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crystalcow · 3 years ago

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𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 4

Masterlist // child reader ML //

Sapnap x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, casinos

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝗼𝐤𝗼 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝗼𝐰??

Quackity was telling you all of his plans

He rambled on for hours of his ideas for casinos and how he was going to marry Karl and sapnap

It sounded great

He had his whole plan set up! He even had Sam helping him with the building

But then he left

Just like everyone else

But that was fine! You were just with sapnap

Before Karl came running over rambling on about needed to move his library

He had a library?

“[Redacted] you need to stay close, please”

You looked at him weirdly

Who the fuck was [redacted]

“Karl my names Y/n you idiot” “flame..” “sorry”

He didn’t even notice it and then you had to spend the next couple days hauling over 100 books

“Oo hey what are these! The covers look really weird”

You had found his time travel books

Woops

That man raced over and in the kindest way possible, snatched it from your hands

“Don’t touch those, they are my special books”

You just shrugged and let him be, he freaks you out enough

So you all traveled to this area in the spruce forest and built a really ugly mushroom hut

But hey it’s fine! Foolish thankfully came around later that day and made everything better

So you stuck around

Maybe you needed this, this new start

Oh but prime knows that wouldnt last long

Karl started forgetting

At first it was simple things as just forgetting where he was or little stumbles with names

But eventually he was going away longer and longer

He started calling you by these strange names, some that sound Victorian and western and others that are unlike you

One day he didn’t call you by your name at all

You were hanging around the Sakura trees and the big yin Yang pond waiting for sapnap to come back with George

Then you saw Karl exit the library, running up to him for a hug

It’s been two months since you’ve seen him

You fucking hated it but you couldn’t help but consider him another parental figure

He loved it

But he just stood there as you wrapped your arms around him

Expecting the usual “[reda]- Y/n, I’ve missed you so much my sweet flame!”

But there was nothing just a sad one sided hug

“Hello? I’m sorry but do I know you?”

You were ready to cry

“I’m sorry, I uh must’ve mistaken you for the wrong person” “No that’s fine! Hugs are nice?”

So you left and ran into the library

Scouring throughout all of the books until you found them

The same 8 books you shrugged away

You read through all of them along with Karl’s other journals

You didn’t like going through his stuff especially, a whole invasion of privacy

The more you read the worse it got

What were you gonna tell Sapnap?

Who the hell is James, and [redacted]?

And why couldn’t he stop

It’s no use anymore

You were simply just forgotten

𝐋𝗼𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬

The closer you got to the large building, the sicker you got

Kinoko Kingdom was supposed to be your free pass

But somehow you always end up here

You called for Sam on the comms waiting for the beep

The inside looked great to say the least

“What are your past relationships with the prisoner?” “No answer.”

“Where are you currently resided?” “No answer”

“Do you believe the prisoner deserves his sentence?” “Maybe”

You put all your shit in the locker and followed him through all the safety checks

“I’m glad you didn’t bring anything with you”

You stood on the platform heart racing as the lava went down

It was like a ticking time bomb

The small squeaks and scratches of the hovering bridge

He just stared at you

That sick stupid mask was broken by tommy that day in the black stone room

So you had to look into his face

Lets just say he looks good in Orange

“Barrier up or down?” “Down”

He backed up into the corner as you stepped in

Smiling

Once the lava cascaded down your smile turned into a sick frown

“Hello” is that all he had to fucking say?

“Screw you. Fuck you. Damn you”

He just looked you a small chuckle escaping from his lips

“Those all mean the same thing.” “Well I’ve been living in cinnamon town for the past couple months, and I’m ready to fucking burn some buns”

Yeah he just laughed

“I’ve missed you Hot shot”

“You ruined our damn life!”

Someone went quiet

“If you didn’t have to have a petty little war, or criminalize children we could’ve been fine! It could’ve just been you, dad, me, and George.”

You were pissed, everyone just kept leaving you.

Tommy and Tubbo, Quackity, Karl, Dream, and hell even Wilbur

“You come and visit me, after not having seen me for months and you just yell? Not a hello or ‘how are you dream?’ ‘How’s prison dream’ ‘how can I help you get out of this damn place’ “

You just sat down ready to just walk out into the lava

“I’ve been stuck here for months! None of you even cared enough to visit me, hell even Tommy came around.”

You might have felt a little bad after leaving him

The prison was cold even tho lava was flowing right there

“Why would you leave the discs alone..” “Because I had to end it.”

What were you doing here

What were you planning on saying?

“So, what do you do in prison”

“I have a clock.”

You got up to go look at the pretty clock

Then threw it at his face

“Ow” “deal with it bitch”

The longer you stayed the worse the feeling in your stomach got

so you buzzed for Sam waving goodbye

“Wait.. Do they miss me?” “Can’t say, but I think this may be for the best.”

He wanted his best friends

But he just got the annoying teenager

Oh but that wouldn’t be the last

𝐋𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬

You got a letter in the mail one day

Who the hell uses letters??

You were shocked to see the address and the small post card

“Come around some time”-Quackity

Ans on the back it had the cords

Oh well what did you have to loose? Sapnap was focused on Karl

and well Karl didn’t even know you

So you set off

It took you a couple hours travel by horse to get to the desert area

The large sign blaring in the red text

You gotta admit the place looked beautiful

There was a giant dick and different shops

You were shocked to see this random un human like guy

“Hello, I am Charlie a totally human guy!”

Yeah totally not slime

“I’m uh, Y/n?” He reached out for a handshake sort of thing

“Dap me up!” “Another time Charlie”

Maybe when you had hand sanitizer

“Ohh so your Y/n! Mister Quackity talks about you all the time, come on in!”

You were skeptical but followed anyways

Stopping in your tracks when you saw Fundy

“Furry?” “Fire shit?”

You went over to give him a side hug, ruffling his fur

“What the hell are you doing here ginger boy!” “Oh you know, just escaping nightmares”

You were confused then just let him be

You walked to the entry way of the place

A beautiful pond with flowers and an arch

“Did what the place where Mr. Quackity was going to propose!”

Going to?

You shrugged it off following inside

You hated to admit it, but you were excited to see him

Yeah you really needed a parental figure in your life at the moment

So when you saw him, he immediately pick you up in a hug

You didn’t fail to notice his change in appearance

That beanie stayed the same tho

Thank god

“Hey hey! Let me show you around the place, we can also go for lunch and talk.”

The casino looked great to say the least

Loud music booming from the speakers, along with the live jazz band on the side

Slot machines were going off every minute

“Have a chip, something to remember this by”

He handed you a red poker chip

It was a cool one tho, in the middle has a blocky sort of smile

Creepy and dopey.. sick!

So you put it around a spare silver chain

“So how have you been kid? ‘Ts been a while hasn’t it.” “Could be better..”

You both walked around the city in silence, offering to go in the super model shop

“No” “why not” “keep walking”

On your way to lunch you had to squint at what you were seeing

“Oh my goodness you’re still alive?!” “You’re alive!?”

You and revivebur just stared at one another

“Yeah he came back after I died!” “you what now-“

You just stared at Tommy and back to Wilbur

Oh god those shrooms were messing with your head

You should’ve gotten out of there a while ago

Quackity came over placing his hands on your shoulders

“Do I have to execute you both? Get off my damn property”

“Sorry Q. Say, Y/n wanna join Lmanburg 2.0?”

You back away holding your hands up

“I denied that offer once, and I’ll do it again. Fucking zombie freaks”

You obviously muttered the last part

Why the fuck did dream revive those two shits??

When did Tommy even die??

Your visit here has just gotten weirder and weirder

𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Quackity got you away from the brits as quick as he could

So he brought you over to his office

“So kid, how’s your dad..”

