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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years ago

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Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

#writing #please fix the story #sci fi #world hopping #memory loss #giant robots #aliens #more memories #call back to the peeled apples from the zombie arc if anyone remembers that far back #so happy to post this part finally.#weight off my chest

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lunar-wandering · 3 years ago

Text

i don’t wanna fight alone anymore

(title from the song On my Own by Ashes Remain)

so. here we are, the first chapter of the “I’m too impatient so I’m writing Season 3 myself”.

...here we go I guess?

Word Count: 2k

read on ao3

Three days.

It had been three days since MK and the others had last seen Monkey King.

Sure, Wukong was still on the ship, this they all knew with certainty. There had been no sign of him jumping off, or summoning his cloud to sail away.

It was just..... after he'd passed out, which was concerning enough in and of itself, they had patched up all of his injuries, which was...honestly, there was a frightening number of them.

Sandy had built the ship with the intention of one day using it for a road trip, so it had already been equipped with multiple rooms to be used to sleep in. After patching him up, they'd placed Wukong in one of them.

He'd appeared on the top deck the next morning, not wearing a shirt, and looking bewildered.

"Did you guys... patch me up?" He asked.

"Yeah? You were injured, of course we did." Pigsy said, "Why do you ask?"

".....Just making sure." Had been Wukong's response, before disappearing back into his room and closing the door.

And that had been the last any of them had seen him.

For the next three days, the door had remained firmly closed, only the faint sounds of shuffling indicating that he was still in there.

For a while, MK had been concerned that Wukong wasn't coming out to eat, but Pigsy informed him that one monkey's worth of food had been vanishing from the ship's kitchen every now and again, so it wasn't really something to be that concerned about.

Still though, the fact that he had been getting food, and yet MK still hadn't seen him, was a little confusing. He had heard stories of Wukong having some kind of invisibility power, but MK was pretty sure that if the Monkey King actually had that ability, he would've seen him use it already.

...But then again, being seen would kind of negate the idea of him being invisible, wouldn't it?

Either way, Wukong hadn't left his room in 3 days.

And the others were starting to get really concerned.

They'd been respecting his privacy up until now, giving him a bit of space, he was a powerful immortal being after all, it wasn't like they could just walk right up to him.

But three days without even seeing him was a bit much.

Which led to Mei, Tang, Sandy and Pigsy, standing behind MK as he slowly raised a hand to carefully knock on Wukong's door.

"....Monkey King?" MK quietly asked. "Um... can we come in?"

"......We?" They could hear Wukong's muffled voice ask, and Mei seemed to take that as a yes, as she opened the door.

There was the sound of frantic scrambling on the other side, and when the door was fully opened, they were greeted with the sight of Wukong, wearing a loose bathrobe, as well as the same tattered pants from three days ago, his chest wrapped in bandages, and with one leg up and out the window, posed like he was about to jump out.

There was a moment where everyone stared at each other, frozen.

"Monkey King." Pigsy said, making Wukong startle. "What, do you think you're doing?"

"Um. Enjoying the view?" Wukong said, slowly bringing his leg back down into the room as Pigsy continued to give him a Look.

"Oh really? Because it looked, to me, like you were about to jump out that window." Pigsy said, crossing his arms. "But surely you weren't, because you're better than running away from confrontation, right?"

"Ha ha....yeah...." Wukong rubbed the back of his head laughing nervously. "Uh. So why are you guys in my room? Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"We just... wanted to know if you're okay?" MK asked, and Wukong froze again. "It's just, you haven't come out of your room in a while, and we're all getting a little concerned-"

"Yeah, nope, I was right in the first place, jumping out the window is better than this." Wukong said, turning and moving to do just that, but Mei and MK quickly rushed forwards, grabbing him by the waist and keeping him from throwing himself out the window. This wasn't really stopping him of course, he could easily escape their grip...

...But with his cloud sail power gone, he wasn't exactly sure if they'd survive the fall to the ground like he planned to.

"Come on Mr. King, you can't just run away from your problems." Mei said, as she and MK successfully dragged him back into the room, handing him over to Sandy, who lightly set him down on his lap, his hands on Wukong's shoulders just in case he attempted another escape. "Even MK doesn't go as far as jumping out a window."

"It's a Monkey King Special Move the kid should be glad he never learned." Wukong said, a thin layer of sarcasm in his voice, and Pigsy sighed.

"Look, Monkey King- Wukong- whatever you want me to call you, MK already said this, but we're here." He said, "We're stronger together, but we won't work as a group if you don't tell us what's wrong."

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong!" Wukong said, his tail swinging back and forth. Sandy could feel the monkey's shoulders tense up. "Why would you think there's something wrong?"

"Uh, because you haven't come out of your room in three days?" MK said, completely deadpan.

"...Three days? Has it really been that long?" Wukong said, suddenly becoming... a lot more quiet.

"Yes, it's been three days. Look, Monkey King-" MK said, "We just want to be sure that you're alright."

"....It's really nothing you need to worry about." Wukong said, anxiously scratching the side of his face. "I was just....letting myself heal, that's all. I figured if you guys saw me you'd want to change my bandages or something- and considering I'm immortal it's really kind of a waste- you should be saving those for yourselves-"

"Monkey King." Sandy said, with a quiet tone of worry. "Are you saying, the bandages you're wearing right now, are the same ones from 3 days ago?"

"Yeah? Why, what's wrong with that?" Wukong responded. Pigsy angrily marched forwards, taking Wukong out of Sandy's hands.

"Are you kidding me? 'What's wrong with that', he asks. I swear, Wukong, you really are even worse at taking care of yourself than MK." He said, setting the Monkey King down on the bed, Wukong too confused to argue or fight the sudden movement. Pigsy began unwrapping the bandages around Wukong's chest. "You can't leave bandages on, the wound could get infected- you have to swap them out."

"I'm immortal, I don't get infections." Wukong said, crossing his arms as Pigsy peeled the last of the bandages off. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the healing is almost done anyways."

"Immortal though you may be, I sincerely doubt you're actually immune to infection." Pigsy said, "Hm...though it does seem you're right this time, the wound looks fine and is practically healed.... you will not do this again."

"And how do you expect to stop me?" Wukong asked, only to receive a small smack to the forehead. "Ow!"

It hadn't actually hurt, but reflexes were reflexes.

Leaning against the doorway, Tang laughed, and Wukong shot him a glare.

"Why are you even here- you haven't even said anything this whole time!" Wukong said, "No, seriously, why are you still here?"

"Emotional support." Tang said, sipping his tea, completely ignoring how Wukong looked like he was about ready to walk over and smack the tea cup out of his hands.

"So like, I don't want to interrupt, but honestly, I'm kind of curious-" Mei said, and Wukong turned to notice that, while he'd been distracted with what Pigsy was doing, she had started digging through his closet. "Do you like, actually have any other clothes, Mr. King?"

She let the door to the closet fall wide open, revealing that only the tattered clothes Wukong had been wearing when he rescued MK lay there.

"Well, I mean. It isn't exactly like I was really prepared for an impromptu road trip-" Wukong tried to explain-

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything other than this..." MK said, before looking at Wukong again, noting, for the first time, the loose bathrobe he was wearing over top of his tattered pants. "Well. Except for now of course."

"C'mon guys, give Monkey King a break." Sandy said, and Wukong shot him a thankful look. "It isn't like any of us were truly prepared to start trekking across the country after all. We barely have enough supplies on here to last us a week as it is."

"Yeah, we're probably going to have to find somewhere to stop and get some food and other necessary supplies soon." Pigsy sighed, "Not like there's really any other cities around nearby. We'll have to stop in the next town we see-"

"Actually, uh, I might know a place." Wukong said, "It's not too far from here, about a day's travel, and I usually keep it pretty well stocked up..."

"You usually keep it stocked up?" MK asked, "What, do you have a secret bunker or something?"

Wukong went suspiciously silent.

"Oh my gods. You do have a secret bunker."

"It's more of a house, really-"

"I'm going to see the Monkey King's secret bunker-"

---

Macaque sighed, leaning against the wall of his cell with his uninjured arm. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting in the dark- three days? Four? He had no way of telling.

To be honest though, he was, however slightly, grateful for the special treatment. The Lady Bone Demon had let him see what she'd done to the Spider Queen.

It was far more terrifying than simply having your powers stripped away and being thrown into a pitch black room.

He wasn't entirely sure what Lady Bone Demon wanted with him. He was fairly sure he was more useful to her alive than not, but in what way he was useful to her- now on that, he was unclear.

...The door creaked open, and blue light shone in. Macaque lifted his arms to shield his eyes as they adjusted, wincing as his injured arm protested to the movement.

The Lady Bone Demon entered his cell.

"Good evening." She said, as calm as ever. Macaque sneered at her.

"What do you want." He hissed. Lady Bone Demon just continued to smile, unfazed.

"I have come to make a deal with you." She said, walking closer. Macaque leaned away as far as he could, which, considering he was already pressed up against the wall, wasn't very far. "One that I think you'll find... rather interesting."

"Hah, we'll see about that."

"As I'm sure you're already aware, Monkey King, as well as the Monkey Kid, managed to escape my grasp." She said, ignoring him. "They are surely planning some kind of counterattack. While I doubt they could manage to pull off anything, it is still nice to get rid of... hindrances before they develop."

She stopped mere inches in front of him. Macaque glared up at her, hoping that she couldn't see the fear in his eyes.

The Lady Bone Demon held out her hands, and a purple glow swirled around them.

"I am, of course, well aware of your.. history with Sun Wukong." She said, as Macaque watched the traces of his power dance around her. "Here is my proposition. I will return to you, a portion of your previous powers. You will find Wukong and his apprentice, and you will bring them back to me. Whether they are dead or alive, doesn't truly matter. Whichever option you find more fun, I suppose."

Macaque stared at his powers, held so tantalizingly in front of him, than looked back up at Lady Bone Demon.

Even with his... complicated emotions regarding the Monkey King, Macaque would never hand someone over to a- a monster like this.

...But she didn't have to know that.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, enjoying the feeling of his powers washing over him, merging once again with his energy. It wasn't much, but it would be enough-

The Lady Bone Demon suddenly grabbed hold of both of his wrists, holding tight. Her nails dug into his skin, and Macaque had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

"Oh, and just so that there aren't any tricks." She hissed, her eyes seeming to stare into his very soul. "I've prepared a little... collateral, if you will."

"What do you-" Macaque bit his tongue, as he felt the pain sear. No, no, she couldn't possibly-

"I'm sure you know what will happen if you disobey- no?" The Lady Bone Demon said, impassive as Macaque shook from the pain. "After all, you were once subject to this punishment too- albeit only for a short amount of time. Ah, it really is a pity just how easy it is to have you fall right into my plans."

She let his wrists go, and Macaque's hands shot up to his head, trying to relieve the aching pain.

"Oh, you and I both know it's worthless to try to remove it." Lady Bone Demon said, turning to leave. "I expect the Monkey King and Monkey Kid to be here, within the month. Any longer and, well, I'm sure you already know what will happen."

She left the room, vanishing as though she was never there.

The door was left open behind her.

Macaque spent a moment, kneeling on the ground, trying to collect himself, pull himself together.

Slowly, he stood up, throwing on a glamour as he did so. It drained a good portion of the limited amount of powers that had been returned to him, but it was necessary.

He walked out of the room, looking around carefully-

Before jumping out the nearest window.

He had a job to do.

#Monkie Kid #monkie kid spoilers #my writing #Season 3 Fanfic

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scatterpatter · 4 years ago

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"Where's the essay OP" Said no one, and yet here I am

Lampy isn't stupid, he's neruodivergent: a rushed-together masterpost

Disclaimer: I'm not a liscened medical professional but I'm neurodivergent who's close to many neurodivergent people so I know when certain traits strike me as very familiar... Also tblt is my comfort movie I've seen it probably over 100 times, not exaggerating, so if anyone here's an expert on it, it's me.

I'm only going by the first movie because while To The Rescue and Goes To Mars probably have evidence to back me up, I don't feel like sitting down to watch them as I don't have them as memorized as the original

Point #1: Lampy is arguably the most intelligent appliance in the movie

Honestly it apalls me that so many are convinced that Lampy is an idiot when he displays some of the most intelligent traits in the movie. I'll just list off some of the most important scenes that show this

1: When discussing a way to get to the city, Lampy comes up with plans that end up failing, true. But we should also consider that not only did Radio and Toaster come up with bad plans before deciding on the swivel chair, but 2/3 of Lampy's ideas involved the same mechanic: on something with wheels(yes the mattress had wheels for some reason) being powered by Kirby

2: "From here you can see the really big lamp!" This scene is simply due to the appliances being sheltered from the outside world. Lampy displays the same level of naive-ness as everyone else: Radio seems earnest in calling the sun a "really big lamp", and Kirby calls the grass "shag carpet". Lampy is not at a lower intelligence in this scene, he's exactly at the same level as everyone else

3: The scene with the storm really sells his intelligence. The appliances have a rudimentary understanding of electricity, most likely from being appliances, but Lampy displays an excelled level of understanding by sacrificing himself for the battery. He understands that batteries are powered by electricity, lightning is electricity, and by using himself as a lightning rod, he acts as the conductive metal to easily transfer this energy from the bolt to the battery. Technically this should have overcharged and fried the battery but we'll suspend disbelief for the sake of this movie.

4: He knew that stacking the appliances to roughly human height, creating a dark environment with ominous sounds, and putting Toaster at eye-level to scare the human with his own reflection... Again, this is an intelligent understanding of how to scare a human

5: It's unclear on whose idea it was to look up Rob in a phone book, however this shows that not only can Lampy read(most likely picked up from being Rob's reading light), ESPECIALLY when Toaster struggles to read, but also has an understanding of phone books, addresses, and finding humans based on family names. I cannot stress how intelligent this is for a sentient desk lamp

There's a few more minor examples, but these are the biggest cases. Lampy is intelligent.

Point #2: Lampy struggles with social cues and doesn't empathize as easily as others

My biggest point here is when people think neruodivergents are "dumb" for having trouble picking up on things like sarcasm when that just... isn't the case. A few notable examples include:

1: When Air Conditioner says "You're a real bright little lamp", Lampy doesn't pick up the sarcasm and thinks he's being complimented. Though he definitely shows a level of emotional intelligence because he looks to Toaster to confirm "hey I was complimented", sees they're still looking angry, and gets the hint that he was insulted without someone needing to explicitly tell him that, to which he then responds with "Heyyy >:("

2: Sometimes he's able to read the room and pick up on tones, but other times he shows a level of emotional density. Legitimately not knowing if Rob had returned even when seeing Blanky disappointed to the point of near tears... But then knowing "brains wouldnt hurt either" was a jab at their intelligence and reacting with appropriate annoyance... But also when Radio says "Things could be worse!", doesn't realize he's just saying that to make Toaster feel better and asks "How could they be worse?"

