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daydreamingintheimpalax · 4 years ago

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Unexpected

Prompt: “what happened to your clothes?” “I think i’m falling in love with you.” “I think ive always known, deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.”

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat detailed sex scene, iunno not much really.

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, i had this idea and thought it’d be a fun read. Enjoy :)

Dean sat on your bed, mindlessly watching and waiting as you hid in your closet, dress after dress, skirt after skirt flying out, one almost hitting him in the face. He caught it mid air before tossing it down next to him.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, its just a few drinks at the bar, Max already knows you, you dont need to impress him, he already likes you.” Dean spoke, watching as you popped out from your closet, three different shirts in your hands.

Dean was your best friend, you had met him and Sam as a child, your fathers had been hunting partners for a few years, always leaving you and the boys at bobby’s to cause trouble for the old man. You could still hear bobby’s voice sometimes, demanding Dean stop influencing you with his schemes.

His buddy Max had run into him at the bar last week while you guys had stopped in during a hunt and they had caught up for hours, you had connected with Max off the bat, and when he’d asked you out, you were skeptical, see deep down you always knew Dean was your guy, your never ending crush on him had turned into deeper feelings years ago, you tried to deny it for years, and definitely never told him, but when Dean had convinced you to give it a shot, go out on ONE date with a guy he knew and liked, you gave in, never being able to say no to him, i mean, to be fair you hadn’t been with a man in over 2 years and you could use a night out, maybe even some quality time in bed with a good looking guy, plus, Dean trusted him, and that was enough.

“Dean, i haven’t been out with a guy in 2 years, i’m not going out with a guy looking like a swamp monster, first dates are everything, and looking your best can make or break the date.” You huffed, holding out a shirt to him for an opinion, he shook his head, grimacing.

“First, you never look like a swamp monster, you’re stunning no matter what, you hardly have to work at that, secondly, that’s an old ratty tshirt you stole from me, really?” He pointed at it, now realizing he was right, why the hell you were even suggesting this. It was time to pull out the big guns. You sighed, hiding back into your closet, you had to have something date worthy.

Dean had popped away, grabbing himself a beer, giving himself a break from outfit advice. You were his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see you happy, even if it meant trusting Max to take you out on a date. It was one date, it’s not like he was stealing you away forever. He had always had a soft spot for you, you were his first kiss as a kid and he’d looked out for you ever since, and even though he trusted Max, seeing you get all worked up over a guy that wasn’t him still didn’t settle well with him, but he shoved his feelings down and tried to be as supportive as he could.

He walked back into your room, realizing you were finally working on your makeup, you were slightly bent over your bathroom sink, reaching closer to the mirror as you did your eyeliner, truth be told, he loved when you did that black wing thing, it enhanced your big E/C eyes and drove him nuts everytime. He looked you over, realizing what you finally had chosen to put on, a shorter than he’d like black leather mini skirt, a matching leather shirt thing that looked similar to a bra more than anything. He cleared his throat.

“What happened to your clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You finish your eyeliner before walking past him, fetching lipstick out of your little makeup bag before making your way back to your bathroom, “What do you mean? Theyre fine.” You spoke, applying your lipstick as he piped up.

“I mean like, where’s the rest of it?” he sassed and you rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “It’s not that bad is it? It’s literally all i can find that isn’t covered in holes, old blood or stained monster guts.” You looked down at yourself, smoothing out your skirt. Dean cleared his throat as he eyed you properly, trying hard to calm his way out of a boner.

“Uh, no, no i’m just teasing, you look incredible.” He smiled, nodding, you shoot him a innocent smile, “Better, Winchester. Much better, right answer.” You shoot him a small wink and he chuckles. He had come a long way on talking to women because of her, she helped him realize as a teenager and a young man that he didn’t need to be vulgar or gross to pick up women and he’d learned a long time ago thanks to her that chivarly was key.

He watched as she put on her coat, Max waiting by the door to take her out, she gave him a little wave as she told him not to wait up, she’d be fine.

“Be safe, have fun.” He smiled as she walked out the door, his internal groan coming out of his mouth and he kicked himself for being too scared to ever make a move himself. He’d liked her since they were teenagers, but he was too stubborn to do anything, his fathers voice telling him hunter relationships never worked.

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The night had been a blast so far, you and Max were having a great time chatting, dancing and enjoying each others company at the bar, he was sweet, nice and had a good view on life and hunting. He told you entertaning stories, some even involved moments he and Dean shared as young teenagers hunting together, being boys and trying to get girls, Max pranking Dean. They had a good friendship and you were happy Dean had someone besides you and Sam he could pal around with.

You had moved to his truck a while ago, the mix of alcohol and pure need affecting you both as you made out like teenagers, the windows began steaming up, it was an unusually warm evening in lebanon and you were thankful you wore this outfit or would have soaked right through it from the heat.

His hand moved freely on your thigh and you straddled him, his back against the backseat of his pick up with you on his lap, dry humping him like some silly teenage girl who hadn’t had sex yet, you made the first move, desperate to feel a mans touch, it had been so long.

You yank your top off, nothing but some nipple covers to cover your exposed breasts, Max lets out a soft moan, “Beautiful,” he mumbles while he kisses softly around your skin, he slowly peels off the covers off you and his mouth lands on your nipple and you let out a louder Moan than you want to but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

Before you know it, your both down to nothing but your underwear, you reach down and pull down his boxers, reaching a hand in and grabbing him and placing him at your entrance, you’re already so turned on you don’t need foreplay tonight, not when you’re this sexually frustrated.

You sink down on him slowly, and you both moan out, yours comes out as more of a shout, and you begin to move, slowly at first before changing into a soft but faster bounce, he’s making sounds, you know that for fact but you’re so distracted by the feeling of pure pleasure you haven’t felt in so long you aren’t even fully aware of what’s happening, you let out a shout, and before you know what’s happening, it all suddenly just stops.

You come back to reality and notice Max has pushed you off, he’s pulling his pants back on and avoiding your eye. Oh for fuck sakes, you haven’t even came close to your release and Dean set you up with a 2 minute one pump chump. You were going to kick his ass.

“What’s wrong? are you done already?” you ask, his looks at you, letting out an exasperated huff before licking his lips and shaking his head. “I’m sorry Y/n, i don’t think this is going to work out, besides, you shouldn’t really sleep with a guy if you’re not going to rememember his name.” He scolds, glaring at you before he shoves his shirt on and climbs out the back, you put your skirt and shirt back on, deciding to skip the panties all together.

“Hey! I do remember your name, it’s Max, i’m not stupid!” You yell at him, angry now that he would even suggest that. Max turns to you, glaring, “Oh yeah, then next time maybe you should try screaming my name out and not Dean’s, jesus christ y/n, if you want him that bad just go fuck him, i doubt he’ll say no!” He shouts and you stand frozen.

“What? Dean?, i didn’t...I don’t-” you stutter, he cuts you off. “It’s kind of obvious y/n, you screamed his name for a reason, you obviously have lingering feelings for him, and im not going to be your pitty fuck.” He sighs, he ushers you into the passenger seat, offering to drive you home in what is the most uncomfortabe, quiet, embrassing drive home ever.

You slam the bunker door closed, worst date ever. You make your way past Dean and Sam in the library as you try your hardest to avoid them, especially Dean, you were embarassed enough, you didn’t need to face him right now, and you sure as hell hoped Max kept his mouth shut about it too.

“Y/N? That you? “ You hear Dean call out but you avoid answering, flying past them to your room before slamming the door shut.

Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“I guess the date didn’t go well then.” Sam speaks out, looking over at Dean. He shrugs, before getting up and walking towards your room

He knocks on the door softly, “Y/n, you okay? did Max do something cause if he did i’ll beat the living crap outta him.” He calls out, he can hear your sniffle, he sighs, before softly opening your door. You’re cuddled up in bed, watching your favorite episode of golden girls as you cry softly. He sighs and heads over, sitting on your bed.

“Bad date?” He asks and you shrug, “Something like that.” He gives you a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, i just wanna forget it.” You speak, he notices you never meet his eye. He nods and agrees to leave it alone, he joins you quietly, watching tv with you but giving you your space. When you finally fall asleep, he goes to bed himself, but not before shooting Max a text.

“Whatever the fuck you did man, she’s upset, and if i find out you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

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It’s two weeks later when things finally come out, you haven’t spoken to Max since that night of your date. The bar is busier than usual, a few more college kids then there usually is but it is spring break, most of them are probably home for the much needed time away from school work.

Dean is at the pool tables, hussling some airhead jock out of pool money. You watch and laugh when he heads over to you, cash in hand.

“Ha ha, stupid brainless jocks. Always so much fun seeing how much of daddy’s money i can get out of them.” He chuckles, setting the money back in his pocket. You roll your eyes but smile. Why did you put up with this dork.

Before you know it, someone is calling out for Dean. “Yo, Dean!” You both turn to spot Max, waving Dean over for a game. You swallow, nervous that the details of your date will come out, you still weren’t fully over it, and you dreaded Dean ever finding out, he’d never let you live it down and he really didn’t need a bigger ego. Luckily Max hadn’t noticed you yet.

Dean motions he’ll play one round and be right back and you try to give him a smile, dreading this inside. Just don’t ask him about the date, you interally tell him, even though he’s long gone and can’t hear it.

You sip your drink, asking for another one and you try to keep your cool at those two being in the same room all of a sudden.

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One game had turned into 4 and before you knew it, the two guys had captured a crowd, some betting on Max and some on Dean. It was becoming a friendly competition between the two boys.

“Aw come on Max, don’t be a sore loser, i’m sure you can come back from that.” Dean teases, watching as Max lines up his next shot.

“Easy for you to say Winchester, tell me, do you ever get sick of being a pompous prick?” Max winks at him and Dean smiles, “Eh, Sometimes, but then i remember how fun it is to watch you lose and its all worth it.” Dean chuckles, Max suddenly isn’t in a joking mood and he shoots, it goes in, he gets a few more and Dean’s actually surprised.

“Not bad, man. You’re getting better.” Dean smirks, “Still no match for me though, i always win.” Dean leans in, takes a shot and gets his last three balls in, He lines up with the 8 ball, looks up at Max, and smirks, then his eyes find you, sitting behind Max a few tables down and he shoots you a wink, before sinking in his ball. Game over.

Max turns around, realizing who Dean winked at, he turns back around, slamming his pool stick down. “Good game, I’m done, guess you won Dean, you got the money, and the one girl i’ve liked in a really long time, guess you always do win, huh?” He spits out, a bitter tinge to his voice. He scoffs and walks away.

Dean’s suddenly confused, what the hell was he talking about. He looks over at you, you’re watching the television over the bar, no clue what had just happened, he follows Max outside catching him before he reaches his truck.

“Hey! I didn’t get anything, if this is about y/n, you screwed that up on your own, okay? I had nothing to do with that!” Dean shouts. Max laughs and turns to face him. “Oh bullshit Dee, you have everything to do with it!” He sneers, “I really liked her man, she was cool, but like always, Dean Winchester always gets the girl!” He scoffs, making Dean frown, confused.

“Y/n isn’t mine! she’s my friend, whatever you did to piss her off on your date was your problem, she didn’t tell me what you did but if you wanted her that bad, you had the chance to fix it!”

“REALLY DEE? Tell me, how the fuck would you fix the girl you like screaming your best friends name in bed when shes with you? Huh? How the fuck do i fix her thinkng about you while she’s fucking me?” He swallows, “Man, forget it, you wouldn’t understand, god forbid that ever happened to you.” He spits, before he’s in his truck, driving away. Dean’s still standing there, more confused than ever.

He finally makes it back inside, his eyes roaming around for you. He finds you in the same spot, the female bar tender chatting with you and making you laugh. Your eyes find him, beckoning him over and he moves.

He finally reaches you and you smile, “I got you another beer. How did the game go? You disappeared.” You ask, and he stares at you, he finally pipes up, and your heart sinks. Oh no. Please no.

“Max seemed very upset when he saw you, what happened on your date again? Why didn’t you ever go out with him again?” He asks, you take a sip of your beer and shrug. “I dunno, he wasn’t my type, just didn’t work out.” You bite your lip, hoping to god he lets this go, you don’t need to relive that embarassing moment.

He nods, taking a drink of his own beer, “Okay, so he just wasn’t your type, that’s all? It had nothing to do with you screaming my name in the middle of sex?” He calmly points out and you nearly choke on your beer, spitting beer across the bar table, everyone close by stares at you, you turn red, apologizing and grabbing napkins to clean up your mess.

You turn and face Dean, “He fucking told you!” Dean raises an eyebrow, “In a not so nice way, so it’s true? You really did?” He smirks and you bury your face in your hands, “Oh god...” You call out and when you look back up Dean’s cheesy grin is staring back at you, “Actually, apparently it’s Oh Dean.”

You throw a nice solid punch into his shoulder before you run out of the bar, “Y/n...y/n wait!” Dean calls out but you’re already half way across the bar and out the door. He throws down some cash and chases after you, catching you half way down the road.

“Y/n...” He calls out, “Just leave me alone Dean, i knew you would use this against me, i knew it. You’re a jerk.” You wipe away a tear, he finally reaches you and grabs your arm, turning you to face him.

“Hey, i didn’t mean to upset you, i’m sorry, i just, i was surprised, that’s all.” He sighs, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought Max was the one who hurt you or something.” He speaks softly and you sniffle.

“it’s embarassing, i didn’t even know i did it, i was so into it and then he just stopped, for a second i thought he’d already, you know, i was disappointed then we got into an argument about it and he took me home.” You shrugged.

Dean nodded, he was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, revealing something that made even you question if you were drunk.

“I uh, i guess i wasn’t expecting to hear that, and i guess i got a little excited cause iunno i just, i think i’m falling in love with you, and when Max told me i just uh, i guess i was hopeful that maybe it meant you felt the same.” He swallows before going quiet, watching your reaction carefully.

You nodded, frowning as you realised you weren’t dreaming, Dean loved you, Dean Winchester loved you.

“I think i’ve always known, Deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” You shrug, “Every since we shared our first kiss, i think part of me has loved you ever since.” You smile, finally meeting Dean’s eyes, the grin on his face tells you all you need to know, this man is crazy about you, always has been.

“oh yeah?” He smiles, reaching out to grab you, you chuckle, leaning up and placing a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, what can i say, you’re just my type.” You smirk and Dean laughs.

“Well then, why don’t we get back home and i’ll give you a real reason to scream my name.” He smirks, leaning down quite a bit to place wet warm kisses along your exposed neck.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You roll your eyes, he meets them and a sexy grin appears on his face.

“Not a chance.”

#Dean x Reader #Dean winchester x Reader

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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Angel (Pt. 4)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Slight jealousy, some making out. Swearing. It’s long. Seriously.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

Forty-five minutes later, I was all dolled up and in a cab on the way to the house where the after party was being held. Now that the situation with Harry was resolved, I was free to relax and fully enjoy my accomplishment. I had been working toward becoming a Victoria’s Secret Angel since I was eleven years old, and now, eleven years later, I finally was.

Giddy with excitement, I pulled out my phone to text Harry and tell him that I was close. He replied almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for me.

‘Good. I’ll be out back by the pool.’

I nodded to myself and put my phone away since the cab was pulling up to the house. Thanking and paying the cabbie, I stepped out. My stomach filled with nervous excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the bustling house.

It was a modern two story with large windows that allowed me to see the party in full swing inside. Music could be heard thumping at the windows, and people could be seen walking around and mingling. I caught sight of Elsa on the second floor, looking out the window at the city, and waved when she saw me. Her face split into a wide smile, to which I smiled back, and she motioned for me to meet her downstairs. Nodding at her enthusiastically, I made my way to the large front door.

The music was louder inside, the deep bass thumping through my heart immediately. I smiled and waved at a few of the girls and other people I knew as my eyes searched for Elsa. It didn’t take me long to find her quickly descending the stairs, eyes searching for me.

“Elsa!” I called when I spotted her.

She squealed and rushed to pull me into a hug, “Y/N, you made it!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm and returned her hug, “Ya, sorry I’m late. I had something I needed to take care of.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling back to look at me, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh ya, it just took a while,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Good, now let’s get you a drink.”

Elsa kept me close to her side for the next hour, insisting on getting some alcohol in me and taking me to see the other girls. Every time I tried to break away, telling her I was supposed to be meeting someone, she protested and demanded that I stayed with her a little longer. Knowing how she could get when she drank and not wanting to upset my best friend out of the girls, I stayed. But time was ticking and I knew Harry had to be wondering where I was, if he was still waiting at all.

Finally Elsa became engrossed in a conversation with some photographer, and I was able to slip away. I knew she wouldn’t miss me so I didn’t feel bad about ditching her, especially since I had Harry waiting for me.

I moved quickly through the crowd in the house, making my way out to the pool. The view caused me to pause in my search for just a moment, insisting that I take in the lights in the trees and the fields in the valley below. Shaking it off before I could get too sucked in, I searched the crowd for my childhood love.

There was a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth set up to one side of the pool. A large crowd was dancing, and I briefly wondered how all these people got invited before moving my attention the the couched and chairs around the pool. Some groups were smaller than others, and there were even some people in the pool, but I couldn’t find Harry anywhere.

Sighing, I moved closer to the dance floor, hoping that he was over there. After a few moments of scanning the crowd, I was about ready to give up when I spotted his soft brown curls.

I realized that the reason I hadn’t been able to see him before was because he was laying down on one of the couches that had its back to me. Now, I saw that his head was on the lap of one of his band members, the woman who had played the drums. In fact he was surrounded by women, models to be precise. I rolled my eyes at how the young women leaned forward and ogled him as he spoke. Harry just basked in the attention, the exact same attention whore he had been since we were younger.

As Harry laughed, pushing himself up and out of his bandmate’s lap, I considered turning around, going back to Elsa, and getting black-out drunk. Harry was the same as he’d always been. He had always loved attention, especially the attention of pretty women, and right now, he had the attention of a lot of pretty women. I honestly didn’t know how I could compete with that, and I was jealous. I was now willing to admit that I was jealous of the attention he gave those women because I still loved him, and because of that, I didn’t want to be sober anymore.

Just as I was about to turn around and go drown myself in a bottle of vodka, Harry caught site of me. His entire face lit up, granting me with a large, genuinely happy smile and a view of his dimples. Looking away only briefly, he made a quick excuse to his group and in turn earned a knowing smile from his bandmate. Then he was pushing himself up and practically bounding over to me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart melting at his enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy, so happy to see his person after a long day away. I realized that I was that person he was so excited to see, but refused to think about what that meant.

“Angel, you finally made it!” Harry called over the music, engulfing me in a giant hug as soon as he reached me.

“Hey, Harry,” I laughed, hugging him back.

I could feel the eyes of the models Harry had just left watching us as we stayed connected a few seconds longer than appropriate, but I didn’t care. Harry’s hugs had always been my favorite. He held you so close and secure, you just couldn’t help but feel safe. His hug brought out all of the feelings I was never good at hiding and didn’t want to deny anymore.

All too soon Harry squeezed me tighter then released me, pulling back to look me over. He whistled lowly and appreciatively at what he saw.

“Damn,” he swore, biting his lip, “you look gorgeous.”

I blushed a little but smiled. Alessandra and Elsa had helped me pick this dress months ago when I was first told I’d be walking as an official Angel, wings and all. I was worried that it was too much, but they both insisted that I looked amazing and this was the perfect place to wear it. Now, seeing Harry’s face, I was glad I did.

The dress was essentially simple, all tight black material clinging to my curves and stopping mid thigh. The stunning part was the neckline. A black collar twisted around my neck then parted at my chest, remaining open in a deep V that stopped just above my belly button. A harness shaped chain of crystals held the two sides closed and wrapped around my shoulders to drape delicately down the open back. At first I was self-conscious about putting so much skin on display, but considering I had just walked a globally broadcasted fashion show in nothing but lingerie and heels, I decided it really didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” I answered, giving Harry the same inspection he gave me, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He took a step back and did a little spin so I could see his outfit fully, making me laugh. He was wearing fitted black jeans and an open black suit jacket. Underneath was a loose fitting sky blue shirt with little white flower-like symbols on it. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving his smooth skin and a simple silver cross on display. When he moved, the swallows on his chest played peek-a-boo through the opening. His short hair sat as messy chocolate curls, a perfectly styled mess. All in all, he looked every bit the heart throb we both knew he truly was.

“Thanks, angel,” he grinned.

“Of course, but that sure is a lot of skin on display tonight, Mr. Styles,” I teased, trigging on the lapel of his jacket.

Harry laughed, dimples on full display, “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get cold wearing this dress in December?”

I shrugged, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “No. I figured if I got cold it’d be easy enough to find a man willing to lend me his jacket.”

“You’re not wrong there, love,” He said, glancing around, “you’ve already got them all starin’.”

I rolled my eyes internally, knowing full well that this wasn’t even the most revealing outfit here. It was obvious to me that Harry was jealous, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me kind of giddy. Seeing Harry again and resolving our past was bringing up feelings I’d been burying since I saw pictures of him and Taylor Swift for the first time. I had missed him and all the fun we’d had together. I was scared to admit it, but I hoped that the way he was acting, his choice to release that song, meant that he missed me too. Most of all, I hoped he wanted me back too.

Deciding that teasing Harry was fun, and that I wanted to see more of his jealous side, I looked around, “Really, you think so? ‘Cause I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, and I wouldn’t mind finding a cute one.”

“Well I might know of a pretty cute guy who’s been looking for an Angel,” Harry hummed, pulling me against his chest.

“Ya?” I grinned as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, “Ya, and right now he’d like to ask that Angel to dance.”

“I don’t know,” I teased, “if it’s who I think it is, this Angel might not want to dance with him.”

“And why the hell not?” Harry asked, pulling away in mock offense.

I grinned at him, disconnecting myself and preparing to run, “Because if I remember correctly, he’s not a very good dancer, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

He growled and lunged after me, but I just laughed and took off running toward the house the best I could in six inch heels. Harry caught me in no time, picking me up from behind and spinning me around. I squealed and giggled, drawing attention to us but not caring. Harry growled again, nipping at my ear as he carried me toward the dance floor. I laughed again, stilling in his arms so he didn’t accidentally drip me as he walked.

“We’ll see about me being a bad dancer,” Harry growled, placing me down on the edge of the dance floor and spinning me around to face him.

I chuckled as I stumbled against him, “Whatever you say Mr. Styles.”

Turning back around, I pressed my back against him front. I took a second to listen to the music, letting the heavy bass take root in my heart, before I started moving against him. The music guided my hips, prompting me to roll and dip with the beats. Harry stood behind me, stunned for a few moments, but quickly recovered and placed his hands on my hips. Matching the movement of his hips to mine, he danced with me. With a smile on my face, I slid my hand up to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, pressing a kiss there. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of Harry dancing against me.

It had been a long time since I had danced with Harry. The last time was when I was 17, the same night we slept together for the first time. He had rented out the club with his bandmates and thrown a party. I tagged along with my brother, hoping to blow off some steam after a hard week, but never expecting that my crush would tell me he liked me back. I wore some skimpy shorts and a top, typical club attire, and Harry was pissed. He didn’t like all of the male attention I was getting, especially since a lot of it was coming from his bandmates. So when I moved to the dance floor and started dancing, he followed me.

That night Harry was quick to press against me, immediately matching my moves and whispering in my ear that I was asking for trouble. I just turned around and asked him how I could get into trouble with him always around to protect me. After that we danced for hours, and at the end of the night he kissed me and told me he’d been waiting to do that for years. I went home with him for the first time after that, and even knowing everything that happened after, I’d do it again in a heart beat.

“So,” Harry spoke up, pulling at my side to get me to turn around to face him, “still think I’m a bad dancer?”

I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “No, I never did. I was just teasing you.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed, pulling me even closer, “You always were a tease.”

I shrugged, “Your reactions are funny.”

“Hmmm, you think so, angel?” Harry hummed, leaning down to press his forehead against mine.

The music changed, playing the first slower song I’d heard since arriving. I didn’t recognize it, but it was obvious that Harry did because he smiled down at me. I realized why a few moments later when his voice drifted through the air. Rolling my eyes at his obvious pleasure over them playing his song, I allowed him to sway us to the beat. We danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to the words of his song. It was soft and sad, but still good. I began to realize that I had been missing out by not listening to his album before.

“What’s the song about?” I asked, propping my chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him.

“This one?” he asked as he looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “What other song would I be talking about?”

He shrugged and returned my smile, “I don’t know what goes on in your crazy mind.”

I rolled my eyes again and nudged him, “So what’s it about?”

“Just drifting apart from an old girlfriend,: he answered with a sheepish smile.

I frowned, beginning to get suspicious of his avoidance of the question. Why didn’t he want me to know who it was about?

“Which one?” I asked, pulling back to look at him better.

Harry averted his eyes but answered, “Taylor.”

I made a face, old feelings of jealousy and resentment rising to the surface. I loved Taylor Swift’s music, and I thought she was an amazing person, but thinking about Harry’s relationship with her still upset me. She was, after all, the woman I thought he left me for. She was definitely a sore subject. Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from his arms and moved off the dance floor.

“Angel? Where are you going?” Harry asked, following close behind me.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I answered as I made my way to the back door, “I’d rather get a drink.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, but I wan’t going to lie to you.”

Turning back over my shoulder, I shot him a small smile, “I know, Harry. It’s ok, I just need a drink.”

“Well, then let me get my angel a drink,” Harry said, taking my hand and moving in front to lead me to the kitchen.

After weaving through the crowd in the interior of the house, we made it to the kitchen. Harry didn’t ask what I wanted, but went ahead and made me a Malibu and Sprite.

“You remembered,” I laughed as I took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he said, leaning on the counter beside me, “It was the only thing that didn’t make you gag.”

I shrugged, no longer ashamed by my intolerance for the taste of alcohol, “It’s not my fault alcohol tastes so bad.”

Harry chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call of my name from behind us. We turned to find one of my fellow Angels in the doorway, a large smile on her pretty face.

“Hey Romee,” I said, turning my body to face her more fully, “what’s up?”

She held her empty cup as she moved further into the kitchen, “Just needed a refill.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as I watched her mix a drink. Romee was a relatively new Angel too, having been added just two years before me, but we weren’t close. Ever since I had been announced as the newest Angel she had been cordial, but somewhat cold. I had tried to show her that I wasn’t there to replace her, but it didn’t matter, we would never be friends.

“So,” Romee said after taking a sip of her freshly made drink, “are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I fought the urge to role my eyes, unsurprised by her request. It was no secret that I grew up with Harry, and it would be obvious to anyone who had seen us together tonight that we were close. It was also obvious that Harry was a very handsome, very eligible young man, so of course Romee wanted the chance to properly flirt with him.

“Harry, this is Romee Strijd,” I said, “and Romee, this is Harry Styles.”

Romee smiled as she extended her hand out to Harry, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, love,” Harry answered, giving her a charming smile as he bowed slightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Wow, what a gentleman. Where have you been all night?”

This time I did roll my eyes, taking a giant swig of my drink as Harry answered, “Oh you know, just looking for an angel.”

Romee smirked, taking a step forward so she could rest her hand on his chest, “Well lucky you, you found one.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest, flooding my body with heat and urging me to grab that bitch by the hair and haul her away from my man. But then Harry shot me a look over her shoulder that calmed me down. His eyes were playful, telling me that he knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“You’re right,” Harry said, smiling and stepping around her so he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, “and she’s right here.”

A smug smile slipped onto my features as Harry pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and Romee’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I see,” Romee said, her features relaxing into an obviously fake smile, “you’ve stumbled across the newest addition to our ranks.”

“I wouldn’t say stumbled, more like finally found what I’ve been searching for,” Harry answered without taking his eyes off of me.

I smiled up at him and laughed when Romee just huffed and walked away.

Harry made a face at me, “Oops, did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged and turned so that I could wrap both hands around his waste, “I don’t care. The look on her face was worth it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to bump his nose against mine, “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

I scrunched my nose up and nodded. It was great to see him chose me over Romee. It was even better to hear that he had been searching for me. He may have thought I’d given up on him, but he hadn’t given up on me.

“So,” I started, my tone teasing, “you’ve been searching for me?”

Harry blushed but didn’t deny it, instead closing to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from its place back behind my ear.

When he didn’t answer, I chose to keep teasing him, “So what is it about me exactly that you’ve missed enough to search for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Definitely not how much you love teasing me.”

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his chest with my hand, “You like it when I tease. It means I’m giving you attention.”

“I guess that is true,” he conceded with a smile.

“You still haven’t answered.”

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, let’s see. Your smile…” He paused to trace my lips with his thumb, “your laugh…” This time he tickled my sides, causing me to giggle, “your voice…” He paused again, a smirk tugging at his lips, distracting me from the path his hands were taking, “your ass.”

With that he smacked my ass causing me to screech out his name. He just laughed, letting me slip out of his arms as I pushed away.

“Harry Styles,” I said, hands on my hips and a stern expression on my face, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, still smirking as he took a step toward me, “Just answering your question, angel.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, “I was giving you the opportunity to be sweet but you ruined it.”

“C’m on angel, you know I’m just a dirty boy at heart,” he said innocently, still advancing toward me, “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. I knew from experience that we were treading in dangerous waters, and keeping our distance was probably the best option. Unfortunately for me, the kitchen didn’t agree, and the next time Harry took a step forward, my back made contact with the other counter.

“Shit,” I breathed as Harry crowded into my space, securing his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re mine now,” he growled playfully, face only a hair’s width away from mine.

“Oh ya?” I asked, my eyes glued to his lips, “and what are you going to do with me?”

“‘m gonna kiss you,” he breathed.