Ah you expected this question

“How the fuck am I supposed to know. He’s living his life, Karl’s time traveling! Oh yeah did I mention he doesn’t even remember me.”

He looked at you with wide eyes

“So I’m not the only one they forgot..”

You slammed you hands on the fable dramatizing the situation

“How would you feel about moving here? I mean you could work for me in the casino!”

You thought about it for a second

You have two options

1. Live in shroom town with bubbles

2. Move to las Nevada’s with Quackity

You were sure Sapnap wouldn’t mind

I mean would he even care?

He hasn’t for the past couple months!

“You feel abandoned there, over here there are hundreds of people. You’ll have the time of your life”

You thought about it for a sec

“Alright hand me a contract”

So you signed

Making deals with the devil huh

Little did you know it would cost you your life

Devils little soul

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

and this is the finale! I will take requests for sapnaps child, and I’ll do some shit with Quackity and the casino and go in more depth if wanted!

As always request and ask anything! And ask if you want to be on a taglist (child reader or general)

For those on the taglist I don’t know if you wanted to be tagged for all child reader shit or just dreams child.. so please tell me :)

@creatorofstars @georgenctfound @samistheidiot @smolbox-png @ghostlysenses @stellarinstigator @bobaducky

#sapnaps child #sapnap x reader #sapnap #sapnap x y/n #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #quackity x you #dsmp #mcyt #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #wilbur soot #tommy innit #kinoko kingdom #dream smp prison #las navadas #child reader

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

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Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

(gif by @resparza )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

*******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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radioduo · 3 years ago

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before the storm || dsmp become human

notes + tag list: yeah :) finally here! @pindl3 @spider-shoes :]

no tws as far as i know, but don’t be afraid to ask me to tag something! :D writing is below the cut!

first // prev // next

Tubbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He shifted Michael on his hip and boarded the rusting freighter with Tommy close behind, eyes darting around nervously. “There’s something in here, I know there is,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. “The only question is where.” He waded through the ankle-deep water in the boat, grimacing at the feeling of his socks becoming soggy as he walked.

Michael made a joyful staticky noise as Tommy boarded the ship behind them, and Tubbo cringed as it echoed around them, bouncing off the metal and growing louder before fading away. “We have to be quiet, kiddo, okay?” he shushed the android, “We don’t know what’s in here.”

Tommy pulled his heavy jacket tighter around him. “This place is fuckin’ creepy, man, I don’t think we should be here,” he whispered. The teen flinched as a drop of water landed in his eye, and he grumbled to himself, irritated. “Let’s just turn around and go, Tubbo,” he said, urgently reaching to grab the white-haired boy’s sleeve. “Why are we even here?”

Tubbo pulled his arm from his friend's grip, careful not to disturb Michael. “The police are after us, Tommy, you know that. We can’t just stay in a motel for the rest of our lives, and we need to find a way to get to Canada,” he whispered back. “You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

Tommy stayed silent, but Tubbo could tell the sloshing footsteps were heavier than before, and he was stomping. The duo followed the twisting hallway, trying every door and searching for the light that had been on previously, but no luck. “It has to be here somewhere, surely,” Tubbo muttered.

“But what is ‘it,’ Tubbo? What the hell could you possibly-”

“Found it!” The deviant whispered excitedly. “Here, take him,” Tubbo said, handing Michael to Tommy who stood, mouth agape and looking shocked. “If I could just- pry open this door,” he muttered under his breath, fingers slipping as he tried to push it inwards. Determination in his grip, he clutched the bright yellow handle and twisted, stifling a grunt of effort. At last, the half-rusted door began to swing open, and Tubbo squinted, attempting to adjust his eyes to the light that was suddenly illuminating the dingy walls and floor.

“What the h-” Tommy was about to shout at the deviant but was swiftly interrupted by a powerful voice.

“Who are you?”

The duo froze in their tracks, going silent. Michael, meanwhile, was making grabby hands at Tubbo from Tommy's arms, while the white-haired boy stood still as a statue, eyes glued to the stranger's silhouette.

X Answer

O Keep quiet

Tubbo grimaced as he mulled over the options in his head. The person already knew the three of them were there. No point in trying to hide in plain sight, he decided.

X Answer

“We’re peaceful,” he announced, unnerved and unmoving.

A hush fell over the group as the stranger's footsteps echoed off the metal floors, and a tall sandy-haired man came into view. Tubbo could see a faint blue light gleaming from under the hood on his head, and he felt a wave of relief rush through him as he realized it was an android. Tubbo pulled his hair back to show the other man his own LED as it flashed and blinked in the darkness. “We’re not here to do anything to you if you're worried about that,”

The other android seemed to relax a bit at those words, and he sighed with relief from beneath the mask he wore. “That might be true, but I haven't gotten an answer. Who are you?” His voice was kind, but something about his unrelenting green-eyed stare unsettled Tubbo. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“TU880, but my proper name is Tubbo,” he replied.

“TU880…” the taller android repeated. The look in the masked android's eyes told Tubbo the number was familiar to him, but why was beyond the younger deviant. “And what about them?” He asked, gaze flicking over to where Tommy stood clutching Michael protectively.

“I’m not tellin' you, bitch,” Tommy snapped. “Why do you want to know?”

Tubbo held back an exasperated groan. “That’s Tommy,” he answered. “The boy in his arms is my son, Michael.”

The masked android hummed in response. He said nothing for a moment, probably pondering his options, before finally saying, “My name is Dream. I’m the leader here at Jericho.” He pulled down his mask to address the trio, and Tubbo bit his lip to stifle a gasp. Beneath the black fabric was a long scar that ran diagonally from the bottom of his nose to his chin. He also had a shorter but equally as nasty one that snaked up from his jawbone to just below his eye. Both looked faded from time, but Tubbo could still tell that they’d been deep and harsh at one point.

“What the fuck is wrong with your face?” Tommy asked, adjusting Michael on his hip.

Tubbo turned to glare at him but was pleasantly surprised when he heard Dream laughing. “It’s just a few scars,” he explained through laughter. “Had a run-in with a few particularly angry deviants, but I’m fine,” he pulled his mask back up and turned to face the inside of the room. “What are you guys waiting for? Come on in.” He motioned for the trio to follow, and hesitantly, the three stepped out of the water and into the warm room.

When they first entered the main room, Tubbo noticed the clusters of deviants huddled around different fire pits that laid scattered around the room. Some looked as if they were brand new, barely a speck of dirt on their uniforms with LEDs still blinking the same Cyberlife blue as usual. Others looked a little worse for wear, torn clothes, or scars scattered across their faces. Near the back of the room was another open door, and if he squinted, Tubbo could see large crates that stored bio components and blue blood. He turned to ask Dream where they'd come from when he suddenly realized that the masked deviant had vanished. He glanced around, confused, but didn't catch a glimpse of the leader anywhere.

Tommy snapped his fingers in front of Tubbo's face to get his attention. “What the hell is this place?” He gently handed Michael back to Tubbo. “Is it safe here?”

Tubbo gratefully accepted his son back and ruffled the young android’s hair. “Do you really think there would be so many people here if it wasn’t?” he answered. Upon seeing Tommy’s skeptical look, he sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to like it here, but this might be the only hope I have at getting that train ticket north,” he looked down at Michael, who met his gaze with a smile. “You don't have to stay either,” he said, lowering his voice. "But I need to do this. For myself and Michael. For you, Tommy."

Tommy was quiet, the stillness weighing heavily on the two teens. The silence seemed to fall over the whole ship, the muffled chatter coming to a lull as the blond-haired boy wrestled with his thoughts.