3: He bullies Blanky alongside Radio and the others, unclear if he's actually being a jerk or just "oh this is what everyone else is doing so this is the normal way to act", but he's legitimately confused when Toaster tries to explain why they're suddenly being nice to him. He doesn't get the "now I feel better" argument because his argument was "Well you were never this nice to him before". Even when Toaster tries to explain why it feels nice, it just doesn't click... until Toaster finds a way to explain that connects personally to Lampy's own emotional state. He has trouble empathizing until realizing "oh this is like this thing that I feel sometimes"

4: Something I've noticed when gathering evidence is that more than once, Lampy goes "Wow..." After someone gloats about themself(Twice with Radio, once with the Computer). It's clear by the third time, when Radio goes "What does that mean?" And Lampy responds "I don't know. [To Computer] What does that mean?" That he doesn't even know what's being gloated about, let alone why he should be impressed. He has the emotional intelligence to recognize when someone's gloating and the "appropriate" response of amazement, but it seems like it never comes from a place of earnest. (While Neurotypicals can and do engage in "performative" behavior, I tend to notice this way more commonly with neurodivergents)

Also the "wow..." Performative thing is VERY reminiscent of Peridot from Steven Universe(a characters who many autistic fans see themselves in and the creator herself saying she doesn't consider Peridot or any of the gems to be neurotypical) going "wow thanks" as her default "this is how I've been taught to show gratitude" response

Point #3: Miscellaneous traits that could be neurodivergent

These traits COULD be interpreted as neurodivergent, but I will admit they could also be interpreted as something else so like take these with a grain of salt

1: Lampy appears to have sensory needs. When sleeping, he needs to tap a rock a few times(presumably to make sure it's "right") before clonking his head on it. It's interesting because rocks aren't a very "lamp" thing whatsoever, and none of the other appliances look for pillow-ish objects to rest on, so this could be a sensory thing.

2: Lampy has an interesting vocal quirk: repetition of phrases at the beginning and end of a sentence. Instances include "How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly?" "All of a sudden you're being so darn nice to him all of a sudden" "The fact is there's just not enough facts" The third one is a bit of a stretch but the first two seem to indicate a possible pattern of speech. Part of me wants to say this could be a verbal tic or some type of verbal stimming, but I've never met anyone who has a tic or stim like this so I can't say it's a neurodivergent thing with confidence, but I wanted to mention this quirk regardless.

3: Physically saying how he feels. Two instances where multiple characters are laughing, Lampy speaks while laughing "That's funny - I'm dying!" "I'm aching with joy!". It's just interesting that no one else speaks while laughing and for whatever reason, Lampy needs to verbalize "Yes I find this very funny" as if simply laughing along isn't enough. I've seen somewhat similar stuff in neurodivergents who have issues expressing emotions implicitly so they state them explicitly instead.

4: I've noticed Lampy isn't touchy... except with Radio. Some neurodivergent people can have issues with physical contact, which could explain that. But I've also noticed that Radio also gives me huge neurodivergent vibes... But more importantly Radio is extremely touchy with everyone, Lampy included, hence them often getting into physical fights but also just- tapping them or wrapping a cord around the other and pulling him close(they're so in love but that's a post on its own). A possible explanation is Lampy having issues with touching others, but either feels comfortable being touchy with Radio(due to emotional bonds and trust) or simply recognizes "Radio likes being touchy so I should be touchy back". A stretch of an argument, I'll admit, but I think the interpretation is there and valid.

In conclusion

I mean idk if Lampy was written to be neurodivergent or if the writers just wanted him to be "quirky" and accidentally gave him a lot of neurodivergent traits, but he reads as very neurodivergent to me(probably autistic or adhd but I'm not a professional and can't diagnose him). But while I can chalk up neruodivergency being one of many possible interpretations of his character, I WILL argue that he's not "stupid" given the evidence we see throughout the movie

Tl;Dr: Lampy is evidently intelligent, but sometimes struggles with social cues, empathy, and overall shows numerous traits of neurodivergency

#tblt #lampy #tblt lampy #long post #I'm right and I should say it /j #the brave little toaster

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side-shawty · 4 years ago

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Sweet Tooth

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot (but I might make a part two)

Prompt/Summary: Jason’s girl has a sweet tooth

Pairing(s): Jason Todd x Reader

Requested? No

For the last two few weeks, Jason and Dick had been frequenting the manor much more often. Dick because he had cashed in on his overtime with BPD and was “vacationing” at home as a reward for closing all his cases.

Jason’s reason, however, was rather unclear in the eyes of his siblings. He would come home at least four times a week to make something with Alfred in the kitchen and then leave before he was spotted and persuaded into staying for longer.

But here’s the kicker, he would always leave with Tupperware filled with some new sweet. Muffins, macaroons, eclairs, and one time even cupcakes with Y/F/C sprinkles.

After several secret sibling meetings about Jason they finally decided to confront him because, with all their collective genius, they could not figure out why in the hell Red Hood was sneaking out homemade desserts. He didn’t even like sweets that much!

So finally, one day as Jason attempted to sneak out of the manor he was blindsided as Cass swiped the Tupperware of snickerdoodle cookies from his hands and quickly stepped away from him.

“What the fu—“ Jason began but was cut off as someone grabbed his hands and locked them behind his back and another set of hands threw a pillowcase over his head.

Before he knew it he was being dragged away kicking and screaming profanities. When they reached their destination Jason was thrown into an armchair and the pillowcase was removed but his hands were still tied behind his back.

In front of him stood all of his siblings who had taken Tim’s bendy desk lamp and pointed it directly at his face.

“Um, what the hell?” He spoke annoyance and genuine confusion coloring his voice as he squinted his eyes as they adjusted.

“No what the hell to you!” Tim said accusingly and Jason just sighed and let his eyes slide over to Dick’s inquisitive face.

“We want to know about these,” Dick proclaimed taking the container from Cass and holding it in front of his face.

“They’re cookies, Dick,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “some people like to dip them in milk.”

“Today there are cookies but before that, it was churros, cinnamon rolls, brownies,” Damian spoke ticking off the treats on his fingers. “We want to know why you make them and take them with you, Pennyworth told us nothing when we asked,” he finished.

Jason scoffed, “So what makes you think I’d say anything?”

“Because we have these,” Dick said opening the container and removing a cookie and handing it to Cassandra.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, now tugging at his restraints.

“I would,” she spoke and took a small bite from the cookie.

“You all have poisoned her! Cass used to be the good one,” Jason told them as they gave a collective smirk.

“So are you gonna tell us or are you going to make us eat more? We do love Alfred’s cookies,” Dick spoke with a shit-eating grin.

“Alright, Dick I’ll tell you. They’re for Kory,” Jason said.

“Bullshit, she’s off-world with the Justice League,” Tim called him out and Jason glared.

Cass was halfway through the cookie now and Jason would be crushed if you had less than a dozen.

“Fine, they’re for me. Happy?” Jason asked becoming more annoyed with the situation than anything.

“No because you don’t like sweets,” Damian said.

“Yes I do,” Jason argued.

“Not enough to make your own four times a week,” Damian shot back with a glare of his own this time.

The room fell into silence as Cass finished her cookie.

“Is it a girl?” Cass asked and all of her brothers looked to her in shock before directing their attention back to Jason.

He avoided eye contact.

“Oh my god, it is!” Dick proclaimed and moved to untie his brother’s hands, feeling as though he had gotten his answer. Jason rubbed at his wrists but said nothing.

“So when do we get to meet her?” Tim asked.

“Never,” Jason said standing and moving to up the container from where it had been placed on the coffee table.

Before he could, however, his phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket, cringing slightly when your name and a photo of the two of you lit up the screen. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by his siblings.

Suddenly it was four on one as they fought to answer it before Jason could.

Finally, it ended with Jason floored — literally — as Damian, Tim, and Cass all sat on top of him and Dick answered the phone with all the charm in the world.

“Hello, Y/N,” Dick spoke as he put the phone on speaker and as Jason went to say something Cass put a hand over his mouth.

“Jay, sorry I’m running late one of the kids’ parents was late for pick up. We’re still meeting at your place right?” You rushed out, clearly not even taking note that that wasn’t your boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Actually this is Dick, Jay’s brother, he wanted me to tell you he’s stuck at home and if you could meet him at Wayne Manor,” he said, voice drenched in innocence.

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in 20,” you said in your usual optimistic tone even though there was a question hidden beneath your words.

“See you soon,” Dick said and hung up as his younger siblings stood up and Jason was on his feet in a flash, snatching the phone from Dick’s hand and yelling in his face.

“What the hell?!”

“What, are you ashamed of us?” Dick asked a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Yes! You’re all insane!” Jason said running his hands through his hair and groaning.

“Don’t worry Jason, we won’t embarrass you … too much,” Bruce spoke as he entered the living room, having caught the tail end, grinning.

“Great,” Jason sighed.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x black!reader #jason todd imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x black!reader #batfamily x reader #batfamily x black!reader #DC imagines #dc comics imagine #dc one shot #dc comics one shot #dc x black!reader

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kari69a-deactivated20220420 · 3 years ago

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something that's become very apparent to me after working in retail and having an adhd diagnosis is just how much of a joke it is when someone gets away with hurting other people because they had "good intentions", because intentions > impact in popular society.

taking someone's sarcasm at face value really exhausts me of caring when someone makes the whole "i didn't mean to" apology. stay with me here.

so, i'll understand that someone is being sarcastic but i'm on the clock and i don't want to take the joke too far or have an unfunny response because i'm not good at these social games, so i feel that i can't indulge and will take their sarcasm at face value.

for example, it's hard to hear someone when they spell out their name so i ask them to repeat it and they use a different tone of voice to use a very very unconventional spelling of their name. when i don't provide banter because i feel that i'd be stepping into dangerous territory, they'll be quick to clarify that the were joking around, because having your intentions be unclear is, i dont know, embarrassing at best.

in this scenario, the intention of their speech (sarcasm) is what takes precedence.

in another situation, if someone is making a snide comment to me, then i have the option of entertaining them and responding to their dialogue at face value, or i could address the social dynamic wherein engaging their premise is accepting some sort of call-and-response type social deference.

for example, someone asks if i have cancer because i'm bald. i can respond at face value and say no, or i can respond to their perceived hierarchy and say 'i'm surprised you feel comfortable asking that', addressing how i'm aware of the impact of their words, and am rejecting them.

in this scenario, the impact of their speech (question) is what takes precedence and dominates the interaction. the cunt asking a stranger if they have cancer is fully aware of this, it's never been a mishap.

these two interactions are both incredibly coded with social propriety. it's all a game of entertaining other people for their benefit, and calling it quits on that entertainment. all in the name of having the 'correct' social position.

neurotypical people demonstrate full awareness of their impact in a social interaction when the sarcasm doesn't land, but they nod at the fact that we 'agree' to prioritize people's intentions by clarifying the fact that they were being sarcastic.

i'm supposed to entertain people's abstract intentions over the impact that they have in a social situation for propriety and social acceptance. and it's rather frustrating that it's all laid out in front of me how much of a joke that all is.

this may seem like small potatoes but when it comes to someone (always a man who's in a position of power, in my case) genuinely hurting you, then the failsafe fallback is "i didn't mean to xyz...", or better yet, "i feel that she has misinterpreted my intentions here". as if that's supposed to mean something to me. as if these arent shitty excuses just fully accepted because intentions = character in popular society.

i'm tired of it, frankly. i want the effect of someone's actions to matter more than something that can be decided/changed retroactively (i.e., their headspace).

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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A Dangerous Game

part 5

masterlist

Waking up was a slow process.

The sound of shattering glass was the first thing that alerted the rest of the mansion to the fact that something was wrong. The screaming that followed only served to solidify that thought. The mansion was usually a peaceful place especially in the mornings. The master of the estate did not like to be disturbed when he was at home and conducted most of his business outside the walls of the estate.

This was why is had been so unusual when the master had brought the American lady to the house for dinner. What had followed had been even more unusual. After the dinner, orders had been given to prepare a set of rooms for an imminent guest, a female guest, and the estate had been abuzz with excitement at the idea of the master finally taking a lady. Though the lady they received was not what they expected. The excitement had turned to mild confusion when he brought the same woman from before, unconscious and bleeding, back to the estate. It was because of these unusual occurrences that the sounds had people running towards the room that housed their master’s guest to see just what the commotion was about.

When they arrived though it was to see something rather unexpected. Inside the luxurious room was a tiny but furious woman in nothing but a long nightgown, barefoot with disheveled hair and a bandage on her forehead ready to launch a vase at them all while the shattered remains of another sat scattered across the floor, and the maid who had had the misfortune of being the first person to arrive at the room after she awoke sat cowering in a corner.

“Bu-in.” the house keeper tried to calm the irate woman hands raised in what was meant to be a calming gesture as she spoke. “Please put the vase down. We will bring the sajangnim. Yes?” she suggested not knowing that this would only upset the woman further.

“NO! Where am I?” she screeched raising the vase even higher in preparation to launch it across the room. “Why am I here?”

“Bu-in,” the other woman tried again, her tone pacifying.

“Where am I?”

“Bu-in, please. Everything is alright.”

“Everything is not alright!” she shrieked her eyes wide in both fear and aggravation. Waking up in a strange place was disconcerting enough without being surrounded by strange people as well especially when she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly who these people worked for.

The older woman sighed taking another step back. “Bu-in, if you do not calm down I will have to call for the sajangnim.”

“I’m already here.” Came a terribly familiar voice prompting everyone in the room except for her to bow in respect. “Jagiya, put the vase down.”

Her eyes narrowed in on the man himself standing tall in the entryway of the room. “You.” She spat contempt coloring the word as she glared at him.

“Jagiya.” He repeated his tone stern as he made his way further into the room.

“Don’t call me that.” She hissed winding up to throw the vase right at his oversized head.

“I don’t like to be disobeyed, jagi.” He tutted his eyes narrowing as he regarded her taking particular note of the makeshift projectile that was only a few seconds from being violently launched towards him.

“And I don’t like being kidnapped.” She growled in return understanding with perfect clarity what had happened. “Where is Eun-ho?”

“You hit your head rather hard, jagi. You should be resting. This upset isn’t good for you.” He tutted looking at her in a mix of concern and amusement.

“And whose fault is that?” she asked sarcasm heavy in her tone. “Where is Eun-ho?”

“You really should be resting, jagiya.” He cooed taking a step towards her only to have the vase thrown at him with as much strength as she could muster and aimed directly for his head. The projectile missed though as the target of her fury had smoothly side stepped it before turning his attention back to her.

He grinned. The expression did not reach his eyes nor did it hold any warmth. “I understand you are upset, jagiya, but this behavior cannot be tolerated.” He warned taking long strides towards her now that she no longer possessed anything to launch at his head.