He waited only a second to make sure I wasn’t going to protest before closing the distance between us. Our lips crashed together, each of us pouring years of pent up emotions into the kiss. Without missing a beat, I opened my mouth for him as I ran my hands up his chest to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry moaned lowly when I gave a sharp tug, chasing me to grin into the kiss. This only spurred him on more, as he pushed himself against me harder and deepened the kiss.

I moaned when Harry bit my lip, and he responded by grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the counter. My legs parted for him naturally as he slotted himself between them. Now that I could feel his hardening member pressed up against me, I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering down. Panting against Harry’s lips, I stroked his clothed member once before gripping it tightly. He moaned again, this time louder than before, stoking the fire inside me. Matching his moan with a small whimper of my own, my hands scrambled for the button of his pants.

“Angel,” Harry moaned, his voice sounding pained.

“Harry,” I answered back with determination as my fingers finally managed to pop open his button.

“Angel, wait,” he said more forcefully this time, covering my hands with his own and stopping me from unzipping his zipper.”

“Why?” I whine, still trying to accomplish my goal.

Harry chuckled lowly but didn’t move his hands, “Angel, we can’t do this here.”

Frowning, I looked up at him with pouty eyes, “Why not?”

“Y/N,” he raised a brow and took a step back, “I really don’t think you want to risk someone walking in on us.”

With that minuscule distance, the lustful haze lifted from my mind just enough for me to remember where we were. My eyes widened comically and I cursed, causing Harry to laugh.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, buttoning his pants.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked you in the kitchen of a house where there are at least a hundred people partying,” I blinked, still a little dazed from that kiss.

“Me neither,” Harry said, clearly amused as he helped me down from the counter and covered me while I fixed my dress, “I would never expect such deviant behavior from my angel.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest, now fully back to reality, “Shut up! It’s not my fault I got carried away. I haven’t been fucked in five years.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stopped, eyes wide at my admission, “You haven’t had sex in five years?”

I blushed, but nodded, “Not since the last time with you.”

“Why not?”

I blushed even harder, “No one ever came close enough to you to catch my attention.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a smug expression, gathering me back into his arms.

I rolled my eyes, “Well that and the fact that I was always too busy to really look.”

“Well it sounds like you, my angel, are in need of a good fucking.”

I scrunched up my nose at his crude way of putting it, but didn’t bother denying it. Instead I said, “Think you could help me out with that?”

Harry grinned, lust lighting up his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #x reader #x y/n #ex!harry styles #ex!harry styles x reader #reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader smut #angel #part 4 #multipart #resolved angst

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i-need-entertainment · 4 years ago

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Sweet Home Hyogo: Chapter 4 THAT is a Fine looking man right there

Chapter 3-Chapter 5

“Y/N!!” With a scared gasp Y/n sat up in her bed, practically sprinting out from under the covers due to the fight-or-flight response her mother’s arrival had activated. Y/n let her now tensed muscles relax as one hand clutched her heart and the other her head, shaking her head in disapproval at the enthusiastic woman standing in her doorway. “Mom what the heck! You could have killed me.” Her mother simply waved her off and tugged her out of bed, allowing the young female to regain her footing before fixing her hair and lightly pushing her towards her dresser.

“As much as I appreciate the heartfelt wake up, why are you in such a rush?” Mrs. L/n placed her hands on her hips and looked at her only daughter. “You missy hafta get ready ASAP. I’ve got somethin’ I need ya to do for me.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she squinted her eyes accusingly at her mother. Hesitantly she looked at her, arms coming up to cross across her chest. “What exactly Is ‘something’ mom?” Mrs. L/n rolled her eyes at her hesitation, “I need you to deliver some bread to Yumie.” Oh. OH- “Yumie as in…”

Mrs. L/n’s eyes once again met the back of her eyelids as she continued ushering Y/n around the room, the young woman getting ready as she was. “Yes, Yumie as in yer mother-in-law. I dunno why yer so surprised, should ‘a known I’d make you see her when I saw ya were back.” Y/n felt the nervousness arise in her stomach as she got dressed and did her hair and such. It wasn’t that she disliked her mother-but-really-grandmother-in-law at all! She loved Yumie like her own grandmother! It was just, Yumie had been very upset when she learned about her and Shinsuke, heartbroken actually, and knowing why she was here was something Y/n would like to stay under wraps.

After having the basket of baked goods shoved in her hands and being practically thrown out the front door, Y/n’s mother speedily drove Y/n to the Kita residence, booking it down the street once Y/n was on the front porch step. Y/n took a few deep breaths before squaring her shoulders and knocking. After softly knocking a few times, she took a small step back, hands interlocking in front of her. Just as she was about to knock again she heard the elder’s small footsteps.

The door opened and Y/n could see the ever so sweet and smiling face of the elder she loved dearly. Yumie let out a slight gasp as she pulled Y/n down into a tight hug. “Y/n dear! How are you?” Y/n smiled as she hugged her back. “I’m good, granny. How are you doing? You look great.” (She will also call her granny cause it makes ~sense~) Granny released Y/n from her arms as she stepped aside, welcoming the young woman into her home. Y/n set the baked goods on the counter as she and Yumie sat down, catching up and what not. Before the two knew it, it was noon, and time for lunch. “Y/n, dear, would you like to stay? Five years is a lot of time to catch up on.”

Y/n nodded, “Only if you let me help you cook!” Yumie nodded “Deal”. The took put on aprons and got to work, making homemade ramen. The two were hard at work, and as Yumie went to set the table and Y/n put the finishing touches on the meal, the front door opened. “Granny! I’m here for lunch!” Y/n, still very much hard at work, didn’t hear the front door open or close nor did she hear the other Kita’s greeting. “Shin! Please come in, come in!” Kita smiled at his grandmother, while he took off his boots, hat, and the fluffy white towel around his neck.

(Okay, I have N O idea how the outfit works, but it looks like a jump suit kinda thingy, and he wears like a black compressions shirt under, SO for my sake and for a ~purpose~ he will have unbuttoned the top portion and tied it around his waist, like the painter official art Y’know? I hope so lol) Y/n had just put the meal on the table when Kita entered the dining room, both young adults showing a look of surprise on their faces. Yumie ushered them both to the table and sat them across from each other while she sat at the end of the table. Both adults shared a heartwarming, sweet, sincere FAKE smile while the elder hummed in satisfaction.

“Y/n, what a surprise.” Kita stated, ‘smile’ still present as she returned it, eyes crinkling in suspicion. “Yes, what a surprise.” Yumie hid her smirk as she readied the meals, “Ooh! Shin dear,” He broke the intense eye contact between him and Y/n as he looked to his Granny, the sickeningly sweet façade dropping to an actually sincere one towards the one who raised him. “Yes Granny?” Yumie pointed to the kitchen, “Go get the good bowls, Y/n’s back home for a visit! This is a special occasion!” Kita stiffened and clenched his jaw, remembering all to vividly why Y/n was here.

Without turning his head, he turned his gaze to Y/n, who was desperately pleading with her eyes for him not to tell Yumie why she was really here. “O’course, be right back” Y/n gave let out a sigh, “Y/n.” She looked up to Kita in shock, “Since you n’ Granny re organized the kitchen a couple’ a years ago, I dunno where they got put. Mind helpin’ me find em?” The look he was giving her was no questioning glance, he wanted answers. Y/n nodded, “Sure.”

The two adults got up from the table and made their way into the storage closet. “What is this really about? I know for a fact you know where the bowls are.” Y/n asked in a hushed voice, crossing her arms over her chest. Kita sighed and turned to face Y/n, copying her actions as he leaned against the walls. “Because I know how much Granny dislikes our…situation… I’m not gonna tell her ‘bout yer fiancé.” Y/n stiffened. Of course he knew. He wasn’t stupid! (Freaking class 7 smh) “Thanks…” The two stood in silence while Kita dug through the closet looking for the bowls, before retrieving them and returning to his position against the walls.

Keep in mind, its been five years since Y/n had last seen Kita, and a person can change a lot in five years. Especially when that person works incredibly hard doing manual labor. Long story short, Kita had bulked up, and Y/n had noticed. How could she not! He was wearing a compression shirt that nicely showed off his toned arms and chest. He had always had a good amount of muscle, but he had changed a lot since high school, for better of course.

‘W O W he got buff. I mean, he was never scrawny but OH MY GOSH HOW!?! And his biceps?! STOP IT Y/N! STOP this is not okay. You have a wonderful, beautiful fiancé waiting for you at home who is wonderful and you love him. SO STOP OGLING YOUR SOON-TO-BE-EX-HUSBAND YOU IDIOT!! Ughhhh, the jerk probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing..jerk..’

Oh no, he was well aware of what he was doing. And he felt no remorse for it either. Y/n was never really ‘sneaky’ or ‘subtle’ and he was extremely observant and perceptive. So picking up on her wandering eyes and internal debate was quite easy. “Y’done?” Y/n was jerked back to reality as she sent him a harsh embarrassed glare. Smirking, Kita grabbed the bowls and started walking back until “Wait,” He turned around to see Y/n looking away while she gripped his wrist. He raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her what she wanted. “Thank you….really. I know our situation isn’t ideal but I appreciate it.”

Kita’s face turned to one of seriousness as he slowly nodded, “S’not my job to tell her, it’s yours.” Y/n nodded, releasing his wrist as she grabbed the bowls from him, making her way back into the dining room and setting the bowls on the table. Kita stayed behind, taking a deep breath as he slid a hand down his face, re collecting himself before returning to the table, getting his lunch and beginning to eat. If only you knew Y/n….Maybe things would be different…But…I guess you’ve found someone new huh?

Kita let go of the depressing thoughts and focused his attention to the two chattering women in front of him, two women he held very dear to him, even if only one appeared to return the sentiment. Lunch went…surprisingly well. The two adults were able to have civil conversations, much to the satisfaction of his grandmother, and after plenty of trips down memory lane, and a few looks through old scrap books Yumie sends the two adults out of her home.

“Shin dear, before you go back to work, walk Y/n home. I know you two aren’t together in a sense, but you still owe it to each other to guarantee the others safety.” Kita looks over at Y/n, “Only if you don’t mind.” He shook his head as he and Y/n started their walk back to her house. It wasn’t too far, the two used to make this trip quite often, actually. Growing up as best friends, and later high school sweethearts, meant frequent trips between the two houses. The walk back was quiet, but not an uncomfortable quiet like the car ride, more like a reminiscing quiet.

Y/n started giggling, trying to suppress the laughter coming out. Kita looked at her questioningly. “What’s so funny?” Y/n looks at him and bursts out laughing, as she can no longer keep it in. Kita feels his own smile creep up on his face. “Do-do you remember when we were coming home from school *snort* and, you slipped, so you took me down with you *snicker* into a pile of mud!!” Kita stopped walking and looked at Y/n in disappointment, seeing her bent over in half laughing herself to death.

“I thought we had a mutual agreement not to bring that up again.” Y/n tried to calm herself down but her actions went in vain as she remembered how mad both of their parents were, before they started laughing at the two teens. Y/n always thought it was funny, Kita however, did not. Y/n stood up straight again, wiping the tears that were in her eyes before successfully calming down. “Yeah, well, that’s my revenge for you bringing up what you did earlier.” Kita smiled as he remembered the mortified look on Y/n’s face as he recounted to Yumie of a certain event when they were first married and on their honeymoon.

They had gone to a beach for their honeymoon (you can choose where 😊) and naturally Y/n and Kita had gone into the water. The two had been having fun, playfully splashing each other and all that. That is before a big wave came out of NO WHERE and caught Y/n off guard. Unfortunately for Y/n, she wasn’t the only thing caught off guard, as her top came loose and….well…came off. Y/n had been so in shock from the big wave that had taken her out, that she hadn’t realized that an important piece of clothing was missing. That is until she stood up to see Kita doubled over in laughter. She glared at him until she felt a bit colder it was then she dove back in the water, frantically waving her new husband over to help her.

“Well, then I guess its only fair then.” Y/n smiled. The remainder of their walk was quiet. “See ya around I guess.” Kita said as he dropped Y/n off on her front porch step. “Yeah I guess so. You still have papers to sign.” Kita shook his head and smiled, waving her off as he walked back towards the fields to get back to work. “See ya around Y/n, and no.” Y/n, despite being frustrated over the papers couldn’t help but shake her head a she went inside, instantly confused as she couldn’t seem to wipe the fond smile off of her face.

#kita shinsuke #akaashi keiji #fluff #angst #crack #kita x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi angst #kita angst #y/n #akaashi x y/n #kita x y/n #love triangle

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sereisstuff · 5 years ago

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 8

Demon! Kim Taehyung x chubby reader

The tales purpose - you accidentally summoned the prince of darkness and now he wants something in return, so he makes you his fiance to trick his father Hades into giving him the crown.

summary of the tale - Jimin comes barging into your room as Hades invites you to dinner, will jealousy spill from Taehyung or will the demon keep to himself.

(I deleted the previous chapter because I just wasn’t feeling it so I created another, please do enjoy!)

Taehyung resided back to his own kingdom for the meantime wanting nothing of the mortal realm right now, the disturbingly serene silence the underworld brought him was daunting, the screams could only be heard if the large bolted doors of the kingdom were opened yet he’d rather hear that than to be trapped in his own chambers of taunting comments.

He’s made so many deals before whether it is with male or females all he cared about was what he received in the end, and usually, they ended rather fast with a few looks and forced comments from the one and only, then you happened and now as much as he hated to admit, seeing the end no longer brought a smirk to his devilish lips.

The end seemed too close but a deal is a deal and hopefully, his feelings don’t burn even brighter as the journey continues “son, you made it” his father clapped his hands, removing his helmet as his black orbs searched around him “where might this young woman you call a fiance, be?” his father couldn’t believe the news when Taehyung announced marriage, even if the title would finally be handed down, hades would always be the god of death.

Taehyung stood tall and proudly, his eyes inked in black as he blinked rapidly “she was unable to accompany me, father, no need to worry I will be introducing her soon” soon meant as long as he could hold off from everyone, you were nowhere near ready to be introduced to a god, although the potion would help you, your nervousness would give it all away, plus your witty and untamed mouth would mess him up.

��Finally able to give me a rest from this wicked torment of mortals, the dinner will be tomorrow make sure she’s there” his father announced even though it was taken more like a demand, Taehyung watched his father walk leisurely down the hall before throwing his head back and groaning ever so loudly, maybe seeing you would help him search for an answer.

Stupid idea, he thought, seeing you would only make his internal furnace burn more in desire, to lust after your piercing comments you made without shame, your confidence and stride to block people out with your defensive walls which slowly began to crumble in his presence every new scenario.

“That girl is gonna be the death of me”Taehyung walked back to his chambers in hopes of changing his attire before visiting you.………………………………………………………………………………..Glimpsing in love was an understatement, you glimpsed into the genuine emotion yet locked the door once you saw it’s capabilities, sitting on your bed in a pair of high waisted trousers and turtle neck, whilst reading a book about the gods, first was hera.

Goddess of fertility, marriage, childbirth and most importantly goddess of women, maybe one of her children walk this earth yet to be seen.As you read every word, you paid attention too, immersing yourself into the book eagerly looking for answers about hades, although he was a more known god amongst teenagers and adults, no one really knew about him, just his name and the world he ruled which would be terrible news if taehyung found out.

Sighing, today must not be your day as you slammed the book shut with a loud huff, not being able to concentrate close enough to remember what you just read, maybe your mind had run too fast to the point of no longer knowing the main intentions of why you were reading the book in the first place too caught up in the crossfire of loving a demi god and utterly hating the idea of doing so.

“Hey, so I found this” a melodious voice announced as it randomly entered your room, you jolted in shock throwing the book towards the unknown figure, scrambling back into the bed you watched wide-eyed as they groaned, rubbing their head in circled motions “first of all that was rude, secondly, you have a really good throw”

The figure looked up and meet eyes with you “Jimin” you breathed a sigh of relief as he picked his own book up again, dressed in a white unbuttoned loose blouse with a pair of trousers to match his outfit, showcasing his sharp collarbone and messy hair, damn he was exquisite.

“Tis, I the son of Aphrodite at your service” he knelt down, book in the higher hand as his back foot was thrown back in an angular position, Jimin had known of your growing love for his cousin wanting nothing more for you to receive happiness although he’d barely met you a few weeks prior, you had a certain innocence to you, he could feel the way his cousin relaxed at the mere sight of you and everyone who knew Kim taehyung knew that he never let his guard down.

“It’s a book, it has a certain prophecy in here that I wanted you to see, it may not be much importance to you but I couldn’t help but feel the need to show you” he sat beside you, opening the book while reading over the words until he found the one, “ah, yes here it is” he pointed to it leaning close to you as you moved your head to his side nearly touching his cheek with the proximity.

Reading aloud the words set in stone “when the fire burns brightest and the stars collide when death is near its peak and time stops, an answer which never should prevail will come to its end” with furrowed brows you made a huh sound looking at jimin who leapt from his spot “Okay, so I was thinking, that this prophecy is about you?”

You giggled “Jimin do you remember I’m not a demigod, this couldn’t be about me, I’m not even apart of your guy’s universe” this all seemed too ridiculous for you to register let alone be in a prophecy made thousands of years ago.“Point made” Jimin sighed still thinking about the book.

“But I can’t help it y/n” he groaned throwing himself beside you as you both released a heavy sigh while looking tediously at the roof, imagining things beyond you both, Jimin hated the fact that if this prophecy was true and his intentions on finding out were made proven then it would be his fault, imagine the chaos that would break through, the Erinyes would leave the judgment tables and wreak havoc.

Prior to if he really did understand it but prophecy never brought good to peoples lives.“Jimin, Y/n” a husky voice entered the conversation, his eyes inflamed in slight anger seeing you sitting so close to Jimin “Taehyung” you gulped leaning up, Jimin rolling slowly from the bed seeing the look of pure death being sent to his way, shaking off the disgusting feeling before returning a cute look “cousin” his voice dragged on in a disturbingly nice way.

Taehyung clenched his fist as he rolled his head around to curse the dead on his cousin “Jimin” he growled, Taehyung never dealt well with jealousy a personal trait he earned from his father, if he deemed you, his then until the deal is finished you were entirely his and no spell or powers could break that.

“I want you to get out” he muttered harshly under his breath bringing forth the anger he had sealed away for you from past days with namjoon “don’t hurt her please” Jimin begged, Taehyung stomped his foot making the pair of you flinch “just do as I say” Jimin sent you a reassuring smile as he walked through the white mist which formed around him.

Taehyung took a deep breath as to control his own self-deprecation “hello” you waved eagerly in his face even though it was pure nervousness, Taehyung bit his inner cheek narrowing his eyes your way as he searched your body, slightly admiring your outfit with a pleasurable hum “my little mortal” Taehyung admitted, wrapping a hand around your waist.

You choked slightly, Taehyung could feel everything from your heating emotions to your shyness that bloomed when he entered the room, thinking you weren’t noticeable was adorable to him, have you no idea of the amount of power he holds above your head, you usually greeted him with a groan but this time you uttered his voice with soft undertones, making his heart freeze.

“No comments today, my mortal, you must be growing fond of me” he teased leaning back to watch your reaction, even though the comment made your heart race as you pulled on a mask, acting disgusted “aren’t you just a joker today, asshole” Taehyung chuckled, his brows relaxing from its frown as he calmed down a bit.“I was just bringing your dinner attire for tomorrow night” that wasn’t true.

“Oh” was all you replied feeling slightly disappointed but you reminded yourself that he wasn’t yours, he had no need to be in contact with you until the day you met his father yet here he was once again.

He conjured a red bloody dress, which would have thick layers of linen along the sides of your arms below your shoulder, dropping down into your waist until it dropped down sensually until your ankles, making you gasp “this is amazing” Taehyung grew excited, wanting nothing more than to see you walking into the underworld in this dress

“I wanted to make sure you liked it, the choice of shoes is all yours though”

Taehyung hated to leave you but he had other duties that called, the few months he’d spent with you were all out of secrecy, now his work calls “thank you, taehyung” you wrapped your arms around him, Taehyungs eyes widened in shock, curling his fingers in his sides as he slowly embrace your first initiation of skin-ship.

“Ah-” he coughed roughly, you let him go as he stirred snatching you back into his embrace missing the sudden loss of warmth “remember the mark you have on your wrist” he whispered deeply into your ear, feeling his hot breath caress you sensually on your neck and lobe “that means your mine, y/n, and I don’t do well with sharing”He felt you shutter causing him to smirk, letting you go with one last peck before dispersing into flames, you sighed loudly, sitting on your bed holding on to your heart for support as you just began to recall what happened.

The doorbell brought you from your daze of contemplation, rushing downstairs quickly as you shoved the door open to see the witch who brewed the juice.She stood there, hand out with a gracious smile

“Hello dear, I forgot to introduce myself, my name is lunar”

...............................................

@sugarrimajins @bluemooncnblue

@fivesecondsofsarang

@nabo39

@camilaxpolanco

@sununicornann

@alex--awesome--22

@thealexalcala

@damnedandbroken

@aylinstrash

@bookoffracturedescapes

@queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut

#kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung scenarios #demon taehyung #taehyung fic #kim taehyung x oc #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung x chubby!reader #taehyung x plus size reader #plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #chubby!reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 5 years ago

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The Shakespeare Substitute {1} Kim Taehyung x black! fem! reader(College AU)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: When your Shakespeare professor happens to be absent for the week due to illness, a handsome, yet familiar man steps in to teach for him. This happens to be Kim Taehyung, an old friend of yours back in high school, and an old crush of yours. He can’t help but stare at you throughout class, leaving you an anxious mess until the fifty minute class period is over.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, College AU, Smut(in later parts)

Word Count: 1, 973

Warnings: None for this chapter anyway

Author’s Note: I know, another series! This one will be short (at least three parts) I promise! I’m open for requests for BTS and EXO hope you enjoy!

I did a double take on my phone as I blink back up at the doorway. It’s already 2:07 and Mr. Green hasn’t shown up for class yet.

“Did he send an email?” I ask, turning over to my friends James and Stacy.

James turns his nose up before running a hand through his mini fro.

“Look woman,” he scolds, “I checked it four times, refreshed and everything-it’s nothing!”

I frown at his tone. I can’t tell whether he’s being sarcastic or if there’s something upsetting him.

“You good?” I ask, “can’t really tell if you’re joking or not.”

James sighs while pushing the glasses up on his face.

“Sorry Y/N/N, I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” he says.

I nod.

“Classes already getting the best of you?” Stacy counters.

James shakes his head vigorously.

“The classes aren’t the fucking problem,” he groans, “Valentines day is coming up and I’m trying to decide on the fucking venue for Cody and I to have dinner! Got it all planned out and everything.”

I deadpan at his words. Is he seriously this worked up over a God damn date?

“Are you for real?” I ask.

James pops his neck at me.

“Of course it is,” he growls, “I don’t expect you to understand Ms. I’ve never dated a guy in my life.”

Of course he exposes me like this. A few of the girls in the front rows turn, they look disinterested, yet I’d like to keep this in my enter circle of friends. This may be a university setting, however rumors still spread like a fucking plague. And here I thought the high school tendencies would cease, I had too much faith in humanity to even fathom that.

“You want to tell the entire class,” I say, “keep your voice down.”

Stacy scoots her desk closer, a sly grin and a hand below her chin.

“Is he for real, Y/N? You never had a boyfriend?” she asks.

I open my mouth, then close it as James gives me a “yeah go ahead and lie, I’mma spill the tea anyway” look. I’d rather tell them something before Mr.Green arrives and class actually starts.

“Technically no,” I explain, “I’ve never dated anyone, well there was this guy back in high school, but he was way outta my league.”

James rolls his eyes while Stacy gasps.

“Out of your league?” she exclaims, “he’s got to be a Greek God, because you’re gorgeous.”

I shake her complement off.

“Thanks, but when I tell you he’s out of my league he is,” I say, “he was from Korea, and dressed like your typical international student: wearing Gucci and Chanel as if it were Nike for us.”

“I own a pair of Gucci slides,” Stacy says.

James chuckles.

“That doesn’t count, you got rich ass grandparents!” he hisses.

“Anyway,” I say, “all the girls wanted him, those preppy white ones especially, no offense Stacy, but yeah-he was also a grade above me so..”

Stacy sips her latte in confusion.

“That still doesn’t explain how he was technically almost your boyfriend?”she asks.

And here I thought she’d forget. Curse James and his big mouth.

“Yeah, about that, uh well, we kinda became friends over lunch and ah,” I pause, the memory hitting me extremely fast and abruptly.

Taehyung with that boxy smile of his as it fell. My heart lurched as he rubbed my shoulder.

“I-I’m going back to Korea,” he said.

“S-So is it over? Did we even have anything?”

I barely got to ask as Taehyung’s lips met mine. It lingered prior to him pulling back.

“Yeah, we did, but I don’t want you to hurt if it doesn’t work while I’m away,” he said.

“Um, Y/N,” Stacy says, breaking me from the painful memory. “she, good?”

James leans across his desk to take my hand.

“I can tell the rest,” he reassures, “if you’d let me?”

I nod and inhale.

“Ok, so!” James starts like the complete Drama King that he is. “this kigga had the nerve to admit his feelings for Y/N during prom while his date was making out with the Physics professor!”

“Physics professor?” Stacy asks.

“It’s a long story,” I say, “he was like in his twenties, she was 19, but it was still weird.”

“Oh, so, did he like you or-”

“Aparently so,” I say, “like he could have told me that he was going away, uh, I don’t know a few weeks or months before graduation!”

James pats my hand.

“It’s ok sweetie,” he says, “he’s out of your life now.”

“What’s his name?” Stacy asks.

“Kim Tae-”

My words are cut off as someone enters the room and it isn’t Mr. Green. Instead, taking Mr. Green’s usual spot behind the brown colored podium is someone more youthful, and taller. His hair is in unkempt, medium length and jet black, matching his black turtleneck, blazer and pants.

I look to his face again as the breath gets knocked from me. Taehyung. I reach over and tap James’ arm, forcing him to break from his fixed glare on the familiar man that just walked in.

“James, James, snap out of it,” I urge.

“W-What girl! Do you see this sexy man?”

I try to answer but I’m interrupted.

“Hello class!” he greets, “Mr. Green fell ill so I’m here to teach Shakespeare in his stead!”

A collection of groans fall throughout the class while I’m still in shock. How is he here? He’s a sub? How the fuck?

“Now, now, it’s nothing serious, he should be back next week, but I’ll ensure that your final lessons on Twelfth Night run smoothly-ah! How could I forget, my name’s Kim Taehyung, I’m your sub for the week, but you can call me Taehyung.”

James’ smile drops as he turns to me.

“Oh shit,” he says, “oh shit, Y/N!”

Stacy turns my way as I lean down into my seat.

“W-What?” she whispers.

James glances Taehyung’s way before at Stacy.

“That’s Y/N’s almost ex,” he whispers.

Stacy opens her mouth, then covers it. This is my life now apparently.

“Taehyung!”

A hand shoots up from the front, from here I can see the long strands of blonde hair.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Uh, h-how old are you, uh, I mean you look young enough to be a first year university student,” she teases, “I-I mean not to be rude or anything.”

James rolls his eyes.

“Of course she fucking did,” he says.

I shake my head and watch as Taehyung chuckles.

“No, you weren’t, it’s a simple observation, I’m 24 and I’m currently working on my masters, thus being a substitute is great experience for it.”

The class nods in appreciation while all of the women and some men in the classroom admire Taehyung. God, can this class period end any sooner.

“But enough about me,” Taehyung says, “let’s go through roll.” He pulls out Mr. Green’s grading book, so he must know him personally, or at least got it through the school. My heart quickens as he goes down the line: James answers with an overly enthusiastic ‘here’ and Stacy with a sliver of one. My eyes go forward as Taehyung stops for a moment prior to calling my name.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” he says it as if I weren’t real, like he has a hard time believing I’d take a damn Shakespeare class.

“Here,” I say and sink back down into my seat.

Taehyung steps around the podium and our eyes meet. He wets his lips as if to say something, but I look away. I can feel his eyes lingering on me before he goes back to roll.

“And, Jessica?”

The same blonde haired girl who asked Taehyung that question shot her hand up again.

“Here,” she says rather softly, a little too softly for my liking.

God, why am I caring? Taehyung and I were hardly dating, I shouldn’t care.

“A-All right, so let’s pick up with Act IV scene one,” Taehyung says as he glances around the class as every pulls out their copies of Twelfth Night.

He stares at me once more prior to moving over to the whiteboard to write out the characters names.

“Ok, who’d like to read for the part of Olivia?”

Jessica’s hand shoots up again, of course.

...

Fifty minutes manage to crawl by, leaving us finished with Twelfth Night.

“That shit was sooo convenient,” Stacy groans as she tosses her bag over her shoulder.

James nods.

“Right, like Viola was a dude the entire time and suddenly Orsino’s got feelings,” he says, “he’s got to be bi at least.”

Taehyung grins.

“Thanks for being so cool about this guys! Start reading Hamlet for Wednesday!” he announces.

Everyone floods to the door at once, of course Jessica flutters her eyes at him before leaving. James and Stacy push through next, I try to keep up, yet I drop my water bottle.

Taehyung crouches down quicker than I can react, scooping my bottle up into his arms. Our eyes meet again, this time I hold his black eyes and notice the somber nature within them. He looked the same way during graduation, as if I was fragile, like I couldn’t handle what he was going to tell me. I didn’t at the time, but now I’m over it.

“Y/N,” he says my name carefully.

I glance back down at my water bottle in his hands.

“Can we talk, please?” he asks.

“Can I have my water bottle?” I counter.

Taehyung glances back down at it, bites his lip and stares back at me.