The only sound was the crackling of the nearby fire, which roared and popped inside Tubbo's ears. "Okay," Tommy replied, seemingly reluctant. "I'll stay. But promise that we get that train ticket and get out of here as soon as possible."

Tubbo let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It felt like the whole room had exhaled at once, a collective sigh of contentment. "Thank you, Tommy.

The blonde teen seemed to relax, closing his eyes as the tension left his shoulders. He pried off his coat and set it next to a fire pit as he focused back in on Tubbo and Michael. “Right, well, we should find that leader guy soon. Dream, innit? We’ll get you that ticket, Tubso.” He put a hand on the android’s shoulder with a grin. “You’ll be on your way north soon.”

#tubbo #tommyinnit #michael_beloved #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #my writing #dsmp become human #i am so ready to only get 17 notes on this per usual #/hj

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

you’re the one that i want (part 16)

word count: 6k

angst

(part 15) (series masterlist)

tag list: @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @ttalgimin ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @clown-teez ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ;

another month had passed of you and seonghwa barely speaking, any time you saw him in the hallway or at lunch actively avoiding his gaze. but he’d become more and more curious about you and san’s relationship, to the point where his friends even noticed his lingering glances toward the table.

“what are you looking at?” yeosang asked curiously, following seonghwa’s gaze and holding back a smirk.

“you just noticed?” mingi asks, “creepy fuck stares them down every damn day.”

“go fuck yourself,” seonghwa growls, kicking mingi’s leg under the table. the two boys look at each other knowingly, quiet snorts and chuckles causing the dirty blonde to roll his eyes.

but mingi is right, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

because he gets so happy and feels his heart soar when a smile crosses your face or a giggle rings from your mouth; it’d been a long time since he saw that and he misses it.

but then the despair kicks in, reminding him that he’s part of the reason you haven’t been smiling. that he’s not the one making you smile or feel happy.

that he ruined any chance of that because he’s too scared and a coward.

“how do they even know each other?” yeosang asks, observing you and his old friend with watchful eyes.

“they work together at his parent’s cafe,” wooyoung says, the three boys turning their heads in surprise; usually any time the blonde is mentioned, he goes silent and acts as if he wasn’t paying attention.

seonghwa’s eyebrows pull together in confusion, looking back at you two and he supposes that explains how you guys appear to be so close.

he laughs silently to himself, remembering the way you were so excited on the phone when you first found out you got the job. but because the world is so sick and twisted, you’d been talking about a building just down the block from him. a place he’s frequented before and owned by one of his old friend’s parents.

seonghwa only hums at this information, wooyoung raising an eyebrow at the boy.

he hadn’t gotten much more out of him since that one day they both watched you and san huddled together outside, tears running down your faces as you and san comforted one another the way they were supposed to be doing.

“why are you doing this to her?” wooyoung asked seonghwa quietly.

he’d known the second his friend got back that he was different. happier, lighter, more content in a way he wasn’t when he’d left after school ended.

and then once he found out it was because of a girl, he knew exactly what had happened.

how someone managed to break through his cold exterior and show him he was capable of caring about someone. that someone was capable of caring about him and that letting people in was actually a good thing.

“doing what?” seonghwa asked coldly, looking at him with that guarded rigidness he knows all too well.

“i know it’s more than what you’re letting on,” wooyoung says, straight forward and to the point in a way that makes seonghwa’s eyes narrow. “and you’re hurting her because of it.”

“that’s real funny coming from you.”

the dark haired boy can only bite the inside of his cheek, drawing blood as he sees it’s now san’s turn to cry onto your shoulder. it makes his heart drop into his stomach and his adams apple bobs but he still looks back at seonghwa, ready to deny deny deny.

“i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about but she’s only gonna pine over you for so long. and you obviously feel like a piece of shit because of it.”

seonghwa rolls his eyes at his friend, the back of his neck prickling because he hates how well the boy knows him and can relate to this situation.

it was something seonghwa knew but never spoke directly about, san and wooyoung’s...twisted relationship that he always found questionable.

but now that he’s on wooyoung’s side, he understands it. how there are multiple factors that go into preserving something you loved so much. how it’s hard and embarrassing to let people see such a different side to you, to really commit to a person you think, and know, deserves better.

“i’m not good for her,” seonghwa says lowly. “i can’t be.”

“why? because you’re a pussy?”

seonghwa growls at his friend, pushing the boy back roughly. wooyoung stumbles a bit but it’s not enough to get the smirk off his face, raising an eyebrow challengingly at him; because no matter how mad his friend gets, he wouldn’t ever hit him.

or maybe he would, who cares really; he knows he deserves any pain given to him at this point.

“you don’t know anything so shut the fuck up,” seonghwa counters, looking back to see you and san smiling sadly at one another.

wooyoung sees his eyes soften and knows better than to look at the window, watching a pained look cross seonghwa’s face at seeing someone else comfort you.

“she’s gonna get over you eventually and it’s only gonna hurt you worse,” wooyoung tells seonghwa, his tone softer and not so teasing anymore. because it’s something he’s come to terms with as well, fully aware that it’s not fair to make anyone wait around for them.

but seonghwa can only shrug his shoulders as he looks back at his friend, the mask he’s learned to wear covering his pained face in an almost believable fashion.

“good. i want her too.”

and of course, that’d been a lie. because if it hadn’t been, his friend’s words wouldn’t have been bothering him so much.

they wouldn’t be tormenting him every night he tried to sleep, every night he typed out a message to you just to erase and throw his phone down in frustration.

he deserves to be hurt in that way, watch you be completely happy and over him and enjoy your time in the new environment.

but the thought of you forgetting him makes him sick to his stomach, the memories of your summer together the only thing not completing morphing him into his old drug-dealing, playboy self.

he can’t even think about being with someone else or doing something to disappoint you even more.

but he ends up doing that the second he decides to visit his old favorite spot after school, all of the sudden craving the homemade cookies san’s parents had force fed him all through elementary school.

a big group of underclassmen had just left the cafe, finally allowing you and san to let out a sigh of relief.

you quickly discovered that young groups of kids were the worst, splitting a $20 total between three cards before subjecting you to all of the nonsense drama you had to hear them go on about.

“i don’t know though, kind of fucked up. she knew her best friend liked him and still accepted his confession.”

“i completely agree,” you tell san, taking your usual spot across from him on the counter. “everyone was just taking her side too? but what about the other girl? she also knew him longer. they were probably a better fit.”

“absolutely,” san sighs, eyeing the new jar of cookies and hoping you’ll be too lost in thought about middle school drama to notice.

bu catch him immediately though, your face pulling into a serious expression as you and the blonde stare each other down.

you could hear a pin drop in the room before noise erupts, you jumping off the counter just a second before san does as your feet run over to the counter.

“no!” you whine, slipping under the boy and placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “i told your parents i’d make sure you didn’t eat anything anymore.”

“don’t be a snitch,” he whines, reaching around you and pouting when you smack his arm away. “c’mon, y/n, just one. i’m upset over the drama and need some relief.”

you let out a chuckle and roll your eyes, pushing him back as you tell him not to be ridiculous.

he lets out a defeated sigh, his pouting lips usually the thing to get you to crack but not this time. because his parents really had requested you watch him, watching every morning their cookie supply dwindle while the register doesn’t reflect those sales.