“Stay back!” she yelped scrambling away from him herself as she did so, now realizing the mistake she had made in throwing the vase. She no longer had a weapon to ward him away with. Granted a vase wasn’t the most effective of weapons but at least it had been something.

“Don’t come any closer!” she placed one of the sofas situated before the room’s fireplace between them as a makeshift barrier though every inch of her was strung tight ready to make a dash for it as soon as he got too close for comfort. Really any distance with him would have been too close for comfort, but she was willing to take what she could get given the current situation.

“Jagiya,” he scolded tutting at her like a misbehaving child. “I suggest you stop this before you regret it.”

They were both still as they regarded each other from opposite sides of the sofa. Both were waiting for the other to make a move. While one was calm and completely at ease with the standoff, the other was practically vibrating with anxiety. The occupants of the room could practically see her heart trying to beat itself out of her chest.

“Leave us.” he called out over his shoulder to the staff who were still waiting anxiously near the door watching the interaction perhaps with even more anxiety than the woman who was facing off with the master of the house. “Miss In,” he addressed the house keeper that had tried so hard to calm Y/N down before his arrival.

“Yes, sajangnim.” She answered bowing at the waist respectfully though he wasn’t looking at her to see the gesture.

“I’ll call for you when the madame and I have finished. She’ll need help dressing.”

“Yes, sajangnim.” She replied before ushering the rest of the staff out of the room to give RM and Y/N some privacy to deal with what they all deemed to be a private matter.

He waited until everyone had left the room before he made his next move. The authoritative stance he had relaxed when the click of the door closing echoed throughout the room. His presence was still domineering, but it was in a different way now. His posture was relaxed and his hands were leisurely tucked into the pockets of his dress pants as though they were going to have a very normal conversation. His eyes were still cold and calculating telling her exactly who held the power in the room, but this felt more personal, and it made her skin crawl.

“Now,” he started. “Are we going to talk like civilized people, Y/N?” he asked raising a brow at her.

“I don’t think I’d like to, no.”

He chuckled moving to lean against the sofa to stare at her with cold eyes. “We are going to talk, jagi. It just depends on whether or not you’d like to do this the easy way or the hard way. You won’t like it if we have to do this the hard way, Y/N.”

“Why am I here?” she asked slowly inching her way around the sofa keeping an eye on him as she did so.

“If you’ll settle down we can talk about this like adults.” He bargained gifting her a dimpled smile that was anything but comforting.

There was a chance, a slim chance, she could make a dash for the door, a dash to freedom. She would have to make it past him. And then she would have to navigate a house that she didn’t know to find an exit. That would be hard enough, but there was the fact, that RM would be hard on her heels and there was the staff and his goons to worry about as well. A fool’s errand, she quickly decided. If she wanted to get out of here she needed to play smarter not harder.

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?” she asked scanning the room looking for a better exit strategy, one that wasn’t likely to get her killed.

He stood up straight chuckling as he did. “You don’t have much of a choice, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” She scolded. “But then again, you’re not a very nice person are you?”

“I could be very nice to you.” His grin was wolfish which didn’t make her unease any better especially when his intentions were still unclear.

“I’m afraid I’m not inclined to accept your hospitality. I was actually on my way out, before you … invited me over.”

He sighed dramatically and moved around the sofa to take a seat on it causing her to quickly scramble back to take cover behind the other one in an attempt to keep distance between them.

“I’m very aware of your…” he paused his wrist gracefully circling in the air as he searched for the right word. “Shall we say vacation plans?” he asked daring her to correct him. “I’m disappointed in you, jagiya. It was very rude of you to run out on me you know.”

“It’s very rude to spy on and kidnap people.” She huffed crossing her arms under her chest. “You could say that we’re even now. We’re both incredibly rude.”

“Why did you run?” his head tilted to the side inquisitively. “Did you think running from me was a good idea?”

Every muscle in her body was pulled taunt as she kept her eyes on her captor. She’d already identified the large picture windows behind her, but she didn’t want him to know where her thoughts were going. With any luck the windows would open up into the grounds they looked over so prettily. That was the best case scenario. The worst case was that she would make her dash for the window, and the windows wouldn’t open at all. Then there would only be the humiliation of a failed attempt at escape.

“Any plan that gets me away from you seems like a good idea.” she snarked watching as the muscle ticked in his jaw. He didn’t like that.

He leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees as he regarded her. “I don’t appreciate your tone, jagi. It’s not befitting of a lady.”

“I’m not a lady, and you’re no gentleman.” She snarled inching backwards towards the windows.

“Jagiya.” The expression on his face was stormy and his tone was stern. “I don’t like your tone. Sit down.” He ordered.

She tilted her head to the side almost contemplatively. “No.”

She turned on her heels as quickly as she could and closed the short distance between her and the window.

“Y/N!” He cried from behind her, angry from the sound of it.

She pulled on the latch of the window thanking God when it opened. The window swung into the room allowing her to step onto the ledge only to find herself faced with a new issue. She had failed to consider that this room might be on the second floor and the distance from the second floor to the ground, and she had to curse herself for being such an idiot. She should have known better.

She only had a moment to make a decision. Jump and risk spraining or breaking something in the fall, or stay in the room with what was sure to be a very angry RM.

“Y/N!”

The angry cry of her name was closer than before sealing her decision in a split second. All that was left to do was jump.

part 6

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #rm #rm x reader #namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #mafia namjoon #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #fanfic #soft yandere

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di0rtaeyong · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Night (j.jh)

➸ summary: you and jaehyun decide to have a little fun during a wedding.

➸ genre: smut

➸ word count: 2k

➸ warnings: established relationship, sexual content; vaginal penetration, choking, “fishhooking”, dom features, orgasm denial, jaehyun says “baby” too much (my fault), public but not really

➸ authors note: second time writing smut! hope you enjoy.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

It was your best friend’s wedding. Everything had to be perfect, and it was your job as maid of honour to ensure that.

It also just so happened to be your boyfriend, Jaehyun’s, best friend’s wedding as well.

Johnny, who was Jaehyun’s best friend, and your best friend had actually been the ones to set you and Jaehyun up. It worked out well because both couples were extremely happy and all close friends.

As the best man, Jaehyun had his own responsibilities on his side which left the both of you with little free time starting two months before the wedding.

Which also meant that the second you both had a moment to breathe, Jaehyun would corner you, bringing the both of you to fast pleasure before you both had to go back to your duties.

Finally the wedding day had come and he had somehow managed to steal you away from dealing with a commotion between Johnny’s aunt and the mother of the bride and had hurriedly snuck the both of you off to the empty dressing room meant for the bride.

“Jaehyun, we have to be quick,” you panted as he left wet kisses down the column of your throat. He had you pressed against the closed door, one hand on your hip the other groping your breast through the silk of your maid of honour dress.

“Ugh baby, I can’t wait till this wedding is over, can’t stand waiting anymore,” he spoke against your skin, nipping at the skin on your collarbones causing you to throw your head back slightly.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a good job waiting does it?” You teased.

He looked up to see you smirking. Slowly he rose to his full height, pressing you harder against the door, ensuring that his crotch was directly on top of yours. You could feel his hardness through your gown and his suit pants.

You let out a small whimper before stopping yourself and meeting his strong gaze.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing any better does it?” He asked as he thrusted directly into your core once more.

“Shut up. I’m better at holding off and you know it,” you said challengingly. You weren’t really in a position to be teasing him like that, but you too were deprived of pleasure and the couple drinks at the bar made you speak before you thought about it.

Finally having enough of your back talk, Jaehyun practically growled and spun you around so your front was against the wall. “Always talking back to me, huh? I should teach you a lesson.”

He bunched up the skirt of your dress, gathering it up and pressing it up near your stomach as you pressed against the wall.

“Jaehyun, you cannot get this dress dirty okay? I’m serious.” You tried your best to sound stern as Jaehyun moved your hair to one side and kissed the back of your neck and exposed shoulders.

“Yeah baby don’t worry. Just focus on me now.” He said as his fingers found their way around your thighs and to your folds.

He started rubbing you through your thin panties. You had opted for a seamless G-string, so nothing showed through the dress.

“Hmm baby you’re barely wearing anything, and you’re soaked through.”

“Then hurry up and do something about it,” you complained. He was taking too long, and people were going to notice you were both gone.

Jaehyun clucked his tongue. “Tsk-tsk baby girl. I already told you not to talk back to me.”

His fingers were still rubbing you slowly through your underwear, pace still excruciatingly slow.

“God Jaehyun, just hurry up, we can’t- ah!” Your sentence was cut off by the need to cry out as Jaehyun pushed your underwear down to around your knees and plunged two fingers in.

Biting on the shell of your ear, he continued to pump his fingers into you, reaching places you only wish you could. “Nothing to say now, huh?”

Fighting off a moan, you replied. “You still haven’t fucked me yet, so I don’t think you’re doing your job right.”

“So, you’re gonna be like that? I’m gonna fuck you till all your pretty mouth can say is my name.” And with that, he pulled his two fingers out of your core and brought them up to your face.

“Open up,” he teased. You rolled your eyes but opened your mouth a little nonetheless.

Jaehyun must have really been annoyed because he shoved his fingers and pulled slightly to the side.

“Be a good girl for me, please love?”

You could feel the sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Nonetheless you were as desperate as him and you appreciated his roughness sometimes.

Jaehyun was usually soft; it was just his personality. He was soft smiles and hot drinks on cold days. He was orange sunsets and hand holding in the park. You loved him deeply for all of that and more, but there were days, days like today where he took control and you let him. Your relationship was built on a partnership, on fairness, but this Jaehyun. This Jaehyun was provocative.

This Jaehyun was cocky and hard handed. He was all dirty talk and rough thrusts and hot breaths exchanged in heated passion. And you absolutely missed him.

“Jaehyun, fuck me now, ugh,” you moaned, words coming out unclear due to his fingers in your mouth.

He tugged on your mouth again. “Say please.” He whispered in your ear. Then he moved his hand from your mouth, trailing his fingers down to your throat, hand encircling your throat. The light pressure had your mouth salivating.

Not being able to handle the wait anymore you succumbed to his wishes. Besides, you were sure people would have noticed you two were not on the dance floor right now.

“Please, please, please, Jaehyun. Please fuck me, please make me yours,” you begged. On a regular day you would’ve bit your tongue for sounding so pathetic but today you wanted Jaehyun was bad as he wanted you.

“So good to hear you beg, baby,” his hand tightened on your jaw for a moment and then he slid it down to your throat.

“So good baby, you make waiting so worth it, love this ass.”

“Jaehyun, now.” You really couldn’t handle the wait anymore.

“Okay baby, leg up.” With his free hand he hoisted up your left leg against the wall.

“I got you baby,” he breathed into you ear. And he pushed into you.

The moan you let out was embarrassing, primal and obscene, and definitely loud enough to be heard from outside if not for the wedding DJ playing ‘Mambo No. 5’.

“So tight around me, love your sounds.” He rasped out. You knew how long he had been waiting for this, and you had definitely been waiting for this as well. You were about to reply when his hand tightened around your throat, not tight enough to hurt you but enough to make you gasp and your eyes flutter shut.

“Yeah Jae, right there,” you managed to get out, but your words were muffled out by Jaehyun’s groans and ‘Cha Cha Slide’ blasting from the reception hall.

Hiking your leg up a little higher, he managed to hit a spot that had you seeing stars.

“Oh Jae, right there, oh my gosh, feels so good,”

You brought one hand down to your core, fingers finding your nub. Your own fingers didn’t feel as good as Jaehyun’s but his hands were currently busy, keeping you up and helping you reach heights of pleasure.

“Jae, I’m close, I- “

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

“Jae- “

His grip on your throat tightened slightly. “Wait.”

The feeling was coiling in your stomach, the feeling you missed so much when you were with Jaehyun like this. When he was like this.

His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and his grip on your leg was loosening.

“Jae please- “, you whined.

“Just a little more baby, wanna savour this,” he whispered against your bare neck.

His hips faltered and you knew he was close.

“Jae, I’m gonna- “

“Now baby,” he practically growled. His hand tightened around your throat and your leg was hiked up to a higher position. Black spots danced in your vision as you felt yourself let go on his command. You were in pure bliss. All up until Jaehyun spoke again.

“Baby, you feel so good on my cock, gonna cum now.”

“Jaehyun, don’t cum on my dress.” You managed to breathe out.

He didn’t hear you. “Oh, I missed this, can’t wait till the damn wedding is over, we gotta make up for lost time. I’ll still give it to you when it’s time for ours.”

You didn’t catch his comment properly, too focused on something else. “Jaehyun, be careful with my dress,” you said again.

“What baby?” His pace was slowing, and grip loosened but you were still worried.

Your eyes always bugged out of your head when you felt him starting to pull away.

“Jaehyun! My dress!” You reach behind you to pull him back towards you in case anything decided to spill out.

“Okay, okay, gimme a second,” he laughed, setting you down safely on both feet.

You couldn’t see what he was doing but a few moments later you felt soft tissue between your legs.

“Hold your dress up,” he whispered.

You shivered but did so none the less as you lifted the silk fabric up away from your body.

Jaehyun wiped softly, touch light and loving, so you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Hmmm, missed this Jae,” you whispered as you let your eyes flutter shut.

“You missed my dick?” You opened your eyes to see Jaehyun smirking down on you, playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, rolling your eyes and a smile threatening to take over your face.

He stepped back and pulled your panties back up to their original position around your hips. When you felt that they were in place, you used one hand to check that there was nothing remaining that could stain your dress. You let your dress back down and smoothed it out as you turned around. Jaehyun was finishing buckling his pants as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Round two?” He winked.

Laughing you reached for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, I have maid of honour duties to fulfill. I think you have best man duties as well?”

Jaehyun laughed at your teasing tone, hands reaching for you, pulling you close.

When your faces were close enough for your breaths to mingle he whispered, “I love you.” And he kissed you softly, slowly.

You smiled into the kiss and pushed him away slightly. “Love you too. But we gotta go, Jae.”

He hummed and let you lead him back to the reception hall that was blasting ‘Party Rock Anthem’ at the moment. Checking your hair before you walked in, you were suddenly grabbed by your best friend, the bride.

“Where were you?! We’re about to start the bouquet toss!” She pulled you away from Jaehyun, and he silently laughed at you being pulled away as he went to stand next to Johnny.

You stood behind the first row of woman, all of them eager to catch the bouquet. You turned to look at Jaehyun, maybe catch his eye and make a face about all the woman in front of you desperate for a proposal. Because of this, you didn’t notice the music stop, only snapping out of your daze when you heard someone yell, “Look out!”

Your eyes snapped forwards, and seeing the flying bouquet hurdling towards you caused you to reach out your arms out defensively.

You shut your eyes before you felt the impact. When you opened your eyes again you saw your best friend right in front of you.

“You caught the bouquet!”, she exclaimed. It was hard to hear over the cheering. “, Better tell Jaehyun to get a move on, huh?” She nudged you when her elbow and gestured to the left with her head.