“Y/N, just five minutes of your time,” he says.

“I-I don’t have that long, I-I got class,” I lie.

Taehyung smirks.

“If you had a class next then why were you chatting it up when the period ended,” he teases.

“For fucks sake, of course you were watching,” I groan.

Taehyung moves to shut the door, leaving me to stare at him incredulously.

“C’mon, just hear me out,” he urges.

“Ok, then,” I let out as I slump down on top of a desk, “let’s talk.”

Taehyung sits on the desk across from me, biting his lips again before running a hand through his dark locks.

“God, it’s so crazy seeing you here,” he bellows, “I-I mean, how have you been?”

I shrug.

“Living, classes are going ok, been to a few clubs on campus, nothing really life changing,” I answer simply.

Taehyung shifts up from his desk.

“Don’t be that way, can you look at me?”

I look his way and almost recoil at how close he is now, nearly hovering over me.

“T-Taehyung-”

He leans down against my ear.

“I missed you,” he admits, “I may have called it off, but I never forgot about you.”

Is he serious?

He pulls away and our faces are inches away, his smoldering eyes holding mine again.

“Here,” he says handing me the water bottle back, “and this.”

Taehyung scurries back over to the podium, tears out a piece of paper and writes on it.

“If you want to talk, here’s my number, “ he says, “if you want this to stay in the past, it’ll stay there. I’ll play the well behaved sub.”

His words bring a smile to my lips and I can’t help but make the connection.

“We only kissed once and now you want to be well behaved?”

Taehyung chuckles.

“I wouldn’t jump the gun too far, Y/N,” he says, “does that mean we can talk, again?”

I bite my lip at how eager he is. I don’t think he’s ever showed me this much attention in the past.

“Maybe, let me see how much time I got after homework,” I say.

Taehyung grins, opening the door, allowing me to step out.

My false sense of bravado disappears as I begin to panic.

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 5 years ago

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Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Title: Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2223

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children. However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Angst, Gun, Usage of Gun, Unsafe Gun Handling, Angst, Endangerment to a young child, Fear, Wounded, and Angst.

A/N: Dudettes! Get this… once I finished this chapter, I giggled to myself and then proceeded to say, “ooh, Eileen! You fucking bitch!” But like in a good way. Haha. I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I will admit, it was a little tough because I didn’t know how to word it, and I’m worried that it might be a little confusing to comprehend what I was trying to get across… but I hope I’m wrong and that you guys will like it! I can’t wait to read all your reactions! So please, feedback would be amazing! I’d love to know what you all thought of this chapter and the series! Thanks again for reading! You guys are beautiful! xx

On his way to the Winchester’s home, Rufus had called in a crime scene back at the diner. Things had just dropped into some deep shit. As he pulled into the drive way, John was already opening the door and stepping out to greet him.

“Rufus, what’s wrong?” John asked, allowing the sheriff into his home.

“Things just got serious, and I know you wanted to keep this on the down low, but I had to call my men to take care of things back at the diner,” he informed, taking a seat at the dining table where Mary and Jess were already waiting. “Mary’s car is still there, and I might have, literally, stumbled over some important evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?” John asked, his stomach churning.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think I found a possible weapon. There was blood on a large rock next to the car, and I’m sure your boys probably found it too. We don’t know who’s blood it is yet, but my men are on it,” Rufus assured.

Mary’s hands covered her mouth with fear in her eyes. Jess wrapped her arms around Mary tightly, burying her face into the older woman’s shoulder. “How long would it take until we find out who’s blood it is?” Mary asked.

“We’re working as fast as we can. I’d say four hours at the least, could be more. But our forensic team is one of the best, so rest assured. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Mary nodded while John just gave Rufus an understanding glare. “So what do we do now?” John asked.

“We need to find your boys ASAP. Ketch… he’s a real bad guy. I knew the name was familiar. To be honest, I’m surprised the boy wasn’t walking around with an alias. Probably thought since it’s been a long time, no one would notice. Especially around here.”

“What are you talking about, Rufus. Details. I need details,” John encouraged.

“I was getting there. Just hold your horses,” he sassed, earning a pointed look from the worried father bear in front of him. “Look, his full name is Arthur Ketch. He is in a line of work that can get many people hurt. He’s what you can call a collector,” Rufus placed the witness sketch on the table, revealing a pretty honest drawing of the felon. He looked a little different. His face was slimmer, hair a little longer and shaggier, but it was still easy to tell it was him.

“He collects things and sells them in the International Underground Black Market. Sometimes they get clients who reach out to them to obtain a certain object, or objects, in exchange for a hefty sum. People like him will do anything to get what they want. And I mean anything. We caught scent of him a few years back. Almost got him, but the kid was fast. Young, scrawny, and could get through all sorts of spaces. Eventually, the case was out of our hands because the Bureau figured he’d moved on. One thing is for sure, men like Ketch never stay in one place for too long. I don’t know what he would be doing back here.”

“Because he’s a stalker. Probably followed Y/N here, using that family bullshit as an excuse,” the words flowed out of Jess’s lips without a care of filter.

“Stalkers aren’t right in the head. And not only that, this man is a practically a serial killer. He’s left body all over the world. Didn’t even bother to clean up his messes, and he didn’t have to. No one could ever trace him.”

“It’s almost Christmas and all this is happening,” Mary started to sob. “My boys are in danger and Y/N could be dead.”

“How did you get this drawing of him?” John interceded the direction of the conversation.

“Remember Pastor Jim? That break in at the church? Ketch was after an old goblet that was claimed to be used for demonic rituals. An ancient relic used to communicate with the devil. Pastor Jim had it locked away in a safe under the church. Ketch managed to steal it and left Jim for dead, but thankfully the medics got to him on time.”

“But didn’t Pastor Jim pass away?” Mary questioned.

“That he did, but before that, he was able to give a description.”

“Why didn’t we hear anything about this?” John inquired.

“This case was classified by the FBI. They have been tracking these Collectors all over the world, but it’s difficult. You see, there is no pattern. There is never a witness. And if there was, someone came back to get rid of any loose ends, just like they did Jim. These Collectors, they’ve got friends in low and high places. It almost seems impossible,” Rufus sighed. “I don’t know how the FBI is dealing with it, but all I know is that they are.”

John sat back in his seat, running his hands down his face, trying to absorb all the information he’s been given. How could something go from zero to a hundred so fast?

“If this man is as dangerous as you say, and he’s stalking Y/N, then my boys are in danger. They all are. They all could already be dead,” Mary cried.

The room was tense at Mary’s words. It was possible. It very well may be, but they needed to be hopeful. They needed to think positive. They needed to find them.

“Don’t be like that Mary. We don’t know nothin’ yet. We need to find your boys first. Jody said that when Y/N went to get her purse at the diner, Lisa and Ketch were having lunch. That they seemed to know each other. So I’m gonna go pay Lisa a little visit. It’s possible that Lisa is also in danger.”

“Or maybe Lisa’s in with that Ketch guy,” Jess hissed, Lisa and Ketch’s name leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

“None sense. Lisa maybe crazy, but she’s still a good girl. She wouldn’t do something like that. She wouldn’t put Dean, or any of my boys in trouble. She wouldn’t bring such a dangerous man near Ben.”

“We’re gonna find out,” Rufus added.

“And I’m coming with you,” John insisted.

“I’m sorry John, but I can’t let you do that. This is a job for the police. Besides, you’ve got two frightened women here at home that needs you. Also, I need you here in case Sam, Dean, or Y/N comes back. Give me a call if they do, alright?” Rufus stood up from his seat as John nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of tires screeching against the pavement drew Ketch, Lisa, and Bela’s attention. Thinking quick on his feet, Ketch put his hands behind his head and fell to his knees beside your unconscious body. Lisa and Bela gave him with a confused look, the gun still pointed at him.

The door burst open, splinters flying through the air from the force of Dean’s foot. When Sam and Dean came into view, Lisa and Bela went wide eyes, while Ketch’s stoic expression turned into that of fear. “What the hell is going on here?” Dean barked, taking in the sight before him.

“H-help me, please!” Ketch shouted, his voice shaking with terror.

“Bela drop the gun,” Sam said calmly, arms out to show that he wasn’t going to try anything.

“No. This guy is a psychopath!” The tall brunette spat.

Dean’s eyes landed on your motionless body on the couch, next to where Ketch was on his knees. “Y/N!” Dean yelped, rushing over to her. “What the happened to her?” Dean shot Ketch a deadly glare, sitting beside her at the edge of the couch.

“I’ll tell you anything you want. I’m innocent, I swear,” Ketch blurted. “It’s true. You’re not Ben’s father. I am,” Ketch revealed, Lisa’s eyes going wide.

Dean sent Ketch a surprised look before quickly turning his head to glare at Lisa, his eyes hard and accusing. “Is that true? Ketch is the father?” Lisa was at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say. When her lips parted to speak, Dean cute her off. “And this time, don’t you dare lie to me!”

“H-he’s lying,” Lisa continued her deceptions.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Ketch jumped in. “Years ago, I met the two of them at a party. We were all a little drunk, and they both came on to me. I was young back then. How was I supposed to pass up that kind of opportunity? Months later, Lisa contacted me, telling me about the baby.”

“Shut up Ketch!” Lisa barked.

Ketch caster her a wary glance, thinking if he should continue, but he took the chance anyway. “I couldn’t be a father, and I know that makes me a terrible man, but I had my dream job waiting for me back in London. I was young and had a bright future. A baby was the last thing on my mind. But I told her I’d pay the child support, and I have been since, but she wanted more. She wanted Ben to have a father. A good father that would be there for him. So she came up with this elaborate scheme to make you believe that Ben was yours. She told me that if I helped her get back with you, I would no longer have to pay the child support and that she’d leave me alone forever. The only thing that was in the way was Y/N. And by coincidence, the last time I was in Lawrence, Y/N and I ended up on the same flight heading over to Dallas, and having the seats next to each other.”

“Lies! You’re a liar!” Lisa shouted, snatching the gun from Bela’s hand and pointing it back at Ketch. “Shut up.” If Lisa wanted anyone to believe her, she was doing a shit job. Every word she said, every move she made, all of it only made her look guilty.

“Lisa!” Bela was startled. Bela never had any intentions of hurting Ketch. She wasn’t about to get blood on her hands. But when Lisa took the gun from her, she knew how unstable Lisa was. How desperate she was.

“Whoa,” Sam raised his hands up out of instincts.

Ketch watched Lisa, and Dean could see the hesitation in his eyes. Dean didn’t want to believe it, but he felt like he could believe Ketch more than he could Lisa.

“Lisa, put the gun down,” Dean said calmly, despite his anger stirring inside of him.

“No,” she spat, pointing the gun at Ketch. She’s never held a gun before. One slip and she could shoot anyone… kill any one.

“Lisa…” Dean warned.

The room was silent before Ketch took a chance and spoke again. If worse came to worse, he could use Dean as a shield.

“Like I said…” Ketch started, “Y/N caught us talking about it and ran off. Lisa got impatient and panicked and chased after her. She hit her over the head with a rock. Y/N’s been out ever since. We brought her back here and I patched her up.”

“Why not call the police, or bring her to the hospital?” Sam asked.

“I thought she would be okay, that I could patch her up and she’d wake up soon, but when she did, I suggested we go to the hospital, but Lisa refused. And when I mentioned the police, they freaked out and pulled a gun out on me. And that’s when you and your brother showed up.”

“Liar!” Lisa shouted, her grip on the gun tightening.

“Mom! Look what I made!” Ben shouted, trampling down the stairs, interrupting the intensity of the current situation and startling his mother.

BANG! Her finger slipped.

Ben jumped, his scream piercing through the house! Lisa dropped the gun and it fired a second time. Everyone cowered at the sound. Sam noticed the gun and quickly grabbed it to ensure it didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bela was the first person to reach Ben, the young boy curling into her arms crying. Ketch closed in on himself a little, his hands still up where they could see it, but he was fine.

“Any one hurt?” Sam asked, scanning the room.

“Sammy?” Dean choked, a dark spot spreading in the middle of his gray shirt as blood dribbled down the side of his lips.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. “Someone call 9-1-1!”

Dean watched Sam approach him, sliding the gun in the back of his pants under his shirt. He could see Sam talking but all he could hear was a high pitched ringing sound. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw Ben and Bela wrapped up in each other, he saw Lisa staring at him with wide eyes, and he could see Ketch getting up.

“S-Sam—” Dean gurgled.

“Dean! Dean! Hang in there! Please! Dean! Someone! Call 9-1-1! Ketch, please!” Sam begged, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Ketch got up, dialing 9-1-1 on his phone. As Ketch made the call, Sam leaned his brother against the couch on the floor. Dean turned his head to face you, still out cold.

“Y-Y/N…” he called, and then everything went dark.

Like it? Reblog it! Share it! Leave feedback! It’s my fuel and any writer’s fuel! Also, I would highly appreciate it! :)

Say Something Nice Here!

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years ago

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50 Films You’ve Got to Watch

Hi to anyone who’s reading,

I thought I’d take a break from the fashion posts to ramble on about something else that I’m really interested in for a hot minute. And I say ramble with intent, because I do go ON.

The topic is film and I thought that I’d make a list of my 50 must watches. These are movies that I feel had the biggest impact on me which means, yes, I do have tattoos referring to a couple of them, lol. My genre of choice is usually horror and although there has been a bit of a “horror renaissance” and a shift towards prioritising good quality storylines over jump scares in recent years, on the whole, they typically aren’t the most highbrow films out there, so there aren’t THAT many on this list. Most of the horror films I listed are just genuinely good quality rather than a straight-up gorefest or anything too terrifying, however, I’m not that easily scared so if you did fancy watching any of the films I mentioned, take that with a slight pinch of salt!

Also, this isn’t anything to take too seriously. I really like movies and cinema but I’m also not a movie critic and this is more of a hobby than something I want to pursue. Like, I’m completely aware of how unrealistic working in TV or film is as a career if your family isn’t loaded. Very aware. Painfully aware you could say (imagine me sighing as I’m writing this). That being said, part of me does want to do a ranking of every film I’ve seen in 2019 at some point this year, so if anybody else is interested in this kinda thing let me know!

Lauren x

50 Films You’ve Got to Watch:

1. Black Swan (2010)

“I felt it. Perfect. It was perfect.”

I watched Black Swan years ago now and I still remember how disturbing I found it and how exciting that was to me. I was probably a bit too young (young enough that my mum felt it necessary to cover my eyes during the Natalie Portman/Mila Kunis sex scene, lol) but even then I could recognise that it was a beautifully haunting film and Darren Aronofsky has gone on to be one of my favourite directors.

2. Jennifer’s Body (2009)

“And now, I'm eating your boyfriend. See? At least I'm consistent.”

Engrave it on my tombstone: JENNIFER’S BODY DESERVED BETTER. I fully believe that if this movie was released in 2019, it wouldn’t have faced half the criticisms it did back in 2009. It genuinely was ahead of its time. Megan Fox? As a boy-eating, demonic cheerleader? And Amanda Seyfried? Some of the most ICONIC DIALOGUE EVER? It should’ve invented a GENRE. Instead it got paid DUST. Yes, when I write in caps lock, my internal voice is YELLING. I feel passionately about this, okay?!

3. La La Land (2016)

“I guess I'll see you in the movies.”

Again, maybe it’s a basic film bitch opinion to have but I adored La La Land. I saw it at the cinema and spent the last 20 minutes of the film sobbing, only to find my mum and sister distinctly underwhelmed. I indignantly ranted back then to them how perfect a film it was and I’m going to do the same thing now so if you are reading and you didn’t like it, then you should probably just move on because I wouldn’t want to read myself banging on about Emma Stone again for several paragraphs either (don’t worry, I’ll try and keep it to one). I can’t help it. This film was just TOO REAL! Like, in every way but the actual plot and characters, La La Land has the dreamlike quality of a fairytale. The colours are rich and thick and always complimentary, the musical sequences are either like Disney songs or lullabies, and Emma and Ryan Gosling are made for each other. But then life and ambitions and resentments get in the way. And that’s the real part! That’s why it’s so bloody good!

4. Easy A (2010)

“People thought I was a dirty skank? Fine. I’d be the dirtiest skank they’d ever seen.”

And so we arrive at the movie that actually began my love affair with Emma Stone. Iconic. Iconic in every way. The bad reputation montage is cinematic excellence. For real, though, this is so underrated as a coming of age movie. Like don’t get me wrong, Mean Girls is everything (I easily could’ve included it on this list but I feel like it’s just a given that anyone who grew up in the noughties loves that film) but Easy A deserves just as much credit. It has Penn Badgley, one of the few celebrity males I care about! Amanda Bynes! Aly Michalka! Lisa Kudrow! Did I mention Emma Stone?

5. Kill Bill (2003)

“Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!”

If I had to put any of these films as my singular favourite, it would probably be the first Kill Bill. Controversial, I know; even my dad introduced it to me as the weaker of the two. To list any Quentin Tarantino movie as the one that inspired you to want to be a director is probably a very cliche film student thing to say BUT I’m not a film student and I’ve put my directing pipe dream permanently to one side, thus, coming from me it’s not as hackneyed a statement. Or so I tell myself, lol. Basically, I was in awe of Kill Bill from start to finish. The colourisation is a dream, from the crazy 88 scene to the final fight between The Bridge and O Ren Ishii, and I particularly remember loving the animation sequence despite that not really being my kinda thing. I was just so impressed with how seamlessly something so out of place, considering the live action format of the rest of the film, fit in with everything else; even the scenes that should be absurd instead work with the comic book style narrative. Uma Thurman is of course amazing and iconic af but Lucy Liu as O Ren Ishii is my favourite thing about this film and the line I chose gave me all the bad bitch energy I need to, I think, get me through the rest of my time on this planet. If not, the tattooed version of this still I have on my arm should hopefully do the job. Yep, I truly ascended to a divine level of basic film hoe with that life choice.

6. Marie Antoinette (2006)

“This, Madame, is Versailles.”

The first Sofia Coppola film on this list, I love this woman’s work to death. Regardless of the content she’s working with, the end result always gives me the feeling I’m watching an extended music video. They always have this almost dreamlike quality to them and everything from the colour palette to the camera movements to the soundtrack in Marie Antoinette is tied together perfectly.

7. Mother! (2017)

“You never loved me. You just loved how much I loved you.”

I was tense throughout the entirety of Mother. As a socially anxious, obsessively tidy control freak, this whole film was like something from one of my nightmares; think unwanted house party on crack. I was mentally screaming along with Jennifer Lawrence for all of those people to get out, whilst simultaneously just staring at her face because she is so fucking gorgeous! Even when she’s completely lost it! Totally unrealistic but it makes for some really pretty shots! And then there’s the ending which left me kind of like “what the fuck did I just watch?” Which is what Darren Aronofsky films do best. They’re terrifying but also quite beautiful and Mother is no exception.

8. Gerald’s Game (2017)

“Everybody's got a little corner in there somewhere. A button they won't admit they want pressed.”

I finally got round to watching this for the first time the other day and I absolutely loved it. It probably helps that the last Stephen King adaptation I saw was Pet Sematary, so despite the praise this got at the time, my expectations weren’t super high, but I think this really is a perfect horror film. It’s clever, doesn’t rely on jump scares, and the creepy scenes that are in there really get under your skin. It drags a little in the middle though it’s beautifully shot, acted and has one of the few “body horror” scenes in a horror that’s actually made me cringe.

9. A Beautiful Mind (2001)

“I think that's what it's like with all our dreams and our nightmares, Martin, we've got to keep feeding them for them to stay alive.”

I don’t want to say too much about this film and spoil the plot, so I’ll just say that it’s incredible. Devastatingly sad but also wonderfully hopeful at the same time, and solidified my interest in psychology! I could watch Jennifer Connelly all day.

10. Alien (1979)

“This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.”

As a horror fan, I don’t think I need to explain why this film’s on the list. It’s been raved about and video essayed and called a pioneer of the genre ad nauseam. Again, not that this is really anything new but part of what I love about this movie is the context of its release and success; before Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal of Ellen Ripley, it was a rare occurrence to have a female protagonist in an action-based movie. Alien really paved the way for women to take up space in a previously male-dominated genre.

11. 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)

“Crazy is building your ark after the flood has already come.”

I saw this for the first time at the cinema and pretty much went in blind. I hadn’t seen Cloverfield but I love Mary Elizabeth Winstead (Final Destination 3 was always my favourite of the franchise, lol) and there wasn’t really anything else on worth seeing, so my sister and I chose this and it was an experience. Like, of all the films on this list, this is probably the one that had me most on edge and I’m not sure watching it on your laptop on Putlocker will do it justice. You need the curtains pulled to, the volume way up and complete silence.

12. American Psycho (2000)

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking stupid bastard!”

There isn’t a dull moment in American Psycho. Every line is quotable and every scene is straight to the point. I feel like this film is a masterclass in that Stanley Kubrick quote about editing where he says he liked to get rid of everything that was not absolutely vital to advancing the plot or the audience’s understanding of the character in any way. Plus, the ending is trippy af! Or maybe I’m just a bit oblivious to something that was quite obvious throughout, who knows. Either way, what the final scenes really mean are fun to think about.

13. The Descent (2005)

“I'm an English teacher, not fucking Tomb Raider.”

Okay, so I literally just watched this the other day and had to begrudgingly remove Silent Hill to make space for it (I KNOW it was critically panned and I KNOW the video game is better but I liked the visuals, OKAY!?) because The Descent is truly one of the best horror films I’ve ever seen. Before we even get to the supernatural element of the creatures, which are genuinely creepy for once, there’s a party bag of other phobia-inducing sequences that had me emotionally exhausted within the first half hour alone. Claustrophobia, darkness, heights, actual cringeworthy body horror, The Descent has something for everyone. The way it utilises space (or lack of for that matter) and darkness and panicked camera pans makes you feel as if you are really down in the cave with the characters. To add to that, I was actually rooting for all of them too; it probably helped that they were English rather than the typical American slasher cast but I found them to be a believable and likeable group of women. I truly did want them all to get out alive *spoilers*, which only made the ending all the more devastating and although the general narrative is quite predictable, the way in which things get wrapped up left just the right amount of shocks and questions to leave you reeling.

14. Eighth Grade (2018)

“Gucci.”

No film has ever captured what it’s like having social anxiety during “high school” (it’s called secondary school here in England, I know, but you get me) better than Eighth Grade. A tribute to the feeling of never quite fitting in and wishing you knew how to do what everyone else seems to be able to do naturally, it encapsulates that awkwardness with an accuracy that is really impressive considering that 1. it’s Bo Burnham’s first film, and 2. he’s not...like...a 13 year old girl. It is just as funny as it is sad and Elsie Fisher is great and so, so believable. Girl should’ve won some kind of Oscar.

15. American Beauty (1999)

“I don't think that there's anything worse than being ordinary.”

I wavered on whether or not to include this film on the list due to the Kevin Spacey controversy and decided that I had to with the disclaimer that I watched it quite some time before the stories about him came out and won’t ever watch any of the new things he inevitably ends up doing (because Hollywood has a notoriously short memory when it comes to the actions of disgraced male actors, lol). You can’t deny the amount of talent and skill that went into making a film so graceful and elegant and yet in equal parts unnerving, and I don’t think we should refuse to acknowledge the achievements of everyone else on that set because of Spacey’s behaviour.

16. Bandersnatch (2018)

“The past is immutable, Stefan. No matter how painful it is, we can't change things. We can't choose differently with hindsight. We all have to learn to accept that.”

As I was watching/playing through Bandersnatch, I didn’t necessarily love it. I think I’m echoing a common sentiment when I say that I was kinda confused. I was desperately trying to *spoiler* avoid the option of the protagonist murdering their dad (he seemed like a nice guy!?) but somehow always ended up there by their logic. So I watched most of the endings and then I went on and busied myself for the rest of the evening. AND I COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. One minute I was completely deluding myself into believing the whole parallel universes thing was true and that I should test it out (don’t ask), and then the next I was thinking how disturbing it was that we’d been basically been inside the head of a person experiencing a mental breakdown severe enough for them murdering their dad, who had only ever wanted to help when you think about it objectively, to seem rational. The confusion started making sense within the context of the experience of the protagonist and our role as the audience and though I hadn’t realised it at the time, I’d been completely absorbed in the episode. Maybe the confusion wasn’t intentional, maybe I’m giving Charlie Brooker too much credit based on the recent couple of series of Black Mirror BUT I can’t deny that Bandersnatch left a huge mark on me, and after all, this is the man who wrote White Christmas.

17. Get Out (2017)

“White girls. They get you every time.”

Going into this film, I was cocky. I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting what’s going to happen in things, probably just because I watch too much TV, but from the trailer I was sure I knew exactly what was going to happen. And then, I was completely blown away. The ending was SO SMART, in terms of both the within universe storytelling and also the metaphorical narrative/commentary on the way our society treats black men and women. Like those early episodes of Black Mirror, it had me like “how the fuck did Jordan Peele think of that!?”. I can only dream of being as creative in my writing one day. Even little plot points like where the “police” car turns up at the end and your stomach sinks and you realise the intention of that is most likely to help you empathise with what the average African-American person feels in their day to day life when police make themselves present, what with institutional police brutality and racial profiling; it’s clear so much thought went into this script.

18. Ghost Stories (2017)

“It's funny, isn't it? How it's always the last key that unlocks everything.”

I don’t have all too much to say about this one apart from that I love a well-constructed English horror. I feel like it’s something we don’t do all too often and to be honest, I’m struggling to think of many English horror films in the first place. Ghost Stories is a great example of why we need more; it’s smart and spooky and folky without hitting you over the head with all those elements and Andy Nyman is a perfect lead. Love a bit of Martin Freeman too.

19. Girl, Interrupted (1999)

“Crazy isn't being broken, or swallowing a dark secret. It's you, or me, amplified.”

Maybe this is the 13 year old black and white Tumblr girl in me jumping out but I still adore this film. I know it’s not necessarily the most critically well received but Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie and Brittany Murphy are 3 of my favourite actresses and I do love the script. I also like the way that Borderline Personality Disorder was characterised in Winona’s character Susanna (I’m wavering on whether to call her a character as if I recall correctly the book was based on the author’s real experience) in that it was quite subtle and that she wasn’t portrayed as manipulative, or aggressive or basically, as the villain, which I feel is usually the go-to. It focussed more on the mood aspects and the way that people with BPD tend to latch onto and idealise others, as Susanna does with Lisa, and these are both things that I have personally struggled with in the past.

20. Hereditary (2018)

“All I do is worry and slave and defend you, and all I get back is that fucking face on your face!”

It was hard to find a quote that encapsulated what makes Hereditary so great because so much of it is about what isn’t said, if that makes sense. It’s a lot of pained silences and resentful looks and horrified screams, and doesn’t that sound like a fun time? Honestly, it’s not necessarily, lmao. Shocker. It has you feeling like something awful is about to happen the whole time, deep in the pit of your stomach, but I like that in a film, when it does make you properly feel. Ari Aster gets slow-burning dread just right in his exploration of dysfunctional families and grudges, with a few heart-sinking shocks thrown in for good measure all without overdoing the jump scares. There are a lot of deeply unnerving “supernatural” moments but there are just as many horrifically realistic familial conflict scenes that give you that whole “something is wrong” gut instinct in equal measures. It’s been a year and I’m still so angry that Toni Collette didn’t get an Oscar nomination for her performance, because it was really the perfect opportunity to break down the invisible wall between horror and critical recognition. On a more positive note, I loved Midsommar too (not as much as Hereditary but it was still a trip) and I cannot wait to see what Ari Aster does next. Once again, I’ll be in the cinema on opening night.

21. Heathers (1988)

“Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.”

Heathers is iconic in every way: the outfits, the cast, the lines. I mean, the acting can be a bit iffy at times but I honestly think that without Heathers, Jennifer’s Body might never have existed and that’s a world I wouldn’t want to live in. There was so much choice when I was picking a line to summarise why I like it so much and of course, “fuck me gently with a chain saw, do I look like Mother Theresa?” deserves an honourable mention. You almost made it bby. The TV remake? We don’t speak of it.

22. Hot Fuzz (2007)

“The way we see it, it’s all for the greater good.”

It might not be the “artiest” movie ever but I’ve seen Hot Fuzz so many times and it never gets old. Though I used to love it when I was younger purely for the PG-13 gore, now I appreciate it for the absurdity and the ridiculousness and to be honest, the total believability of the plot when it comes to towns ruled by low-key hostile, doddery old white people. I should know, I live in one.

23. Inglourious Basterds (2009)

“You probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin' business. We in the killin' Nazi business. And cousin, business is a-boomin’.”

I wish I wasn’t a hoe for Quentin Tarantino films (I’ve felt personally attacked by many a poundlandbandit starter pack) but I am. The breakneck pacing, the tongue in cheek dialogue and the gore all make this one of my ultimate favourites. Also, I have a huge crush on Melanie Laurent. Yes, it’s the French accent. No, I don’t know the mechanics of how that works. I hear someone speak French and I want to marry them! I can’t help it!

24. Ingrid Goes West (2017)

“Are you actually insane?”

This seems like a random choice to have on the list seeing as it was never really that hyped up, nor did it receive masses of critical acclaim. It did get positive reviews but that was about it. However, as soon as I saw the trailer, I knew I had to see it. Months, and an £8 purchase from HMV later, I finally got to watch Ingrid Goes West and I loved every moment of it. Whilst Aubrey Plaza’s character, I feel, is an exploration of a lot of young women’s insecurities and self-doubts and fears, blown up to monstrous proportions (or maybe just mine, lol), and a 90 minute film about that doesn’t sound all that revolutionary, this one is as intense as it is stylish and darkly comedic and that’s what puts it on the map for me.