“don’t be a baby,” you chide lightly, watching as the blonde sits back on the counter like a child who got put in time out; and just like a child, he waits until he thinks you’re not looking to make another run for it.

but you’ve gotten to know him too well and beat him to it, letting out a loud giggle when he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist. he twirls you around and away from the cookie jar as you squeal his name, elbowing his chest and missing the way the door rings open.

it’s not until a throat clears that you both look up, your breath catching in your throat as san stiffens upon seeing seonghwa in the door way.

he’s looking over the both of you with a blank expression, his eyes piercing both of you as his jaw clenches. he only appears to grow more tense as he walks closer, his eyes narrowing in on san’s arms around your waist.

there’s a tense silence as you all just look at each other, your feet back on the ground but san’s arm still around your waist. seeing it only unnerves seonghwa even more, resisting the urge to jump over the counter and pull you away from him.

“aren’t you gonna ask what i want?”

you swallow nervously at his deep voice laced with darkness and anger, biting on your lip as move out of san’s hold. the boy reluctantly lets go but continues to look at his friend, almost like they’re trying to have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“the usual?” san asks, even though seonghwa hadn’t gotten his usual in years. hadn’t even set food in his parents place since the last time they spoke to each other.

but the blonde still remembers it, still remembers all of their orders amongst other random facts about them.

seonghwa’s eyes soften a fraction when san says that, mumbling “yeah,” as he continues to look between you two.

he watches san mumble something in your ear, a small nod of your head after you swallow down panic and watch him go into the back room.

“he has to...make it,” you tell him when you turn back around, a polite smile on your face as you try to act like he’s any normal customer.

not someone you loved and then someone who broke your heart. not someone who’s looking at you so intensely you feel yourself growing small and timid and vulnerable.

he simply nods, looking over your face before back at the door san disappeared behind.

he sees the boy moving back and forth, his blonde hair and sharp jawline disappearing in and out of the small window. he doesn’t even realize he’s watching the boy with cold eyes until you say something, your eyes narrowed but trained on the counter.

“why are you looking at him like that?”

he’s surprised by the fact that you say something, fighting back the urge to smirk as he raises his eyebrow at you. “like what?”

“like he was doing something wrong and you wanna kill him.”

and now the smirk he was fighting so hard appears on his lips, his tongue peeking out and rolling over his lips.

he walks closer to the counter causing your heart to race, breath catching in your throat when his hand reaches out to touch your chin. he takes your face gently in his hand, your sharp inhale shaky and embarrassing as he cocks his head to the side at you.

“why do you think, baby?” he asks lowly, the word making your heart break and soar at the same time. you miss hearing him call you that even though it makes you so mad now, brings you right back to the time where that actually meant something.

“i told you not to call me that,” you say, quiet but firm as you attempt to move your face out of his hold.

but he only tightens it and leans in a little closer, your eyes widening and resolve breaking because he’s so close and familiar and you miss him and-

“and i told you, you were mine.”

you’re not sure if you’re more surprised by the scornful laugh that leaves your mouth or the way you rip yourself away from him, backing away as you shake your head.

how dare he taint that for you and act as if that was still a thing, no matter how much your pathetic little heart wanted to believe it even till this day.

“i fucked up, okay and i’m sorry,” he says lowly, immediately seeing the look on your face. “but it doesn’t change anything, y/n, it doesn’t mean i don’t-”

“yes it does, seonghwa. it did,” you tell him honestly, trying so hard to stand your ground and get the words out. “you threw all my fears in my face and proved you didn’t want me anymore.”

“when did i say that?” he snaps, his dark eyes full of fire as you really make the implication that he doesn’t want you.

he wants you too much and that’s the problem. he wants what’s best for you and knows it’s not him but is too selfish to admit it and fully let you go.

“you didn’t have to say anything. you showed it.”

those words hit him more than he expects, feeling his spike of possessiveness simmer as guilt takes over.

because you’re right, he never really said anything - only acted. acted embarrassed and stupid and dealt with your unplanned arrival in all the wrong ways.

“and now i don’t really know what you want from me,” you find yourself saying again. “you don’t talk to me in school or even look at me. you don’t even text me.”

he wants to say that he tries to every night. that he’ll sit and stare at his phone for hours with a simple message typed out before fear gets the better of him. that he almost always calls you because he can’t sleep and you’re in his head before he falls asleep and dreams of you.

“so how am i supposed to know whether you want me or not, seonghwa? because you act like you don’t,” you say, your voice breaking as your heart sinks.

any time you talk about it, it’s like the masked pain comes back with a vengeance. that you can smile and laugh and distract yourself with you and san’s fun nonsense all you want but you’re still hurting.

you’re still hurt by him and you still want him.

“and i don’t even know what i did but you’re here telling me i’m yours when you only want me sometimes and that’s...that’s not fair.”

because it’s when he’s just alone and no one’s around, when someone else is making you smile and laugh and has their hands on you.

“i want you all the fucking time, y/n, you don’t know what i’ve been-”

“chocolate vanilla swirl with cookie crunch.”

your heads snap simultaneously to look at san, a cone in his hand as he walks over and holds it out with a blank expression.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay, knowing if san sees them, it’s only gonna make this situation more awkward.

but even without seeing them, the blonde can feel the tension. can feel how intense the air is around you two, your spirit shook but trying so hard to be strong as seonghwa looks just as adamant with fire in his eyes.

(and if those weren’t obvious enough, he may or may not have caught seonghwa’s last sentence).

“thanks,” the boy says, throwing a $20 bill on the table.

you quickly snatch it and walk yourself over to the register, taking a few calming breaths to slow down your racing heart as you gather bills and coins. you try not to listen to the hushed words seonghwa and san are exchanging, the idea of them talking about you making you very unsettled.

you walk back over and seonghwa shakes his head, nodding his head toward the tip jar. you raise an eyebrow as if to ask if he’s sure, since a $14 dollar tip is a little too generous,

but he only rolls his eyes and takes the money from you before dropping it in the jar.

“when’s your break?” seonghwa asks, his eyes not once leaving yours.

you look at san with a questioning expression, shrugging your shoulders because you don’t really know; you both just kind of take them whenever you want.

“whenever,” san says to seonghwa, the dirty blonde boy snapping his head toward him. he watches his eyes narrow, some sort of challenging look he’s also never seen in his old friend before. “unless she doesn’t want one. then she doesn’t have time to talk and you can leave.”

seonghwa raises an eyebrow, half tempted to throw this ice cream cone right in his face if it wasn’t so good. “that’s interesting. when did you suddenly grow a fuckin’ pair of-”

“stop it,” you snap, looking from san to seonghwa with a shake of your head.

your eyes linger on seonghwa and you debate whether or not you wanna talk with him, the look in his eyes making you more than ready to take a fifteen minute break.

but you also think that could be a very bad idea, to end the rest of your shift most likely an emotional wreck; luckily, the decision was made for you when another group of teens comes in, san immediately deflating and letting out a quiet groan.

“not again,” he whines quietly, nodding his head toward seonghwa as if telling him to get out of the way. you let out a sigh of your own, looking at the boy and shaking your head.

“we can talk tomorrow at school,” you tell him, “unless...that’s a problem for you.”

“i guess we‘ll see how unimportant this conversation becomes,” san mumbles, your arm smacking him under the counter as seonghwa shoots him a dirty look.

“tomorrow,” seonghwa confirms, his head turning to look at the ten middle school aged children who just walked in.

a smile pulls at your lips when you see his face turn into a visible sneer and you can’t even let it fall when he faces you again.

his own lips quirk up when he sees you smile at him, a soft look in his eye that makes your cheeks flush.

