body. self consciousness sweeps over you, and instinct wants you to bring your legs together and cover yourself. yoongi stops you before you can.

“don’t. please don’t,” he says, not taking his eyes off of you. “you’re beautiful, _____. fuck, you’re so beautiful, cub.”

your cheeks flush red as compliment after compliment spills from yoongi’s lips as he looks at you, all of you, completely exposed. with his hands on your knees, he gently pushes your legs apart, situates himself between them, fingers skirting down the length of your thighs. you glance down, noticing the bulge that’s grown in his jeans, and you flush a deep shade of crimson at the thought that you are the cause of that.

“tell me, okay? tell me to stop if i hurt you, and i will. i promise.” you nod, unable to find your voice, watching as yoongi shoves his jacket and shirt off before laying down on his stomach between your legs.

the feeling of his warm breath brushing against you is enough to have your legs shaking a little, but nothing can prepare you for the feeling of yoongi’s tongue licking at your clit. you gasp and moan at the sensation, mouth open in a wide o, your legs torn between closing shut and opening wider. yoongi seems to sense this, however, placing his hands gently but firmly on your thighs to keep you still.

the flicks of yoongi’s tongue are a little sloppy and uncoordinated, but they don’t fail to have you moaning quickly, sounds escalating as he continues to pleasure you. he stops for a moment, pulls his mouth away, curling one arm around your thigh to rub his thumb against you as he sucks on his fingers. this sight is so embarrassingly lewd when you look down to watch him, but you don’t even get a chance to cringe before he’s slowly pushing his now-wet finger into you, eyes snapping up to watch your expression shift, cautious of any signs of pain.

you moan and arch your back off the bed, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as your hips buck upwards.

“yoongi!” you cry out, biting down on your bottom lip.

“does it feel good, cub? or do you want me to stop?” yoongi asks, leaving a trail of kisses along your thigh.

“yes! i-i mean, no, i don’t want you to st-op! ah!”

your legs are well and truly shaking now, so overloaded with pleasure that you don’t really know how long you’re gonna last. yoongi is careful to take his time, to be thorough in stretching you out, keeping you calm and relaxed with each finger he pushes into you and each swipe of his tongue against your clit.

you almost want to cry when he pulls his fingers out, all three of them now slick with your juices, suddenly hit with this new feeling of emptiness. you watch through half lidded eyes as yoongi pushes himself back up onto his knees, undoing and unzipping his jeans, groaning softly at the loss of restriction on his crotch. he’s quick to push his pants off, thumbs hooking on the garter of his boxers to tug them off right after.

his cock is red and hard, leaking precome and looking sensitive from the lack of attention given to it this whole time. you watch him wrap his fingers around it, giving his wrist light jerks, and you marvel at the way the muscles in his stomach tighten at the sensation, hips giving an involuntary thrust forward.

“god, you’re so beautiful... so fucking beautiful, baby. i love you,” he says, looking once more down at your body before throwing his head back with a quiet groan.

“yoongi. please, baby, i want you. i need you,” you whine, reaching up to grab his free hand.

yoongi presses his lips together and suppresses another groan, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze as they entwine with his. he shuffles closer on his knees, holding the base of his cock to help guide it into you. he’s barely pushed himself into you when you arch your back so high off the bed you almost sit up.

“o-ohh!” he moans, voice shaky as he lets go of his cock to slam his hand flat on the bed to steady himself, resisting the urge to push right into you. “ohh fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, fuck, you’re so... y-you’re so...”

“o-ohh my god, yoongi, baby. god, you’re so big,” you moan, squeezing his hand tight.

yoongi lets out a breath that comes out too shaky to be called controlled, gripping the sheets in his fist because you’re so tight and warm around his cock, he’s going to go insane because of how fucking amazing it feels.

you give his hand a tug and pull him down suddenly, and he just barely manages to catch himself before he crushes you under his weight. he’s close enough that you can reach his lips, but all hope of kissing is lost when it’s something akin to panting against each other. yoongi continues to push himself into you slowly, stopping periodically to let you adjust, and it might take longer than usual, but yoongi promised not to hurt you. he’s not breaking that promise. ever.

when yoongi bottoms out, the both of you lie still, attempting to keep all semblance of self control intact for as long as you both can. it proves to be a feat, when all these new sensations make you want to just burst, but it’s comforting to know that you don’t seem to be the only one feeling that way.

“a-are you okay?” yoongi asks, pressing kisses to your jaw, hoping to relieve you of any pain you might be feeling. “am i hurting you?” you shake your head frantically. “then w-why are you crying, cub?”

oh. you hadn’t even realised you were.

“b-because,” you say, taking a shaky breath. “it feels so good. y-you feel good, yoongi. i love you. god, i love you so much.”

“i-i love you too,” he replies. “so much. i always will.” he groans softly, hiding his face in your neck. “c-can i move?”

“please.”

the first thrust has you both crying out with surprise. your legs seem to act of their own accord, immediately wrapping around his waist as if your body is so desperate to keep him inside of you. you thrusts into you again, and again, each more powerful than the last, until you have to let go of his hand to press up against the headboard and stop yourself from hitting your head.

the way you sob, frantically asking for more in his ear has yoongi’s head reeling with arousal, because he’s always loved the sound of your voice, but the way you’re saying his name right now is on a whole other level of satisfying. you’re holding onto him so tightly, it’s going to drive him crazy -- you’re going to drive him crazy.

before long, the pleasure starts to build with every thrust, and a tension starts to accumulate in your stomach, begging to be released.

“y-yoongi... baby, i-i think i’m gonna...” you say, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

“i’ve got you, cub,” he whispers. “come for me. god, i bet you’re so pretty when you come.” you shut your eyes tightly, the pressure building and building as yoongi covers your face in butterfly kisses, until you can’t hold back any longer. something seems to burst inside you and all of a sudden, everything goes tight.

you don’t even realise how loud you’re crying out yoongi’s name until he’s pressing his lips against yours in an attempt to quiet you down for the sake of the people in the neighbouring rooms ( though, truth be told, he can’t say he hates the idea of other people knowing what you two are doing right now, and there’s no denying the pride that swells in his chest, knowing that you are his, and he is yours ).

he whispers soft words of praise in your ear as you start to come down from your high, his thrusts slowing enough to avoid overstimulation. but he can’t hold back any longer, and though you whine in protest at the sudden loss, yoongi pulls out just in time to paint your stomach in streaks of white.

you don’t know how long you lie there with yoongi, legs entwined, come drying on your skin as he pets your hair as you both try to catch your breath. you can feel your eyes start to grow heavy with fatigue, and yoongi coos in your ear, assures you that he won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is a soft, i love you, cub, whispered in your hair, and if that’s how you’re gonna end every night for the rest of your life, you’ll take it.

#min yoongi #suga #bts #bangtan #bts scenarios #childhood friends!au #idol verse #this is outrageously long i'm so sorry #this took a while yikes

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