25. Insidious (2011)

“I like to call them travellers.”

So this film scared the ever-living SHIT out of me when I was younger and though I now consider horror my favourite genre and watch it on the regular with absolutely no qualms, 13 year old me was (not to use the world lightly) mildly traumatised. I genuinely couldn’t be home alone by myself or sleep at night without thinking the old woman ghost from the beginning was outside my room for a good 6 months or so. Like it literally exacerbated an already present sleep disorder to the point where my understandably frustrated-at-being-woken-up-nightly-by-her-panicking-daughter mother got me referred for CBT (to reflect on a time when I didn’t know what CBT or CAMHS was is…blissful, lol). And maybe because of that, in my mind, I still conceptualise it as one of the very few horror movies that has actually scared me, hence its place on the list. That scene where we first see that Star Wars looking red faced devil? I’d probably still nope out even now.

26. It Follows (2014)

“It could look like someone you know or it could be a stranger in a crowd. Whatever helps it get close to you.”

There’s not too much to say about It Follows, other than that it’s a good horror film and more importantly just a really good film. I feel it’s a crucial, early part of this warmly welcomed horror renaissance we are now fully in the thick of where writers are focussing less on making people gasp and more on actual good quality cinema. It’s a simple concept that leaves enough room for you to ask your own questions whilst still feeling somewhat complete, and not annoyingly open-ended. The shots are good, the characters are normal enough to be believable, and the colour palette is Fincher-esque; the muted tones perfectly complement the feelings of dread that run throughout. Whilst you don’t need to be concerned with what the whole thing is a metaphor of in order to enjoy the film, the possibility of there being that second reading of the narrative, for me, elevate it to a higher level. In other words, it’s got *Shrek voice* layers.

27. Juno (2007)

“I'm just gonna go ahead and nip this thing in the bud. Cuz you know, they say pregnancy often leads to…you know...an infant.”

I love Ellen Page. I love Michael Cera. Together they are the best thing ever. See, I’m not really much of a rom-com girl but I see this as less of a rom-com and more of a coming of age film with romantic snippets and great one liners. It’s sweet and whimsical and funny but also really fucking real in parts, and it’s definitely what I would consider a modern classic. If you haven’t watched it already, do!

28. Suspiria (2018)

“Love and manipulation, they share houses very often. They are frequent bedfellows.”

Witches! Ballet dancing! Decapitation! Tilda Swinton! What’s not to love? As soon as I saw the trailer for Suspiria, I knew I had to see it. Creepy but also beautifully shot and scored, it was worth the 8 month wait from the Venice Film Festival and eventual caving and watching on 123Movies after I couldn’t find the DVD on Amazon; I finally got to tick it off my watch list only to like it so much I had to add the original Suspiria back on.

29. Mulholland Drive (2001)

“I hope that I never see that face, ever, outside of a dream.”

Another film which had me like WTF by the end, I really recommend Mulholland Drive for anyone who wants to be vaguely creeped out and extremely confused at the same time. See, I really love a film where you spend the next few hours after watching researching all the different interpretations and reading interviews with the director. That sounds sarcastic, but honestly, I love it. It’s a moody, film-noir style mindfuck of a movie and even after doing my research I’m still quite baffled. That’s the best part.

30. Requiem for a Dream (2000)

“Purple in the morning, blue in the afternoon, orange in the evening.”

It took me a while to get on board with seeing Marlon Wayans in a serious role (I’ve seen White Chicks far too many times, clearly), but once I did, I was into it. To be totally honest, I don’t think there’s a single happy moment in this film; it comes up quite frequently as one of the most disturbing of all time, which I’m sure Aronofsky probably thinks of as another notch on his belt. Whilst imo, that’s quite a grandiose claim, Requiem for a Dream definitely stuck in my mind after I watched it. Even if you’ve never watched the film, the ending sequence is notorious for how fucked up it is and I do think it’s earned the infamy. What stuck out more to me, though, was how purposeful every shot and sequence felt in terms of trying to let you into the character’s states of mind, the short lived bursts of euphoria and the panicked downwards spirals. I think it will always be one of the most compelling films about addiction for highlighting how terrifyingly out of one’s control it can be.

31. Room (2015)

“No one is strong alone.”

This film made me cry buckets. Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay are wonderful, and everyone involved deserved all the Oscar hype. Every line was so heartfelt and emotive, and I loved Tremblay’s voiceovers. To translate the stream of consciousness of a kid from page to screen in a way that it remains believable in spite of its wisdom (not like those tweets where people try to make out their kid just casually made some off the cuff scathing political jibe at the dinner table) is quite the feat and similarly, I’m in awe of how the director managed to communicate the pain and confusion of the characters on a level that transcended the physical confines of said room. The escape scene had my heart in my mouth. All this being said, I should really read the book because it’s supposed to be even better.

32. Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (2010)

‘When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case I do them all the time. All of them.”

Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead are two of my favourite actors and so it’s a given that Scott Pilgrim is one of my favourite films. It’s such a fun, easy watch and the video-game inspired directorial style makes it, in terms of cinematography, probably the most memorable Edgar Wright film on this list imo. The concept, based on the graphic novel, is quite a simple one but that doesn’t stop it being entertaining from start to finish. The rest of the cast is great too: Brie Larson, Anna Kendrick, Mae Whitman, Aubrey Plaza and Alison Pill (Ivy from American Horror Story, anyone?) All make appearances, plus Chris Evans. He’s Captain America or something, right?

33. Scream (1996)

“No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”

The Scream movies were my absolute favourite when I was just getting into “horror” as a 13/14 year old because they were always pretty tame in terms of scares but nonetheless, always a trip. Though, controversially, I’d probably say I enjoyed Scream 4 just as much as the first one (I am a bit of an Emma Roberts stan), I chose the first one purely for how iconic it was and how ahead of its time. It mixed satire and horror in a way that hadn’t really been done in such a mainstream way before and made it possible for films like Cabin in the Woods and The Final Girls to do so well.

34. Shaun of the Dead (2004)

“Take car. Go to Mum's. Kill Phil, sorry, grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over.”

I’ve seen Shaun of the Dead way, way, way too many times and I’ll still probably watch it again the next time ITV decide to show it too. It makes me laugh, it’s got lots of good gore and it’s easy to follow. The perfect film to put on whilst eating a take away, as long as you’re not too squeamish, lol.

35. Silence of the Lambs (1991)

“Well, Clarice. Have the lambs stopped screaming?”

Jodie Foster’s portrayal of Clarice Starling makes her one of my favourite movie heroines of all time; quietly courageous, she was the type of female lead that really hadn’t cropped up all that much in the films that came before Silence of the Lambs. And despite its problematic handling of certain issues, it’s a fucking incredible film. The thing about Hannibal Lecter is that they don’t have to tell you that he’s always one step ahead, you see it for yourself (the elevator scene!) and so it kinda feels like he’s looking into YOUR soul too. The confrontation at the end between Clarice and Buffalo Bill is one of the most nerve-racking 15 minutes or so of film I’ve ever watched, and if I ever get asked to justify why I’m scared of the dark again, I’m going to point straight to this scene. Yes, I’m a baby but my fears are VALID!

36. Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

“I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing!”

As you can probably tell from my inclusion of Mother! on this list, I love Jennifer Lawrence, and this is probably my favourite drama film of hers. The way that she and Bradley Cooper portray two people struggling with mental illness is refreshingly honest in that it shows it can make you quite an unlikeable person at times, albeit someone who is just trying their best to survive. That being said, in spite of the subject matter it’s still a relatively light and easy-to-watch film. The diner scene in particular is a masterclass in realistic conflict and reaction, and I hate to be “ooo, edgy” but several of the lines did strike a really deep chord.

37. The Babadook (2014)

“Sometimes I just want to smash your head against the brick wall until your fucking brains pop out.”

The best thing that the Babadook does, much like It Follows, is instils a sense of deep seated dread in you before you even see the supernatural forces at work. The washed out colour palette, apparent emotional disconnect of Jennifer Kent’s (who also directs!) character, and the disorienting movements of the camera all help to create a lingering unease that is just as effective as the grossly uncanny appearance of the monster/ghost/creature/whatever-you-want-to-call-it himself. It’s obvious that Kent had a very clear vision of the story she wanted to tell and even more so that she is a very talented woman; I hope to see even more female directed horror films in the future if the Babadook is anything to go by. The way this film blurred the lines between the inner struggles of a grieving family and the outside supposedly paranormal influence was unsettling as fuck and to get into the psychology of a mother left on her own to raise a small child and how terrifying that might feel is something only a immensely intuitive and empathetic woman could do. Props to her.

38. The Craft (1996)

“We are the weirdos, mister.”

Not to sound all halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl (although that might actually be quite an accurate description of me to be honest), but if there’s one thing that sticks in my mind about the craft, it’s the aesthetic. It’s kind of what I aim to emulate in every aspect of my life, NBD. Seriously, when I was trying to pick a still, I was spoilt for choice. The rituals, the outfits, the witchy interiors; there’s this one GIF of Nancy, Rochelle, Bonnie (and maybe Sarah?) lighting all these gorgeous candles and if I could walk around with it permanently looping on my forehead, I would. And ignoring my shallow reasons for liking The Craft, it’s just a really good film. Nancy Downs is probably one of the most interesting female villains of all time and I’m obsessed with anything that explores magic and the occult. It’s equal parts dark and girly, not to use that in a derivative way at all, in that not only does it teeter on the line of being scary, it’s also a gritty exploration of female friendship, power and jealousy. If you are a halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl, definitely watch it; more power to you.

39. The Favourite (2018)

“All I know is, your carriage awaits and my maid is on her way up with something called a pineapple.”

I’d seen The Favourite twice within, like, a month of it being released in British cinemas and I do not have a single regret about that; well, maybe a minor regret in paying over £12 to see it in the Leicester Square Odeon with the assumption that the extra price meant fancy seats (it didn’t), but on the whole, I’m pretty happy with my life choices. Emma Stone, Olivia Colman, and the period Mean Girls comparison drew me in but I came back the second time for the costumes, the dialogue, the editing and Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough. Or Rachel Weiss, in other words. See, The Favourite is superbly casted in that Yorgos Lanthimos must have known we can’t help but see Emma Stone as the “good girl”/protagonist and so it took me a whole second viewing to see her character for what she really was, and realise The Favourite is in some ways less a story of Abigail Masham’s rise to power and more the tragic disintegration of Sarah and Anne’s relationship. I’m sure you can view the film both ways but to view it as the latter brings a whole new dimension to it and the ending, imo. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t go into the film expecting some vaguely historical lesbianism and that definitely made for a slightly awkward birthday viewing with my family BUT I wasn’t at all disappointed.

40. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

“If you dig a hole in the yard, better make it a big one.”

This film is slow-moving, weird and the acting can be stiff at the best of times, and yet somehow all these things add to the (take a shot every time I say-) dread that builds throughout. You don’t know exactly how things are going to end, but you do know it’s not well. Like in his latest directorial entry of The Favourite, Yorgos Lanthimos excels in the realm of the strange and vaguely fantastical through his script, score and cinematography, and so even though the settings are quite mundane, The Killing of a Sacred Deer kind of feels like some macabre modern fairytale, the moral of which I can’t quite work out. I can’t imagine anyone playing Martin more unnervingly than Barry Keoghan and I’m never going to complain about Nicole Kidman, but it’s the imagery of the tears of blood, Steven’s children dragging themselves along the floor and the ending scene that stuck with me long after the film had finished. If you’ve got the patience and you enjoyed the style of The Favourite, there’ll definitely be something positive for you to take away from The Killing of a Sacred Deer.

41. The Orphanage (2007)

“Seeing is not believing. It's the other way around. Believe, and you will see.”

When I was first told by my year 11 Spanish teacher that we were going to be watching The Orphanage in class, I definitely didn’t foresee myself including it in a top 50 films list 5 years later and yet here we are. I mean, I shouldn’t have been surprised really as she did tell us it was good and I had frequently seen it included in lists of the best horror films but as with pretty much anything our teachers would put on as an excuse not to teach for a few lessons (I’m really NOT complaining here, they deserve the break and I would definitely do the same, lol), my expectations were definitely low. Side note, I also since found out that Bilbao seems like a pretty cool place and there was a reason she kept banging on about that too, and so moral of the story, teachers do sometimes have some decent recommendations BUT my assumption was that The Orphanage must be pretty tame for her to show it to us. Parents-even of 16 of year olds-love to complain, lol. And to be fair, it isn’t so much in your face scary so much as it is kind of tragic with an undertone of spooky but I really enjoyed it. I want to say that part of what I enjoyed about it so much was the mystery element but honestly I think a lot of that comes from the fact that it’s in Spanish so I had to work to follow what was actually going on.

42. The Ring (2002)

“I can't imagine being stuck down a well all alone like that. How long could you survive?”

The Ring does visuals better than any other horror. The contorted faces of Samara’s victims, the infamous tape and the shots of the well all have a staple in pop culture for a reason. Whilst I don’t find Samara herself particularly frightening, the lore and mythology surrounding her feels so authentically creepy; the tape in particular reminds me of the kind of weird YouTube video you might stumble across when you’re supposed to be trying to get to bed late at night and instantly hate yourself for watching. Naomi Watts is a compelling lead and though I was probably rooting for Sarah Michelle Gellar in the American remake of the Grudge more (I still low-key associate her with the live-action Scooby-Doo and I have no shame), to compare other noughties horror classics, on the whole The Ring is definitely the better quality movie.

43. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

The Shawshank Redemption is just an unequivocally good film. On paper, it doesn’t necessarily have any of the things that draw me to a movie in it, but it’s brilliantly acted, written and shot. It’s frequently cited as one of the greatest movies of all time and I think that’s a very fair statement.

44. The Shining (1980)

“Wendy? Darling? Light of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in!”

I love The Shining. In terms of scares, not all that much happens in it, but what we do see (the corpse in the bath tub is fucking horrifying) undoubtedly leaves an impact. The score is so unnervingly perfect that I can still hear the sound that’s made when we see those 2…puppets? Costumed people? Basically some kind of weird furry activity-which believe me, makes sense if you’ve seen it-going on. And I only need to see a still of the Overlook Hotel and I can immediately feel the sense of claustrophobia and growing tension that Stanley Kubrick so effectively communicated. A lot of people shat on Shelley Duvall’s acting at the time and whilst she obviously didn’t match Jack Nicholson’s energy, she did come across as a woman genuinely traumatised which is sad when you do consider the effect that shooting the film had on her. With that aside, The Shining is a massively pivotal part of horror history and I’m very excited to see Doctor Sleep this year!

45. The Virgin Suicides (1999)

“Obviously, Doctor, you've never been a 13-year-old girl.”

It really is a toss up between Marie Antoinette and The Virgin Suicides when it comes to Sofia Coppola’s best film, and so of course I had to include them both. See, whereas Marie Antoinette could be the visual incarnation of an album like Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart or Charli XCX’s Sucker (if you ignore the less than fortunate ending, lmao), The Virgin Suicides plays out more to the tunes of something less bubblegum pop and more breezy and mellow, maybe LDR’s Ultraviolence or Honeymoon. You could say in a way that this film romanticises suicide and you’d definitely have a point, but I think considering the fact that it’s based on a book and was made in a time when we were less aware of the damage popular media can do (I think there’s a similar point to be made about the way the villain of Silence of the Lambs’s gender is portrayed and linked to his motivation), I give it a pass. It does also kind of make sense for the film to take this approach; the Lisbon girls are viewed through the eyes of a group of boys who are infatuated with them but also ultimately know nothing about them. In a way, it’s almost a critique of the way these boys think and a commentary on just how stifling and confusing young womanhood can be. I think it’s a beautiful film and a perfect adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides’ novel.

46. The VVitch (2015)

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Is it sad that I have this quote tattooed on my back? Is it biased for me to say no? Because for me, just as much as the Virgin Suicides is about how stifling society’s expectations of young women and how they are supposed to think and act, The VVitch is about the demonisation of girls who go against this and how liberation and sexual freedom for so long were perceived as the result of some kind of satanic and deeply disturbing force at work rather than individual expressions of freedom and femininity. The ending is HAPPY, okay, and if you take away the misty, barren landscapes and the isolation and the paranoia and the baby eating witches and the accusations and the demonic goats, it’s kinda a dark feminist fairy tale to go against puritan panic. I mean, let’s be honest, *spoilers* Thomasin’s siblings were annoying AF. Not that I’m condoning child murder on any level, but you know. In a narrative context was it really so much of a loss when those little shits got the chop?

47. Thoroughbreds (2017)

“At the end of the day, I have a perfectly healthy brain. It just doesn't contain feelings. And that doesn't necessarily make me a bad person. It just means I have to work a little harder than everybody else to be good.”

I love Olivia Cooke. I love Anya Taylor-Joy. I love concise, cutting dialogue, the idea of middle class American social politics, and a little bit of (fictional, of course) murder thrown in there for good measure. Thus, I really love Thoroughbreds. If you watched it with the sound off, it’d be a Polo Ralph Lauren promotional film that gets really dark at the end, and what’s not to like about that?

48. We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

“What are these people watching, people like me?”

I still haven’t got round to reading the book this film was based on and I feel like that’s something I need to get on top of ASAP, because it’s been sitting on my shelf for a long ass time. However, based on the little I know about how faithful a film adaptation it is, I think Ezra Miller and Tilda Swinton were a wonderful pairing, and this is a film that’s all about the characters, so it’s a good job they were so well cast. Miller does a great job at getting right under your skin and answering a lot of my questions about what leads someone to commit the kind of horrific crime that his character, Kevin, does. Arrogance, done subtly, is hard to pull off but he nails it, and Swinton is very, very believable as a haunted, grief-stricken mother wrestling with the natural question of the part she played in her son’s actions and the scrutiny that comes with it. Not only that but from the offset, every part of the cinematography helps to convey the feeling of impending doom that builds right up until the climax. The colour palette in particular, which for the most part doesn’t stray too far from the mundane greys and bleak washed-out tones perhaps reflective of Eva’s state of mind, does a great job of foreshadowing what to come when it quite purposefully does take a diversion. It’s all about the red, apparently. Take note.

49. Whiplash (2014)

“Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity.”

You honestly wouldn’t believe that a film about drumming could feel like a horror and yet here Whiplash is, leaving me on the edge of my seat and wincing for, like, 2 hours straight. Tonally it couldn’t be more different from the other Damien Chazelle film on this list (La La Land), and yet it flows just as seamlessly and has his same impeccable rhythm; every word, yell and snarl slots perfectly into place and every swivel of the camera is flawlessly executed. If you’re looking for an intense and fast-paced drama, I can’t recommend Whiplash enough.

50. Zombieland (2009)

“Twelve's the new twenty. Gun please.”

Zombieland has only one fault: that Jesse Eisenberg’s character wasn’t played by Michael Cera. But it has Emma Stone and Woody Harrelson so I’ll let it slide. Not much to say about this one other than it’s a wild ride from start to finish, but simultaneously easy to watch and probably the most lighthearted zombie film out there. Almost like The Hangover or something along those lines, but with the addition of the undead. It’s a hard film not to enjoy and I’m just really hoping they don’t fuck up the sequel.

DISCLAIMER: 90% of these stills are from Filmgrab, it’s an amazing website!

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sinnerchrono-blog1 · 5 years ago

Text

Shicca First Date

Rating: T

Summary: Rebecca had been talking to this man for about three months now and was eagerly waiting for him for their date...hopefully he doesn't disappoint her this time.

A/N: Yo guys! It's Shicca week and this is pretty late, but hopefully I get to get the other prompts finished by this Sunday!

□□

The restaurant was filled with bustling people, waiters coming in and out of the kitchen constantly and the decor very exquisite and fine. It was a restaurant that spelled out romance. Almost all the white linen covered tables were filled with couples, holding hands across the tables, some women giggling into their hands and some men puffed up with the chance of pleasing their women tonight.

Meanwhile all the lovey dovey scene was unfolding, a sandy blonde young woman sat alone at the center table, the only thing in her hand was not the hand of her late date, but a full glass of water. Her countenance wasn't one filled with happiness, but one filled with worry, and disappointment.

Rebecca sighed, feeling silly for waiting for her probably no show date, but she had hope that he would walk through the door any minute. The only thing that was probably contradicting her positive vibe was the fact that there was no call, no text, no nothing from her date to be.

She had been talking to the man for about 3 months now, in the first month it was just friendly, the in the second month there was flirting, small hand holding, and prolonged hugs. The only thing was that while the flirting and the sparks were obviously there, there was no talk about actually starting to be a couple.

The month after that however was when she realized that she did want a real and sure thing and mentioned that to her admirer. He agreed, saying he wanted the same thing as her. Setting up a date however was very difficult.

Often he would cancel last minute, the late night texts were becoming less frequent and he seemed to be avoiding her phone calls any way he could. She thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but every day she felt less secure about herself, wondering that maybe he did lose interest. That is until she walked up to him and demanded to know what was going on, and if he was even still interested in her. He assured her that yes he was, and was actually thinking of calling her that morning.

He was the one that set up this date and this time, there was no text or phone call about him running late. An hour had already past.

She still had hope. He was very sweet, and he seemed kind...but-

Rebecca heard footsteps coming her way and she looked up rather quickly, sat up a little straighter and pushed back a loose curled strand of hair behind her ear. Her face fell when she realized that it was just the waiter. His eyes seemed sympathetic and she felt embarrassed by her obvious eagerness.

"Miss...perhaps now would be a good time to order?" He hesitantly took his notepad out, not even bothering to pull out his black pen already knowing her answer. She shook her head.

"I'm still...waiting. He's just running a little late." He nodded, smiled sympathetically, and walked away from her table. She sighed, upset that her date was totally testing her patience and was about to stand up to walk away after all until she heard someone coming her way. She didn't bother to look at whoever it was, most certainly it was not him.

"Damn, Becca. Still here by yourself?" Rebecca quickly looked up, her bluebell eyes falling straight onto the raven haired man standing in front of her table.

"Shiki!" She exclaimed, shocked that her best friend was here. She heard some murmurs and looked around, seeing that her loud shrill voice annoyed some of the couples around. She cleared her throat, feeling her face flush. "W-What on earth are you doing here?" She whispered.

Shiki plopped himself at the open seat in front of her, his arms crossed against his torso. She noticed how he was still wearing his mechanics suit, his red jacket over the grimy clothes. She wondered how on earth anyone let him in looking like that, but Shiki didn't really care about that sort of thing. He probably snuck by the hostess at the front.

"I've actually been waiting around the block. Everytime I passed by the window you were still alone...aren't you on a date?" Rebecca gaped at him. Embarrassed at his admittance and for seeing that she had been alone for more than an hour already.

"H-He's running late." Her voice wobbled, not believing even herself in that moment. Shiki raised his eyebrow.

"Wow. Again? This guy can't even care enough to show up on time?"

"He's was probably stuck on something. You know how hard he is on studying and interning. Most likely caught up in that." Her finger traced onto the intricate designs on the tablecloth, not daring to meet Shiki's eyes. She knew he would never judge her, but he knew enough about the guy to probably guess what was going on.

It was silent for a moment, Rebecca continuing to trace over the pattern on the tablecloth, she dared a peek into Shiki's eyes and felt her heart speed up a little at his serious face. His midnight eyes staring straight into her bluebell ones.

"I don't think he's gonna come." Rebecca's shoulders slumped, her mouth turned down more than before.

Hearing someone come their way, Rebecca turned her eyes away from the raven haired man only to fall upon the same waiter. He seemed a little surprised at the way Shiki was dressed, but quickly took out his notepad and pen, smiling nonetheless.

"I see that your date was a little occupied after all." Rebecca blinked back at his statement, her mind reeling. She then felt her face start to heat up realizing that the waiter thought that Shiki was the man she was meeting.

"O-Oh no! You see-"

"Yup! That would be me!" The woman snapped her head back to Shiki, her eyes wide with disbelief and her face rivaling a tomato. "Name's Shiki!" He grinned, holding his hand out to the waiter. Rebecca saw how the waiter hesitated to shake his hand because of the obvious black smears on it. "Oh!" Shiki exclaimed quickly rubbing it against his clothed leg then holding it out once more. The wiping didn't help his case, but he seemed pleased with it. The waiter chuckled slightly then slowly shook Shiki's hand.

"I am Daniel. I will be your waiter tonight." Daniel smiled. Shiki grinned.

"Awesome!" The bubbly man exclaimed. Rebecca then felt her stomach growl loudly, causing her to grab the attention of the two men. The woman smiled, embarrassed, her body scooting down a little on the seat as Shiki laughed. The waiter seemed amused.

"Hey, Daniel? Do you happen to have any burgers here? We're starving." The mechanic inquired happily. The waiter nodded and was about to open his mouth to ask which kind of burger until Shiki cut in. "I'll get whatever she's having. Rebecca always get picks the best in burger joints."

"This isn't a burger joint, Shiki." Rebecca corrected. Shiki shrugged.

"Well they have burgers and stuff." Rebecca sighed, already knowing it was really no use in trying to tell Shiki that this was a fancy restaurant.

"I'll have the Curry Burger and I would like the meat medium rare please." Rebecca smiled, the waiter nodded in response, jotting down her and Shiki's order quickly.

"It'll be on it's way. I'll take your menus. Would you like anything to drink?"

"A lemonade, please." Rebecca said.

"And I'll have a coke, thanks." Shiki added in. The waiter smiled, grabbed their menus and quickly took off to the kitchen. Shiki slouched in his seat, rubbing his stomach. "Man, I'm hungry. Hope it doesn't take long."

"...You know. You could've grabbed a bite to eat instead of wandering around the street." The woman stated. "And you didn't have to lie to the waiter."

"Daniel." Shiki cut in.

"You didn't have to lie to Daniel." Rebecca crossed her arms. Shiki's face turned serious once again, causing her to lose her focus a little.

"I didn't lie. It's a date." He stated, his voice deep. Rebecca gaped again, then broke out of her stupor.

"Shiki. I don't want a date out of pity-" she started, displeased.

"Nah. It's not like that. Promise. I've actually wanted to do this with you -- and you're looking like at me funny again. Flies can literally fly into you mouth right now." Rebecca snapped her open mouth shut. She could feel her face burning at his admittance and she knew that he was telling the truth. Shiki was always honest with whatever he said.

"Y-You have? Why didn't you say anything?" She asked, curious. Shiki shrugged then looked away, his eyes annoyed.

"Well. You were all hung up on that no good guy. But since he ain't coming and you don't have a boyfriend, figured I'd just come out and say it now." He scratched his head, face a little flushed. "You're really awesome, Bec...and if that guy can't see that then it's his loss. He doesn't deserve you." Rebecca's heart only beated faster with every word that Shiki spoke. He was a very down to earth person and was always honest in what he felt. She could always trust in him to be true.

"How long did you feel this way for?" She whispered. Shiki shrugged.

"First time we met, actually."

"...Really?"

"Well, yeah. But of course I wanted to be your friend! I'm not gonna be your friend just for that!" Shiki stammered. Rebecca grabbed his hand from across the table, silencing him.

"I get it. I trust you, Shiki. I know you're not gonna do things just to get something in return." The woman smiled softly, pleased that he relaxed under her touch. She felt him return the touch, holding her hand as well. Shiki's hand felt warm and he stared at their locked hands in thought.

"I know I said this was a date without asking you...If you don't want this to be--"

"It's our first date." Rebecca grinned. Shiki blinked back in surprise.

"R-Really?" His voice cracked, then he cleared his throat. "You're not doing this just to be nice right?"

"Of course not. I want this to be our first date, Shiki." She tightened her hold on his hand, trying to convey how truthful she was being about it. The man stared into her eyes, then nodded grinning.

"ALRIGHT!" he shouted, making everyone turn their heads their way again. Rebecca shrinked a little, but laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Ah, sir...I'm gonna ask that you quiet down a little." One of the waiters passing by said.

"Huh? Was I really that loud?"

●●●

Their first date continued, their conversation only seeming to be just like always. Rebecca always felt relaxed with Shiki, glad that he was there to lift up her night. Their food eventually came and it was as delicious as it seemed on the menu. Rebecca was in heaven and Shiki enjoyed the meal as well, pleased to see her being happy and humming as she ate her meal.

The night continued, their laughter and their personalities brightening up their night. After their little argument about who was paying what ("What?! No Shiki this is a lot for only two! I'll pay for it!" "Come on, Bec! It's not a big deal!), then deciding to split the bill and give a tip to Daniel, their waiter, they both decided to take a stroll down the old park where they first met in high school.

Shiki parked his blue 1997 Chevrolet pick up, stepped out, then opened the passenger door for Rebecca.

"After you, Milady." He grinned, bowing and holding out his hand. Rebecca giggled and played along, placing her small one in his.

"Why thank you, kind Sir." Shiki's smile only brightened more at her response. They both didn't let go after that.

The stars we dimmed by the light pollution of the city, but Shiki was still able to tell which constellation was what, happily showing them to the woman. His excitement about stars and space in general was always so passionate and Rebecca knew that one day he would be able to reach the stars like he said he wanted. Shiki was always so confident and positive. There was no doubt in her mind that he would reach his dreams.

After pushing each other on the swings, lounging and talking on the park bench, and Shiki trying to go down the small slide, they decided that it was getting late into the night and Rebecca needed to be home to rest up for her morning classes. They hopped into the pick up truck and Shiki headed towards her apartment.

The raven haired man parked his pick, opened the door for the woman and helped her out of the truck, held her hand and walked with her to the apartment. Rebecca wished the night never ended. It was always like that with Shiki. He was just really fun and comfortable to be around and always made her laugh. At her door, Shiki let go of her hand, causing Rebecca to miss his warmth.