“good luck,” he says to you, his eyes hardening when they look at san who meets his gaze head on. “tell your parents this is still my favorite tough guy.”

the blonde rolls his eyes but nods nonetheless, seonghwa looking over you one more time before walking out of the cafe.

you don’t even have time to collapse against the counter and let out a sigh of relief before you’re bombarded by loud orders from kids, demanding syrupy drinks and cakes that will only serve to make your headaches worse today.

you [11:45] who knows if he’s even gonna talk to me

san [11:45] if he doesn’t, i’ll come right down and punch him in the mouth

you [11:46] lol. good luck with that baby hands

san [11:47] :O

you [11:47] hehe kidding, thank u :) i’ll see you in a few and if i’m crying, you’ll know what happened <3

you let out a giggle when he responds with an emoji of a baby and fist, placing your phone in your pocket before lingering at your locker.

you and seonghwa hadn’t talked before homeroom because you stayed behind to ask your teacher a question about your test; you had half expected him to be waiting outside in the hallway but also couldn’t say you were surprised when he wasn’t.

the only reason you think he’s gonna talk to you now is because the halls are vacant, no one around to see him drop his guard and be his ‘different’ self with you; but really, how different is he?

he was still possessive and rigid when he was with you, bossy and demanding in the way he held on to you and said all sorts of things that made your insides flutter.

there was just a softer look in his eye and his voice and words were a little sweeter.

you let out a sigh, waiting for five minutes before realizing he might not even know where your locker is; so with that, you slam it shut and make your way down your usual route to the cafeteria.

you pass the classrooms and bathroom you cried in twice already before seeing his familiar figure against the wall, your heart racing when he catches your eye and gives you a soft smile.

you reluctantly return it, trying to gain some sort of self control and not let your bleeding, frantic heart make all the decisions.

because if that’s the case, whatever he says you’re gonna do. whatever he says, you’re gonna completely take to heart and let it make or break you.

“hi,” you say quietly, watching his eyes soften when he looks down at you. he hates how nervous you’ve become around him before, not being able to look him in the eye anymore.

it’s because of that, or the fact that he has to touch you, that his hand reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear in his signature move; you don’t know how many times he did that when you were in the ocean, after getting knocked around and falling off his surfboard. how many times he did that when the salty wind whipped your hair on the beach.

“hey,” he says softly, smiling at the way you’re looking at him so wide-eyed and innocent. “i tried waiting for you after homeroom but mingi was lingering.”

it’s like a knife to your heart as he says that, swallowing the lump already forming in your throat. you can only nod your head as you look over his face, eyes twinged with sadness that he immediately recognizes and makes his stomach churn; he’s already fucking this up.

“i didn’t mean...he wanted to walk together.”

“okay,” you say quietly, tone mousy and timid and you wish so badly you could be stronger. tell him to stop being a fucking liar and be honest with you for once. tell him to stop playing games with you and to either get over himself or leave you alone.

but instead you ask him what he wanted to talk about.

he cocks his head to the side at your bluntness, his hand resting on your neck as his thumb moves to your cheek.

you can’t stop your sharp inhale and he can’t stop the way he tries to memorize the feel of your skin, stepping closer to you and making you swallow nervously.

“seonghwa,” you say warningly, voice wobbly and breathy.

“you. that’s what i want.”

you press your lips together so you don’t let out some sort of strangled whimper or cry, your heart pounding and pulling in your chest.

he just says those words like they’re nothing, like they’re not completely pulling at you and sending you into some sort emotional fit. like he hasn’t proved since the second he got here he wanted youto be his dirty little secret (stan all-american rejects).

“i know you think i’m embarrassed of you and that’s not it,” he tells you, his voice deep and low but full of sincerity. or full of deceit because how could you really know anymore? he has you wrapped so tight around his finger, you’re barely able to breathe.

“then what is it?”

he lets out a sigh, looking down at you before words start pouring out of him.

telling you how he thinks you deserve someone better, how he was so fucking terrified this summer opening up to you and seeing someone love him the same way he loved them. how seeing you again made him realize just how undeserving he was when his first instinct was to push you away and hurt your feelings.

“i know it’s so fucking stupid,” he laughs out humorlessly, his eyes looking right at you as he finally shows some sort of vulnerability. “but i knew from the start that you were too good. that i wanted you even though i knew i was gonna fucking ruin you.”

the first part of his words ring in you head over and over, his voice in your head as you think back to your ‘drunken’ night on the beach.

"that's a lie," you tell him softly as you shake your head. "no one ever likes me."

you wanna say that not even your own parents or classmates like you, that no one has ever looked your way or actively cared about how you felt.

"i do," seonghwa hums, his heart hurting because he hates that you feel this way. that people in your life had made you feel like that and it makes an dark anger burn deep within his chest.

“i liked you the second i saw you."

you look up at him and feel your eyes water, the softness and sincerity in his words causing a lump to form in your throat.

"i was able to tell you were good," he says quietly, his hand on your cheek moving to run through your hair. "so pretty and sweet and i knew i was gonna want you, baby."

he frowns when your lip quivers and he leans down to kiss you, almost not believing how naturally and easily these words are leaving him.

“but i wanted you back,” you tell him, looking up at him with tears in your eyes at the memory.

“you knew i wanted you back and it’s not...your choice to decide what i deserve.”

your eyes move to behind his shoulder just as mingi and yeosang appear around the corner, watching as the shorter boy stops his friend and nods his head toward you both.

you look back at seonghwa before he catches your gaze, watching as he looks down at you with frustration in his eyes.

“i know, baby, but-”

“i think you’re lying to me.”

his eyebrows pull together and he resists the urge to growl lowly at you, to tell you that he’s telling the truth now and wants to try this again with you. get everything out in the open and prove to you he’s loved you this whole time.

“i’m not,” he grunts, voice slightly exasperated but eyes remaining soft on you. “what else could it be, y/n?”

“i don’t know,” you tell him. “i just...you hurt me. i’ve been so sad since i started here and i needed you. i’ve needed you and you don’t even care.”

he feels his heart sink at your words and he steps closer to you, his gentle hands cupping your face as he forces you to look at him.

“i know, baby, and i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

your eyes well up with tears because you almost believe him, you really do. it all seems convincing enough, his soft eyes and voice full of sincerity that makes your chest warm.

“but you still did it,” you say brokenly. “you still acted as if you didn’t want me.”

“you’re mine, y/n, what don’t you understand? i always fucking want you. every fucking day when i see you with san, i’m pissed that it can’t be me. and i pussy out every fucking night trying to text you because i miss you.”

“but you never do anything,” you snap back finally, the jagged pieces of your heart having enough.

“you’re all talk seonghwa. you say one thing and then act another way. you look at me like you love me and then act as if you don’t know me. the only reason you’re talking to me right now is because you think no one’s around.”

“that’s fucking bullshit, y/n,” he growls, tightening his hold on your face and pushing you back against the wall.

your breath catches in your throat at the way your body is pinned against the cold tile and him. his dark eyes are boring into yours and you can’t help but meet his gaze, the air thick and buzzing between you.

“no it’s not,” you say breathlessly, feeling a bold, bratty side of you kicking in. “you’d...hate if someone saw us like this. you’d be embarrassed that anyone saw you look at me like this.”

“no, actually, i wouldn’t,” he says lowly, his hands moving down to grip your hips roughly.

he bends to press a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold on you when he suddenly starts sucking on your neck. you let out a surprised sigh, desire ripping right through you at the familiar but missed feeling.

you don’t even remember wooyoung and mingi are watching nor do you remember you’re in the hallway at fucking school, any member of staff able to come down here any minute and see him sucking harshly on your neck and you leaning your head back and letting out tiny, breathy sighs.