You turned in the direction she gestured to and met Jaehyun’s eyes. Big smile on his face, he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Returning the big smile, you chuckled, thinking back to his comment about your wedding. Clutching the bouquet to your chest, you spoke softly. “I think he has it covered.”

#jung jaehyung #neowriters #neohours #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun smut #johnny suh #jung yoonoh

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inklingofadream · 4 years ago

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i am actually kinda curious how my followers feel about tone indicators. Personally, i like /j and/or /s, because joking/sarcastic tone is genuinely difficult to convey, and i saw those pop up a) well before the flood of others that have come into existence b) on twitter, where shortening your indicators serves a specific and necessary purpose and c) coming from nd (primarily but not exclusively autistic) users. i find /hj for half joking kind of clunky and oblique, but don’t mind it terribly, especially in places with character limits.

pretty much everything else seems waaaay too hard to parse, and often something that could be covered by either having slightly better writing skills (not in a grammar way or anything, I think conveying, like, happiness or annoyance is not something even really new non native english speakers find particularly difficult in general) or reading comprehension skills. Marking out every use of hyperbole feels less like accommodating nd people and more like an extension of the culture where an unmarked use will get you called out for lying. I don’t think anyone is harmed by someone answering a rhetorical question genuinely, and just saying it’s rhetorical at the outset isn’t too hard to incorporate into the syntax of a question without a huge character investment (just putting, “rhetorically, xyz” is generally enough vs the frequency of using sarcasm and the investment of “being sarcastic but” or similar). Whether or not something’s sexual... i can’t think of any cases where it would be genuinely unclear, AND just replying “hey, I’m not sure how you mean this?” wouldn’t be appropriate. Like sexual comments tend to be pretty direct/blatant, and vaguer stuff is usually in a one on one context.

Honestly, I think a lot of the stuff tone indicators are being used for is more easily and accessibly accomplished other ways. emojis have been used similarly for a while, but they’re a) already widespread b) fairly language neutral. Some of the confusion that they’re meant to clear up... seems like it would be easier and more effectively dealt with by learning to communicate more effectively with other people, and asking what they mean if you don’t understand. I think that /j and /s have their uses, because “are you joking/is this sarcastic” is likely to come up often enough to be kind of a pain, and some people are going to “yes and” instead and give you a joke reply instead of a real answer. But the rest do feel like shortcuts for stuff that’s already a pretty standard part of the English language and/or online culture

But I am curious what y’all think. Are there other tone indicators you find useful? Why/when? Are there any that really drive you up the wall?

#tone indicators #mine #accessibility #per last rb #also i dont repeat is a lot in post but i am taking into account the esl and nd ppl ive known #when i talk about ease of understanding both ways #honestly as someone who has a hard time picking up social norms having a lot of tone indicators feels like it adds more stress #bc you have to learn that norm and hope ur using it correctly #and a lot of the heavy users are the kind of ppl who wont respond well to questions abt how it works #(like. a lot of google is free kinda responses when the last rb establishes why thats not useful)#also remember when you could format a post as a question? wish it were still here the convenience #like i think using one of the emojis used commonly in sexy contexts is gonna do you more good than /x #i think like 90% of the ppl who advocate them have their heart in the right place #but i ahvent seen a lot of use with actual nd ppl i follow except for the 2 mentioned #it feels like talking past the group ur trying to help instead of working with #(the other 10% are totally in it for a fun new way to exclude ppl)#like theres always a few hs bully types

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ephemeral-writings · 5 years ago

Text

Everything I Need // 04

oh sehun x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

Everything I Need // oh sehun teaches you a thing or two about life. but falling for the boy who lived across from you was not what you had anticipated.

A/N-- Please leave me your thoughts!!! Enjoy reading!

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 04 / Part 05

//////

The day your mother passed, it had rained. It was a spring shower that woke you up that morning, accompanied by the sound of water dripping from the roof leak into a rusty pail. You sat in bed, seconds after, your phone rang. Nothing had felt right that morning, not the rain, not the call from your mother’s hospital. But the absence of your father’s cigarette and constant grumbling yanked you back to reality. Your mother was dead before you had a proper goodbye.

As you looked around the memorial service, you had one thought in mind and one only: you were truly alone now. No amount of fake crying from your relatives could convince you to believe that they cared an ounce about you. And you couldn’t blame them. They didn’t know you and you didn’t know them. Why should your locked up father and dead mother have to force them to take you under their wing?

After the service, without much thought, you packed a bag and left your childhood home behind in the dust of a moving bus. You said a silent prayer that your father won’t find you in the next chapter of your life. You prayed and cried, for the first time since the news of her death, that your mother would watch over you from above.

You landed in Seoul, the main city just shy on the outskirts of the town you grew up in. You’d always dreamt about going to Seoul, but had never visited. You’ve heard of the high rise buildings that stretched to the sky. Turned out they weren’t that high, just taller than the ones from your town. It was definitely busier; the streets were always littered with people, cars lined bumper to bumper, in essence it was like a city that never stept.

You were accepted into a university in Seoul. Your plan had been to work while studying, and with the money you’d make, send half the amount in every check to your parents. Your already precarious future depleted the minute your life took a turn for the worst. One second a single lit candle was guiding you, and the next it was blown out, and you were left standing in the dark. But you’d eventually find your way around. Be it may lead to a cliff, you couldn’t stay in one place forever.

The first place you found was Jubilant. A help wanted sign was the beacon of light in beginning your new life, and more than anything, you needed money. The university had offered you enough aid to carry the weight of your tuition, and with scholarships, you had almost no trouble continuing your education. First year went by, slightly uneventful as you were only trying to adjust to the new-- well, everything. Your roommate situation was a mess overall. Second year was even more mundane as you were starting to get used to your everyday life of nothing but routine. Your second year was when you got comfortable enough to go out a little more, outside your school and work life. After a year of living with three other girls who were more or less strangers to you, you finally decided to move out on your own. You spent weeks searching for a place, and finally found the place you were residing at now. You arrived at your appointment early morning to sign and secured the vacant unit, and moved in a day after.

“Hey, Y/N.” Chanyeol called for your attention. It was downtime at the restaurant, and you were listlessly restocking on wrapped to-go utensils. Chanyeol was tinkering with his phone that was also dj-ing the restaurant’s soundtrack. There’s no one except a young couple who looked just about finishing up and your boss nowhere to be found, he put on what you liked to call lobby music. Chanyeol had a knack for jazz and blues, though he looked more like a rock and rap sort of guy. You made a small sound to let him know that you were listening. “You’re a girl, right?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Last I checked, yes, Chanyeol, I am. What’s up?”

He grinned at your sarcasm. It wasn’t often when you’d let your, as Chanyeol liked to call it, fuck-off vibe, so he noted that you were in a good mood.

“What does a guy need to do to win over your heart?”

“My heart isn’t up for offers, Yeol. Don’t try for a second time.” You smirked.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “There wasn’t even a first time, Y/N. We talked about this, c’mon.” He groaned, leaning his right hip on the counter you were working on, arms crossed as he scrutinized you. Chanyeol was not a shy one. His gaze, at first, alarmed you. Having those set of wide eyes and a tenacious gaze made you uneasy, it was as if he could see right through you. After working with him for so long, you’ve learned that those clear eyes held more curiosity than harm. Although, curiosity could lead to harmful circumstances.

“Who’s the girl?”

You beated him to the punch. It was obvious that he needed advice on whoever it was that held his interest, you just weren’t sure you’d be much of help to him. In your relatively short life, you’ve never had someone pursue you romantically. It was unheard of, you being associated with a male, nevermind it being romantic or not. It wasn’t something you pondered a lot about, at least, not until last weekend due to a certain male who lived in your building.

“She’s in my music theory class. Senior, so you probably don’t know her.” A senior like himself, and also a music major, you deduce. “We got paired up to do a project together, but she’s…” Chanyeol trails off as he noticed the couple waving us down for their bill.

Chanyeol settled their check and bussed the table, and returned to your side all in less than five minutes. “So, I think she hates me. Actually, scratch that. I know she hates me, and I don’t understand why. I can’t read the girl, and it’s killing me.”

“Are you interested in her? Or just confused why a girl would reject you, the great Park Chanyeol?”

“Watch the tone, missy. I’m still older than you.”

“Well?” You pointed a brow at him.

Chanyeol thought for a while before deciding, “Well, she’s pretty. And smart. And she’s so talented-- that’s why I was so excited to work with her on the project! But then she got all frosty on me when I tried talking to her, and I’m confused.”

He truly looked perplexed by the girl in question behavior.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, honest and regretful. Chanyeol, though a huge dork once you got to know him, was very handsome. If this girl didn’t like Chanyeol, for whatever reason unbeknownst to you, you couldn’t help.

Chanyeol was a music major and joined you at Jubilant a year after you started working there. He was a quick learner and even quicker at becoming one of the best servers. He held an affable vibe to him that was contagious, to the point that you found yourself tossing remarks back and forth until you established the relationship that you had now.

“I’ll figure it out, some way or another,” he waved the matter aside. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re chirpy, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I said hi to you earlier and you replied.”

“Okay, I always say hi to you,” you retorted, hands on your hips in defense.

“No, you just wave at me like a fly’s in your face or just grunt. You’re chirpy,” he emphasized the last word obnoxiously.

“Shut up, Yeol.”

“What, so you got nothing for me? Not even after the juicy stuff I spilled for you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“Uh, rude.” He deadpanned.

You laughed. Chanyeol could be sassy when he wanted to, and he mostly was when he’s with you. You guessed you both brought out something within each other that you’ve never known existed.

You tried not to let your mind wander during the rest of your shift, in case Chanyeol grew more suspicious and interrogated you again.

Though you didn’t like the job, it forced you to speak, something you had troubles doing, to talk to people who were strangers and co-workers who were your friends. It was just unclear, to you at least, whether that friendship extended beyond the scope of the restaurant. You hated that empty feeling in your chest whenever you parted ways with Chanyeol, him going back to his endeavors of becoming a music producer and you...well, you didn’t know exactly what you were doing or where you were going. You majored in psychology, but only because it had seemed like it was interesting. Three years in and you were beginning to think that it wasn’t. But it’s too late to turn back, so you would have to learn to settle.

Fortunately(unfortunately), you don’t see Sehun for almost a whole week. It’s weird that before that night, you wouldn’t notice how often you wouldn’t crash into him in the hall or the mailroom. He was Sehun, your neighbor who has lived less than ten feet away from you for months, yet you don’t know a thing about him. Sehun, the man who was so disarmingly handsome that you now found yourself peeking corners to see if you had missed him by just a second, or making trips to the mailroom even though you had already collected them after school just to catch a glimpse of him. He became a phantom that was impossible to find.

Of course you knew where to find him, but it wasn’t like you had a purpose to seek him out or knock on his door. Plus, it wasn’t like one conversation with him as your bartender constituted him as a friend. You convinced yourself that it was best to just leave it at that.

The following Monday, you came back from school to a surprise. You hated surprises for reasons, but seeing Sehun standing in front of your door as you watched from behind, a tinge of eagerness sparked on your skin.

“Hi.”

Sehun, being so wrapped up in conjuring up the nerve to knock on your door, is startled shitless when he turns around to meet your questioning gaze.

“Did you need something, Sehun?” You asked.

Sehun shook his head, his eyes being hidden slightly from his falling bangs. He looked younger, less brooding, and you noticed that he was freshly showered and his fluffy locks proved your speculation. There’s a waft of aftershave as well, and a scent of freshness that you picked up. You were still debating whether you liked the smell of seaside breeze with earthy wood when Sehun responded with, “Have you eaten yet?”

You willed your hopes to simmer down, to not jump to a favorable conclusion. He’s not inviting you to eat with him, is he? Though a part of you, the part that finds Sehun’s attractiveness insatiable, hopes with every fiber of your being to be allowed the time to bask in his beauty, another part of you dreads having to expose just how utterly banal your person actually was.

“I have, actually,” you lied easily.

Sehun, you realize, was actually easier to read than you think. Since his countenance didn’t range very far from each one, it was easy to see the slightest change and the small flash of disappointment in his eyes made you regret your words, but you weren’t about to go back on your words now.

“How about later, then?” He asked.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on, maybe next time.” Your heart thundered uncomfortably in your chest as you rejected him again. You felt your resolve fading the longer he stood there, contemplating whether he should say more. It wasn’t like this when you talked to him last week, but then again, you also had a bit to drink.

Alas, Sehun agreed, quietly retreating back to his unit with a lighter chest. It was four pm, the perfect time to squeeze in a nap but as you stripped down and crawled into bed, you found it impossible to shut down. Thoughts of why Sehun had approached you and why he was so adamant on having a meal with you prevented any sleep to come to you.

Finally at quarter past six, you decided fuck it. Sehun opened the door, not surprised to see you-- he probably looked through the peephole, something you could never do because you could barely reach it.

“Still want to grab dinner?” You blurted.

Sehun quirked a semi-smile, and nodded. He stepped back into his apartment, to grab a jacket he tells you, and you got a glimpse of his living space. You couldn’t see much, not from the entrance, but what you could see was a charcoal grey L-shaped sofa, a very sizable television mounted on the wall. The other side was the kitchen, similar to your own unit except reversed in layout.

Sehun emerged from his room wearing a black hoodie with the word Russel across the chest and a circle of stars on one of the sleeves. “Let’s go.”

While Sehun seemed as cool as a cucumber, not minding the small fact that you randomly going out for dinner together wasn’t something random. He even whistled to an unknown tune, as if the crisp air was singing him a song and he was responding with one of his own. The keys in his pocket even played to the rhythm of his steps.

The best thing about living in the city was that almost everything was accessible on foot, especially places to eat. Even as the sun was setting and people should’ve been home, having dinner, there was a considerable amount of people on the streets, running errands or doing like you and Sehun and looking for a place to eat out.

“Where are we going?” You asked. It had barely occurred to you that there was no prior agreement on what to eat, let alone knowledge on what your preferences were.

“I was thinking soup, with noodles.” That sounded pleasant with the weather so you quickly agreed. “I know just the place then.”

You and Sehun walked by your usual diner, passed by a Japanese restaurant, a ramen place which you thought was the destination, but he continued on until you arrived at a specialized knife cut noodle soup restaurant.

A cozy, traditional style restaurant was not something you had imagined Sehun having in mind. It was the perfect ambiance to the blue hue that was morphing into black by the second just outside; a juxtaposition to the warmth that the earthy tones of the restaurant provided.

A nice middle-aged lady greeted you from where she stood across the room, serving a table of older men. Sehun held up two fingers to indicate a party of two, and she gestured to an empty table by the window.

It was silent as you perused the menu. It was a small selection but straight-to-the-point with all the flavors being relatively traditional. While you decide on what to get, Sehun seemed to have already known what to get from the minute he walked in so he began to set the table, placing a napkin from the dispenser and a pair of silver metal chopsticks and spoon on top. Much to your astonishment, he does the same for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, not forgetting your manners. He hummed in response.