"That was a fun first date." Shiki smiled, blushing a little. Rebecca nodded in agreement.

"It was. I'm glad that I spent it with you." Rebecca stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her ear against his chest. She smiled when she heard his heart racing, feeling hers beat in time with it. "Thank you, Shiki." She felt his arms wrap around her body in return, tightening the embrace.

"I wanted to have this date with you remember? I'm glad you enjoyed it, Bec." He pulled away, his hands dropping from her body and Rebecca stepped back. "Goodnight! I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Yeah. Just don't be late for class alright? You're always sleeping in. Surprised they haven't dropped you." Rebecca scoffed. Shiki chuckled.

"You know she's never gonna drop me. Ha Ha! But -- uh -- yeah. I'm not gonna show up late...she's my grandpa's old friend, but -- uh -- yeah. She sort of told me to not show up late anymore." He nervously laughed.

"She scolded you didn't she?" Rebecca smirked.

"She's scary when she's upset! Okay?!" He defended. Rebecca laughed in response. "It's true!"

"Okay, okay. I believe you. Don't worry." The man only pouted and crossed his arms. Rebecca turned to her door and got out her keys from her little white purse, unlocked her door, then stepped inside. "Well, goodnight, Shiki. I'll see you tomorrow." Shiki smiled and waved, then started walking towards his car. As soon as he turned his back towards her, Rebecca closed her door. As soon as her door shut Happy pranced towards her, rubbing his furry, feline body against her, purring.

"Aw! Hi, Happy. Did you miss me, boy?" She babied. Happy only meowed in response. After placing her keys and purse onto the little vanity by her door, she gently picked up her Russian blue cat and held him against her body, her phone still in her hand. After placing Happy onto her bed, she laid down and unlocked her phone, seeing a message in her notifications. She quickly opened it, thinking that maybe the guy did text her only to find that it was Shiki's message, which did not disappoint her. She smiled as she read it

Hope you rest well, Bec!

Rebecca sighed happily and replied.

You as well, Shiki!

●●●

Hope you're having a good morning <3

Rebecca read that the following morning, scoffing. If he thought she was gonna answer him he had another thing coming. She wasn’t even sure if she was even going to confront him today.

She found herself being the one late to her first class. Luckily her professor didn't give her any trouble since this was her first time being late. The two first morning classes went by smoothly and seemingly quick, and already she was feeling a little nervous for her next one.

The man she was supposed to have met with last night was taking that course with her.

Rebecca walked in the classroom, somewhat relieved and disappointed that he didn't show. She didn't really feel like confronting him anyway.

Unless that's what she thought until after class. She walked by the courtyard and saw him sitting on a bench that was slightly concealed by the bushes. Curious she walked closer to him finding that he was not alone.

Another woman was with him. Rebecca noticed that it was the girl she and he were acquainted with in the same class. They were holding hands, talking and laughing together. Rebecca wondered if the girl knew about their "mutual affection" at all. All Rebecca knew was that either way, she had to talk to him anyway. He made her think he was all fine with her and then suddenly to find him like this?

She walked up to them, finding that as soon as she got closer, he let go of the girls hand rather quickly, eyes wide and causing the girl next to him stare at him in confusion.

"Hey, Rebecca!" He smiled. Rebecca wanted to laugh, but held herself.

"Missed you last night...But I'm glad you didn't show up for our date." He looked at her, seemingly dumbfounded.

"What is she talking about?" The girl next to him asked. He seemed to stutter, but the girl only seemed to get more upset after his long silence.

"I'm guessing you didn't know about our mutual thing going on. But it's fine. It was over last night." She then faced the man again. "Hope you're happy." Rebecca stated. She walked away from the couple, not realizing and exactly caring that she was walking towards the science building and entered into it. She walked into the women's restroom, glad that that there was no one, and breathed. She breathed steadily and made sure to count, slowing it until it was at a regular pace. After she was done, she walked out of the bathroom and was surprised to find a hall full of students walking into their next class. She started walking to her own until she bumped into a broad chest. She felt hands on her shoulders.

"Whoa, Rebecca. What's the hurry?" A deep voice asked. She looked up to find Weisz's blue eyes and noticed a figure standing behind him. Shiki. Rebecca shook out of Weisz's hold.

"Just heading to our class. I don't want to be late." Rebecca answered. Weisz smirked.

"Well, class begins in like seven minutes. You've got plenty of time." The blonde man chuckled. Rebecca's frown deepened, and walked past him. She wasn’t in the mood if Weisz felt like flirting with her today.

"Whoa what did I say?!" Weisz exclaimed. Rebecca ignored him, but made the mistake of meeting Shiki's eyes staring right at her face. Rebecca's large steps faltered, almost tripping on her feet until Shiki grabbed her arm to help her.

"Hey, Bec. You okay?" Shiki whispered. Rebecca saw that her vision was misting over, and she tightened her throat to hold it in. She shrugged.

"I'm fine."

Shiki didn't seem to buy it and held her hand, leading her away from the crowd.

"Where are you two going!?" Weisz yelled, confused.

Shiki and her walked out of the building, hands still clasped as he lead her to the back where no one was around to over hear them.

"What's going on?" Shiki asked. "You don't seem okay." Rebecca sighed. She already knew Shiki had a crush on her now, so she wouldn't know how he would react to whatever she was holding in, but she did trust him.

"You know that guy I was supposed to meet with last night?" Shiki nodded. "Well guess who found him cozying it up with another girl?" Her voice cracked and she felt her tears run down her face. She gave a wet chuckle then frowned. After a moment of silence she curiously peeked into Shiki's eyes and saw anger on his face.

"That fucking asshole! What the fuck?! Where did you find him?" He looked around as he said this

"Whoa! Hey Shiki!" She called, resting her hands on his cheeks, making him look at her. "It's done."

"But he still-"

"I know...I know...It's just not worth it." She sighed, letting go of Shiki. She felt arms wrap around her, finding herself in his embrace. Rebecca sighed, wrapping her arms around him as well.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Just upset you know. It'll pass though. It's not worth it." She assures. Shiki sighed and tightened his hold.

"Just...I'm here for you. Okay?" Rebecca nodded against his shoulder, then pulled away.

"Still. I'm glad he didn't show up though. It was a great night that I got to spend with you." The girl smiled. "You're a great date." Shiki beamed at that.

"Really?" He asked. Rebecca giggled and nodded. "Awesome! Can't wait to go on more with you!...That is if it's alright with you."

"Definitely. I loved it. I'm sure more dates with you will be amazing." her smile softened. She deserved happiness and Shiki was such a wonderful man to be around. And truth be told she did have a little crush on him since last night, she scrunched her face in thought. No. She had a crush on him before, she didn't want to admit it to herself, but since meeting that guy she thought she had moved on from Shiki after all. She would never really know right now however. And even if he didn’t like her like that, she knew with just his friendship, she’d be just as satisfied. She broke out of her stupor when Shiki pushed back a strand of curled hair behind her ear softly, causing Rebecca to blush intensely.

"Well you're amazing, Rebecca. That guy's lost for not seeing it. Now I get to have you." Shiki grinned. The girl felt her heart pound hard in her chest and buried her face against Shiki's chest.

"I-I guess you do." She stammered. She felt Shiki tightened his hold on her, and she knew that she'd be more than okay.

#shicca #shiccaweek #my fanfic #edens zero

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gayazrael · 6 years ago

Note

1. the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate. (JeanLuke, because Jean-Paul's internal monologue was made for this AU)

AO3 mirror: the fire that breaks from thee (a billion times told lovelier)

Jean-Paul has never known color.

He doesn’t consider this any sort of deficiency, or that he might be somehow missing something. It’s impossible to miss what was never there, after all. The world is simply varying shades of grey, of black, of white. That is the simple reality of it. True, there were words he had no meaning for in books and in scriptures—blood has never been red, only a trickling black; the sky is only ever a faded grey; blades of grass are merely shards of the same. There is something else, then, but it is not something he can know.

Azrael is not meant to see such things, he thinks. It would be a distraction from his calling, from his purpose. So when he sees his reflection in a window, or a pool of water, he sees only a washed-out grey face, cold white eyes. When he looks up into the fractured gleam of a chapel’s mosaic windows, he can only see the light. It is how he is meant to be.

This doesn’t change after he is freed from the Order of Saint Dumas. Why would it? To assume it would is… senseless. Unreasonable. To hope for it is nothing short of foolish.

Not that he would—not that he did.

Anyway, he doesn’t mind. Gotham is, perhaps, more difficult to navigate than Gnosis or Santa Prisca when every street and every building looks identical in its austerity, but that is simply Jean-Paul’s burden to bear.

He doesn’t mind.

He hears, from listening in on conversations that aren’t quite hushed enough, that there are people who can see something other than a wash of black and grey. Two women sitting on a bench together, gazing wonderingly into each other’s eyes and marveling at all the color they can suddenly see within. A young man in a library, saying words like soulmate in dreamlike tones.

The knowledge twists inside him, but he will not allow himself to resent anyone blessed with the colors he will never know.

It doesn’t change.

It won’t change.

Until the day it does.

Azrael’s mask lifts from Jean-Paul’s face as he descends the stairs to the Cave. He shakes his hair out, pushing a gauntleted hand through it to untangle it. The air is cool on his face, growing cooler as he descends, and then abruptly warmer as he nears the Cave itself—and the heating systems Batman has set up to keep himself and his wards from freezing down here. He tucks his helmet in the crook of his arm as he passes the tyrannosaur, upon which Damian appears to have made himself quite comfortable. Down on the ground below him, there sleeps a truly enormous dog, head rested peacefully on its paws.

It’s strange to be invited down here, to the Bat family’s most closely-guarded sanctum. Looking around the Cave, no one seems to even be particularly bothered by his walking down here. Tim even gives a small wave before returning his attention to one of the main computer consoles, though the young woman sitting next to him is too engrossed in her work to do the same. Jason, situated with his boots propped up on the circular meeting table, seems more inclined to pay attention to a plate of tiny sandwiches he’s appropriated than to Jean-Paul.

Not that Jean-Paul minds overmuch. That no one is paying him much heed is, in the end, almost a sign of trust. After everything he did to these people—that, in and of itself, is a minor miracle.

A few… key members are nowhere to be found. Jean-Paul assumes he has simply arrived early, and tries his best not to fidget as he sits down. Silently, Jason extends a single sandwich. For lack of anything better to do, Jean-Paul reasons he may as well. (It tastes like nothing Jean-Paul has ever had, but that’s hardly surprising.)

Slowly, others trickle in. Jean-Paul knows a handful of names and faces, mostly because Harper likes to show off pictures during downtime at the clinic. Cassandra and Stephanie, who sit together some seats away from Jason and Jean-Paul. Kate, who had been there when Jean-Paul was invited here, and who he nearly doesn’t recognize without her cowl and wig. A young man, a bit taller and darker-skinned than Damian, who nods at Jean-Paul before pulling up a chair near Tim, Barbara, and the computer.

“No Grayson?” says Damian.

Kate looks up, her expression simultaneously exasperated and resigned. “This is Gotham business,” she says. “And please get down on the ground, Damian. I’m going to get a crick in my neck if you stay up there much longer.”

Damian makes a sound of vague disgust, but the thump of boots on stone follows shortly after. He perches himself on the seat on Jason’s other side, knees tucked under his chin.

Tim turns in his chair, an arm looped over the back. “Bruce should be—”

“Present,” intones a low, distorted voice. Jean-Paul looks over his shoulder towards the Cave’s entrance. Sure enough, Batman has… manifested at the bottom of the stairs, as if he were an apparition, the inky shadow of his cape pooling at his feet. “Just waiting on one more.”

Batman seats himself at Kate’s right side before peeling off his cowl. He regards Jean-Paul silently for a moment before inclining his head in greeting. “Duke, Tim, Barbara—come get a spot at the table. I want everyone involved in this as much as possible.”

Three more seats fill up. No one but Jason sits directly next to Jean-Paul.

“So, I don’t want to be rude or anything,” says Duke, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, “but who’re you?”

Jean-Paul opens his mouth to reply, but Bruce holds up a hand to silence him. “I’ll introduce our guest when everyone’s here,” Bruce says, not unkindly. “You won’t have to wait long, don’t worry.”

Jason yawns. “Uh-huh. Most of us have been here for ages already,” he says, pushing the now empty plate away from the edge of the table. He folds his hands behind his head, closes his eyes, and leans far back enough in his seat to be nearly lying down. “How many more centuries is it gonna be, Bruce?”

Bruce pushes a sigh through his nose. “Not long. He told me there was something he needed to finish up before he could come here.”

This time, Kate is the one to scoff, but she doesn’t offer any further illuminating commentary. Instead, she draws a phone out of her pocket and, judging by the fairly constant motion of her thumb, starts scrolling absently without really reading much.

Jean-Paul turns Azrael’s mask over in his lap, studying the angles of it, the black emptiness of its eye holes. It’s easier than looking too long in the faces of everyone else here. He knows, consciously, that it was only ever Tim, Jason, and Dick that he had committed outright violence against, but even that feels an act of violence against the family as a whole. He doesn’t know why they would allow him here after that.

He doesn’t look up again until he hears another unfamiliar voice from above.

“Hey, sorry to keep everybody waiting.” The voice is friendly, even behind whatever distortion is masking it. As much as he wants to, Jean-Paul doesn’t turn around to look. He’s here for the others to observe and make judgement upon him, not the other way around. “Did I miss anything fun?”

“Todd is falling asleep,” says Damian, kicking the back of Jason’s chair.

Jason just cracks an eye open to glare. “I wasn’t actually asleep, you little—”

“We were just waiting for you,” Kate says coolly. She puts her phone face-down on the table, nodding towards the empty seat next to Jean-Paul. “By all means.”

“Thanks,” the newcomer says with a snort.

Jean-Paul hears a series of faint clicks, and out of the corner of his eye, sees a pair of gauntleted hands gently place a helmet on the table. It looks metal, as dark as a starless night, and at the peak of the crown rest twin bat-like ears. The chair beside him scrapes against the floor, and as the newcomer sits down, he finally indulges his curiosity and glances over.

At first, he only registers the usual kinds of features he can make out: short-shaven hair, a wide grin, the shadow of stubble. And then—

Jean-Paul stares, transfixed, as black and grey give way to—to what he has no words for, has never needed words for until this very moment. To… to revelation, to warmth, to the dark-but-not-grey-or-black of smiling eyes, ringed by something lighter, a color—a color—like if one could see the gentle heat of the morning sun. To the deep, yet almost iridescent richness of his dark skin.

The newcomer’s smile slowly fades, his eyes beginning to widen. (His eyes are beautiful. Jean-Paul had never known anything could even be so beautiful. He thinks he understands, now, the human race’s need for poetry.)

Bruce’s voice breaks the silence. “Well, since we’re all here,” he says, “why don’t I introduce everyone.”

Jean-Paul pays him no heed, too mesmerized as the color spreads from the newcomer’s face to his armor (even in the black metal, there is color; even in the white light of the bat-sigil, there are other faint hues to behold), to everything around him. How could anyone bear to look at anyone or anything else?

“Everyone, this is Jean-Paul Valley, callsign Azrael. Jean-Paul, this—Jean-Paul?”

“Yes,” he says, distractedly.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce asks.

Jean-Paul finally tears his eyes away. Bruce barely looks much different, save for the blend of pale tones across his face, which Jean-Paul can actually make out now. “No,” he says. “Nothing.”

Why would there be? Nothing feels wrong at all. It’s as though by simply walking into this room, this man has slotted every missing piece of Jean-Paul’s spirit right into place, leaving a blanket of calm over him. For the first time in his life, Jean-Paul feels as though he belongs somewhere. This man, and his miraculous canvas of color, feels like—home.

Kate glances between Jean-Paul and the newcomer, something like understanding beginning to dawn on her face. “Jean-Paul, this is Luke Fox,” she says, sounding strangely tired. “Luke, meet Jean-Paul.”

Luke. Jean-Paul turns back again to see that smile slowly returning, the shadows of dimples forming under Luke’s stubble. Luke extends a hand. Jean-Paul stares dumbly, first at it, and then at his own (he’d gone so, so long without truly seeing the armor he wore, heavens) before he takes it. Luke’s grip is firm, but Jean-Paul is still too enraptured by the color of his eyes to think much on it.

And then Luke utters three words that make Jean-Paul’s chest tighten and fill with blinding light and heat all at once.

“You too, huh?”

#my fic #jeanluke #jean paul valley #luke fox #batfam #otp: a wing and a prayer

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bittersweetmigraine · 6 years ago

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I hate liars. (chapter 4)

Author’s note: Here it is. It’s been over a year and idk if anyone who read the first three chapters when i first uploaded them is going to be reading this now but hopefully you do. And for all the newer readers, I hope you’ll like it too~~ (edit: had to re-upload because of a bug)

Also, give a warm welcome to our newest character Jungkook! (literally needed a character super tall with broad shoulders and Google immediately recommended Jungkook damn boi). Jk will be a recurring character and the other BTS boys will probably appear from time to time. I’m also looking to add a badass female character in the next chapter so look forward to that ♡

Genre: mafia!AU, bourgeoisie, forced relationship and graphic imagery (if you’re not comfortable with any of those themes, please do not read) // female mc

Word count: 2,5k+

Starring: Kang Daniel (Wanna One), Dong Ha (actor) & Jeon Jungkook (BTS)

Summary: You never really knew how your father got involved in a gang but you knew what he did for a living, for the most part. But when a rival gang comes to get what they’re due and your father refuses, everything turns to horror.

chapter one • chapter two • chapter three

Marble floors and high ceilings. Gorgeous dresses and expensive tuxedos. Dom Perignon flowing in every glasses. You had never seen such an unnecessary show of wealth before but you suddenly understood why Hyunggyu had prepared such a getup for you. He needed you to be the center of attention but in a room like this, it wasn't an easy thing to do. This wasn't just a high school reunion you go to after going through a glow up to impress all the bullies you internally despise. No. This was on a whole other level. These were people who didn't know you, didn't need to know you but that you needed to make want to know you. These were people you needed to charm in order for your head to stay on your shoulders. Quite literally.

You exhaled a sigh of relief when a waiter passed by you, holding out his tray full with champagne glasses. Your left hand reached for a glass as the pressure on your right slightly intensified. "Be careful with that. Wouldn't want you to get drunk and throw a fit." A slight smirk laced with hatred crossed your lips, a small ball of rage building inside your chest. You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip, reveling in the exhilarating feeling of the fine bubbles on your tongue. "Don't worry, I know what you brought me here for. This is only a little bit of liquid courage." You took another sip before Hyunggyu stole the glass from your hand. His eyes bore into you as he finished the glass before disposing of it on the nearest decorative table. Hyunggyu brought his hand to your shoulder, moving your hair back and exposing your collarbone. He brought his lips to your skin, peppering kisses all over your collarbone as you awkwardly stood there, making eye contact with the passing guests. Your left hand made its way to his chin, gently getting him off of you. People kept passing you by, quite clearly eavesdropping and you forced yourself to smile as if completely lovestruck with your fiancé. "Not here in front of everyone, darling." You felt like you were going to puke at the sweetness that escaped your lips. Hyunggyu seemed extremely pleased with your sudden show of affection though, and even slightly confused at whether this was really all for show or not. Could you really be faking all of this so expertly? "Finally warming up to me, kitten." You clenched your jaw slightly as you brought your lips near his ear so you could whisper out of earshot. "If you believe this is anything but an act, you're fooling yourself." You left a slight peck on his cheek as you moved back, analyzing his reaction. You felt sick to your stomach after doing that, fearing in what your momentary bravery would ensue. But to your surprise, Hyunggyu chuckled, a bright smile crossing over his lips. It almost seemed genuine. "Kitten's got claws. I like it." Before you could disintegrate into a puddle of nervousness right in front of his eyes, Daniel appeared in front of the both of you. He whispered something in Hyunggyu's ear and gestured to a nearby staircase where two bodyguards dressed in nothing but black were waiting for them. Hyunggyu turned back towards you, bringing your hand to his lips as he left a warm kiss on its back. "Be a good kitty and go socialize, will you?" he said as he stared straight into your eyes. You managed a tense smile before Daniel whisked him away. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and scooped another glass from a passing waiter. This was going to be a very long night.

The fabric of your dress flowed beautifully around your curves as you made your way into the ballroom. You took in every little detail of the beautiful hall, analyzing and memorizing. A small stage had been built at one end of the room, opposite a balcony connected to two massive marble staircases leading to the garden. The mayor would probably be making a speech at some point during the evening and you already dreaded having to look interested. The rest of the room was arranged around a massive wooden dance floor, standing tables scattered all around it. The sight was quite mesmerizing and you had a hard time visualizing anyone actually living here. As you stood there, in the entrance to the ballroom, you quickly realized you had captivated a few people's attention. You smiled coyly as if shy at the sudden spotlight put on you and pushed a strand of hair behind your right ear before making your way to a table. You pressed your hands into it, trying so desperately to steady yourself. You started feeling dizzy as soon as you entered the ballroom, realizing all too soon you were finally alone. No Hyunggyu. No Daniel. No one. You could run, try to escape. There were so many people here, it'd certainly take Hyunggyu enough time to realize you were gone for you to get far enough from here. As you analyzed the room once more, your attention drifted towards the balcony and you recognized a familiar face standing beside the open doors. You couldn't quite figure out who he was exactly, but you knew one thing for sure: this was one of Hyunggyu's men. Like he would dare leave you alone on your first full day with him. How innocent had you been to even picture that happening? The man was staring straight back at you, smirking as if he had caught you red-handed. You acted like you hadn't recognized him, your gaze only skimming over him like he wasn't interesting enough to hold your attention. You tried to suppress the growing ball of nerves taking over your stomach, making your palms increasingly sweaty. You looked back down at your ring, feeling the cold, hard diamond beneath your fingers. This felt more like shackles than an engagement ring to you and you suddenly realized something. Your story wasn't only one of revenge anymore. It was one of survival. By bringing you here, Hyunggyu was putting you through a test that you would fail and pay for with your life, or succeed and get rewarded for with some sort of power in this relationship. And by taking you out of the gilded cage he had so masterfully built for you, he had also given you the chance to make connections, create your own circle of people with power. And you weren't about to squander that opportunity because of fear or rage. You needed to keep your cool if only for a chance at a future escape.

A young man dragged you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him and instantly turned on the charm, smiling happily that you didn't have to be the one to make the first step towards anyone here. He looked about a couple of years younger than Hyunggyu but also a lot stronger, his shoulders so broad you could evaporate from anyone's view simply by hiding behind him. He was probably about the same height as him but he still towered over you even though you were wearing high heels. The grin plastered on his face was reminiscent of the one that seemed constantly hung on Hyunggyu's lips but you could see a tinge of playful flirtatiousness hidden behind it. "Who would dare leave such a pretty lady alone at a boring party like this?" he asked, putting his hand in front of you and bending over as if waiting to kiss the back of your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle at the overly played-out romantic gesture that had you shivering in fear a couple of moments ago and gave him your left hand. "My lovely husband-to-be, I'm afraid." You knew eyes were on you and your every move would be reported back to Hyunggyu. Flirting with a handsome young man like this? Not a good look for a woman supposed to be engaged to a man she adores. But harmless banter to secure relationships while clearly showing you were taken, that had to be accepted. You saw his eyebrow twitch as he took in your comment and examined the ring on your finger, trying to figure out who could possibly afford such a thing. He still placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand, standing back up as he tried and failed to keep his composure. "You're trying to figure out if you haven't just royally pissed off someone very important, aren't you?" a light chuckle escaped his lips at your remark, visibly relaxing as the mood lightened. "That obvious, uh?" A hand crept up his neck, clearly embarrassed as a carefree smile illuminated his fine traits. "It's sort of a habit of mine. Pissing people off over beautiful women like yourself, that is." You couldn't help but smile, feeling the weight of the last day slowly lifting off of you as he made you laugh. "Well, that surely makes me feel very special." You both laughed at that, all the awkward tension of a first meeting evaporating into thin air. Being so carefree with someone you had barely met made you realize you had never felt that with Daniel over the past day. As protected and safe as he had made you feel, as warm and comforting as he was, he hadn't helped you feel so... you. He'd been your solace in this dark world you'd been thrown into, but you couldn't disassociate him with how you met him. Why you met him. You couldn't help but think of him as part of this perpetual hell you were now stuck into. But him, this man right in front of you, had managed to make you feel so liberated in such a short time and you couldn't help but smile sheepishly at that thought.

A tall older woman, strikingly beautiful, made her way towards your table, her hand landing gracefully on the man's shoulder. You instantly figured she probably was his mother. "Jungkook, would you be a dear and introduce me to this young lady?" You could hear a slight snobbishness in her tone and yet the movement of her eyes, skillfully eyeing you up and down showed nothing more than a mother evaluating the worth of a potential future wife for her son. You held a smile back and before Jungkook could try and introduce you without even knowing your name, you stuck your hand over the table. You put a slight tension in your shoulders, looking purely regal. "(y/n), Kim Hyunggyu's fiancée. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you. Your son makes for wonderful company." You could tell by her reaction that she had no idea who Hyunggyu was. You complimenting her son, on the other hand, made her absolutely overjoyed - even though she tried her damnedest to keep a smile from breaking her composure. She took your hand in hers and cheerfully introduced herself as the wife of a very powerful politician Daniel had told you about. She had two boys, Jungkook and his older brother and you could tell she was in absolute adoration of both of them. You turned your attention back to Jungkook and you could see in his expression that he, on the other hand, knew very well who Hyunggyu was. Jaw clenched and brows furrowed, his eyes kept darting back to your ring, every look only seeming to make him angrier. You didn't know why knowing who your fiancé was making him so angry but you could easily imagine what Hyunggyu might have done to elicit this reaction. You suddenly felt a slight pressure on your lower back and your entire body tensed before you forced yourself to look composed and relaxed. Hyunggyu had placed himself right in between you and Jungkook. As you turned your head to your right, you gaze was met with Hyunggyu's who looked utterly pissed off. You placed your hand flat on his chest, exposing your diamond ring for the entire room to see as the lights above played a mesmerizing spectacle on the slick surface. "Well, hello there." Your lips brushed against his skin and you left a small peck on his cheek before leaning back into his grasp. He seemed both completely shocked and utterly pleased at your little display of affection. You didn't know which reaction you hated the most. You felt like a prisoner in his arms. Trapped and left to your own despair. You hated yourself for playing along, but as soon as you decided to engage with Jungkook and his mother, this sick little game you were playing with Hyunggyu wasn't for your own good anymore: it was for theirs. Because you knew damn well what a pissed off Hyunggyu could do and you weren't about to have blood spilled because of you. Not any more. Hyunggyu looked over at who had kept you company. His eyes skimmed over Jungkook's mom and instantly landed on him, narrowing as you felt the pressure on your back getting more intense. You slightly moved your hand against his chest, trying to grab his attention. "These wonderful people were keeping me company while you were busy, darling. I'm sure you've heard of Ms. Jeon and her son." The words that left your mouth felt foreign. This body didn't feel like yours anymore. And yet, your mind was so focused on putting on a good front for Hyunggyu, for yourself, but also for every single person you would ever come in contact with from now on. These words, laced with a sweetness that felt like poison on your lips, were the only things that would keep Hyunggyu from murdering innocent people. Because he wouldn't ask questions. He wouldn't act rationally. He would see a young, handsome guy talking to the woman he's forcing into marrying him and he would order the first minion he'd find to silently take care of him. "Did you take care of everything? I missed you." This version of you, this act you managed to put on both disgusted you and made you proud of yourself. Because you knew it was your only way of having a chance to make it out alive. It was your only way of hoping for a normal life, if you could ever get back to that. It was also the fastest way to losing your sanity. You finally saw Hyunggyu's jaw unclench as the pressure on your back lessened and Hyunggyu shook both Jungkook's and Jungkook's mother's hand. "Of course I have. It's a pleasure to meet you both." His attention turned back to you and a smirk tugged at his lips. "Everything went great. How about we start enjoying ourselves now, what do you say princess?" Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

#kpop scenarios #kang daniel #wanna one #kpop #scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #kang daniel scenario #kang daniel scenarios #wanna one scenario #wanna one scenarios #ihl #i hate liars

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supercasey · 6 years ago

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The Perfect Child

Description: Michael Peterson was raised to be the perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect actions... unfortunately, his little brother wasn't. When all you've ever known is perfection, how can you possibly handle average?

A/N: So this is my first “creepypasta”, although I’ve been writing for about six years now. I really love reading creepypastas, so I finally gathered the energy to write one of my own. It’s not as scary as it could be, so it’s more an allegory for my own insecurities. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but please refrain from being too harsh (I’m a huge wimp lmao). With that said, I hope you enjoy this piece!

Hello, my name is Michael. I am a seventeen year old boy, and I’m a perfect child. Please, allow me to explain:

I was born mid March, 2002, in Kansas. I was born on a hundred acre property, settled out of the public eye. When I was young, I saw nothing wrong with this. My life, as far as I could tell, was like any other child’s. From the moment I was able to walk, I was surrounded by other children, and for the most part, we were left to our own devices. The land we lived on held numerous barns, which were our room and board. We spent many a day running in the open fields, catching bugs, and playing small games together. We didn’t have names; we didn’t know what a name was. We didn’t talk either… no one had ever heard a word. No one screamed; those who screamed would be gone the next morning.