“then everyone would know you belong to me. that even if they don’t see us together, you have someone who’s not willing to share.”

you let out a whimper despite yourself, his grip on you so tight as he marks you in the way he always did. mumbles over and over again that your his and no matter what happens, you’ll always be his.

but he’s really put to the test when mingi can’t help but shout his name, seonghwa immediately stiffening before ripping himself away from you.

and sure, you understand him not actually wanting people to see that, a fairly intimate moment that shouldn’t have been happening in public in the first place.

but then when the two smirking boys make their way over, their eyes lingering on your neck before you pull your hair to the side and cover the mark, you see how fucked seonghwa looks; like someone who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“would you look at that,” mingi sing songs teasingly, looking between the both of you. “summer lovers reunited at last.”

you look at seonghwa and try to gauge his reaction, his neck popping to the side the way he always does when he’s uncomfortable. you can’t see his eyes directly but you know he’s staring down his two friends like a mad man with fire in his eyes.

“we knew that shit was more than he led on, y/n,” yeosang says. “been acting like a moping little pussy for months over you.”

“fuck off, yeosang,” seonghwa snaps, heat creeping up on the back of his neck.

“i don’t think i will, hwa,” the boy says before looking at you.

he steps closer to you and attempts to move your hair away from your neck but seonghwa is quick to step in front of you. he pushes his friend away roughly before blocking your whole body with his.

“don’t touch her,” he growls, still burning with the possessiveness and overwhelming feeling to claim you from moments ago.

“this motherfucker’s in love, i never thought we’d see the day,” mingi says excitedly, resisting the urge to clap his hands together. yeosang smirks before narrowing his eyes, seeing the way you’re watching all three of them carefully.

seonghwa shoots the boy a dirty look but he continues to go on and on. about how great a young summer love is and how magical it probably was and what a power couple you guys will be now.

“stop,” the dirty blonde growls warningly.

“wait, so you’re not in love?” yeosang asks suddenly, eyebrow quirked challengingly. and when seonghwa doesn’t answer, making your stomach twist and heart drop a little bit, yeosang continues. “because you know, it’d be a little crazy to fall for someone in just one summer. but you two are kind of giving me hope since it seems to be working so well.”

seonghwa narrows his eyes at his friend, unsure as to why the hell he keeps coming at him. what the fuck is he trying to get at? is trying to prove some kind of point, make him blurt out that he loves you just for the satisfaction of him finally admitting it?

he can feel your gaze on him and it makes his little prideful teenage heart twist and pull, wanting so obviously to not be a part of this conversation. but he’d said it no problem just before, admitted his love for you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

and it’s not like you’re expecting him to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone in the world know he loves you; you don’t want that nor do you expect that.

but you want him to defend it and fight for it just a little, tell his best friends that whatever you guys had was more than him sucking hickies into your neck and frockling in the sand.

it’s why when the silence continues to lapse, you shake your head and let out a small scoff, mumbling “i’m leaving,” before walking past yeosang and mingi.

you get halfway down the hallway as seonghwa curses at his two friends, telling them to mind their fucking business and stay out of anything regarding you.

“y/n wait,” you hear him say, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you around.

he half expects to see tears or sadness in them but he only sees disappointment. pure disappointment and anger because, again, he fucking failed you. he failed to acknowledge his feelings because he’s scared to admit them and put that guard down again.

“no. i’m not waiting anymore,” you snap. “i’ve waited enough and you proved to not give a shit about me.”

“that’s a fucking lie and you know it, y/n,” he growls, attempting to pull you closer to him. but you reach out and push at his chest, your eyes flaring with hot emotion that causes his own to widen.

“i don’t know anything. i don’t know if you just like toying with me or care way too much about what your friends think or don’t know how you really feel but i’m done waiting for you to decide what the fuck your problem is.”

and if you weren’t calling him out on his shit, he’d be so proud of the way you were defending yourself. no hint of a shaky voice or stutter or teary eyes.

but because you are calling him out, he reaches out again and tries to pull you into him. mumble more apologies into your hair that he’s just gonna prove are meaningless.

“i know how i feel about you, it’s just fucking hard for me, y/n. why can’t you-”

“it’s hard for me too,” you say, voice raising as you shake your head. “it’s hard for me waiting to be deemed worthy enough by you, seonghwa, when you told me you loved me and would always be there for me.”

“i do fucking lo-”

“don’t,” you snap, looking at him coldly before ripping yourself away from him. his eyes are a mix of sadness and anger but you can’t find it in your breaking heart and burning veins to care, shaking your head at the boy you fell so hard for. “because the more you say it, the more i don’t believe it.”

and before he can do a lousy attempt at defending himself again, you’re taking off down the hallway and toward the cafeteria.

and that’s when you let the tears fall, mostly from frustration at just how much things are going to shit. how you were so stupidly hopeful that maybe things were gonna work out somehow.

san notices you the second you walk in, jumping up from his spot at the table and leading you outside. he can hear the sound of someone punching against a locker and has no doubt it’s-

“fuckin’ seonghwa,” the blonde growls, sitting you down and wiping at your tears as you tell him you’re officially done. that the boy here isn’t the same boy from all those months ago and you were stupid to think you’d be able to get him back.

(part 17)

#i cant believe i put chocolate vanilla swirl with cookie crunch twice #i'm legit so sorry but i cant and wont stop #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #ateez #ateez angst #seonghwa series #ateez series #seonghwa scenarios #ateez scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines

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gyucore · 4 years ago

Text

in the orb

pairing: trapped soul! beomgyu x reader

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, reincarnation au, supernatural au

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: implications of death, light swearing

— you were cleaning your grandmother's attic when you stumble upon an old glass orb that just happened to talk on its own

A cloud of dust scatters around the room after you drop the glass orb on a particularly dusty couch. You've lost it. You've definitely lost it. You're quick to cover your face with your sleeve, fighting back the urge to sneeze. The orb sits still on the couch as it should, a sheet of gray still masking its surface.

This was supposed to be an average weekend. Your grandmother had invited you to her house for some quality time together during your break, and you thought you'd offer to help her clean her mess of an attic, to which she was more than happy to accept. And right now, the sweet old lady was tending to her garden downstairs while you were up here, freaking out.

It's said that people often imagined hearing strange noises when frightened and alone. And you were in a dark and creepy attic at an old person's house. This could just be another case of the common I'm-so-lonely-I'm-starting-to-hear-voices scenario. It's simply wasn't possible for a dusty old orb to start talking when you pick it up. It's just not.

“Hello?” You call out, immediately finding yourself silly for even attempting to communicate with an inanimate object.

The dust in the room eventually settles, and yet still no response. “See, Y/N? You were just hearing things.” That conclusion seemed convincing enough. You felt the need to give yourself a good pat on the shoulder for going along with the sane route.

With that dilemma out of the way, your attention couldn't help but wander back to the large piles of junk occupying nearly every space in the vicinity. One could only hope for your grandmother to clean regularly. “Right, now back to work.”

“What work?”

“Oh, you know. Cleaning.” You answer its question from earlier.

You freeze, eyes wide, a chill running down your spine. There it was again. You weren't sure if you heard it right this time or was just hallucinating, but there was one way to find out.

Silence. You almost called it a day after considering that you were probably just tired and needed some rest.

Half a step outside the door and the voice spoke once more. “Are you still there?”

You pause, brows raised, and back still turned. Somehow, you didn't know if it was safe to face the big ball of dust just yet. “What do you mean? Of course I'm still here. This is my Grandma's house.”

Thank the heavens for modern technology and the invention of smartphones. Speaking of which, you fish for yours in the depths of your pants’ pockets. The voice recorder app should come in handy during times like this. You know, to confirm you're not crazy. With the app on, all you needed to do was have the orb talk again.

“Grandma? Oh! Then you're her grandchild?!”

“Uh, yeah?” The orb apparently knew your grandmother. Strangely enough, that was the least odd tidbit of information you obtained today.