“Have you decided?” He asked. You were debating between the chicken and the kimchi noodle soup.

“Hm...yeah, I’m ready.”

The same lady came by and jotted down your orders: Sehun ordered the perilla seed noodle soup while you chose the chicken. You both thanked her when she brought over two cups of water before slipping into silence. You busied yourself by finding interest in the streets. It was finally dark now, with the sun gone, the sky was painted in indigo. Unfortunately, the stars are barely visible under the city lights. In your old town, you would’ve been able to see all the stars, could’ve drawn out constellations if you set your mind to it.

“So,” Sehun started. It was so quiet that the sound of his voice caused you to jolt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized. “I think they put this in the wrong box.”

At this, Sehun presented an envelope you recognize all too well. The seal of NCF rested on the left corner, followed by your name and address. Your stomach gripped, the pain eliciting all the nerves in your body upfront with hairs standing stiff and tall. This was the reason he wanted to have dinner?

You tried to mask your surprise. “Maybe it’s another Y/N at the apartment,” you excused. Your voice was steady, leveled, more than you could say for your body which was quivering from inside out. You played it off as if you were shivering from the sudden gust of wind when a guest walked in.

Sehun shook his head. “I checked with Mr. Kim,” your kind albeit nosy landlord. “He insisted on passing it onto you, but I told him that I would be seeing you tonight.”

How does one learn the art of teleportation because at that moment, you wanted to disappear into thin air. You weren’t ready to face this.

“Hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m not asking any questions.” Sehun reassured you. If he noticed the sudden paleness in your face or breaths you were stifling, he didn’t comment on them.

Your food arrived, and you both ate in silence. The food, although smelled delightful, tasted bland on your tongue that was as heavy as lead. Not a soul in this city knew of your past, of your family background whatsoever. There was never any need for anyone to know that your mother died of cancer or that your father was doing time.

“How do you know Liah?”

You glanced up from the ground where your eyes had been fixed. Sehun and you had left the restaurant after the quiet meal, and were ambling back to the apartment. You were stunned, not because of the way her name fell off his lips so naturally, you reasoned, but because he’s decidedly inquiring about your relationship with Liah. You gave Sehun the cliff notes version of your story, sparing him the unnecessary drama that had ensued. It was all ancient history since Liah was no longer in your life.

Sehun listened as you recounted living at school with Liah, after which you considered asking him the same question back but couldn’t form the words. While you debated, Sehun does the unexpected and revealed, “Whatever you think you saw at the club last week, Liah and I aren’t a thing.”

There was a park along the way, but cutting through it made the trek longer. Despite that, Sehun gestured with a nod towards the pathway lighted by warm street lights that did almost nothing to illuminate the cracked pavement.

“We met that same night.”

Without him telling you that, you figured that Liah would be bold enough to make a move on Sehun on their first meeting. Liah was known to be your building’s playgirl, if you will. Word spread around that she had slept with just about every guy in the dorms; you wouldn’t put it past her that she has done it in your shared room but you can’t say for sure since she’s never done it while you were in.

Suddenly, there was a small pit of anger bubbling in you, the source of it being the memories of Liah tormenting you, but what fueled it, you don’t know. You felt your walls close in, and soon you were just plain annoyed.

You shrugged your shoulders while hugging the package to your chest like some anchor, letting it fall heavily under your neck. “It’s honestly none of my business, even if you were. A thing.” You didn’t really mean to sound so cold, detached, but you couldn’t help the ice from freezing through your words, rendering even yourself speechless at how foreign you sounded.

Sehun stayed quiet at that, shoving his hands further in his pockets.

“Listen,” you stopped in your tracks, making him stop as well before he turned to face you. “I’d appreciate it if you could just forget about this,” you held up the crumpled mail, “and maybe not associate me with Liah anymore. You probably have your reasons, and so do I, to ask you for this favor. It’ll be the one and only that I ask, so, please.”

Sehun didn’t answer for a while. His face was lax, void of any emotion, as he looked at your face. Thanking the poor lighting, you doubt he could see how red you were turning. Your heart raced faster with every beat until you were sure it would burst. Then, his face crumbled into a look of confusion and desperation. “I can’t figure you out, Y/N.”

It came out quicker than both of you would’ve expected when you shot back, “Then don’t.”

Sehun shifted his weight to the opposite leg, showing for a split second that your sharp words affected him. He struggled to say something back, and when he didn’t for a minute, you turned and continued walking back to the apartment.

The sigh Sehun released sounded of defeat laced with frustration before there was the sound of shoes scuffling as he jogged beside you.

“Bongsan Hospital,” Sehun started, “About four years ago, that’s where we first met, sort of.”

Bongsan Hospital was where your mother stayed during her chemotherapy. She was in and out of several facilities, getting treatment here and there, until finally in your second year of high school, she was admitted into Bongsan.You remember too many nights of sleeping on those god awful chairs they had. In the winters you’d bring a thick blanket for your mother and a small one for yourself. In the summer, you’d sit in the garden as you waited hours and hours for your mother to receive treatment.

“What? How? I thought you were from the city this whole time,” you hesitated, stopping again in your tracks.

“I am,” he answered vaguely, prompting you to raise a brow, asking for elaboration. “What? I grew up in the city.”

“Sehun, the hospital,” you deadpanned.

“My mother’s doctor referred her to Bongsan, said the air was better for the condition of her lungs,” he explained.

“Sehun, you are about the vaguest man on Earth.” You said impatiently. You hadn’t pegged Sehun to be a man of such tact, beating around the bush like a young boy hinting his mother for a new toy would do.

Sehun fought a smile from spreading across his face. “Do you remember a conversation that you had with a woman in the garden? She was painting when her palette was blown over by the wind?”

The wheels in your head turned and turned until you recalled the memory. You remember helping a woman who frequently painted in the hospital’s garden when her paint palette had blown away, which she graciously thanked you for doing. She complimented your floral dress which you had only worn because your mother said that she missed the times when you were younger and she’d dressed you up. “Like the princess you are,” she had said.

The next thing you remember was the woman asking if she could paint you, sitting on the verdant patch of land. What you don’t remember was a certain male being there.

“What about the woman? Was she your mother?” Sehun nodded, making a show of acknowledging your keen memory. “But why don’t I remember you?”

“Well, you ran away afterwards. I was only approaching when I heard my mom asking you to model for her,” he revealed, a fond smile gracing his lips. “You ran off so fast, you really don’t remember running into me?”

You did, after the fact of him mentioning it. However, you don’t recall ever speaking to the woman-- Sehun’s mom-- again after the incident, and you haven’t been back to Bongsan since your mom’s passing.

Which reminded you to ask Sehun, “How is she doing? Your mom.”

“Good, I think. I visit when I have time, but she doesn’t want me to see her ‘not in her best form’. Her words, not mine.” He said, grinning when he finally sees something other than a frown that you’ve been wearing since dinner.

It took a while but you both eventually made it back home. Sehun was fairly quiet the rest of the way home, and likewise you didn’t know what to say. It would be misleading to say that he was a gentleman and walked you to your door since he lived right across from you, but your heart stuttered at the fleeting idea nevertheless.

“I think I owe you an apology,” you said. “For walking off and for speaking so harshly.”

The smile Sehun gave you was affable, and dare you say adorable. “I think I can take whatever you throw my way, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but think that his words were meant for more meaning than one.

“Go on in,” he jerked his chin towards your apartment and you do so after offering him a closed lipped smile. “I’ll see you around,” he offered, leaving you the slightest chance to say otherwise.

That night, you dreamt of your mother, but unlike the many times she’s appeared in your dreams, this one didn’t leave you waking in cold sweat and screaming for her.

#exo scenarios #oh sehun #exo sehun #exo series #sehun fanfic #sehun scenarios #sehun fluff #sehun angst #angst #fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #exo angst #exo fanfic #sehun

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adultingautistic · 4 years ago

Note

I had an incident today with my dad that I was wondering if could possibly be an autism thing or if he was just super vague. He was bringing groceries in and asked me if I'd help and then walked out the door. I followed him to the car to help bring the groceries in, but when he saw me he asked me why I'd come outside. Apparently, he wanted me to put the groceries away, but he didn't say that and now I'm unsure if that was just generally unclear or if it would've made sense to an allistic person.

I can’t actually know, without having been there. The thing with allistics is, they don’t communicate by talking. They say that’s how they communicate, but they really communicate by:

Body Language

Facial Expression

TONE of voice (not the words, the tone)

Social expectation

Actual telepathy (that one is a joke but it sure feels like it)

SO, if an allistic says “Words words words words,” another allistic will just KNOW what they meant by their body language, facial expression, tone of voice, the social expectations of the moment, and so on.

Autistics ONLY hear the WORDS. We hear the actual words that were said. We MISS all the other stuff. This is why we’re bad at picking out sarcasm and jokes.

So, is it possible your dad communicated SO poorly that even another allistic wouldn’t have understood him? Entirely possible! But it’s ALSO possible that another allistic WOULD have “caught his drift”, and you didn’t.

It sounds like your dad wasn’t upset (I hope he wasn’t). In which case, it’s just your everyday miscommunication, happens to all humans (but to autistics more often), and there’s nothing to worry about. In fact miscommunication can be funny! Sitcoms make use of that all the time. So you can laugh and be like “Whoops I thought you wanted me to help you carry the bags, now we’re both outside, lol.”

If your dad WAS upset, then wait until he’s calmed down and ask him if next time, he can give you more verbal, clearer directions. Explain that you want to help, you just need him to be super clear about how he needs your help.

#actually autistic #actuallyautistic #communication

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 5 years ago

Text

Thine Enemy is Sweet (Part 9)

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

Harry Potter to Sue the Ministry with Ex-Death Eater Boyfriend?

Harry Potter, the Wizarding World hero, has a pension for Slytherin men it would seem. Last night, lead reporter for the Daily Prophet, two-time award-winning Journalist of the Century, Melanie Turner, spotted Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy out on a date in Hogsmeade.

Malfoy was adamant about suing the Ministry over a perceived slight against Potter. With the lack of integrity he possesses, one would not be surprised if he did. With the new policies and procedures the Ministry has in place, and their strict attitude towards change, Malfoy’s hatred for the Ministry shows his true character.

Reliable inside sources have given insight into the unlikely duo. The start of their relationship has not been revealed but they seem to be relatively comfortable with each other. Hands had groped, lips too loose and smiles far too happy to be anything but real were seen.

Potter has never been too bright, but some would wonder what he sees in Malfoy. Especially when one considers the type of disposition the latter has. Opposites attract, but we are all thinking the same thing; should they?

Will Potter sue the Ministry alongside his troubled boyfriend? How serious is their relationship and will it last? Neither Malfoy nor Potter was available for commentary so only time will tell.

More speculations on page 3

“Never been bright?” Harry scowled at the paper before he balled it up and threw it behind him on the floor. Turner was up there with Skeeter as his least favourite reporters. The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet had arrived together, both foreboding enough to make him paranoid. He wasn’t sure what to expect with Luna’s report but knowing her, it would surely be an experience.

Harry Potter Taken in by Burrowing Amares and Fallen in Love?

Reports have been made that Harry Potter, most sought after Chocolate Frog Card owner, has recently fallen in love. The sources cited in those reports is none other than the Quibbler’s very own Luna Lovegood, Quibbler Journalist of The Year six times running.

It’s unclear whether Burrowing Amares were spotted with the happy couple or not. Due to the nature of the energy they release into the atmosphere, the chances are high. The Ministry refuses to admit the validity of the intelligent creatures but their knowledge on the matter has been widely documented as sources inside the Department of Mysteries have alluded to over the years with subtle gestures and exaggerated winks.

What the Ministry refuses to admit is, unfortunately, a list that would be too long to report on. Dacken Malfoy can attest to that if the rumours are true.

Will the Ministry ever admit the existence of Burrowing Amares? Is the Minister a front for Muggle Aliens? Has Dacken fallen in love? What really is the cause of love outside emotional dependency?

Find out more on Page 5

Harry tried not to find it funny, he did, but, “Dacken.” Malfoy was not going to like that.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs had him leaning back in the kitchen chair to watch Malfoy enter the room.

“I’m going to kill Lovegood,” Malfoy grumbled, hair dishevelled, clothes the still mess from the night before. There was a red mark along his cheek, as if his hand had been pressed against his skin the whole night.

“Right after I kill this headache I have,” he finished with a yawn, arms stretched above his head. Harry was distracted by the way his hair stood up; it was almost like looking in a mirror.

“I don’t know, Dacken, I didn’t see anything wrong with the article.”

“I’ll kill you too.”

Harry didn’t doubt it, not with the way the temperature in the room spiked and Malfoy’s jaw tightened. It was chilling but way too amusing to back down.

“You don’t look that threatening to me, Malfoy.” He leaned forward across the table to where Malfoy was standing, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed.

“You’re lucky I need you,” Malfoy said as he plopped down on a chair with little to no grace. “Or I wouldn’t put up with you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

There was silence as Malfoy’s brows furrowed. “Why? Did we do something last night? I think I’d have remembered that, I remember everything else.” He cocked his head to the side and his forehead wrinkled. “My arse doesn’t hurt, so if we fucked you might need some Murtlap Essence, my girth can hurt.”

“No we didn’t—wait—Murtlap Essence? Just how big are you?”

“Ah, so we didn’t fuck.” Malfoy picked up the Daily Prophet, one side of his mouth quirked upward.

“No, really,” Harry pressed, far too curious for his own good. “How big—”

“You want to find out?” Malfoy peered over the top of the paper, eyes twinkling in a way that was new. “I can show you.”

“Erm,” Harry flushed as he looked down at the table.

“I promise I’ll bite.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“What saying?” Malfoy frowned. “I’m into biting.”

Harry snorted. “Oh, well in that case, no.”

Malfoy pointedly raised the paper until it covered his face in what Harry assumed was a silent snub.

“I hate Turner,” Malfoy grumbled before he began muttering too quietly for him to hear.

“I imagine a lot of people do.”

“I can’t believe I threatened to sue the Ministry.”

“It was very sweet of you,” Harry said with a straight face as Malfoy bent one side of the paper over to glare at him.

“You really do want to protect me,” finished Harry with fluttering lashes and a hand on his cheek.

“I will break up with you.”

“Draco—”

“Whoa,” Malfoy held up a hand before he stood up to rummage through Harry’s fridge. “We are not on a first-name basis.”

“You were the one who said you weren’t sure if I knew it.”

“Sarcasm, please learn the definition.”

When Malfoy shut the fridge with a grimace and settled on toast, Harry pushed away from the table and caged him against the wall.

“I know the definition,” Harry whispered, pleased to see the surprise on Malfoy’s face. “How could I not around you?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“That I never know what’s real with you.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed briefly before they widened in a way that made Harry uneasy. Hands slowly—far too slowly to not be calculated—trailed up Harry’s stomach up to his neck where they intertwined tightly.