Three times a day, a siren would go off in all of the barns. Instinctively, we would all return to our beds (beds we had never once thought to move or not sleep in), and we’d find bowls of food waiting for us. It wasn’t sludge or nasty garbage either; we had steamed vegetables, baked chicken, eggs of all varieties, and much, much more. We didn’t know where it came from, it was always just there, waiting for us. No one had ever taught us to eat, but we ate in a dignified manner nonetheless, never spitting out our food or opening our mouths midway. After we ate, we would go right back outside to play in the sunshine.

It never rained. It never snowed. We had never seen a cloud in the sky before. The sun would rise and set indefinitely, and we never bothered keeping the time. We only played. Sometime when I was around four, my life changed. That day had been like any other; I slept, played, and ate. But that night… I went to bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep. This had never happened before. When I sat up and looked around, I saw a few other kids weren’t sleeping either. They were just as confused as me. Everyone else was out cold, unable to wake up, not that we tried to wake them. Suddenly, a group of adults filtered into the room, dressed in full body hazmat suits.

No one said a word- again, we had no concept of language- and we didn’t move either. We just let them approach us (an adult for each conscious child), pick us up, and carry us out of the barn. Once outside, they took us towards a building I had somehow never noticed before. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was easily three stories tall, and was painted white with a lovely blue trim. The adults took us inside, and in there, everything about my life was drastically changed. After being tucked into a brand new bed (though it looked no different from my old one) and falling asleep, my mind adapted.

When I awoke, I could speak. I spoke fluently, something no normal four year old could do. The other children could do the same. We could also read, write, and draw, things that were improved upon throughout the next year. For one year, the adults, who never once removed their hazmat suits, tutored and taught us within that house. We weren’t allowed outside anymore; that was for the little kids. I excelled at everything they told me to do. I washed the dishes best, was the most creative artist, spoke the most clearly, and was reading at a high school level by the time I was five.

The day before I turned five years old, I was pulled aside from the other children, and taken into the basement. I had never been in the basement before. It was nothing like any basement I had ever heard of, either. The walls were a beautiful redwood, and the carpeting wasn’t the least bit cold, even though I wasn’t wearing socks. Quickly, I was led into a small office, where I finally met an unmasked adult for the first time in my life. Behind the ivory desk sat a plump, mid aged woman with greying hair, dark brown eyes, and saggy skin. In front of the desk sat two women, both young and beautiful, decked out in their finest attire.

As soon as we walked in, one of the young women cooed at me- something I had never heard before, but I knew what it was from reading of it- and held her arms out to me. Without missing a beat, I smiled at her, and obediently walked up and hugged her. I had never given, or received, a hug before. Both women were ecstatic, and for the rest of the meeting, I was traded from lap to lap, both women taking turns cuddling me. The meeting was more of a business transaction than anything else; the lady behind the desk showed the two women a binder, filled to the brim with information on me. She listed my traits, my mannerisms, and health record. All perfect, just as ordered.

At the end of the meeting, the older woman- who I learned was called The Provider- seemed happy, and with a big smile, took a sheet of paper out of a drawer and laid it on the desk, presenting it to the young couple. It was an adoption form. The two ladies gladly filled it out, giving me my first and only name; Michael Damian Peterson. Afterwards, the employee who had brought me in scooped me up, took me out of the room, and got me ready. I was given a long bath, dressed in a red sweater with blue overalls, had my hair cut to be shaggy but short, and was fitted with a pair of white socks and black sneakers.

Once ready, I was returned to the young couple, who gasped and cooed at what I was wearing. Again, I was never set down, and they swiftly completed the transaction- handing The Provider a check for ten million dollars- and left. Internally, I wanted to run around the moment we stepped outside, as I hadn’t been outside in a year, but it was dark out and I was very tired, so I didn’t fuss. The couple took me to a sleek, brand new black minivan, complete with a hot rod flame design on the sides. When they opened the backseat, I was greeted with the sight of a large booster seat, and was strapped in immediately.

We left soon after, driving down a seemingly endless road. The windows were darkened, and with it being nighttime, I couldn't see a thing. It was then that the couple explained what was happening. Their names, to me, were Mama and Mommy, and I was to be their new son. They had always wanted a child, but due to their professions, they were unable to have or even adopt one through legal means. It was then that they were approached by a friend, who raved to them about the incredible work Perfect Children did. They then learned about a remote farm, out in the backend of Kansas, that specializing in producing ‘perfect’ children.

I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was bred to be perfect, but they admitted that not every child bred by Perfect Children was that way. In fact, more than ninety percent of them weren’t even close to perfect. So… what happened to the ones who weren’t perfect? I was told that they were picked out early in the program- around five to six months of age- and placed into the Bad House. A little ways away from the main buildings, sat a large, decaying barn, that was overflowing with needy, loud children that simply weren’t good. Sometimes they got better, Mama admitted, but those were very rare.

Again, I was confused. What happened in the Bad House? Mommy filled me in. “Those children… who simply aren’t perfect,” She had actually sighed, clearly disappointed. At the time, I thought it was with the company. It was only when I got older did I learn that she was upset with the children themselves. “Those children are for slaughter.”

“There are people in this world- and especially in our profession- that also want children. But not for raising,” Mama had seemed… hesitant to tell me these things, but after getting a nod from Mommy, she swallowed, then continued. “Sometimes, people want to have an imperfect child for… leisure. Maybe when you’re a little older, I’ll tell you more, but for now,” She put on the warmest smile I had ever seen, and before I could react, a little screen emerged from the roof of the van. “How about some TV, sweetie?”

I don’t remember the rest of the car ride. In fact, most of my memories of the farm have faded. Most of what I know now was learned later in life, but I do, somehow, remember my fifth birthday. When we arrived at our destination, the sun was rising, and I could finally see out the windows. What I saw… was incredible. Just on the horizon, I could see a massive, luxurious mansion. Even from a distance, I could see the first bits of the garden, surrounding the mansion in a field of different flowers. Mama must’ve noticed my gawking, because as I was looking, she cheerfully told me that the mansion I saw was OUR house… my new home.

When we arrived, there were already people waiting. Mommy and Mama’s friends. None of them had children of their own, but they cheered as Mommy parked the car, and came running once Mama had me in her arms. The party was spectacular. Everyone brought me at least five presents each, and they all gushed over me, telling my mothers how precious I looked. My manners were impeccable, and I never once acted out. I allowed the adults to pass me around, and even when they weren’t hovering around me, I still kept up my manners. I even offered to clean the dishes, something my mothers assured I could do later.

That night, I was brought to my bedroom. The room was painted baby blue, and despite having unwrapped enough toys to last me a lifetime during the party, my room was already filled with plenty of toys for me. I was promptly tucked into bed, read a bedtime story, and given two goodnight kisses. I fell asleep immediately.

From then on, I was the perfect child. Once enrolled in school, I was the best of my class. I never once got anything lower than 100% on all my assignments and tests, I was friendly with everyone in my grade, and I volunteered to help my teachers at every occasion. My mothers always beamed at the praise my teachers gave, and when pressed for how I could possibly be so good, my mothers would exchange a knowing smile, and happily tell my teachers the same answer each and every time: “Love.”

When I was six, my mothers wanted another child. I was unable to feel any form of jealousy. A week after my birthday, I was left with a babysitter, and when my mothers returned home, they brought me a brother. He was five when he arrived, just like I was, but he was… different. Where I was well behaved and honest, my brother- named Kyle- was good… to a point. He was ecstatic the first few weeks, clearly happy to be living with me and my mothers, but he soon began to make mischief.

I remember his first big prank. It had been a few weeks after he arrived, and while we were playing quietly in the living room, he asked me for a cup of water. I did as told. As soon as I opened the fridge, a jug of Kool-Aid spilled on me. I didn't cry. I didn’t get angry. I cleaned up the mess, approached Mama, and told her what had happened. When she questioned Kyle about it, he burst out laughing at the sight of me, still drenched in Kool-Aid. Mama laughed too, at least a little, before sentencing him to a time out. He took it calmly, and afterwards, it was water under the bridge… or rather, Kool-Aid under the fridge. Mama never could get the stain out.

Not a week later, and another prank occurred, this time getting Mommy. Kyle had taken the liberty of collecting every grasshopper he could find and hiding them in Mommy’s purse. The scream she let out when it opened was incredibly loud, and instinctively, I fixed her up a mug of hot chocolate while she went about punishing Kyle. He got another time out, and was made to write an apology letter to Mommy. He did so, though his handwriting was sloppy, and the incident was again forgiven.

But his misdemeanors continued. It quickly occurred to me that Kyle was one for mischief, but wasn’t outright malicious. He just liked to frighten folks, and wanted to make us all laugh, though he didn’t understand why no one else found him funny. Things soon got worse. He too was enrolled in school, but he took it badly. While I continued to excel, he barely passed anything, and routinely got into fights and arguments with his classmates and teachers. I tried to help him; I took a few punches for trying to end fights, and even if I ended up getting on the other student’s good side, my brother would get right back into it the moment I stepped away.

While my mothers had taken Kyle’s pranks and misbehavior somewhat well beforehand, they didn’t care for his school troubles. They routinely lectured him as to why he needed to get better grades, treat others better, etcetera. But he refused to behave. By the time I was seven, my mothers had reached their limit.

It was June when Kyle was returned. I was woken up at three in the morning by a frazzled Mama, who I obeyed to the letter. I dressed myself in my clothes and followed her out the door, and into the waiting minivan. Kyle was already there, screaming and biting at his carseat’s buckle. Mommy was in the driver’s seat, panting and angry, but with determination in her eyes. Mama turned up the radio several times on the way there, but Kyle’s screeching was hard to drown out. I tried giving him kisses and hugs, but he only bit and hit at me. When we arrived at the farm… I felt an icy chill up my spine. I stood beside Mommy and Mama outside the car, the sound of Kyle’s sobbing almost deafening.

There were no children in sight, and The Provider was waiting outside the farmhouse for us. She greeted my mothers kindly, and asked what they were there for.

“A return.” Mommy had said, her voice chillingly calm.

“Oh?” The Provider had appeared confused at first. She turned to me, head tilted. “And here I thought this one was one of our best products… was there a malfunction?”

“Oh no, not with Michael. He’s just as perfect as we’d hoped,” Mama explained, all of her usual kindness and love on display. However, it seemed to slip away- like a mask- the moment she brought up my little brother. “No, the problem is with Kyle.”

They was an audible sigh from The Provider. “I should have known… yes, I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but I did warn you about that one. I must ask; what else did you expect from an imperfect child from the slaughterhouse? Yes, they’re plenty fine for some, but when you’ve only ever had perfection,” She smiled at me as she said that, patting me endearingly on the head. “It’s hard to deal with normal children after you’ve had a taste of perfect.”

“That’s why we’re here, ma’am. We’d like to make… a return,” There was hesitation in Mommy’s words, and even at seven years old, I could tell she was second guessing herself. “We won’t have to see it happen, will we?”

“Heavens no! No no no… we’ll take it from here,” Suddenly, a few men approached the car, opening the side door and pulling out Kyle. They weren’t the least bit gentle with him. “In fact, we have a customer coming today for a ‘leisure’ child… I’m sure he’ll adore this one.”

“MOMMY! PLEASE, DON’T GO!” Kyle’s screaming turned to begging, the terror on his face apparent. I’ll admit, some part of me was confused; life here had only ever been kind to me, if not a bit boring. What was he so scared of? “I PROMISE TO BE GOOD! I’LL BE PERFECT! PLEASE!”

“Please hurry with him; I can’t stand that racket anymore…” Mommy rubbed at her head, a clear headache coming on.

Immediately, I retrieved a bottle of water alongside some Advil for her from her purse, holding the items up to her. “Here you go, Mommy. I love you.” I said, not even aware I was doing so. I was rarely aware of my actions.

The Provider grinned at me, chuckling to herself. “You see how much easier a perfect child is? So attentive, always willing to fulfill your needs,” She suddenly came closer, leaning in as if she had some big secret only available for my mothers. “You know, we have a few new ones that are ready for adoption… if you’d like, I’ll give you a good bargain for a replacement for the inconvenience. Perhaps a daughter? We have some precious little girls that are raring to go.”

It seemed to do the trick, as Mommy and Mama brightened at the news. Kyle didn’t. “NO! PLEASE! MAMA, MOMMY, I LOVE YOU! I’LL BE PERFECT! I’LL BE PERFECT! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!”

“Can we see them?” Mama had entirely ignored Kyle, more interested in the little girls that were available. “A daughter sounds absolutely lovely.”

“Right this way then,” The Provider was quick to lead us inside, away from Kyle and the security guards holding him. “I have the most perfect little girls ready for you.”

I’ll be honest with you… my memory of Kyle is weak. Sometimes I think he was a dream. Other times, when I close my eyes, I can still see the smile he’d give me when he ate anything sweet, or played with me in the garden, or managed to get a laugh out of someone. That day, when we came back out to the car, a little girl in Mommy’s arms, Kyle was gone. I never saw him again. My mothers named my sister Scarlett, and just as promised, she was perfect. Together, we were perfect siblings. If one fell, the other helped them up. We played games together, but never roughly. We never once fought. We hugged and loved each other, all while strangers swooned over the ‘precious siblings’.

Scarlett also got perfect grades, was friendly with everyone in her class, and went out of her way to help her teachers. Again, my mothers were flooded with praise, and they grinned as though it was all their doing.

When Kyle’s old teachers asked about him, Mommy provided the news: “He passed away. Tragic, really.”

When I was fifteen, my life changed… again. Scarlett was thirteen. We had been at school, both at lunch together, when we were approached by two men in police uniforms. We cooperated entirely, and were led out of the school, into the parking lot, and into separate police cruisers. We didn’t cry. We didn’t ask questions. We obeyed. Once we arrived at the police station and sat down with the sheriff, we were given the news; Perfect Children had been discovered by the FBI, and promptly shut down. Inside the farmhouse, they had found all the records on every child that had been sold on the property. We weren’t allowed to see our mothers anymore.

Again, we didn’t cry. We didn’t ask questions. I held my sister’s hand under the table and we obeyed.

It’s been two years, and I’m only just beginning to become my own person. I’m still not sure exactly what Perfect Children did to make me the way I am… the FBI agent who lets me call her Mom says it was a lot of things; the food, the water, the subliminal messages that they played while I was sleeping, the chip on the back of my neck… but I’m getting better. We all are.

I’m living in a hospital for right now, living with all the other kids they could track down involved with the company… Mom told me it’s because we’re all too impressionable to be around regular people. We’re too inclined to obey, and now that people know what happened… they’re looking for us. They want perfection.

Scarlett handles things better than me. She can laugh on her own now, something she’s really proud of. She managed to prank me a few weeks ago. It wasn’t much, just switched my pillow for her’s, but it reminded me of Kyle. I told my therapist about him, and she says that I’m getting better, too. I can speak, sometimes, without being prompted. It’s not much, but it’s better than before. Yesterday, one of the boys yelled after someone stepped on his foot. We all got very quiet, but one of the supervisors started cheering, and pretty soon, other kids yelled, too. I can’t do that yet, but that’s okay. I’ll get better.

I don’t know where my mothers are… Mom says that they’re in prison, and not just because they bought me and Scarlett. I thought of asking what else they were in for- something that made me feel very, very wrong- but I didn’t. I’m not sure I want to know.

Someday, I’m going to get better. It’s hard to imagine not being perfect, but it’s also… nice. It’s freeing. I want to yell. I want to pull pranks. I want to laugh. Someday I’ll get there, and when I do, I’ll get out of this hospital and be a normal person. Scarlett wants to get an apartment with me, and I think I’d like that. It won’t be perfect- nothing ever will be again- but you know what? I’m excited. I’m happy. I’m getting better.

The kids they pulled out of the Bad House are doing better than any of us. Most of them are older- averaging in their mid twenties- so they act a lot like older siblings to all of us. They’re trying to help us yell, and think for ourselves, and take things. None of them are Kyle. I tried looking around, but I can’t find him. Deep down, where I’ve secretly always felt things, I knew I was never going to see him again, but… I had always hoped I could. One of the imperfect boys let’s me call him Kyle sometimes. He likes the name, and he reminds me of him, so we’re going with that for now. Scarlett won’t comment on it, but I hope she will someday. Any reaction is a good reaction around here.

For their hard work as tutors to us, some of the other perfect kids have tried to return the favor. We give them names, like how I named Kyle. They don’t always stick- Duncan didn’t like Lauren’s first suggestion of ‘Dragon Slayer’- but some do. We also help with handwriting, since almost none of them have ever written before, or read for that matter. Now when I go into the cafeteria, I can see a group of imperfects learning basic table manners, while a perfect girl tries to chew with her mouth open. Mom is proud of me- of all of us- and I think I am too. I’m not perfect anymore… maybe I never was. Oh well. I’m learning to not care.

Thanks for listening to my story… stay imperfect.

A/N: There! I hope you all at least liked it. If not, why not tell me why? BTW, the reason I gave the main character two moms wasn’t to try and be like “having two moms is bad”, I just want to normalize queer relationships, and if I can do it through my writing I like to do so. Have a great day!

#creepypasta #supercasey writes shit

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diggoru · 6 years ago

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“we’re grown up now. it’s time to look into the future, rather than dwelling on the past.” - DRARRY FANFIC

“Draco, come here.” Mr. Lucius Malfoy gestured to his son to come closer, although the young blond boy did not want to. He was paying his old man a visit in Azkaban. After everything that happened with Voldemort and the entire fuss about the wars between purebloods and mudbloods, Draco had opened his eyes. Everything the Dark Lord had said was wrong, the “mudbloods” weren’t specifically bad people. They were not filthy, or muddy, or anything of the words Voldemort and his followers had used to describe them.

He hesitantly stepped forward, but maintaining a safe distance between him and the bar. Lucius scoffed in response. “You’re scared of your own father, is that it, Draco?”

It was hard for him to find words. This was the man who had raised him to become a terrible person, a follower of Voldemort, a murderer - thank god things took a turn and Potter was there to save the day. His thoughts lingered on the name for a while. Harry Potter. Draco sighed as he thought about what he had done to the boy and his friends. His idiotic behaviour towards the lot. At the time, he meant it - he was a brat and a twat and all the foul rumours about him were true. But Draco knew he was different now, or at least, he wanted to change and turn his path around.

“I do not fear you, Father,” Draco answered firmly. “I merely pity you. To have to spend quite a time behind bars.”

His father’s laugh echoed through the hallway - it alerted the guards. Draco raised a hand to signal it was all right. It was true - he wasn’t afraid, intimidated the slightest. But he was definitely not comfortable around this man - the man he used to look up to. He thought that this was the man to become his role model. He thought wrong.

“Aren’t you brave to talk, now that I’m stuck here and can’t do anything to you?” Lucius glared at his son - a smirk crept up his face as Draco flinched. “That’s more like it. You should be afraid of me, Draco, because I can do many things that cannot be undone.”

Time was up. Draco could see a guard walking towards him to pick him up. That’s why Draco turned around - that’s why Draco left his father’s cell without saying anything anymore. Lucius Malfoy spat out insults towards his own son, but Draco ignored every single one of them. When he finally saw the daylight again, he sighed. Azkaban was a terrible place to be in. He was glad that it wasn’t him who was stuck there.

There was a reunion party at Hogwarts. Five years ago, they all graduated from the school of wizardry and it was liberating for everyone to see each other again. Harry saw that Ron and Hermione were still a couple, beaming with pride and joy as they entered the Great Hall hand in hand. They joined him at the Gryffindor table, grinning ear to ear as they caught up about their lives.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t found the one yet, Harry,” Hermione teased, playing with the fork in front of her. “Aren’t women practically throwing themselves at you, since you’re the one to defeat Voldemort?”

Harry chuckled. “Actually, the one who killed Voldemort was Neville, remember?” he smiled as the trio saw Neville walk towards them with a genuine smile as well. “What about me?”

“We were just talking about your heroic act five years ago,” Ron said as he snatched a bread piece from the basket in front of him. Neville snickered and hid his face in the palm of his hands. “Ah, that was nothing... but it got me together with Luna, and I guess I’m proud of that.” He turned around to see the Ravenclaw table, and he saw Luna Lovegood smiling and waving at him excitedly. “See, Harry? We all came here with our lovers and you waltz in here on your own!” Ron grinned and Harry tried to throw his bread at him. Ron caught it and ate it.

“We should definitely catch up with a lot of our friends here,” Harry sighed, scanning over the place. There was Ginny and George, sitting a little bit further away from the four. His eyes went everywhere, but stopped when he spotted a certain blond boy dressed in all black, sitting right across him, at the Slytherin table.

Hermione noticed and turned around. “Ooh, fancy a girl from Slytherin now do we?” Her tone was teasing and she was smiling, but Harry was lost in thoughts and his lips didn’t even curve one bit. Hermione frowned and looked at Ron. “Harry,” Ron said, “what’s gotten into you?”

“I’ll be right back,” Harry said as he stood up. Draco Malfoy had already caught his eye and he was doing the same. The both of them walked towards the big doors of the Great Hall, standing right outside to gain some privacy.

“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, although a little cold.

“Potter,” Draco replied, staring him right into his green eyes. They were both at loss for words. People were passing them, but gave them no attention - the world was practically theirs.

Draco was the one to break the silence. “Potter - I must say, I have to say, that I deeply apologize for what I’ve done to you in a lifetime.” His breath was husky, as if he hesitated to say so. He’s had this on his mind for so long already - part of him expected Harry to hex him and leave a Crucio spell on him now that he had the chance. But instead, Harry nodded and smiled at him.

“The past is the past, Draco,” he answered, offering his hand. “We’re grown up now. It’s time to look into the future, rather than dwelling on the past.”

The Malfoy was still unsure whether he had been forgiven or not. “Potter, even after all I said to you and your friends, I just want to say that I’m terribly sorry for that, I didn’t really have an excuse. My deepest, deepest apologies, Pott-”

“Harry. It’s... Harry.” The black-haired boy smiled as he scratched his cheeks. He didn’t know what else to say. He forgave Draco, because there was nothing else he could do. His enemy was Voldemort - Tom Marvolo Riddle - who was no more, and that was also thanks to Draco’s help. “Right,” Draco muttered. “Harry.”

“Are you here alone?” The question was out before Harry could even realize what he had said. Draco raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Quite. Not a single woman wants me after the time I served Voldemort.”

“What about a man?” Another question that Harry blurted out without even thinking. Internally, he tried to punch himself. Draco scoffed. “If a woman doesn’t wants me, why would a man?”

They shared a laugh. For the first time in all the years they knew each other. Draco told Harry about his visit to his father, and how anxious he truly was to meet him. Harry praised him for keeping his head cool, not bursting out into anger, and staying calm even though the pressure was murdering him. “It must’ve been hard, having to live to the expectations of a man like that.”

Draco half-smiled. “It was. But I couldn’t imagine how it must feel not having anyone to take care of you.” He looked painfully at Harry, hoping that he hadn’t hit a sensitive spot.

“You’re right,” Harry answered. “But I, too, wouldn’t know how it feels like.” He looked at the Great Hall - hundreds of Hogwarts graduates were sitting at their House’s tables. Professor McGonagall was telling the tales of when they still went to school there, and the Hall bursted out in laughter when the she told about Neville who rode his first broom. Harry looked back at Draco.

“I’ve had so many people look out for me. My friends, but also the professors here.” He paused. “Including you, Draco.”

Draco gulped at the sound of his name and looked at Harry, waiting for him to continue. “You’ve looked out for me, haven’t you? Sure, the first few years, you were an asshole at heart.” He chuckled, but continued. “But then, after Voldemort returned... you didn’t actually want me dead, did you?”

A sigh was the only response Draco could give, before listening to Harry again. “You’ve always tried to keep me away from Voldemort as far as possible. And even if I was right in front of his eyes, you would still help me.” He bit his lip. “I’ve always wondered why you’d do that, Draco.”

The blond scratched his head and closed his eyes. When he looked up to face Harry again, he took a deep breath. “Do you really want to know why?”

Harry nodded. Draco gulped again.

“When Voldemort talked about you, called you names, cursing you - I agreed at first. But then I started to see and realize. I saw your efforts to protect Hogwarts and save your friends. I saw the affection you gave to the school and its entire population - it touched me.” Draco sighed. “And when we were in the Room of Requirement, where you could’ve let me burn to ashes, you didn’t. Even if you hated me, you still saved me from death.”

“I don’t hate you,” Harry mumbled, but Draco didn’t hear it. “Everything you did was heroic. And if you were a book character, I’m sure you would be the protagonist. If so, that would make me the antagonist - the bad guy. Somehow, I didn’t want to be against you. Somehow, I wanted to be-”

He cut of his own sentence to cover his mouth with his hand. He almost let his feelings slip. His hidden feelings towards Harry, the one he had developed as he was serving the Dark Lord. Draco never told anyone and he even tried to lie to himself that they weren’t real, but now that Harry was right in front of him, he knows it’s as real as it can get.

“Draco. We... can work this out, together, if you’d like.” Harry tried to make eye contact with him. When their eyes met, their faces inched closer. Draco leaned down and held Harry’s face to hold a firm grip on the man he had loved since he knew it was forbidden. Their lips brushed, but barely, and for just a second. Both of them stared at the other with wide eyes.

“Draco, I-”

And Harry was cut off by Draco’s lips smashing on his own. He could feel Draco’s passion, he could sense every emotion that has been going through his heart ever since they parted ways. A sense of longing, and passionate love. When Draco pulled away, he bit his lip.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, fixing his tie and taking a step back to give Harry some space. “We might’ve arrived here alone, but I have this certain feeling we won’t leave alone.”

They both chuckled. The two of them talked a little, and made their way back to the Great Hall, where all the eyes were on them. Ron was the one to stand up on his seat.

“They finally got together!” he yelled, and the entire Great Hall burst into chaos and cheering, clapping and screaming, all in excitement and celebration of the two boys finally uniting as one. Harry looked at Draco, and vice versa. He shrugged. “We’ll have to live up to the people’s expectations, then, I suppose,” Harry smirked before planting another kiss on Draco’s lips, making the Hall go even wilder than before.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #otp #fanfiction #fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry #one true pairing #one shot #oneshot

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dazaran · 7 years ago

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title: caffeine smokescreen ship: tsujimura mizuki/higuchi ichiyou ( ft background KyoAya ) rating: G AO3 link: here!

day four of rarepair week - prompt : coffee / masks.

Every day before work, Tsujimura buys herself some coffee in a coffee shop on route to Ayatsuji Yukito’s detective agency. What she gets depends on her mood, as she’s deemed that different drinks taste better in certain situations. When she’s bummed out, it’s a latte; when she’s irritated, it’s black coffee with two creams; when she’s happy, it’s a caramel mocha with whipped cream on top.

When it’s just an average day, her coffee is a french vanilla coffee with a shot of caramel - which is what it is today, as she wants to wish and hope it will be a good day despite how her week has been going so far.

Ayatsuji-sensei had snuck out the house 3 times this week, disappeared on his own once on a case... And yet, the request to execute him was still somehow denied. Tsujimura wasn't sure if that meant he was just that important or that the world itself decided he was nigh impossible to kill. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

A sigh slips her lips after she receives her coffee from the barista, offering a polite bow of her head as she turns to leave the coffee shop. Before she can reach for the handle, it swings open, knocking it out of her hand and causing it to spill at her feet. The suddenness of it makes her jump back with a small shout, half relieved that none of it had spilled onto her new heels.

Crap, her fresh coffee...

“Oh, I'm so so sorry-” a feminine voice says just as Tsujimura kneels down to pick up the Styrofoam cup and its plastic lid.

“No, it's alright, I wasn't watching where I was-” Tsujimura lifts her head then, as she notices the stranger has also knelt down in front of her to help with a collection of napkins in hand.

And then, she freezes - as if the beautiful sky blue eyes that stare back at her have paralyzed her from head to toe, she forgets how to speak. It's a woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun, dressed in a form fitting suit much like her own. She doesn’t wear any gloves, and Tsujimura feels a sliver of disappointment she can’t feel how soft her hand is when they touch momentarily. There’s a clear coat of nail polish on the woman’s nails - they’re clean and well taken care of.

“I was...” What was she saying again?

“... Going?” the blonde woman finishes, tilting her head innocently.

“Y-Yes! That! I’m sorry,” Internally, Tsujimura chides herself for how foolish she sounds. “None of it spilled on you, I hope? It was freshly made...”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” the woman assures with a laugh as they both stand to their feet, rubbing at her neck. “Would it be alright if I bought you a new coffee? I feel a bit responsible for it, after all.”

“Eh? Are you certain? I mean it’s really alright-”

“Really, it’s okay! Actually, please let me. I’d feel awful if you were to start your day like this.”

She’s so beautiful and polite oh God-

Tsujimura quickly gathers herself, nodding with a gracious smile as she offers a hand to the woman. “Then, I suppose I’ll humbly accept your offer. Ah, my name is Tsujimura Mizuki... You are?”

The blonde woman smiles, accepting her hand and gripping it firmly. “Higuchi Ichiyou. It’s nice to meet you, Tsujimura-san.”

Tsujimura reaches the Ayatsuji Detective Office in a very obvious good mood to the point she’s glowing, and even Ayatsuji looks up from his newspaper when she walks in. Usually, this would be the part where she starts talking to him or he gives an order for his usual coffee, but the young woman instead immediately makes her way to the kitchen to start on her own accord. The detective tilts his head, folding his newspaper as he listens to the sound of cups clinking against the counter, water running, and most glaringly - Tsujimura was humming a tune while making his coffee.

It’s a strange situation when it’s Tsujimura of all people, who takes her job and it’s daily schedule very seriously. It’s enough to warrant the blonde to stand to his feet and make his way to the entrance of the kitchen where he leans against the door frame with his arms folded.