“Her grandchild.. Wow, to think I'm finally meeting you! Or at least your voice?” The orb lets out a giggle and the more you heard it talk, the more human it sounded.

“Sorry, can you excuse me for a minute?”

Never in your life had you thought the day would come where you'd be excusing yourself from a conversation with some sort of decorative object but life has its ways. You were never a stranger to off days anyway.

“Oh, sure, uh, go ahead? I can wait.” The orb swiftly replies. For a second, you could swear something was moving from inside the orb after the light outside the window had hit a clear spot in the crystal.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room as you dash downstairs, taking your phone out and bringing it closer to your ear, replaying the recording. Sure enough, the voice was caught in the audio loud and clear.

“Holy shit. I'm not crazy.” An exasperated sigh leaves you as you slump back on the wall in disbelief. For a moment, you considered running away and warning your grandma about the cursed object, but part of you was curious enough to disregard the warning signs, and possibly risk your life by going back up there and approaching the thing. You decided to go with the latter.

“Are you back?” The orb asks once you've gotten close enough for it to hear your footsteps.

“Yeah. Just had to do something real quick.”

“I see.”

You wait for the orb to continue but it doesn't. It continues to lie on the couch lifelessly as if it hadn't been speaking to you in the past few minutes.

“Um..” You clear your throat, hoping to get another response

“Oh!" The voice from the orb seemed startled after hearing you talk. “How are you're still there?”

You frown. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well for starters, a talking glass orb isn't quite the public friendly concept you'd think it'd be.” It answers. Only now have you noticed that the orb had a particularly low masculine voice. “People don't usually stick around long enough to find out why I can talk in the first place.”

You blink. “Fair point. Though, I don't see the need for you to ask over and over again when I already said I was back.”

The orb chuckles. “You'd be surprised how many times people have reassured me of their presence only to leave halfway. Plus, I can't really see you right now to actually know you're there.”

“You can't see me?”

“The dust.”

“OH.” Not knowing what came over you, you immediately lunged forward and started wiping the orb with one of the dust rags you had lying around. It didn't take long for the thing to clear up and look like its old glorious self again. “How about now?” You ask, inspecting the orb as you hold it up.

“Better.”

It takes everything in you to resist dropping the orb on the floor when a glowing face of a man appears from the inside, smiling brightly at you. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

The man visibly panics, pressing his face closer to the glass. “Wait no! If you pass out now, I won't have anyone to talk to! I haven't spoken to a single person in decades!”

“But you mentioned my grandma earlier, I thought you—”

“She could never hear me, but I could see and hear her.” The man explains, his voice a little quieter than before.

You bring the orb down, still cupping it in your hands. “How is this possible? Are you a ghost or something? How did you get in there?”

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” He winks, resting his head on his hand. “Take a seat and place me down somewhere soft.”

This seemed ridiculous by all means, but you oblige. The couch should be soft enough, and so you place him down gently while you take a seat on the floor, making yourself comfortable. “You were saying?”

“I—” The man accidentally bumps his head onto the glass as he leans forward, chuckling as he rubs his head gently. “Ow. Sorry. I'm just so happy to finally have someone to talk to. You can't imagine how long it's been. How the world survived without a single soul hearing my heavenly voice for all those years is beyond me.” He cracks a joke and you couldn't help but laugh.

“It's okay.” You say, shifting in your spot. “Go ahead.”

The man nods, the smile slowly fading from his face. “My name is Choi Beomgyu. You can call me whatever you like. I had a friend once, and she was a witch. Oh— not the kind that you hear from stories, no. She was really nice and cared a lot about nature, her friends, and her family. That type of person, you know?”

You nod along, assuring him that you were listening, and he smiles again.

There's just something about his smile that just seemed so happy and endearing. Perhaps it had truly been so long.

“She was this ball of sunshine. And back then I was a pretty different guy. Our personalities might've clashed and we butted heads a few times but somehow we ended up becoming close friends.” A faint smile graces his lips before disappearing as quickly as it came. “But then I got involved with the wrong crowd.”

The statement piques your interest and you draw closer. Beomgyu notices this and tries to talk louder.

“Remember how I said she was a witch unlike the ones in the fairy tales? Well, there were also people who were exactly like those witches. The ones that used their knowledge and abilities for their own nefarious purposes.” Beomgyu continues, his hair slightly covering his face as he looked down. “Let's just say that I got myself in a situation where they ended up hunting me down for my soul.”

“What?”

He frowns. “My friend saw me being chased down the streets one night and helped. We both knew that even when together, we were too weak to go against all of them. They had us cornered in her home, and that's when we knew it was the end for us.”

Beomgyu's voice started to waver as he spoke and you were about to ask him if he was alright, and tell him that it was okay if he didn't continue but the look on his face when your eyes met was enough to tell you that he needed to do this. He must've wanted to talk about this matter for so long, you think.

“She.. pushed me towards her workroom, telling me that she'll keep me safe no matter what. I didn't know what she meant until she cast a spell on me and I passed out. The last thing I heard were her screams. I never found out what happened to her after that, and I can only assume the worst.” He shakes his head, trying to getting himself together in front of his new friend. “Next thing I knew, I was inside her old glass orb. I've been trapped in this thing for years with no escape. No one to talk to— forever regretting how I didn't stop her that time, and regretting getting in the way of those witches in the first place.”

His story nearly brings you to tears, and before you knew it, your hands were reaching out for the orb. “Beomgyu, I..”

“It's alright.” Beomgyu smiles. “In the end, the orb ended up in her younger sister's possessions.”

Your eyes widen. “You mean.. Grandma?”

“That's right.” Beomgyu chuckles. “Though she had never able to see or hear me, unlike you.”

“Oh. That's uh, too bad.” You smile awkwardly, releasing the orb. The two of you sit in silence for a while, both needing a little mental break after that.

Shortly, your attention was brought forth back onto the orb when you hear Beomgyu laugh. You find yourself chuckling along. “Entertained are we, Gyu?”

The laughter stops and his eyes shoot up at you. You hear him mumbling something incoherent before hesitating to speak. “No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's just.. It's kinda funny. I'm trapped here repenting for my whole life because of what I've done to her, or thinking about what I could've done.. but you know what? To be completely honest, I was starting to forget what she even looked like. But looking at you now, and hearing your voice..”

The idea popped up in your head and you weren't sure if it was even possible to begin with. But then again, you were talking to a soul inside an orb.

“You were easily granted access to the true nature of the orb, and are the first person to have ever done that without running away.” He kids. “Could it be?”

“I wouldn't count on it.” You tell it to him straight, getting up from your spot on the floor and dusting off your jeans. You knew what he was implying and there was no way that you were even considering yourself to be your great aunt's reincarnation no matter how ridiculous the situation already was. “I'll get back to cleaning. Feel free to talk while I do that.” You tell him before rushing to the other side of the attic, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You'll figure out what to do with him later.

Beomgyu watches you fondly. You had told him to not even count on the thought of you being the one he's been hoping for all these years but it was too late for that now.

“Entertained are we, Gyu?” Her voice rings in his mind, and he shakes it off.

“How do you always manage to do such amazing things? I'd appreciate it if you'd stop stirring my heart.” Beomgyu's gaze rests upon your busy silhouette, and he smiles in content.

“It's nice meeting you again, Y/N.”

#txt #txt fic #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fics #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu fic #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu angst #txt au #txt reincarnation au

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hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.9

a/n: yall ready for the date? >:)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, a bit of harassment

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie

You usually loved it when the hours would pass by. However, for this particular time, you hated it. One moment you were facing your desk; Typing and answering emails, documenting files, calling a few people, and praying for a miracle that something would happen in order to cancel the dinner date. The word ‘date’ made you want to puke.