“That’s the beauty of liars,” Malfoy leaned up till his lips were pressed against Harry’s ear. “The truth is often laid out, but no one can ever see it.”

“Which one of us is supposed to be the liar?”

“Oh,” Malfoy exhaled deeply, the sound almost delighted. “Now that’s interesting.”

A bite to his ear had Harry jerking forward in surprise.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes biting.”

The warning sound of his floo went off but Harry’s focus was solely on Malfoy. He tried not to think of what else Malfoy would bite.

“You can call me by my name when I get what I want.”

He knew it was bait, he did, but he couldn’t help but ask, “And what do you want, Malfoy?”

The slow creepy grin on Malfoy’s face and the way his arms tightened around Harry’s neck was concerning.

“I want what I deserve.” Malfoy tilted his head back, lips moving along Harry’s skin in the process. “I want more than I deserve. I want everything. I want it all.”

“I might—” He shivered when Malfoy nipped at his throat. “I might be the saviour, but I can’t get you all that.”

“Then don’t call me by name, Potter. That’s an intimacy you haven’t earned.”

“Earned,” Harry repeated, the sound far more breathless than he intended.

“You like earning things?” The grin he had previously turned into a smirk and Harry definitely regretted saying anything. “You like being good?”

Harry tilted his head away from Malfoy’s wandering lips. He wasn’t going to respond, nope, not happening.

“I think you’re already good.”

“Fuck.”

A low chuckle, more air than anything could be heard, and it had Harry closing his eyes. Fuck Malfoy.

“You like praise,” Malfoy stated confidently, as if it were a fact. “I can work with that.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “You will not.”

The creepy grin was back, and it was ominous in the way that Harry wanted nothing to do with it.

The whoosh of the floo had him turning his head only for Malfoy to grip his chin and force it back.

“Maybe I’ll have you begging for it,” Malfoy’s teeth scraped his bottom lip and he wasn’t sure if it was a tease or if it was on purpose. “Maybe on your knees, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, yes, he would. “No, I don’t—"

“Ah, fuck, not this shite again.”

The sound of Ron’s voice had Harry jumping slightly but he couldn’t move, not with the grip Malfoy had on him.

“Can you two do that elsewhere?”

“It’s my flat, Ron,” Harry said, eyes still on Malfoy as he tried to appear unaffected. The small quirk of Malfoy’s lips let him know he had failed.

“It’s not very hospitable,” Dean argued, and Harry knew that meant the rest of them were there too.

When Malfoy’s hands went lax, Harry was able to step back. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“What do you mean what are we doing here?” Neville asked as he sat on the couch, knees tucked underneath him.

“Where’s Finnigan?” Malfoy asked as he stepped beside Harry and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I told him we’d meet him at his house.” The satisfied smile on Neville’s face was enough to have Harry snorting.

The sound of the floo went off and out came a very frustrated Seamus.

“I want it to be known that I have the worst friends.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Ron asked, tone aghast. “We told you we’d meet here.”

“Liar,” Seamus pointed an accusatory finger at Ron before rounding on Neville. “I just know it was your idea.”

“It’s what you get for smoking my last batch of Belladonna leaves. You know how poisonous it is.”

Finnigan waved his hand back and forth. “I stippled most of that out.”

“That would still leave hallucinations,” Malfoy said. “Possibly leave you delirious too.”

“That’s the best part,” Seamus argued. “No one smokes Belladonna for their good health.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Ron interjected, frown on his face and hands on his hips. “Your last check-up was pants, I told you to lay off—”

“Oh Merlin,” Seamus groaned as he collapsed on top of Neville. “I didn’t come here for another lecture.”

“What did you come here for?”

Seamus lifted his head to stare at Harry incredulously. “What do you mean? You told us to come.”

“What? No, I didn’t—”

They all turned toward Malfoy with varying degrees of annoyance.

“Now that you are all here,” Malfoy clapped his hands together. “How about we continue with the plan?”

“You could have just sent your own Patronus and we’d still have showed up,” Dean said with a yawn as he too sat on Neville.

“Oi, get off me!”

“There’s no fun in that, Thomas.”

“Can we make it quick?” Ron asked as he checked the time. “I’ve got a nap scheduled in about a half-hour.”

“No.”

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m sure that will keep me up at night,” drawled Malfoy as he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“You know what’ll keep me up at night?” Seamus asked, still on top of Neville. “What the bloody hell are you wearing?”

Harry could feel the heat of Malfoy’s cheeks and he hated that it was endearing.

“My students helped style him.”

“Certainly looks like it.”

“I’ll have you know,” Malfoy sneered. “That bright colours are in this year.”

“Are they though?” Ron’s eyes were squinted, and doubt was all over his face.

“I’ll be sure to let my students know,” Harry said as he arched his brows. “They happen to adore Malfoy.”

“Did he confund them?”

“Finnigan, I will kill you.”

“Can we move this along?” Dean talked over whatever comeback Seamus came up with. “I don’t have any naps scheduled but I do have to be at the museum later.”

Harry cleared his throat when it looked like Malfoy wanted to keep arguing.

“Alright, Weasley, would you still happen to be a part of your wife’s Equality Movement?”

Ron narrowed his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, didn’t know you knew about it.”

“Every pureblood does,” Malfoy mumbled. “Usually, it’s made fun of in private.”

“Charming.”

“Your job for the party is recruitment.”

Ron looked around the room before he theatrically cleaned out his ears. “Pardon? You want me to recruit bigoted blood purists into an Equality Movement?”

“We both know no one will sign up for it.”

“Right, so why bother? Why waste my time?”

“You are a distraction,” Harry said with a little laugh. Malfoy was smart. “You get to harass them about their choices while we have the rest of you do something else.”

“Excellent,” Ron’s grin was bordering on a smirk and he almost worried for the people at the party.

“What about me?” Dean asked. “I can’t just be the person who brings in the painting.”

“I have something special for you, Thomas.”

“Oh God, why does that make me nervous?”

Malfoy pulled out his wand as he fished out a small box from his robe pocket. With a swish of the wand, the box expanded up to Harry’s thighs.

“What the hell is in that? It’s massive.”

“This is where I keep Bandit.”

“Bandit?” Neville asked warily as he clung to Seamus and Dean. “It sounds foreboding.”

The box required a key and Harry had to agree with Neville. What on earth needed to be locked in?

“Bandit isn’t as sweet as he looks, so don’t let him fool you.”

The warning had Harry taking several steps away.

“I keep him in here for his safety. The box is charmed on the inside, so no worries, he has all he needs.”

“But what exactly is he?”

Ron had his wand already raised and his other hand covering half of his face. Harry was tempted to pull out his wand too until Malfoy lifted a baby Niffler above his head.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Harry cooed. “I want to pet him.”

“No,” Malfoy moved Bandit away from Harry. “I wouldn’t advise that. He doesn’t like people to see him.”

“See him?” Dean asked, head barely peeking over the top of the couch. “What do you—”

Bandit’s whole body started to change, and Harry couldn’t help but walk closer to investigate. The brown of his fur started to lighten in colour until it was a pale white that blended in with the wall.

Malfoy lowered Bandit to his stomach, where he cradled the Niffler in his arms and they all watched Bandit shift colours to match the gaudy robes. If one didn’t know that Bandit was there, it would be hard to spot.

“I’ve never seen a Niffler like that,” Neville pushed Seamus and Dean off him to the floor. “What happened to him?”

“He’s a special breed,” Malfoy tightened his hold on Bandit and Harry could have sworn he heard a low purring. “I got him off a Magical Breeder.”

“Which is illegal,” Ron threw his hands in the air. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I saved him, okay?” Malfoy sneered “He was bred with a Fire Chameleon and no one wanted him.”

“With good reason,” Neville backed away towards Ron. “Fire Chameleon’s are outlawed in Europe.”

“Bandit only hurts people I tell him to.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Ron said, eyes on Malfoy’s arms. “Honestly it makes your case worse.”

A low whine left Bandit before a puff of fire left his mouth, a mouth that they couldn’t see.

“Ahh,” Dean was already on the floor, but the fire caused him to rush backwards so fast he got tangled in Ron’s legs.

“Oh, he’s hungry.”

“For what?” Seamus asked curiously from his spot on the ground.

“Same as all Nifflers,” Malfoy said slowly, as if Seamus was stupid. “Plants are his favourite.”

“I’ve got a little garden out back,” Harry said, trying to ignore the way Ron looked between them with narrowed eyes. “He can find something to eat out there.”

“You hear that, Bandit?” Malfoy whispered. “Food is outside.”

When Malfoy lowered Bandit to the ground, Dean let out a little whimper. Bandit changed to a light brown to match the hardwood floor before he zoomed to the back door where Harry opened it wandlessly.

“Hagrid would like him,” Harry mused. “Exactly the kind of animal he’d enjoy.”

“Oh really?” Malfoy asked, eyes a little brighter than before.

“That’s not a good thing,” Ron argued. “Any animal Hagrid is interested in, is one that should be kept at arm’s length.”

The light left Malfoy’s eyes and Harry kind of missed it.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with Bandit?” Dean asked, still on the ground and behind Ron’s legs. “And why me?”

“You, Thomas, are going to let him loose inside the party.”

“What?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“He’s a Fire Chameleon!”

“He’s kind of cute though,” Seamus said, eyes on where Bandit had left. “In a dangerous sort of way.”

“See,” Harry pointed at Ron. “Hagrid would say the same thing.”

“That’s not helping, Harry.”

“Shut up all of you,” Malfoy yelled. “Tell me something. If any of you sorry lot were Aurors, and we steal the ring, how easy is it to come up with suspects?”

“I almost became an Auror,” Ron grumbled.

“But,” Malfoy continued, ignoring Ron completely. “If everyone there is stolen from, there is no obvious target. No one will know that Astoria was our main mission.”

“Wait,” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want to steal from Greengrass in the first place and now you want us to steal from everyone.”

“They’ll get it back,” Malfoy shrugged. “Mostly.”

“What do you mean mostly?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, and do I get any of it?” Seamus asked curiously before Neville smacked him on the back of the head.

“Ow, you fucking—” Neville smacked him again and the two began pawing at each other. “I’m just saying, I’m not getting paid a whole lot and I could use—”

“No, Seamus,” Neville argued. “We aren’t keeping their shit.”

“I don’t like this,” Harry said. And he didn’t. It made him uncomfortable. Part of him still believed that if he talked to Greengrass, she might just give him the ring.

“Well, you are the one who wanted the ring back, you get to pay the price.”

Malfoy’s eyes were cold and familiar. They could talk about it later; he wasn’t done with the discussion at all.

“Can Bandit steal without anyone noticing?” Dean asked as he stood up. “People are going to notice a fire breathing Niffler.”

“Not with the Chameleon blood in him,” Malfoy shook his head. “He doesn’t like to be stared at, the chameleon part of him kicks in on instinct the moment he is uncomfortable.”

“That only covers one aspect,” Neville argued. “Does he have experience stealing?”

Malfoy’s lips twitched and Harry was already concerned. “He might come to work with me.”

“You steal from your patrons?” Seamus’ mouth parted.

“Only the ones that refuse to tip my girls and are less than polite.”

“That’s—”

“Illegal, yes I know,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve established by now that I’m not the best morally.”

“Have you ever had morals?”

Malfoy shot a stinging hex at Ron who yelped and rubbed his buttocks.

“Anyways,” Malfoy glared when Ron opened his mouth. “Bandit can do it and he can do it without getting caught. I’ve trained him to take more than just shiny things, he can wipe them clean.”

“Well, that’s just lovely. Remind me to never go to your club.”

“Who said you’d be allowed in Weasley? My club has standards.”

“Okay,” Harry held up his hands when Ron raised his wand. “That’s enough of that.”

“If Ron is the distraction, Seamus is the entertainment and Dean releases Bandit, what’s my job?”

“Ah,” Malfoy’s brows wiggled. “You, Longbottom, are very important.”

Harry rolled his eyes when Neville puffed out his chest.

“The Party Planner’s chosen Herbologist company has conveniently fallen through and they are in need of some plants.”

“How convenient?” Ron crossed his arms.

Malfoy’s nose scrunched up with how wide his smirk was. “I have my ways.”

“Merlin, you are scary,” Seamus mumbled. “It’s hot, but scary.”

“What kind of plants?” Neville’s thumb rubbed his chin. “I mainly grow plants used in potions and sell them to Apothecaries. I have my own personal greenhouses but not a whole lot for a party.”

“I want plants that stink.”

Ron’s forehead wrinkled and Seamus’ head tilted to the side as a silence broke out.

“What?” Neville snorted. “You want me to provide ones that smell?”

“The stronger the smell, the better.”

“The only plant I can think of that would smell bad enough is Witch’s Ganglion. It’s usually found in swamps. I have a few in stasis charms for the wealthier clients, the ones that refuse to travel to get it.”

“Perfect.”

One of Neville’s eyes was closed as his teeth sucked on his bottom lip. “The problem is the climate difference causes the bulb of the plant to wither. Without a stasis charm, the bulb of the plant will release fumes that are bad for the body.”

“I know,” Malfoy said, face emotionless and tone serious. “I need it.”

“You want to poison them?” Dean asked aghast.

Neville waved a hand back and forth. “The effects of the fumes are mild. Only repeated exposure is worrying. I’d say the worst anyone at the party gets is a headache.”

Headache. Harry frowned, something was niggling at the back of his mind, but he wasn’t quite getting it. When he looked up to see Malfoy’s eyes boring into him, he felt like he should know.

“Which is why I also want you to provide peppermint plants.”

“Oh,” Neville’s shoulders relaxed. “That will ease most of the effects of the plant.”

If the peppermint would counteract the Witch’s Ganglion, then why have either plants in the first place? Something else was happening, only Harry couldn’t figure it out. But the way Malfoy was still staring at him made him want to find out.

“That’s all I have for you today,” Malfoy said, eyes still on Harry. “Any questions? No? Good, now leave.”

“Actually,” Seamus piped up with a mouth full of whatever liquid he carries in his flask. “I still am not sure about what I’m supposed to do for the entertainment.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Malfoy shrugged. “Never said I would be.”

“Some master planner you are,” Seamus grumbled as he made his way to the floo. “I have to do everything around here.”

“Merlin help us if you ever plan anything,” Neville said, stepping behind Seamus in the fireplace.

“That hurts, Neville. I’ve never been anything but kind to you.”

“Ha! That’s—”

Whatever it was, Harry wouldn’t be able to hear it as the floo turned green and the two of them were gone.

“You coming, Ron?” Dean asked over his shoulder, hand holding some floo powder. “We can stop at yours first if you’d like.”

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“I’m going to go get Bandit,” Malfoy said with a curious glance towards Ron. “Be back in a minute.”