He says nothing, as if waiting for her to notice him, all the while studying her as she works the coffee machine. On the counter is a cup from the coffee shop she always visits before work, as it’s on the route she takes every so often. He leans just a little more to one side, noticing some writing on the side of the cup, as he can tell right away it’s certainly not her handwriting.

It’s a number, not her own. Someone else wrote it.

The rest of the puzzle is quickly put together, and soon the man makes his way across the kitchen to pick up the cup. Tsujimura doesn’t even notice until he starts to read off the name written there, “Higuchi Ichiyou, huh.”

Tsujimura reacts then, jumping a good inch into the air before spinning to face him. “S-Sensei! Don’t touch another’s things without permission!” she shouts, taking the cup out of his gloved hand and gripping it with both hands to cover the writing.

“Big words, coming from the woman in my house.” Ayatsuji counters flatly, unperturbed. “Congratulations on being courted.”

“I wasn’t...!”

“Weren’t you?”

Tsujimura’s face begins to heat, and quickly, she looks away. “I-If I was...” Was she? Is that why Higuchi had put her number on there? Well, she had asked to meet her for coffee again, but was that just as a friend or - Ahh, he wasn’t helping at all! “If I was, I - I mean -”

“As I said, congratulations. It’s high time you put some interest into something other than babysitting me.”

“I have other interests!”

“Excluding your fanaticism over spy memorabilia and being an amateur detective.”

... Other than that, she just had her ability to make good coffee, so naturally, Tsujimura has nothing to say to argue against him. Instead, she sighs, walking around him to head out the room. “Your coffee is on the counter, sensei.” she says, all the while holding her cup as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

Higuchi gives a stare down at her cellphone she’s clenching tightly in her hand, brows furrowed and lips puckered. She sighs, moving to tuck it back into her pocket, then seems to decide against doing so and paces around while holding it instead.

“Starin’ at the thing isn’t gonna make things go along any faster, Higuchi-san.”

Higuchi squeaks, turning her head to look at the person speaking to her - It’s Tachihara, giving her an innocent stare with his arms folded over his chest. “Tachihara... How long have you been watching?”

Tachihara waves a hand dismissively. “Long enough. Didja meet someone recently?” Though he doesn’t say it, the young man thinks that it’s probably a good thing she’s finally started to move on from her hyper-infatuation on Akutagawa of all people.

“Oh, well...” Higuchi blushes, busying herself by tucking some hair behind her ear. “Something... like that.”

Her company raises a brow, studying her curiously for a moment before he closes in and presses uncomfortably close to her face. Higuchi can’t help but lean back a bit, unsure of how to react. Just what was he doing...?

Tachihara eventually snaps his fingers, pointing a finger at her. “You made the first move, eh? That’s why you’re pacing around with your phone.”

“Is it that obvious...?!”

“A little,” the brunet grins pridefully and rests his hands on his hips. “The Black Lizard has worked with ya long enough to know how you act, Higuchi-san. Anyway, that’s pretty bold of ya! Who knew Higuchi Ichiyou had it in her to make the first move.”

“I am perfectly capable!” the blonde counters, offended.

Silence ensues. Tachihara stares at her, and something on his face seems to scream ‘then why didn’t you approach Akutagawa?’. She eventually looks away, clearing her throat in some attempt to regain her composure.

“Akutagawa-senpai... isn’t interested in me in that manner. I’ve known for a long time. Somewhere along the line, my feelings became more admiration than anything. We’re... better off that way.”

“Well... It’s good that ya realized it. We were starting to worry you were seriously fucked in the head or something, to like a rude ass like him.”

“Just because I’m not interested in him anymore doesn’t mean you should insult him like that.” Dedicated to a fault, as always.

“Ahh. Right, my bad.” Even though he says this, Tachihara still rolls his eyes briefly. “In any case, who’s the lucky person?”

Higuchi presses her phone to her chest, and Tachihara swears he sees stars in her eyes. “Tsujimura Mizuki-san... She's so awfully pretty, we knocked right into each other. I bought her a new coffee and wrote my number on the cup - was it too much? Do you think she dislikes it? Is she not interested in women? I never thought of that, a-ahhhh...!!”

Tachihara inches back, lifting a hand meekly to try and calm her down. (Geez, this lady thinks too much.) “Look, don't go overthinkin’ or anything. I'm sure if she wasn't, she would’ve made it obvious when you wrote on her cup.”

“Really?”

“... Uh. Yeah - probably? I mean I don't have any girl friends aside from you but y’know.”

Right, he doesn’t know Gin is a girl yet. Well, she’s just going to let that be for now -

Just when she wants to say something else, Higuchi’s phone rings, and she squeezes it so hard that it pops out of her hand. She squeaks, fumbling to catch it before it hits the ground and exhaling when it’s secure. There’s a brief nervous stare exchanged between them before the blonde woman struts off a few feet away, taking in a deep breath before answering the phone.

“This is Higuchi.”

Tachihara watches from afar in mild interest, arms crossed over his chest. Higuchi has always been an expressive one, now that he thinks about it. Though the worst actor he’s ever seen, her transparency can be pretty endearing when their lives aren’t on the line for once.

“Oh, yes! Of course! I would love that!” Happiness is nearly dripping off every word Higuchi speaks, a smile spreading across her face to the point it hurts. “This Sunday at 1 - at the same place? I'm looking forward to it, Tsujimura-san!”

After about another minute, Higuchi hangs up, and spins around to face her company with glittering eyes. “She asked me out for coffee! This is great, isn't it?!”

Tachihara laughs. “It sure is! I'm happy for ya, Higuchi-san.” he says, turning with a friendly wave. “Though, we both oughta get back to -”

His words are cut off when the young woman grips at his jacket, suddenly giving a pleading look. Oh, what now?

“Tachihara-san... I haven't been on a date before.”

“... Eh?”

Was this girl really going to be alright?

A high pitched, embarrassed whine slips Tsujimura’s lips as she sinks into the diner booth she’s sitting in, pressing both hands against her face. Across from her, Ayatsuji is casually cutting into a stack of fresh pancakes as if he doesn’t have a care in the world - or more accurately, he couldn’t even find the ability to care to begin with.

“I really did it... I really called and asked her out, ahhh...”

“Congratulations. You’re moving up in the world as a human being.”

Tsujimura lowers her hands onto the table, huffing at her teacher. She contemplates giving a snarky remark, but decides against it, instead wrapping her gloves hands around the coffee she had ordered. Her brows furrow, expression troubled. “Er... Sensei?”

Ayatsuji grunts in acknowledgment while chewing on his pancakes.

“Do you have any tips on going on a date? I - I’ve never been on one...” She’s a bit embarrassed to admit it, but during college, Tsujimura was the studious type. While she certainly had friends and went out every so often, no one had approached her about going on a date of all things. Her former reserved self had come back to haunt her after all, huh?

“Why are you asking me? You’ve read my file and have it memorized by heart.” Ayatsuji sets down his fork to pick up his own cup of coffee, taking a sip. He scrunches his nose, no doubt seeming to be dissatisfied with coffee that isn’t his assistant’s. “No family, no friends, no significant relationships to be had.”

“And - what about Kyogoku-san?”

Ayatsuji freezes after stabbing a piece of pancake. “... What we have would not be considered a normal relationship to someone like you.”

Tsujimura frowns. “Don't you love him?”

“Unfortunately. But equally so, I desire to kill him. That emotion is not fabricated, nor his desire to torment and agitate me. I love him, I cannot be without him, but we are destined to fight and go against each other be it out of our own stubbornness or occupation.” the blonde exhales, lifting his fork. “Such a thing is strenuous on the heart. If that sort of thing ever happens for you, I would suggest you run in the other direction. That is my advice to you. Other than that, merely do what you feel is right.”

“I-I see...”

He's cryptic and ominous as usual. Tsujimura exhales, lifting her cup to drink her coffee. Oh well - she doesn’t need to worry. That sort of thing won't happen with her and Higuchi, she's sure.

Sunday comes, and Tsujimura is an hour early completely out of anxiety and nervousness. She’s standing outside on the sidewalk under the forest green veranda, fixing her bangs while staring into her reflection of the cafe’s window. She’s not wearing her usual suit because it’s her day off, so she’s wearing a teal blouse to match the scarf around her neck and white dress pants. Her heels are pastel pink, to accent the subtle pink outlining the sleeves and neck of her shirt.

Is she overdressed? What if Higuchi didn’t like her sense of style? Urgh, she wishes that Ayatsuji was more help than telling her to do what she felt was right! She was second guessing absolutely everything in this moment! Maybe she should just call this whole thing off, apologize for being so selfish and -

“Tsujimura... san?”

Tsujimura’s racing thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice, and she pivots on a heel faster than she can even think. “Higuchi-san!”

Higuchi blinks owlishly, tilting her head to one side. She’s wearing a ruffled hem dress shirt that is wine red - it matches seamlessly with her eyes, Tsujimura thinks - with black capris and black heels. Her bangs are kept out of her face with endearingly child-like berets, plastic cherries attached to them. “Did I get the time wrong?”

She’s so cute - She’s so awfully cute, as if she’s the personification of sunshine -

“Tsujimura-san?”

“Oh! No no no!” the agent waves her hands, smiling nervously. “No, I actually wanted to be here early... I guess we had the same thing in mind.” Honestly, that makes her a little relieved when she thinks about it that way.

“It seems that way.” Higuchi gives a small smile, and soon lowers her gaze to the sidewalk while she tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Uhm, I’m sorry if I look strange... I’ve never been on a date before, so my little sister and a friend helped me with my wardrobe...”

Huh? She’s never been on a date either? Someone as pretty and polite as her?

Tsujimura is genuinely taken aback, but when Higuchi hesitantly lifts her gaze to meet the agent’s, she’s quick to react and grasp one of Higuchi’s hands and cover it with both of her own with a bit too much eagerness. “No, it’s alright! Very alright! I’ve actually never been on one either!”

“Eh? But you’re so beautiful, I would have thought...”

Then, silence. Both of them freeze up, blushing a vibrant red and avoiding each other’s gaze, yet neither of them pull away from where Tsujimura is still holding Higuchi’s hand. (She’s learned her lesson from before, so today, she’s not wearing her gloves. Higuchi’s hands are just as soft as she expected, warm to the touch.)

Not wanting to make things awkward, Tsujimura quickly pulls her hands away from Higuchi’s and begins to laugh nervously. “Uh - anyway...! So, coffee?”

“Oh - yes! Coffee, right...”

The two of then turn to head towards the entrance of the cafe. Tsujimura holds the door for Higuchi who bows her head in thanks, and the agent feels as if her heart is soaring past the clouds above as they both order their favorite coffee and find an unoccupied booth near a window.

They never even glance outside, completely swallowed by each other’s gaze as they talk.

Tsujimura doesn't know if there's a right way to be in love, but she knows that what she grows to feel for Higuchi is certainly that. Every time a date comes to an end, they're both eager to plan the next one together. She doesn't know if they’re going too fast as weeks, then months pass, but she can't deny the rapid beat of her heart and the way her face heats at the thought of being near Higuchi Ichiyou.

She wants to learn more about Higuchi - everything about her.

In the weeks that have passed, Tsujimura has learned a lot: Higuchi lives alone with a responsible little sister, and Higuchi is a businesswoman dealing in Yokohama’s shipping industry. When Higuchi is embarrassed, she turns her head away, then glances back at you through the curtain she's made of blonde hair. She's considerate, someone who loves to listen, and seems to forget to respond until you gesture for her to. She's everything Tsujimura didn't know she wanted in a person, and the agent didn't want to lose it.

Inexperienced as she is, she knows that she’s in love with Higuchi. That’s why the drive back to the blonde’s apartment to drop her off after their most recent date makes her so anxious, causing her hands to grip at her steering wheel a bit too tightly. She doesn’t want to seem any different than usual, as if she’s out of sorts or she didn’t enjoy their time together - because she did, she always does - but the thoughts on her mind are slowly but surely leaking out into her bodily expression.

“I didn’t know they had a museum for that sort of thing.” Higuchi says, breaking the silence between them. She turns to look at Tsujimura, smiling warmly. “You really like spy memorabilia, don’t you, Tsujimura?”

Tsujimura is glad she’s at a red light right now, because her instinctive response is to turn her head to face her company with a broad smile. “It was cool, wasn’t it?! I’ve always wanted to go see the North Korean spy ship Yokohama’s Coast Guard Museum has on display! Work keeps me so busy, but I convinced senpai to give me the day off so I could see it with you!” She freezes, realizing how emphatic her response was and looking back at the road with an embarrassed clear of her throat. “A-And my car is the same model as James Bond’s in a recent film...”

Higuchi covers her mouth with a giggle. “It’s not a bad thing - I’m just saying that I think it’s good you’re so passionate about something.”

“Ah... haha...” Tsujimura grips harder at the steering wheel as the light turns green, and she presses down on the gas to continue down the road. “You think so...?”

“I’m a bit envious, really. I don’t think I have any worthwhile hobbies outside of my work...”

“... Is that so...”

“Oh - but it doesn’t bother me. I like being able to help my coworkers and senpai. I like to be useful.”

Tsujimura understands the sentiment completely. The feeling of wanting to be useful to your superiors and show your skill to those you admire was something she beared as well, always doing her hardest to impress Ayatsuji, always doing her best so Sakaguchi-senpai would commend her efforts. She wonders who it is that Higuchi tries to impress...

Higuchi hadn’t said much about her job outside of the fact she had a senpai she admired, and her boss was an extremely strict yet seemingly innocent man. It didn’t give much insight into her life or what it was like, but learning such a thing when Tsujimura could not talk about her own private life either - Well, it’d be a hypocritical thing to do, so she never felt it would have been polite to ask.

When they finally get to Higuchi’s apartment complex, Tsujimura walks Higuchi up to her door. It’s late at night, and she’s a worrier. Higuchi luckily doesn’t mind, and seems to even enjoy the last few minutes spent together before she goes into her apartment.

“Tonight was really fun, Tsujimura.” Higuchi says when they reach her apartment door. She turns to face the agent, smiling politely, nervously. “Thank you... for inviting me out.”

She’s beautiful, really.

“Oh - it’s okay - t-thank you for agreeing to come with me...” I asked for the time off just for you, after all.

The blonde grabs the handle of her door and opens it. The smell of what Tsujimura assumes to be curry wafts into the hall, no doubt having been made by the younger sister Higuchi tells her about. She says nothing, staring at Higuchi’s back -

And before she knows it, she’s grabbing at the other woman’s wrist, pulling her back into the hallway.

“Eh - Tsujimura-sa-”

Higuchi can’t finish her words before she feels Tsujimura’s lips press against hers. They’re soft and warm, and she can feel a small chill against her lips when Tsujimura pulls away, no doubt from her lipgloss. Absolute shock finds its way onto Higuchi’s face, eyes blinking widely into Tsujimura’s burning red face.

“Ichiyou, I love you.” Despite the pounding of her heart, the redness of her face, and the nervous grip on Higuchi’s hand, she manages to say it without stumbling over her words. “I love you, so I... I want to be with you. Can I be with you, as your girlfriend?”

Ahhhh, she said it! She really said it - the ‘g’ word!

For a few agonizing seconds, there’s nothing but silence. Higuchi is still staring in shock, but soon, her expression relaxes into embarrassment - then, a smile so happy it’s as if the sun itself dulls in comparison. “I’ve been hoping for you to ask that, Mizuki... I want to be with you too.”

When the next day comes and she has to get ready for work, Tsujimura has to look at her cellphone to make sure the night before wasn’t a dream. When she sees Higuchi’s number - her name having been changed to ‘Ichiyou’ with a heart next to it - and a text message before bed saying ‘I love you’, her heart is fluttering all over again as she puts a familiar cherry barrette in her hair. It was real. It happened. She and Higuchi Ichiyou were really dating!!

She’s humming all the way to the coffee shop to buy her coffee, all the way to Ayatsuji’s office as she steps inside without even remembering to use her catchphrase at the door beforehand. Ayatsuji isn’t in his office this time, but the smell of lavender in the air is enough to give his presence away - he’s in the kitchen.

She sees Ayatsuji first with one leg crossed over the other and a teacup from his china cabinet. When she gets to the doorway, she notices an older man with grey hair wearing a tattered kimono, holding a matching cup in a gloved hand.

“Good morning, sensei! Kyogoku-san! It’s a great day today!”

“Ah, Tsujimura-kun. My report is already finished and on my desk.”

“Understood, I’ll proofread it and send it to Sakaguchi-senpai!”

And then, her head disappears out of the door. The sound of her heels against the wooden floor echoes as she goes into Ayatsuji’s office where her laptop is usually always sitting, waiting to be used.

Ayatsuji is silent, staring at the doorway. He arches a brow minutely, then sets his tea down with a scoff. “... She acknowledges your presence, but is too blinded by the stars in her eyes to actually realize the gravity of it. Honestly, that foolish girl.”

Kyogoku laughs heartily, smiling delicately over the rim of his tea. “Young ones in love are so endearing. To have the ability to put all your love and dedication into another person - that is what we call ‘hope for humanity’. Why, I certainly remember a time when you acted such a way towards me-”

“Be quiet. I can remember no such thing.”

“Well, we were both more carefree then. We don't have such a luxury anymore. That is the fate of any human, haha.”

The words make Ayatsuji fall into pensive silence, tracing the edge if his cup’s matching plate. He has a feeling - and his feelings are unfortunately accurate - that Tsujimura’s happiness may be given its fair share of hardship.

“In any case,” Kyogoku continues, quickly bored with the silence. “Her scarf is missing.”

“She's also wearing a childish barrette. Most likely from the woman she’s seeing. Couples do that nowadays - trading clothing and accessories.”

An amused hum ensues. “Shall I give you my scarf?”

“Choke yourself with it instead, fool.”

There’s a small bounce in Higuchi’s step as she walks through the office room, setting down a book full of files on a nearby desk. Phew... the last of the paperwork. It’s her least favorite thing about her job, but the rest of those she worked with were always out in the field, and she... Well, she knew she wasn’t suited for this job, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to work as hard as possible at it either.

She feels that maybe, just maybe, she’s gained some sudden enthusiasm for her work through Tsujimura’s love for her job, no matter how difficult.

At the thought, the blonde lifts a hand, touching the scarf around her neck with a smile. The warmth of the fabric makes her heart beat just a bit faster, feeling as if her girlfriend is right there next to her. (Girlfriend - she loves that word.) With a small giggle to herself, Higuchi leaves the room and begins to walk back the way she had came.

Further down the hall, there’s the familiar silhouette of Chuuya. His hands are in his pockets, and he gives out a bored yawn as the distance between them grows smaller and smaller. When they get within a few feet of each other, Chuuya stops, giving a raise of his brows at his coworker.

“Higuchi, that scarf you're wearing...”

Higuchi stops when her name is spoken, then lights up at the mention, pinching at the fabric of the item. “Oh! It's cute, isn't it? My girlfriend let me wear her favorite scarf, hehe~”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes! Well, as of last night... We thought it’d be fun to give each other one of our own accessories to celebrate today.”

Chuuya is oddly unresponsive, staring at her scarf. There's a strange seriousness in his gaze that makes Higuchi pause and tilt her head.

“Is there something wrong, Chuuya-san...?”

There's a moment of hesitation, as if the executive contemplates saying something, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns his head away. “... No. I was just thinking it's a high class brand. Just make sure you give it back in one piece - I’m happy for you, Higuchi.”

He walks off, but Higuchi can’t help but give a confused stare at his back.

Just what was the reason for that stare, she wonders...

It’s dark and the ground is wet with puddles from the evening rain. Overhead, the moon is shining down on the city of Yokohama, and the distant sound of traffic can be heard. Tsujimura sits in the shadows of some storage boxes at the port, feels comfort and at home in them, if only because she knows her ability is related to controlling shadows.

From the earpiece she’s wearing, Ango’s voice buzzes to life. “Tsujimura-kun, be careful. My subordinates just informed me some of the targets are coming in your director.”

Tsujimura grips tighter at the gun in her hand, shaking away her nerves. I’ll be alright, I’m an agent, after all. “Understood. What are your orders, senpai?”

It wasn’t often that Tsujimura was brought into the field in such a manner with Ango. Usually, she was doing her usual job, which was watching over Ayatsuji and making sure he was kept on a leash - however long it was, as he did whatever he wanted... It was fun being a detective’s assistant, but the work that came with following Ango’s orders in the dark had a certain thrill to it she both loved and feared.

She wanted to be an agent worth her salt and could hold her own against allies and enemies alike. This was her chance to prove herself - to Ango, and herself.

“Do not engage unless they notice you. This is their territory, after all.”

Yes. That’s right. This was the Port Mafia’s territory, the night was their time to shine like the moon in the sky overhead. Taking a step into the moonlight just out of reach in front of her was the same as asking for a death sentence, delivered by a rain of bullets that would make her body dance like a puppet on strings until she was nothing but a pile of flesh at their feet.

That’s what the Port Mafia is like, they are people who live in a world of blood and darkness.

Even to this day, years after having met that informant from the Port Mafia, she remembered how he smelt of blood - he was a true mafia, straight down to his brand name clothes. His red hair blending in with the sunset is still burned into her mind, and the words she said to him that day. If she could have even an ounce of that power and confidence, then surely...

The sound of footsteps nearing her pulls Tsujimura out of her thoughts. From the sound of it, they’re heels... A woman member of the Port Mafia?

There’s a moment of silence. The footsteps cease, too close for comfort. Tsujimura purses her lips, holding her breath while slowly but surely lifting her gun from where it was pointed down at the ground. Instinct tells her she’s already been found, they’re just trying to gain the element of surprise - she has no choice but to engage. With a final breathe, she jumps out of the shadows, arms lifting to point her gun in the direction of her hunter, and in turn she hears the same familiar click of a gun.

However, when their eyes meet, something in the depths of Tsujimura’s soul seems to shatter from the shock at the sight before her.

“... Eh...?”

A woman with blonde hair. Red eyes. Around her neck, there’s a familiar teal scarf. No no no, this can’t be happening - She hopes this is one hilarious prank, some nightmare from the depths of her heart, but when the woman speaks, there’s no denying who she is.

“Mizuki...”

“Ichi...you...”

The agent’s grip on her gun tightens to the point her knuckles are surely white underneath her gloves. It takes every inch of willpower in her body not to start shaking in front of Higuchi. She can’t show any weakness, not to... a Port Mafia...

The thought in itself makes her inhale sharply, painfully. “Ichiyou - why...?”

Higuchi seems equally stunned and speechless, only opening her mouth and closing it like a fish out of water.

Were you lying to me this entire time? Were you only getting close to me because of who I work for? We’re both liars. We were both wearing masks the entire time. How much of it was real?

Higuchi lowers her gun first, holding out her free hand. “Mizuki -”

Before she can finish her sentence, men from Tsujimura’s right yell out something incoherent, beginning to fire away using a machine gun in the agent's direction. Tsujimura quickly dodges, firing a few shots in their direction to send them hiding behind the nearest cover, the shadows directly behind her seeming to shudder to life.

“Mizuki! Wait!”

Tsujimura doesn’t listen. She blocks out the familiar voice saying her given name, pointing a gloved hand in the direction of her attackers. Special ability ----- “Yesterday’s Shadow Tag!”

Out the corner of her eye, some shadows move, fly past her and cause a gust of air that makes her ponytail sway. She doesn’t wait to watch, already spinning on her heels to run away. She hears the shouts of men shouting, more bullets, but none of them reach her as she disappears into the darkness.

She feels no comfort in the shadows this time when they consume her.

She feels no comfort in anything at all.

Tsujimura doesn’t sleep that night, nor does she remember much of it after meeting up again with Ango and his subordinates. It’s all a complete blur, her whole body felt numb to the point that words didn’t completely reach her. Ango seemed to tell something was off and told her just to forget about it and allow them to deal with the rest, so she just went home.

She went home to her empty apartment, and screamed at the top of her lungs into the nearest pillow on her bed. She cried, yelled, sobbed. There was no hand atop her head to comfort her, and it’s in times like then she wishes her mother was still alive to run her fingers through Tsujimura’s hair and give her the motherly advice she could so desperately need.

The advice she had actually been given by someone, it could be used now.

It weighs down on her mind the entire night that she barely sleeps, coming to Ayatsuji Yukito’s detective office a bit too early with the most depressing look on her face and bags under her eyes. She doesn’t even greet the detective when she enters the front door and takes a seat on the couch near his desk. She can feel Ayatsuji eyeing her from where he’s standing on the other side of the room, returning a book he had been reading.

His gaze is too heavy. She feels as if his eyes in itself are saying ‘I told you so, I warned you’ - so she breaks.

Her face falls into her hands and she sobs.

“Sensei... sometimes I wish you were wrong with your deductions.”

Ayatsuji does not answer. The only sound in the room is Tsujimura’s crying, which attractions the attention of his two cats that near her and jump onto the couch next to her. She doesn’t move her hands away from her face to pay attention to them, merely sniffling and crying into her hands.

Finally, she hears footsteps nearing her, and soon enough she can see the tips of Ayatsuji’s boots from where he’s standing before her. “Raise your head, Agent Tsujimura.”

The seriousness in his voice makes her wince, but the way he refers to her compels her to listen - as if not doing so would be denying her occupation as a special agent of the government. There are tear stains against her cheeks, and she’s sure that if she had found the energy to put on her make-up, it would be in absolute shambles. Ayatsuji kneels down in front of her, taking a handkerchief from the inside of his vest and pressing it against her cheek hard enough for her to get the message and take it into her hand herself.

“Calm down. Wipe your tears, blow your nose, then talk to me.”

Somehow... his indifference is calming. Tsujimura merely nods in silence, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief and blowing her nose loudly into the fabric. It takes her about a minute to clean herself up, and she takes a deep breath before speaking, “Ichiyou... is a member of the Port Mafia.” she says, voice cracking on the final word. “I- I don’t... What should I be feeling, sensei? I feel like I suddenly don’t know what to do, or if the past few months of us being together have meant really anything...”

“I can’t tell you how to feel. Quite the contrary, you’re already feeling what is appropriate for such a situation.” Ayatsuji answers coolly. “But, I doubt you’re the only one feeling this way right now. After all, both of you hid something from each other. An agent for the government and a member of the Port Mafia both have masks they’re required to wear. If you want my assessment, then I’ll give it - that woman was not under orders to be with you. Quite frankly, you and I hold no importance or significance to the Port Mafia. We hold the same significance a pebble would on the side of the road.”

He’s pessimistic as always, doesn’t mince his words, and attacks the heart of the matter from the very beginning. The layer of coolness that exudes from his voice settles on her skin, and somehow, it’s calming. It settles her heart just a bit.

“As for what to do... Well, you already know, deep down.”

If that sort of thing ever happens for you, I would suggest you run in the other direction.

... Is that what he’s trying to tell her? To run away? To let everything die away because of how things had changed, without speaking of it with Higuchi or saying a word to each other ever again? That hurt more than the idea of having to face the blonde woman face to face again. She couldn’t - she just couldn’t do it.

Her brows furrow slightly, thinking on their conversation months back, when she had just met the Port Mafia member in question. She remembers bringing up Kyogoku, how Ayatsuji had said that their relationship was not ‘normal’ - they loved each other, but they were enemies who fought to the death at every opportunity. It wasn’t normal because they were enemies...How was this any different?

“I...I’m not going to.”

Ayatsuji arches a brow. “Speak up, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“I said -” Tsujimura stands to her feet, curling both her hands into fists while gripping the handkerchief tightly. “I’m not going to run away! Even if it ended up like this, even if I’m scared to know the truth, I still love her! It doesn’t matter where she works! I want to protect her! I don’t want to take your advice - e-even if I admire you a lot!”

“Fool. That’s what you’re focusing on from my advice?”

“E-Eh?”

Ayatsuji crosses his arms over his chest. “I said ‘merely do what you feel is right’.”

Lavender eyes blink once, twice. It’s as if all the tension in her body has left suddenly. “What I feel is right...?”

“Yes. Right for you, not right as in what is the ‘just’ course of action.” the man scoffs, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “After all, someone like me has no right to talk about what is just or isn’t - but it’s completely my right to decide what I feel is best for me. For me, that is my exhausting relationship with Kyogoku. For you, whatever it is depends completely on your actions and choices.”

“Sensei...”

Ayatsuji gives the smallest of smiles, nodding towards the door. “You have something to be doing, don’t you?”

“But work...”

“I’m not going to be pulling a disappearing act any time soon. Just go.”

Tsujimura stares up at her teacher for a moment, then inhales to steel herself. With only a determined nod, she quickly makes her way out the front door.

In the distance, the sun is on the horizon. The night sky is slowly but surely being burned away by the rays of sunshine, leaving a distinct mix of red and lavender. Red, like Higuchi’s eyes. Lavender, like Tsujimura’s - hah, how picturesque such a comparison is. The thought makes the blonde laugh bitterly, painfully, while staring out across Yokohama bay. The Mafia had successfully driven off the government lackies attempting to interrupt their trade deal with some new allies overseas, but she wonders... At what cost?

“Yesterday’s Shadow Tag!”

She even used her ability against me... I didn’t even know she had one.

Higuchi unties the scarf around her neck, holding it out in front of her. Just looking at it and thinking of Tsujimura makes her want to start crying, but a voice from behind calling out to her is the only thing that keeps it at bay.

“Higuchi.”

Higuchi blinks away the stinging sensation in her eyes as she turns around, watching as her superior, Chuuya, approaches her.

“Chuuya-san... You’re here to check the supplies and report back to the boss, aren’t you?”

“I’ve got my subordinates working on the first part. Word from some of the lackies is that you froze up against an agent last night.”

Higuchi lowers her head to look down at her scarf, gripping it tightly. “Ah, that is...”

Her sentence goes absolutely nowhere, swallowed up by the waves in the background. Chuuya stares at her for a moment, then soon releases a heavy sigh. “That girl probably doesn’t hate you, Higuchi. She’s got a good heart - probably too good to be working for those rats in the government.”

The young woman blinks in surprise, gawking at Chuuya. “You knew-? How?”

Chuuya pulls a gloved hand out of a pocket to point at the scarf in her hand. “Some time ago, the boss had me as an informant for the government. The person waiting for me was that girl, and she was wearing that same scarf. It’s a rare brand ‘cause she’s got high class taste, so I wouldn’t forget it.”

Somehow, all of a sudden, Higuchi feels smaller. “You didn’t tell the boss despite knowing...?”

“That girl isn’t high up enough on the food chain to gain anything from. She’s not even suited for her job with a heart like that - a lot like you. But she stays anyway, stubborn as all hell.”

That is truly Tsujimura Mizuki in a nutshell, Higuchi thinks. She’s the most stubborn person in the world, empathetic, and always looking forward towards her goals. That was one of the many things she loved about her girlfriend... if she could still call the agent that, at least.

Chuuya shifts his weight onto a foot, then glances off to his left. He breathes out an amused scoff. “I’ve gotta get going and finish up, but I’ll leave you to tend to your business. I’ll only say this once, so don’t forget it: love who you love while you can. Who gives a shit if your lives are different as all hell? That’s what pulls people to each other.”

Well, that was a sudden, heartfelt piece of advice.

“I... Thank you, but where is that coming from...?”

The executive points. Higuchi’s eyes follow, and down the long, empty pier, she sees a familiar head of teal green hair running towards her.

Mizuki...?

“I’m off now. Take care, Higuchi. Give super spy my regards too.” Chuuya says, turning as he begins to walk off.

Higuchi doesn’t give him an answer, instead taking off into a run down the empty pier towards the agent. It feels as if it takes forever, but at the same time it’s so worth it when she and Tsujimura nearly tackle each other while hugging each other on the pier and stumble in the process. The agent has her in a vicegrip, and Higuchi has fingers twisted into the fabric of Tsujimura’s shirt. The two of them seem to relax in each other’s arms after a few moments, inhaling the remnants of each other’s perfume, then pulling away while holding onto the other’s hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you things about me because I’m a special agent.” I’m your enemy.

Higuchi shakes her head, tearing up with a smile. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too. I didn’t tell you things about me because I work for a criminal organization.” You're my enemy .

“Even so, I still love you.” Tsujimura brings Higuchi’s hand to her lips, kissing the blonde’s palm softly. “I love you, I want to know about the rest of you, no matter the cost... No matter what happens. I-I want to make this work, however dysfunctional, and be with you.”

The honesty in her words makes Higuchi tremble. She inhales, cupping Tsujimura’s face to bring her closer into a kiss - chaste, yet meaningful. Their noses are touching, both of them are smiling.

“It’s early. Come back home with me to my place to get some sleep. I want to tell you everything this time. Though it’s probably ugly... at the end of it all, I hope you’ll still love me, Mizuki.”

Tsujimura smiles. Higuchi still reminds her of sunshine - that’s how the agent knows that what she feels is love, that despite the differences in their lives, that love won’t change. “I know without a doubt in my mind I will, Ichiyou. My job isn't exactly normal either, so it might seem very funny to you... but I hope you'll love me all the same.”

#bsd rarepairweek #day4 #tsujimura mizuki #higuchi ichiyou #tsujihigu #I WAS UP UNTIL 8AM WRITING THIS

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kpurereactions · 7 years ago

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She Boss | Part 1

Summery: She's her own boss and theres nothing that can't stop her from ruling the world. Except for the soft heart she sprouts from the young, handsome Korean Leader. Pairing: Kwon Jiyong x Reader Rating: Drama, Angst, Smut, Fluff WARNINGS: Language, light|heavy Violence, light|heavy Smut

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

The surprise to your family when your father left his empire to you instead of your brothers was enough to raise concern with the heads of three families that followed your name. There was something about following a young woman in a world of violence and theft that rose concern, but your father knew exactly what he was doing.

You weren't like most girls, that's for sure. Hell, you could hear someone behind you make a comment and reach around to shoot them square in the heart before anyone, including yourself, could fully turn around. You were tough and knew exactly how to use your looks to your benefit. This meant you were smart. You knew how to sniff out a shipment gone bad before it was even loaded, which instantly made you gain respect from anyone who ever laid eyes on you; that is if they were lucky enough to do so.

The mafia world wasn't a place for women, you were smart enough to know that so all your business calls were ran through a voice modifier and if anyone insisted on meeting you they would either meet with your eldest brother, Carlo who would have you in his ear the entire time or they'd be shot as soon as you got what you wanted. The Italian Mafia wasn't something that messed around and you were a proud head sitting at the top of the food chain.

It was late one night and you were standing over your impressively detailed oak desk trying to decipher the very vague message that was sent you you by one of the sub heads that supported you when Carlo and your second eldest brother Vince walked in and sat in the two chairs that were meant for guests.

"We got a phone call tonight, Val." Vince said and you looked up momentarily to see Carlo nodding along with him.

"Congratulations." You said looking back down and pulling the next seventh letter to create a full message.

"From Korea." Vince added causing you to chuckle slightly.

"Would you like me to shoot up the phone company so you don't have to pay your international call?" You joked picking out the next 7th letter.

"Smart ass." Carlo huffed watching you sit down back into what a was once your fathers favorite Chair.

"It was an invitation." Vince started, only continuing when you raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at a him. "They are having their annual meeting in Seoul next week and their dying to finally meet the notorious Cappucio family and their fearless, faceless leader. They've invited you for the past four years, Val. Their getting restless and we can't have them thinking that there really is no leader here."

"We'll send them a case of wine and express my deepest gratitude but I'm busy." You sighed, looking back to the letter.

"Doing what, exactly? Spending two hours on a letter that'll tell you 'it's done, he's taken care of'?" Vince said with a hint of stubbornness. You frowned down the the letters you had scribbled into a piece of paper, reading exactly what Vince had said.

"Plus, Val, they aren't taking no for an answer this time. They offered a plane to start flying our way as we speak. Respectfully I told them we'll take our own but they are really desperate." He said making you look up again. A sly smile touched your cheeks as you remembered something.

"Isn't one of their heads like ridiculously hot?" You said making your brothers shift awkwardly.

"You're the bravest person we know and we will be there with you." Carlo said. "You have to do this."

"Fine." You said lighting the letter on fire and using the flame to lite the long white cigarette that you had removed from its pearl and gold incrusted case.

You were a lot less worried than you thought you would be as your privet jet landed safely into Seoul. You looked up to your brothers and tucked your dads gun into your holster before slipping on your heels and coat. The boys grabbed your suit case and filed into a cage around you as you exited the plane, your favorite guard and closest friend since you were young, Immanuel, holding your hand as you stepped down the stairs of the plane.

You had been set up in an incredible pent house apartment with a room for all six of your men to stay in. You, of course, went straight for the double doors that sat along one of the long walls and opened them up dramatically before walking into the room stripping articles of your clothing, smirking as your brother huffed before walking up and slamming the doors behind you.

You were a proud person, and part of the fun of reveling yourself to strangers was the initial shock of your fierce beauty. Thick eyebrows, long dark hair and perfect plump lips that always seemed to accent the beauty mark that kissed the corner of your right eye. You hated to admit it, but it was fun how easy the men were to bend and shape how ever you wanted them to just by showing a little calf.

Knowing this, as you got out of the shower Immanuel was already hanging up the array of tight bandage dresses you have brought to choose from.

"Really?" He laughed holding up a baby pink cage skirt that tucked right underneath the hook of your knees. You laughed at shrugged as he stuck his hand through one of the many large holes that was placed over the built in underwear.

Ule was the only person to ever see you smile genuinely other than your brothers. To others your smile meant death as it was usually the last thing you did before aiming right through their eye socket, but to Ule your smile was a joke, even in those serious times. You sent a bullet whizzing past his ear once when he tried to cover his snort with a desperate cough and though it worked he couldn't help but laugh with you afterwards.

Before a conversation was able to start between the two of you Vince walked in tailed by two terrified looking women. When they walked fully in you noticed it was because all of the men were flanking them.

"Heel boys." You said giving the two girls a friendly smile. "Sorry about them, they're a little... protective." You said walking slowly up the the two girls, pausing to intimidate them a little more, just for the hell of it.

"My hair will go in lose curls down my back, nothing special. As for make up bold. No eyeshadow just a black cat eye with bold red lips. I'll do my own eyebrows." You said walking back till you hit the large lit mirror and sat down.

The girls rushed to you, one of them sitting against the vanity that was in front of you while the other one took no time in beginning on your hair. They were both extremely sweet which almost made you feel bad for being intimidating. You tried to make conversation with them, asking them how they got into cosmetics and what they like in their free time, but you could tell the six men standing along the opposite wall were making them very uncomfortable.

"Yous. Out." You said sternly looking at the line of men, making the girl who started dabbing your foundation on your cheeks jump slightly. "Sorry." You whispered to her taking her smile as an apology accepted as the men filed out of the room.

"They can be a little intimidating at times." You say as sweet as you can get, which wasn't something you were used to.

"A little?" The one standing behind you said with an amused smile as she fluffed your now dry hair. You chucked at her response. "Jooyoung." She said smiling to you in the mirror

"Mina." The other said.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what do you do that you need six body guards to watch you get hair and makeup?" Mina said dipping the beauty blender into the foundation that sat on the top of her hand.

"Let's just say I'm a very important person. I don't want to bore you with the details." You said smirking at yourself. She nodded and smiled moving on to a powder.

The small talk was sweet, you didn't have too many girl friends so being able to have some non work related conversations with some girls who weren't whores was something you appreciated. They did everything you asked them to perfectly and you even allowed Mina to talk you into a nude shadow that worked a lot better than you expected it too. They stayed in the room with you, the conversation to fun for them to leave just yet as you walked into the closet.

"So this is a business dinner. Do I go with the red or the black?" You said holding up an skin tight red dress that had long mesh sleeves and and a low back in one hand and a completely mesh black knee length dress that had thick black lines that made squares across the material. The two girls looked at one another before back to you.

"Black." They both said. You smiled and rose a sharp eyebrow at them before turning back into the closet and slipping into a very skimpy black thong and pulling the dress over your head, adjusting the material so all the lines were straight to cover your nipples.

"Black or red?" You said exiting the closet once again holding two pairs of very high stilettos.

"Red." They both said again with excitement in their eyes as they watched you slipped the red heels on.

"I hope you don't mind but I saw these and..." Jooyoung said standing up and reaching into a bag that sat on the vanity and pulled two thin long gold earrings out. You smiled and walked over to her before putting them in your ears and then reached for your mafias signet ring and placed it on your pinky finger.

"What ever business deal your doing is going to go your way just by the way you look." Mina said biting on her thumb as she watched you twirl.

"Then I think it's time to give these boys a piece of my mind." You said with a wink and walking out of the room, now with your long fur coat.

The boys escorted the girls out and with a quick wave back to them you let your smile drop as you entered business mode. You reached your solid gold gun that was actually doubled as lighter to place in the garter around your thigh, slipped your cigarette case in your jacket pocket and then turned back to the boys who now stood in front of you in all black suits.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" You said waiting to be lead out of the room.

You pulled up to the fancy restaurant and set your game face on and despite it growing dark outside you still slipped your black cat eye sunglasses on before taking Ule's hand so you could brace against him as you exited the sleek black car. They walked behind you in rows of two as you strutted, the curls that fell down you back bouncing with every step you took. You were ushered into the direction of the privet room you would be meeting them in and continued to strut that way, giving the bell boy a dangerous smile as you slipped off your sunglasses.

Vince opened the door and before he could even look at you, you had passed by him and let your coat fall off your shoulders for Ule to catch. You made your way to the end of the table where seven chairs remained empty and you placed your hands on top of the chair in the middle, finally turning to see the twenty other men staring at you in awe.

"Hello, boys." You said with that same dangerous smile you'd given the bell boy.

The men surrounding you looked at one another stunned, and not wanting to be the first to ask if you were the mysterious boss they'd been working with. The only one to make a noise was a man to your right. He chuckled lightly as he lent back in his chair, staring at you as he swirled the contents of his short glass around. You winked at him. And couldn't help but notice the very light blush that touched his cheeks as he lent forward to reposition himself in his seat.

That must be the handsome young leader you've heard about. You made a mental note that he was everything you expected him to be. Lean, with a sharp jaw and eyes to match. There was a child like look deep behind his gaze that peaked through as he gave you a toothy smile and brought his glass up to his lips.

Ule came behind you and pulled out the seat, which you used to lift your leg and slip the gold gun out and placing it on the table.

"Oh calm down gentlemen." You started sitting down and reaching for your cigarette case, noticing the uncomfortable look they all held.

You pointed it at one of the older men and pulled the trigger before laughing at all the scared expressions that softened when all that came out was a soft flame. You brought it up to your lips and lit the cigarette, smirking as the handsome one lent over his very stern faced friend to ask you to light his.

"Well. Stall we get started?" One of the older men asked, finally shifting all eyes off of you. You pouted took a long drag but listened carefully to what was being said. The waiter brought you your martini, and you sipped it slowly.

Every time a new topic was brought up you rolled you eyes, they weren't saying anything new and you were getting annoyed as the three groups seemed to skip around and around the same topics.

"Ms. Cappucio, you haven't said much." One of the older men said.

You put your drink down and lent back, watching as the men squirmed to not look at the amount of breast you were exposing to the room.

"That's cause I'm bored." You said causing the men to look at one another, the handsome one just chuckled again.

"Excuse me ma'am, but these are important matters." He said, almost looking worried as to what you would do if he was in any way rude to you.

"Sure." You said placing your drink on the table. "But tell me, what part of these situations have I," you pause to emphasize the word. "Not already delt with. Your dock? No ones touching that. You're warehouses? No ones searching those. And your... everything? Well... I've already handled that haven't I?" You said making sure to look at the handsome man last who now just nodded at you.

"And we appreciate you're help, we really do, you're a powerful and great ally for us. But we have to acknowledge that it's happened once. Why won't it happen again?"

"Do you not trust me?" You said calmly.

"Honestly ma'am, not really. Up until a few minutes ago we had no idea who you were. It was like... like a..."

"Guardian angel." The Handsome one said, looking straight at you. You nodded, hiding all facial expressions to hide the fact his words made your stomach flip. "I think we all put our faith in Ms. Cappucio for a reason. I'd be insulted if the group of men whos asses I just saved were doubting me." He said, the two of you now looking to the rest of the men who all bowed their head slightly.

"Well, is there any other business we need to discuss?" You said lighting another cigarette.

"One last thing." The old man said. "We, as grateful as we are for your help, want to create a closer bond with you. To help you as much as you've helped us. We've requested you to move here. Temporarily, of course, so we can really express our gratitude. And I promise it will be worth it." He said with serious eyes.

"So, what your asking me to do is up and leave all my men and their families who put their trust, faith, and love in me to vacation in Seoul and live under your order?" You said, growing a little offended.

"We've all pitched in on a small community. Any family's who feel uncomfortable with you being gone can have their own house. Think of it was a small Italian community right here in the city you've been so kind towards."

"So now you expect me to up and leave to live in an area all of you know where to find me at? I'm guessing you'll be controlling the gates?"

"Actually, Val," Carlo started. You glared at him for using your pet name in front of these men. "Valentina, we've already done all that. It was going to be a birthday present, you know another vacation home. They don't know where it is, or anything about it. They all just pitched in their gratitude."

"And I wasn't informed about this, why?" You said getting angry, your brother held up his hands in attempt to calm you down, he knew once you got mad there is little you wouldn't do. "Like I said, it was a surprise." You placed the gold gun on the table and looked around the room, the handsome one was the only one with anything more than a worried look on their face. He was amused with you.

"Sweetheart, were all just trying show our gratitude."

You groaned aggravated, and slammed the butt of the gun on the table and aimed it at the waiter who walked into the room and shot him, the loud bang of the gun that the men all thought was a lighter startled them out of their seat as Ule and another one of your boys, Dino, stood to hook their arms under the poor boys shoulders to drag him out.

"Listen here." You said hitting the butt of the gun again and making everyone jump before lighting your third cigarette of the night. "I'm not your sweetheart, or doll or princess. Technically I own you I'm just polite enough to not make you think I do. If there one thing you want to know about me, since you feel like you know nothing; it's don't fuck with me." You said placing the cigarette in your mouth for a long draw before exhaling and sitting back down in your chair.

"Thank you for the house. I'll consider your offer." You said waving your perfectly manicured hands at them.

They all stood and bowed low before exiting the room, fear still heavy in their eyes. The only person who didn't leave was the handsome one, who instead came around to place himself on the table in front of you. You lent back to see him better.

"You're feisty." He said leaning to look at you eye to eye. You smirked, lifting your legs to cross your ankles on the table next to him. He took that as an okay to talk to you.

"Kwon Jiyong." He said holding out his hand. You gave him yours and instead of shaking it he took the opportunity to kiss your ring, never breaking eye contact.

"Well, Mr. Kwon, it's important to have a little surprise to you." He chuckled at this.

"You walked in this room not as the big fat Italian man we expected basically naked in red high heels and killed someone because someone else called you sweetheart." He chuckled, his eyes full of excitement.

"Almost killed him. I just broke his clavicle. He'll have full use of it in a month." You winked causing his smile to grow even more. You smiled and looked over to see your brothers laughing with two of his men and sighed.

"I like you Jiyong. You're smart, almost as smart as me," you started leaning in and making him smile again. "I think we're going to be good friends."

"Good enough for you to be my plus one to an upcoming event I'm hosting?" He said smirking.

"Are you asking me on a date?" You said raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. A date."

"What a power couple." You joked making his cheeks tingle again.

#bigbang #bigbang mafia #bigbang mafia au #Kwon Jiyong #Jiyong mafia #jiyong mafia au #gdragon #gdragon mafia #gdragon mafia au

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voulezvous-rpg · 7 years ago

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DANCER: THE LOVER

artemy “tocka” amelin 25 years old dancer & courtesan played by em. 21+. she/her. est.

love was unyielding. artemy learned this first. it served no one, as any feral thing wouldn’t, only yielding to instinct and will.

he had loved his mother in the only way a young child could, wholly and without rhyme, and she him. he could only remember she was a woman of frost, silken ink hair whipping in the winds as they traveled from wagon to train, crossing mountains and dirt and fields with nothing but a handful of clothes to their name. she was an earthen goddess paving paths where there were none, a sprite shining a light through dense snow-covered forests with only an oil lantern. she was only comfortable when the cold froze her tears before they could fall, so she took them past mongolia, to lands of old lifting up byzantine cathedrals and umber palaces.

when she became ill, betrayed by her beloved chill, she left him in st petersburg. he’d wailed and wailed, but her figure only kept fading in the snow, into the forest; she was intent on dying alone. now, he understood.

he was taken in by a brothel of blood mothers, warm and unapologetic and cutting with their tongues, lithe, older women who swept by in silk robes but ate stew at the same table, elbows resting on knees, taking bites straight from the bread loaf and talking loudly and crudely. they’d all learned to survive long ago, orphans in some shape or another, be it countries or mothers who had abandoned them to the cold.

they all raised him in fractions, forming something of a whole. one mother would bring home an apple for him for dinner. another brought home a couple of dumplings. another brought home a cup of cabbage soup. it was all the effort they could put in individually, but together it was enough.

he was tasked with changing and washing the sheets each night and sweeping the leaves around the building. ‘you would be useless here otherwise. the men who come want something in between a mother and a fuck. they want you to drain them and then sing them a lullaby.”

officials, they meant. men with badges and ribbons, men with wives and children who demanded as much as their duties did. men who slinked in like shadows, their illegalities written like scars on their faces. they eyed artemy strangely as they brushed past, pale boy sweeping leaves to the light of a cheshire moon. he listened to their noises, guttural first, and then childish - asking for a nursery song, for a kiss, for ‘i love you’. the mothers always obliged, their voices the softest he’d ever heard when they were muffled by thin wood. but after the men were gone, they emerged, cigarette smoke filling the cobalt night, cackling about what their patron asked them to do, relaying stories over the last bit of vodka in chipped glasses as he gathered their sheets together. he learned love smelled like cigarettes and used blankets. he learned love was humiliating.

even as he grew, as he became tall and lithe like his new mothers but windswept and lovely like his true mother, lovely like a crane floating in winter winds, he did not desire to follow them in their line of work. not that he looked down upon their work at all, but he found he hardly had the stomach to even imagine it, being underneath a ruddy old man. even as the patrons’ gazes lingered for too long, even when he began to see himself beautiful, as they did, with doe eyes and sweet lips and a faraway look, he wanted none of it. what he did want were the lullabies and the nursery rhymes - the power in that moment, singing to ministers and diplomats as if they were children with their thumb in their mouth, looking into their eyes and knowing they’d give anything to you if asked.

he first realized this when an ambassador’s wife came by asking for her husband, suspecting him of having grown restless. artemy had been instructed to protect each patron’s confidentiality (‘we would not survive if we could not keep secrets’), and he told her he did not know. rather than leave, the woman took a seat beside him in the courtyard, her face sinking with exhaustion, her pearls and diamonds weighing down her thin shoulders. ‘can’t say I’d blame him if he wanted to,’ she sighed. ‘this city is too somber, too cold. what else can you do but find warmth when one is not enough?’

she was speaking freely, perhaps assumed a slight orphan in a brothel was the very same as speaking to the wind. artemy tucked his legs under himself, brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, his smile inviting. he held himself like a muse. made himself a blank slate, invited her to pour herself onto him, her worn and weary ash violets and greys. ‘do you find yourself cold often?’ he asked, slender fingers toying with the tassels of his newly gifted silk robe. a hand me down. it slid along his skin with every movement, like fire licking snow. ‘sometimes I think we’re too much for ourselves. one body isn’t enough, so we try to try and split ourselves, parcel bits of us into our lovers and children.’

she sighed, looking guilty. ‘i try not to. but one of his colleagues, he understands. his wife is always late coming home. he has no children, doesn’t know how to cope. he’s kind to me.’

‘it would be wrong of us to neglect the good that is offered.’ he spoke sagely, mimicking the softness of his mothers when they sang their lullabies. he allowed her to stare, her gaze curious and shy. ‘the world is already cruel enough.’

she left not long after, stopping to kiss him long on the lips and to tuck a pearl earring into his hand. ‘for listening.’

his first treasure. he did not tell his mothers, they would want him to split the cut. he sold it and bought pastila, the first dessert he’d ever had.

his second treasure was given by a minister, forced to wait by his favorite being otherwise occupied by a particularly vigorous patron. he had no illusions of his own exclusivity, and artemy liked him for it. he waited in the courtyard where artemy arranged dried leaves and wilted petals into pictures and shapes, skin fair and soft against cracked pavement. the minister watched for a while, artemy could feel his eyes on every part of him he chose to expose.

‘what’re you making?’

‘a picture. my mother was murdered by her country, pistol to the back - i’m trying to remember what it looked like. the leaves aren’t red enough.’ he liked to lie. next time he would say he was abandoned by a traveling theater troupe, that he’d once been an aerialist before he sprained his ankle. but this minister looked like he’d watched many families suffer at the hands of their country, all lined face and hands scarred from war and tobacco scented even in his mid-forties, and artemy chose his lies and stories accordingly. ‘i think it will be a blue twilight tonight.’

(his mothers had unknowingly taught him how to glean people like art. ‘look at the red of his cheeks. he indulges in sirloin and whiskey a little too often, no?’ ‘a foreign watch, tailored pants, alligator wallet, walking around these parts? an heir turned oligarch, sheltered, soft as a baby. hope he doesn’t get mugged.’ the world was a gallery, each person a moving exhibit.)

perhaps it was guilt. perhaps it was sympathy. the minister knelt down beside artemy on the ground, rough fingers arranging the leaves like oils on a canvas. ‘blood turns dark, brown and black. battlefields look like oil had been spilled. i hated the smell. my best friend died and i didn’t have the heart to tell his wife he’d begged for his mother in his last moments. the minister of internal affairs’s son.’

artemy shuddered a little, as if the sight was too much for his delicacy, his robe shrugging off a shoulder, exposing a long expanse, and the minister continued, voice faltering.

‘his father is already mad enough, his aides just hide it well. i couldn’t bear to make it worse. i’m not usually known for being merciful’

the minister was only with his mother for five minutes, but there were no noises. couldn’t get it up, artemy realized with a faint smile. when the minister left, he pressed a worn and tattered medal into artemy’s hand. artemy kissed his cheek goodbye, left traces of moondust on his skin.

he never hung on to his treasures for long, he knew they were liable to be stolen, forgotten, and he sold them quickly for desserts, bought himself english books to teach himself the language and discarded them before he got home. the real prize, he would realize, was the intangible. it was learning a noble ambassador frequented brothels, it was learning his wife was having an affair. that the minister of internal affairs was more vulnerable than the public imagined.

then came the day a traveler arrived, english and french spilling from his lips in an attempt to communicate. the mothers made artemy greet him - they knew how adept at conversation he’d become. english speakers rarely found their way to the brothel, and they treated it as an omen.

artemy draped himself over his stone bench, tassels spilling over the side. years of spoiling himself in secret had made him a stark image of rosy health and luxurious beauty amid a landscape of gritty survival. his accent colored his voice - he liked sounding far away to someone. ‘can i get you a drink, mr. suit?’

‘i suppose. and another to pour on the street.’ the stranger’s smile was friendly, melancholy. ‘i’m here to mourn.’

‘and what headstones do you see here, mr. suit? listen closely and you’ll hear the sounds of the living, inflamed and guttural.’ he poured the stranger and himself a glass of vodka. ‘or are you here to pour someone’s ashes into our vases?’

‘my friend, he was in love with one of the women here. or maybe you, he didn’t say.’ he lifted his eyes, perhaps expecting artemy to be flattered. artemy smiled, sipped his glass as nonchalantly as he would if the man had said the weather was pleasant. ‘he died not even a month ago, in a fire in paris. in his favorite cabaret. his love was here, though, even if they didn’t love him back.’

‘a cabaret? how glamorous.’ it was in artemy’s nature to skip over tragedy in his mind, to ignore sentiment. grief, mourning, love, they all served to make one soft and slow for the wolves. he leaned in closer, tried to imagine jewels and velvet and lights and costumes, tried to place himself in a distant painting resplendent with reds and golds. ‘was it beautiful?’

‘it was the center of the universe. it will be again soon, i’m sure - they’re reopening it after they’ve cleaned up all the ashes. you should go see it, write your name on their walls.’

‘how sweet.’ he tilted his head, dark hair falling in front of dark eyes. ‘but it’s a cruel world out there, mr. suit. we are happy being impartial, the moirai. we have our treasure, our drink, and our men and women would do anything for us. their secrets. i’m afraid if i leave i’ll never come back and this place will forget me.’

the stranger almost looked impressed, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. ‘you are happy simply using your charm to collect trinkets and secrets? what do you even do with what you know? you tuck them away to rot?’ he leaned forward, placed a course hand over artemy’s. ‘what a waste.’

‘there’s nothing wrong with rot.’ he could not help his intrigue, how he leaned closer, the elegant curve of his smile. ‘you may tell me more about this club, mr. suit. but get your hand off me. i will be the one to seduce.’

the wild thing was lured back into civilization with the promise of better food, something succulent to sink his teeth into, and it offended his pride far less than he thought it would. he was less like his blood mothers, who were staunchly in one spot until the sand wore them down, and more like his true mother - moving, swaying, leaving one land for another when opportunity presented itself before her roots could take hold. she had known complacency was the most dangerous thing of all, that to depend on one thing was worse. it was why she wanted to die alone rather than watch her child grieve, to remember her as immobile and pale and decrepit.

‘what if it happens again? the fire?’ his mothers. ‘say you rub someone the wrong way? say they drop another match?’

he hears the whispers, can feel the apprehension at his decision, but there was not even a shadow of a doubt. new life was born from the ashes, and so he sprinkled cinder into his hair, planted what treasures he had left in soot, a gold button, a cufflink, an ancient coin, a hair clip, and prayed to his dead mother that from the ashes wealth and wonder would sprout.

he wanted to find his lullabies and nursery rhymes here, in this viper’s nest teeming with glitter and venom. he wanted to leave his signature with a neat flourish and move on as soon as he was bored again, before the past caught up with him again. the stranger had been right. he was wasted with his mothers, keeping secrets with him until he died, spending all his treasures on desserts because he was afraid anything with more permanence would be stolen.

now, he spoke in half truths and spun tales like silk through a loom. there was no use in dwelling in his past, no matter how unusual it was - told more than once, it would become boring to him. one night he was the bastard of royalty, cast aside like a mutt. another night he was born of sea foam, wandering, and had stumbled upon the moulin rouge during a storm. ‘i would be swept away with the rain, you see,’ he’d said once to a crowd of mr. suits. ‘ it’s why i bathe in rosewater. nothing bad can happen to you in the bath.’

he was a fine dancer, not as skillful as those who had been classically trained, but he was more method than skill, more sensuality than precision. but a lover he was, and potential customers had a taste when they caught him alone by the bar in a generous mood, generous enough to sit by them, to conversate and ruminate, perhaps a kiss if he was especially merciful. anything more was as good as myth, and he made it a point to paint his exclusivity in mist and shrouds, made what few who had taken him to bed speak nothing of their night to anyone else with a promise that it would be even better the next time.

mystery. intrigue. it built value, made him expensive, made him beyond mortal.

could anyone blame him for enjoying it?

FC: Kim Jinwoo

#t #d #td #the lover

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