It wasn’t until the door shut behind Malfoy that Ron leaned against the fireplace and looked at Harry.

“Weird that Malfoy didn’t know you had a garden, huh?”

Harry looked at the ceiling as he debated what to do. He could admit the truth, but he didn’t want to hear the lecture, didn’t want to hear the reasons why it was all a bad idea.

“I spend a lot of nights at his place.”

“Do you?” Ron didn’t seem to buy it at all. “Not to mention Bandit came as a surprise to you.”

“Bandit is new, he would have told me eventually.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Is it supposed to?”

Ron huffed, head shaking and hands gripping his robes. “I’m trying to understand this; I am but it makes more sense that it’s all made up than to think you’d actually be with him.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s Malfoy.”

“Yeah, the same Malfoy who is my boyfriend, my partner.”

“I don’t want to be rude—”

“Really? Could have fooled me,” Harry closed his eyes as his fingers clenched. He didn’t want to argue with Ron. Not over Malfoy. Not when he was lying, not when the whole situation was a mess.

“You don’t know him, Ron. Perhaps that’s on me, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t question my choices.”

“You like him?” Ron asked seriously. “You truly like him?”

Harry looked at his feet as he thought about Malfoy. There was so much to Malfoy that he was wary of, so much that he didn’t trust. But there was a lot that was appealing, a lot that made him curious and made him stop to think.

Malfoy was a prick, an egotistical one who thought of himself first. But he was also a prick who offered to help Harry with funding, one who was kind to his students and wasn’t afraid to make a fool of himself around them. He was a prick who drunkenly declared to sue the Ministry on his behalf and one that kept smiling into his skin. Malfoy was a whole lot of contradictions. There was a lot Harry didn’t like but then there was—

“Yeah, I think I might.”

Harry jumped when he felt an arm circle his waist and his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. Fuck. Malfoy was never going to let it go.

“I think it’s time you go, Weasley.”

“Harry—”

“It’s alright,” Harry peered up at Ron. “I get it.” He could tell Ron wanted to say something, possibly even apologize but Ron glanced at Malfoy before throwing in floo powder.

Ron took all the noise with him and all that remained was silence. One that was stifling.

“So,” Malfoy began with way too much enjoyment. “I caught the end of that discussion.”

“Drop it.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Harry turned to look at Malfoy and a small squeak left Bandit the moment Harry looked at him too and now the Niffler was the exact shade of Malfoy’s robes.

“You like me?” Malfoy teased, a small quirk of lips drawing his attention.

“How do you know I wasn’t just saying that to get Ron off my back?”

“I don’t.” Malfoy began to pet Bandit and a small purr could be heard. “Could be both or neither for all I know.”

“And yet you are cocky already.”

“That’s me,” Malfoy’s brows wiggled. “Always cocky and confident.”

“You’re wrong, I don’t like you.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Malfoy’s eyes were bright.

“I don’t know if I care.”

Malfoy took a step forward and Harry tried not to be concerned about Bandit.

“Harry.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. “Why do you get to use my name, but I don’t get the same courtesy?”

“Do you want me to stop, Harry?” Malfoy grinned when Harry said nothing. Loud breathing could be heard, and he knew it was Bandit, the breath was hot on his arms, far too hot to be normal.

“We can do fair,” whispered Malfoy. “I’m not good at it, but if you don’t want me to, I’ll respect that.”

With Malfoy inching even closer, words were lost on him.

“Is that what you want?” Malfoy prompted. “You want me to stick to surnames?”

Did he?

“No,” Harry admitted. “I don’t.”

“Harry,” Malfoy breathed, eyelashes glittering in the sunlight.

“Stop that.”

“You like it.” A small smile accompanied the statement and Harry didn’t want it.

“Maybe.”

“I want to know what else you like.”

“Maybe you’ll have to earn it,” Harry repeated Malfoy’s words back to him. He had to look away from the knowing glint in Malfoy’s eyes.

“I think I just might do that,” Malfoy said before he shrunk Bandit’s box and put it away. “How about you come see me sometime at the club.”

Harry arched a brow. “You want to spend more time with me.”

“Maybe,” Malfoy shifted Bandit to his hip before making his way to the fireplace. “Or maybe I want to give you a private dance.”

Harry choked in surprise and all he heard was laughter as a flash of green signalled Malfoy’s departure.

What did he get himself into? And did he even want to get out?

---

Hello! It’s been a bit longer than I’d have liked but I am here bringing you a 5k word update so there :P The beautiful and amazing @snortinglaughter was my beta. I love her.

I hope you liked Bandit, he stole my heart the moment I thought of him and I just adore him to pieces

I’m hoping the tag list works just fine, I am just copying and pasting it over.

@biconpotter @ive-been-found @h2octopuppy @watermystic78 @its-soupin-time @a-couchpotato @meghansm @portiamarie02 @irishbeings @lilyinthebreeze @rumpixel @idgiedw @tommydarlin @dolewhipdreamer @trans-nik-sion @mistydeath @yourspookysoul @bubbleblower @renas @silver-mercurials @puffbts @jasmine-tw @victorieinthesmallthings @gens-venturia @unicornhair-core @orkedad @juju092118 @pilesofriles @drarryybabyy @sweetlialia @bughug1999 @thesimplethingsaresweet

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Fake Dating #Enemies Fake Dating #Ron Weasley #Neville Longbottom #Seamus Finnigan #Dean Thomas #Flirting

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fairlyspnfanfic · 5 years ago

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A New Start - Part Four

Part One Part Two Part Three

@vicmc624 @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93 @supernaturaladdictsblog

My ears were ringing. A loud, high-pitched tone that wouldn’t clear inundated my head. I blinked my eyes as they teared in response to the pain coming from the emerging bulb I could feel growing in the back of my skull.

“Ow,” I complained. I turned from the door I had reached for to see Smythe facing me, a craze in his eyes I had seen many times before.

“I said stay away from the door, Agent.” He raised his hand again and I had just enough presence of mind to notice the metallic knuckles wrapped around his hand. Instinctively, my hand raised up and my fingers curled around his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh. I saw the wince of pain on his face and took it as a small victory.

“Now Sean,” my tone took on a thick air of sarcasm. “It’s a very serious matter, assaulting a federal agent.” He curled his lips and revealed his teeth which were clenched shut, grinding against one another as he brought his free arm back, his fist ready and poised for a punch. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

My right leg came up swiftly, finding it’s mark in the center of his chest as I released his wrist and watched him fall back landing hard on the floor. As my kick landed, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of the air leaving his lungs and the fabric of my skirt tearing. I stood up straight and placed my hand on the back of my head, examining the size of the knot that was now there. “Damnit, Smythe. I liked that skirt.”

Sean was pushing himself up off the floor, and his eyes were glaring at me as if they could burn straight through my body. I grabbed for my gun at the small of my back and aimed it at his head, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “Sit,” I said, stressing the word as I pointed the barrel of the gun towards the chair next to him. I reached into the inside pocket of my blazer and grabbed the silver handcuffs that rested there and made my way over to him.

I locked one cuff around his wrist. “Hear me when I say this.” I grabbed his other wrist and pulled him to his feet as his protests of pain accompanied my words. “You move a muscle, and I will not hesitate to shoot you. You run, I shoot. You fight, I shoot. You piss me off in any way, I shoot. Do you get the theme here?” He was completely silent. I pulled him over to the decorative Ionian column that marked the path between the living and dining rooms and pulled his uncuffed arm to one side and the cuffed hand to the other. The lock of the cuff caught as I tightened both sides around his wrists.

“Well, no sizzling, no burning. Silver’s not going to do it on whatever you are.” I walked back over to the door I had been attempting to open and turned the handle. The smell of body odor and sewage washed over me immediately, gagging me causing me to recoil for a moment before I could collect myself and press on. There was a stairway leading down into a dark and dank basement. My feet found each step as I made my way down. I could hear feet scurrying and hushed voices panicking as I continued my slow descent.

“No!” Smythe screamed. I dropped my head, exasperated as I walked back towards him.

“What part of ‘I shoot you’ was unclear?” I muttered under my breath as I raised my gun into the air and brought it down swift and hard against the side of his head. His eyes fluttered shut as he slumped over into unconsciousness.

I looked down at my torn and now fraying skirt. Great. The damage was irreparable. A fissure in the fabric starting at the seam and splitting off and up my thigh, to a point that had I not been on a job at present, I would have been immensely uncomfortable. But as it was, I had work to do.

My descent down the stairway was slow and calculated as my nose was accosted by the still foul smell wafting up at me. Gun raised, eyes alert, one step at a time. At the base of the stairs was a light switch on the wall that I knew would be needed. It was pitch black and no matter how I tried, my eyes failed to adjust. I reached for my cellphone, shining its light at the floor and hoping it would be enough illumination to guide me without giving away too much.

“Hello?” a little voice peeped from across the room. “Shut up!” another small voice answered. Children’s voices? I quickly flicked the switch, turning the lights on in the room. It was the standard creepy unfinished basement. Complete with exposed wooden 2x4’s and unpainted drywall forming walls to rooms that had been planned by never finished.

“Who is she?”

“It’s not him?”

“I’m so hungry.”

“Are we safe?”

“You’re not Mr. Daddy.”

Little voices rang out as at least a dozen children starred at me, their eyes wide, terrified and seemingly starved. I instantly recognized them. Each from a separate poster in the files I had gone through earlier in the day.

“Oh my God.” I quickly tucked my gun back into my waistband. “You’re okay, it’s all okay now.” I glanced around the room. There were two large buckets in the corner with flies buzzing around them. I didn’t need to guess at their contents after seeing the puddle surrounding one and the trail of soiled paper at the rim of the other. These poor children. “Let’s get you all out of here, okay?”

I walked quickly around the entire room, ensuring that each and every child there left with me. “Where are we going?” one of the boys asked.

“I’m going to take you all back to your homes. Back where you’ll be safe. We just have to get upstairs, okay? I need you all to stay with me and do exactly as I say.” They each nodded. “Stay behind me but keep following me, okay? Until I say otherwise.” I reached back again for my gun and held it in front of me, ready to go. We all climbed the stairs together. Once at the top, I motioned for them to wait.

I peaked out and glanced over to make sure Smythe was still knocked out. He still sat slumped over next to the column I’d cuffed him to. I cocked my head towards the kids but kept my eyes on him as I whispered.

“Walk quickly but quietly. We’re going out the front door so we need to go now, okay? Keep me between you and him. Go. Now.”

They went, their movements quick but sloppy. They were malnourished and some of them seemed to be more fatigued than they were scared.

The smallest of them, a young boy who looked about nine, began to lag behind, his attention focused on Smythe.

“Come on,” an older girl mouthed, tugging on his arm. I walked up behind the boy as I watched the rest of the children, all but him, step out through the doorway and onto the front stoop into safety. Smythe was just beginning to stir. In one swift moment, I bent down, wrapping my warm around the child and picking him up, and ran for the door as Smythe’s eyes popped open, taking in the view of his escaped captives and me, their rescuer, fleeing his home.

His guttural screams filled the house as the front door slammed behind me. I tucked my gun away again and pulled out my phone, dialing Detective Stehlen’s number.

“Stehlen here.” His voice no longer held the smarmy confidence of our first meeting.

“Stehlen, it’s Agent Stark. You’re going to need to get some ambulances and the whole team to me now.”

I gave him the address and hung up after a brief explanation of what to expect upon his arrival. I ushered the kids as far from the house as possible just as the detective pulled up. His brand-new black Charger with the police lights and sirens going seemed to grant the kids a bit of comfort. He stepped out of his vehicle and his eyes went wide with shock. “How?” he asked as I sat the boy I was still holding in the backseat.

“I looked.” I could hear the ambulance sirens coming.

“Stehlen, you’re going to take this win, do you hear me?” His shock turned into absolute confusion.

“There’s way too much to explain. Suffice it to say that you’re the hero on this one, okay? I was never here. I didn’t help. You cracked the case. Just you. Got it?” He answered with a slow confused nod. “Get them all home.”

His confused nods continued as I walked away. “Stark,” he shouted. “You’re going to have to explain this to me, you know.” I waved him off and continued walking to my car as I listened to the children begin to tell him that the bad man was inside. I pulled away just in time to see four ambulances pull up.

- - - - - -

I had gotten home just in time to change for work and put in a double shift. I wrapped up and made my way into the apartment again about fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come on in, B. Door’s unlocked.” I answered assumedly. It was only ever one person knocking at my door at this hour.

I was wrist deep in a bowl of ground turkey, mixing in as many spices as I could to get it to make a burger that tasted like beef and not poultry. The door clicked open behind me.

“Hey, I’m just making turkey burgers and salad for dinner quick before I head to bed. It’s been a day. Want to join me?”

“As propositions go, I’ve heard better lines,” a familiar voice rang out. “But what the hell. Never could say no to you, could I?”

I dropped the meat into the bowl instantly and turned around, reminding myself to breathe. My eyes locked with his. Still pierce-my-very-soul green.

“Dean.” I breathed out.

“We need to talk.”

Part 5

#dean x reader #reader insert #spn imagines #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #reader requests #fairlyspnfanfic #out of my hands #buried sorrows #a new start #decisions in the distraction #broken promises #bad moon rising #oneshots

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pinkrae · 6 years ago

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Can’t fake love || Chapter 5

The calm before the storm

--- Previous

“Oh, so that’s why Damian was all over the news, caught by the journalists with a pretty lady by his side.” Diana couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle, although, in the back of her head, she knew that this was a serious matter.

Of course, it was nothing unusual to have a Wayne pop up somewhere in the news every now and then. But it wasn’t, well, ever that Damian would bring so much attention to himself by bringing a girl with him on several occasions.

“I’ll have to admit, even though it was all fake, they sure knew how to make it seem very real.” She smiled a little at the woman on the opposite side of the table.

“I’m certain there was a spark of realness to it somewhere. They definitely became closer.” Kory smiled back at her, but her features soon changed to more concerned ones. “Which is why they’ve been worried for each other. They won’t admit it of course. But”-- she sighed and leaned back in her chair-- “dealing with someone this serious was beyond our expectations.”

Diana hummed at her words and nodded in thought. “I can imagine. It seems very… not very Circe-like too. You know? I mean, killing humans… couples, yes. She has a thing for playing with people’s feelings. But to go after very famous people and risk all the exposure? There has to be something more behind it.”

“I agree. But what could that possibly be?” Kory spoke and sipped on her coffee. It was a good thing they’d agreed to meet at this small outdoor cafe. There were too many people walking by for anyone to really hear or care what they were talking about, so they could be at ease. “We had one run-in with her and we didn’t exactly get anything out of her.”

“Well, it’s not said that she’s working alone.”

“You think there might be someone else behind the curtain?”

“Possibly. Especially if that someone promises her more powerful magic.” Diana thought for a moment. “Or she could’ve just found new ways to gain more power. But we won’t know until we find her.”

“We’ll keep looking.” Kory nodded.

“I’ll help.” Her phone lit up with an SOS message on it and Diana knew she’d have to cut this conversation short. “And that’s my cue.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “Good luck. And stay safe.”

“Thank you.” Kory stood up as well and gave the other a smile. “Oh and Diana--?”

“This stays between us?” Diana asked, as if already knowing what Kory had wanted to say. Receiving a nod from her after a short moment of surprise, she smiled but her eyes expressed seriousness. “Until we find out just how serious this is.”

“You’ve been avoiding everyone.” A sudden voice emerged from the bushes.

“Yeah it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re up in my face all the time.” A snarky response followed and the figure stepped out into the light. But Raven didn’t even bother to open her eyes.

“We’re trying to help you, Raven.” Damian frowned at the clear disregard of his presence.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Then why are you--”

“You’re really ruining my meditation, Damian.” Raven opened an eye only enough to give him a glare.

“You wouldn’t be meditating so much if something wasn’t wrong.”

“And you know so much about me, don’t you?”

“I know enough to pick up on the blatant sarcasm and displeasure of my presence.” He said matter-of-factly and she couldn’t help but groan at that. Finally opening her eyes fully, she looked up to him with a frown on her face that was hidden underneath her hood.

It still hurt to look at him. And she didn’t even understand why. But she was angry at him. She didn’t want to see him, hear him or be anywhere near him. Still, here they were. Staring at each other, expecting the other to say something.

“Raven”-- suddenly his features softened and he sat down in front of her, crossing his legs the same way she had-- “I feel like we have things we need to talk about.”

Damian Wayne?! Talk about things?! A sincere heart to heart?! It seemed so ridiculous to her that she barely held herself from laughing. Instead, she drew a long breath and forced a smile. “We really don’t. Unless you’re talking about what happened with Circe, to which I’ve already said multiple times - I. Don’t. Remember.”

“Which is also not true.”

“What--”

“Because if it was, Kory wouldn’t be sneaking around and bringing you books like this,” Damian spoke and pressed a button on his wristwatch that showed a hologram of several pictures of books with titles like Binding Magic, Demonic possession and Art of Summoning on the cover.

“You’ve been snooping around in my room?” Now she was really getting angry.

“You have been lying to us and I want to know why.” And as much as she wanted to say something against it, she really had no excuse. None that would satisfy him, anyway. So she stayed quiet and only kept a glare focused on him. Though she knew she had to say something eventually.

“So what, you’re going to interrogate me now?”

“We’re a team, Raven. We shouldn’t be keeping things like this from one another. You know full well where secrets have lead us in the past.”

“You’re right.” She responded almost too quickly. “I may have been getting my memories back gradually. However. Kory and I agreed not to create unnecessary alarm before we knew what was going on.”

“And do you?”

“Not fully. Some things are still foggy and unclear.” Raven sighed and her body eased up. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was actually refreshing to talk to someone. Especially Damian, who she’d gotten closer to over the past few weeks. Sure, they’d been close before already, but it had never felt the way it did when they went on their fake dates. And, honestly, she missed that.

Damian had also been going out of his way to try to get her to talking. She noticed his efforts, but dealing with whatever Circe did to her and her own hurt feelings stopped her from responding to it, really. This was the first time he’d actually caught her before she ran off. And he was glad he did. He’d gotten so used to working closely with her on this case that it just felt… empty without her around. And it frustrated him. Not the fact that he wanted to be around her. But the fact that he had to admit it to himself that it was her. That it was someone who made him feel the way he did.

“So what do you know and why the books?” He finally asked in a soft tone of voice and shifted to sit next to her.

“It’s… hard to explain.”

��Try me.” He said dead-serious. “You explained it to Kory, didn’t you?” Raven knew he was right. But it still didn’t come easy to her, even with Kory. Just finding the right words was hard for her.

“From what I’ve gathered,” she started, taking a deep breath, “Circe has been pulling demons out of hell and making them possess human bodies so she could bind them to herself.”

“Bind demon possessed humans? What kind of sick fantasy is that?”

“Demons are powerful creatures, Damian.” She scowled. “She could do a great deal of damage with a whole army of them.”

“So what? She tried to control you too?” He asked almost in disbelief that someone could ever even think of doing something so foolish. Raven was no demon to be controlled. But the look on her face that she gave him spoke differently and he realized that there was indeed someone who’d thought it was a good idea. “Hence the books.” Damian concluded with a nod, more to himself.

“Hence my meditation as well. I’ve been trying to keep a clear head. To keep her out of it.” She frowned slightly and pulled down the hood of her cloak to look at Damian. “I hate to admit it, but”-- a nervous chuckle left her lips-- “I’m… scared.”

It was the first time she’d said it out loud to anyone. Even herself. Up until now she fought to be strong and not think about the possible negative outcomes. To keep her head clear. But now that she was talking with Damian, these feelings just… came out. She didn’t understand why or how, but it was so easy to just lay it out there when she was with him. Even if he rarely ever did the same with her.

And it was true. Damian wasn’t one for words. Everyone knew he was more of a doer than a talker. And this trait of his reflected well now when he simply put his hand over hers, making her jump slightly as her face turned red.

“We’ll figure it out.” He said nonchalantly, completely ignoring the baffled look she was giving him.

“Damian, we’re not”-- her eyes glanced down at their hands-- “You don’t have to do that anym--”

“Let me.” He quickly requested firmly, but with softness in his voice and a serious look on his face even if his cheeks were rosy. “I haven’t been able to do this in a while.”

Hearing this made her heart skip a beat. “So, what-- You like to hold my hand?”

“I’ve… grown accustomed to it.” Damian tried to make it sound like it was no big deal. But Raven knew better and she couldn’t help but grin.

“Is it not a requirement anymore?” She teased him only for him to gently squeeze her hand and look at her with a shut up look on his face. Releasing a content sigh, she intertwined their fingers and shifted closer to him to gently lean against him. “You’re still a jerk for saying those things.”

“And you’re still an idiot for running off like that.”

They both let out a laugh.

--- Next chapter already available here

#this was my favorite chapter to write so far #i'm really happy with it #so i hope you enjoy it too!#{{ 👋 written by me }}#can't fake love #damirae #robrae #damian wayne #raven #fanfiction #fanfic

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mynameisdreartblog · 5 years ago

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Devilish Deals 3

Libra: Offered cool-ass, hellfire bullets. On my route to work, there’s several things I always remark a subtle difference of change in whenever I pass them by: The color of this single window that portrays a lovely dining room scene, the angle the traffic lights hang at, and the name engraved on a rather fancy mausoleum to long-dead celebrity. I can’t tell if I was endowed with a foresight to detect the incredibly subtle, or if it’s an involved process like deciphering anagrams. Regardless, certain messages have been changing to be something that corresponded with recent events within my life. Two years ago, a supply that was supposed to arrive at six in the afternoon was late by another six hours: I checked outside the coordinates they gave me, and I ran only to find out that the site was abandoned. The truck was still there, but it was torn nearly in two and the books were gone. Witnesses had nothing to say before casting their attention to darker corners, alluding that something had happened here that they didn’t want to tell me. [,] The morning after, I passed by that window and it was tinted an irradiated yellow that reflected just enough sunlight for you to avoid seeing what’s behind it. Then, I passed by the traffic lights and they hung at an unusual angle that was 30° facing north from where they’re positioned normally: Not only this, the second light was duller and quite hard to make out. Finally, the mausoleum located in the bottom-right corner of the local cemetery said that it was honoring Yisrael Katz, who — last time I checked — was still alive somewhat. I was passing by the first two attempting to avoid how they were calling to me until I got to the last sign: At that point, I had to ask someone. So, I got off my horse and approached a gravedigger in the cemetery… But he refused to look towards me and instead to arbitrary corners: Indicating that someone was there I couldn’t sense. Suddenly, I was back on my horse towards my workplace as usual. […] Later I was approached by crossing guards who took their duty very seriously, though the ones that stopped me didn’t wear brightly colored vests and actively carried military weaponry. That was something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, so I forgot all about the paranormal disturbances from earlier and I continued on with my day… that was until today where the crossing guards weren’t carrying assault rifles. [,] «Cool, that’s… actually quite interesting. Spare me another story will you?» Heh, and here I was expecting the same old sarcasm from you.

Cancer: In a bus. It was a cold, drowsy morning: One that told you God listened to too much loud music and it started giving him early symptoms of tinnitus. Here, we zoom into a quiet corner of the Patagonian landscape into a somewhat isolated townscape that’s aching with the fog that surrounds it: Even the dry plateaus felt misty this morning. In the center of this village, the statue of Blessed Whoever stood as unquestionably incompetently as you’d expect, decorated with the linings of bird defecation. From its mighty stone finger pointing eastward, there could be seen a low-end shopping center that served as the fourth quadrant that made up the village square. All was quaint except for two villagers having a troublesome argument near the fountain. There’s nothing else for us to do here as eavesdroppers from inside the walls, — the one they just so happened to lean on when they began to fuss — so we’ll take whatever information we can receive from the outside. [,] Peer into a life you were never meant to understand and ask yourself questions: Why are they arguing? Are the typical, emotionally logical reasons why it’s occurring, or is it strange, esoteric reasons? What’s the tone of voice being used by each party? Are they pious people or secular snakes? Is it about the, uh, family business? […] We’ve been eavesdropping for so long that the sun has turned a noticeable fifteen degrees in the sky. And for as much as the sun had turned, the conversation had turned for the worse. Both of the voices were becoming louder and more parched as the subject matter shifted from academic performance to finances. Each party is becoming more thoroughly stubborn in their assessments. It seems that it’s in our interests that no compromise is reached if we’re continued to lay near this building and pretend we’re only homeless in the moment. You lived long enough to know that getting too far up one’s own ass is a very real thing, and you’re aware of the epiphanic powers that one’s inner self holds in how the reconsiderations never leave the space where the self feels trapped oftentimes by their own causation. We’ve spent long enough invading privacy; let’s leave, Kokin: We’ve done enough amoral narration for now. […] Oh, I meant this literally; I have no idea why you thought I was talking about arrogance when I mentioned shoving one’s head up their own ass.

Virgo: By dancing for them. Like the band Paramore (whose recent work was pretty good; I don’t know why so many think it’s lackluster just because it’s not traditionally punk), we must complete an arbitrary number of world-records to the tune of a new power-pop track. <Bluma turns toward the crowd of unamused city-folk gathered around her rather dignified soapbox.> I see you must’ve all come here for a reason, and we mustn’t disappoint. <A small coughing can be heard in the back of the crowd, and another person reacts with disgust over the cougher not covering their mouth with their shoulder.> Before we perform, we must list all of the feasible, previously uncontested world records that we’ll attempt to perform today. Refer to the whiteboard above me, read it, and understand the potential records as its followed so you don’t become confused during the process. <The whiteboard is shown, and all the records are written in a dried, green marker that makes the text hard to read.> [,] For those who still can’t grasp it, I’ll read them out: 1. The highest stacking of Starbursts. 2. The fastest time to teach a child how to comprehend Baudrillardian thought. 3. The farthest-reaching skipping stone. 4. The most amount of ding-dong-ditches in the span of six hours. 5… <Those of the audience who wanted to see some action left as they became bored through the persistent listing, adding to Bluma’s plan.> [,] Now, those of you with the proper faith left to trust us, we’ll be performing in T-minus sixty seconds. I’m Bluma, and this is my band: Gamerghazi. «Wait, was this supposed to be a concert? I thought it was just a demonstration.» <Bluma drops down from her soapbox and kicks it into the crowd, indirectly hitting the one who asked that question.> Well, actually, it’s not really a musical band: It’s an unclear organization of people that doesn’t fit into any neat category, so I just call it a band for simplicity’s sake. I named it Gamerghazi after an existing indie band from Canada. <The questioner, now on the ground, responds> «Oh okay, that’s neat.» […] <While in the midst of completing the second record, Bluma triggers a supernatural event> In that moment of silence that broke everything — and broke more world records for me than any of those Guinness books I stole in my childhood — I felt like I was in a space of reality completely tailored towards who I’ve become to be over this quarter of a lifetime. There was a serenity that I somehow knew wasn’t meant to be there, and had to come at the cost of removing the presence of others to restore a sense of balance. It’s as if all of those years of listening to the powerful anthems of contemporary pop music — that which was calling for world domination via style alone — made all the sense in the world to me. <Bluma awakes to find out that she’s been accused of faking the first record by using non-traditional flavors of Starburst.>

Sagittarius: For some job experience. I forgot what time this took place… It seems to have shifted so much, and I feel like someone can live on the same planet that I do but be a hundred years ahead in terms of how quickly than can coordinate action. There’s someone out there who’s an exact pinpoint reflection of myself and the path of life I’m tracing out, and that almost everything about them is identical to myself, yet having such varying differences in how they merely comprehend knowledge. They’re probably some sorta silicone-based lifeform, and they probably have a civilization that chose to etch its language into a more insane physical material through a process I can’t even begin to imagine… Might be that they live in a solar system the same as ours, only that they inhabit a slightly modified version in which Venus became the most hospitable place for life. They likely would’ve inhabited Ishtar and had a funny accent compared to those on the island of Tellus, but they’re too self-conscious to admit they have their own funny way of pronouncing Lakshmi words. «Let me guess, you’re projecting your desire for exploration on fictional worlds again, aren’t you?» <The atmosphere of the scene is settled in with the intrusion of Swayo’s words make their case. The exposed comfort of the campfire lights the entire scene, and Rossouw lowers their flask of gin. It was a far call from the nakedness of the AC back at home-base: Something that she had to finally accept as her new home and pass on by as if she’s never had a concept of stable living.> I feel like too much time has passed between your friendly intrusion and my monologue, but please, sit down and gaze further with me. [,] It’s not often that I engage in these; I generally despise sit-downs that I didn’t form myself because I’m paranoid that they’re gonna attempt to redirect me rather then the preferred: That I redirect them. But, I’ll make an exception for you because you broke my focus, and that warrants the punishment of getting to know me. «Uh, I just wanted to ask about your shirt.» Then why the comments from earlier? I was gonna make this at least somewhat heartfelt and now you’re just proving my point that any glimpse of peace I can have is just ripped away by people who didn’t even mean it, God. <The fire begins to die and the gin in Rossouw’s bottle begins to reach its last drops. The wind that feels like an AC returns at the small sense of comfort she had began to dissipate into usual expectations. It was a close call to the nakedness of the AC back at home-base.> [,] I’m gonna pretend you didn’t interrupt me... You’ve seen it on the news, and you’ve heard it in stories of abduction, sometimes we’re just granted with biological technology around us that grants us something that pushes us “ahead” in certain areas. «Where did you get that shirt, though?» I feel like too much time has passed… in general. I hope my otherworldly self has a home.

#Zodiaccupuncture #Zodipunc #Libra #Cancer #Virgo #Sagittarius

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