Now, you were on your way home. Hands clenching the steering wheel. The music blasting through the speaker in an attempt to calm your disturbed soul.

The restaurant your chief had chosen was an hour away from the city. It was situated in the mountains. It had a nice view of the city. Even though it was a one star restaurant, the reviews were relatively nice. Their steak was the most recommended dish. The question now was whether or not you would find an appetite.

Opening the door to your unit, you threw yourself to your bed. Hair sprawled everywhere as you suffocated on your mattress. Resting on your cheek, you glanced at your closet and tried to think of obnoxious outfit combinations to wear for tonight. Besides, the chief would never know what you were outside the office.

A buzzing sound came from your pocket. Taking your phone out, you sat down and answered it.

“Yes, Nao?”

“I managed to dig into one of your major cases. The arson one.” He said rather proudly. Letting him proceed, he continued. “So, I looked into the shareholders to see if there were any similarities. It might be me pulling straws, but try to set a meeting with Endeavor.”

“Endeavor?” You repeated. Making sure that you heard him right. “Are you sure?”

“I back tracked the previous establishments. And all of them had a lot of shareholders in common but his name stood out.”

“Nao. That’s like a very thin straw…” You stood up and turned your laptop on. “But I was at a dead end so I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, (Y/N). How’s the yakuza case?” Him asking questions at this time meant he was on break. It had been a while since you last gossiped with him so you gave him some attention.

“I still have to set a meeting with Birdman. Crud. That reminds me. I have to buy an earpiece.”

“The chief tagged along last time, right?”

“He did. Lucky for my ass, the meeting was short.”

“He was fuming when he arrived back at the precinct. What happened?”

“Birdman somewhat threw a fit since he cut me mid sentence.” The mere memory of it made you chuckle. But, there was this feeling that you shouldn’t have said that. It became second nature to always keep your guard up when you talk to Tsukauchi. It felt as if you had lowered it for a millisecond.

“No wonder.” He breathily replied. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

“With the chief or Overhaul?” You sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. “Because honestly speaking, I’m not sure who the villain is among those two.”

That statement was rather strange. He was used to your antics but a comparison like that? Tsukauchi on the other line had not been using his quirk on you. Although, he had always felt something off whenever he and the chief talked about you. He was never one to pry but perhaps this would have to be an exception.

“So what are your plans for later?” He asked. Carefully choosing his words.

“Dinner with some dude.” Heading over to your closet, you scanned for some hideous apparel. “You think a Bee Movie sweater will make him cringe?”

“If you cleared your schedule for him, I think your ‘I come with background music’ shirt would do the trick.”

“Damn, you’re right.” Looking for that shirt, Tsukauchi could hear you opening and closing your drawers. That gave him enough time to do some of his research. “I HAVE FOUND THE SHIRT!”

“Would you really wear it, though?”

You wished but you had already given your 3 men cases, Tsukauchi had given you a new lead, and the yakuza case was more than enough you could handle. Casting the shirt aside, you flopped to your bed.

“Any chances you can send a hero later?”

“Give me a name and I’ll see what I can do.” He teased back. “Anyway, my break is over. Enjoy your dinner.”

“So long, farewell.”

You did not wear the shirt, sadly. However, you did wear clothes that hid every single inch of skin your body had to offer. Turtleneck, high waist jeans, knee length boots, and a coat you wouldn’t mind being overhauled.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you fixed whatever was needed to be fixed.

“You will not go to the restroom. You will not leave your bag unattended. You will put on a fake smile and give him hell.” Hearing the knock on your door, the night was now starting. Inhaling deeply, you swallowed every single ounce of pride.

“You’ve dressed nicely.” The chief greeted you. He wasn’t wearing his standard get up. Instead he wore a plain black shirt with a leather jacket. White pants with complimentary gray shoes. He half expected you’d dress like you always did. Seeing you in your get up made him want to take his phone and snap a picture.

Moments later, you were standing outside your building. The chief had instructed you to wait for him at the drop off area. More than willing to follow, you scrolled through your phone for any messages or emails. The honking of a horn caught your attention.

A Koyota Figo was now parked in front of you. Forgetting that your chief owned a hatchback, you opened the door and began sending out prayers for any gods or telepathic heroes in the vicinity.

The drive was silent. Your gaze fixated on the lights the city had to offer. Wanting to be in a neutral mood, you let your thoughts wander.

Tomorrow, you would schedule a meeting with Endeavor. How? You weren’t sure but hopefully his assistant would let you get 5 minutes with him. An update from Takashi and the rest was also in line. You began to enumerate the stores that sold earpieces that you could purchase for Overhaul to use. Maybe you should buy 2, just in case it fails.

Feeling something resting on your thigh, you stared at the chief’s hand. Biting your tongue, you held on to your breath as well as the want to jump out of the car.

“We’re almost there, sweetcheeks.” He stated. His hand began to pat the area he just infected. “And since we’re outside the office, feel free to call me Yokai.”

“Aight.” There was no way in hell you would.

“Or daddy would be fine.”

That made you wonder. Would it be professional if you would ask Birdman to overhaul your ears and repair them back to normal. Cringing at the statement, you held on to your bag for dear life. Taking your phone out, you began to scroll through your social media.

“No phones, darling.” He warned. Abruptly hitting the brakes.”Wouldn’t want any unwanted people ruining our date. Now put that phone away before we arrive.”

Maybe a trip to the restroom in the restaurant didn’t sound half bad. Doing as told, you leaned on to the seat and closed your eyes. It was getting dull, a bit boring, and a little creepy. Keeping your senses sharp, you fell into a very light sleep.

Feeling that the car had come to a stop, you unstrapped your seat belt and immediately stepped out of the car. Waiting for him to lead the way, you trailed behind him as he told the usher his reservation. For a minute, you forgot that he had booked a private room.

Entering the small room, you were met with a candle lit dinner. The chairs beside each other.

“For a change, you know?” The chief commented. Putting his hand on your back, he pushed you towards the table and let you sit down. Watching as he pulled out his chair, you copied his actions and managed to inch your body away from his. “I have already ordered so for now we can simply chat.”

“Sure.” Your eyes remained glued to the plate.

“So, when was the last time you went on a date like this?” His voice proud of the place he had chosen.

“Years ago.” You forced a smile. “I’m not a fan of fancy restaurants.”

“Well, better get used to it.” He rested his arm on the back of your chair. Moving your back away from the back rest, you fixed your coat to make it less obvious. “How’s your cases going?”

“Fine. Recently got a new lead.”

“You’re using your yakuza ties, aren’t you?”

Finally looking at him, you focused on his glabella, you cocked an eyebrow.

“For the cases I’m handling right now, I had to work 3 of my cases with them.”

“Your side or his side?” He tilted his head.

“I’m sorry. I thought this was a dinner, not some kind of interrogation.” “Always admired how feisty you are.” The chief remarked. “Why are you single?”

Before you could answer, the doors opened and your food was served. The food was being served by two waiters. One of them had blonde hair and the other had blue hair with arrows at the end. Your eyes followed the blue haired man since he wore a white face mask. It made you think of Overhaul.

Pasta was served in front of you while the chief got his steak. Observing how he opened the wine, you took note that both of them wore white gloves. The wine bottle opened with ease and you saw the label. It was one of those wines that Gei didn’t really recommend due to its uneven taste. Once the glasses were filled, you thanked the waiters. When the door closed, you felt the air grow cold.

In all honesty, the pasta was good. And the wine he had chosen, despite it being too bitter for your taste, matched the sauce pretty nicely. The soft classical music somehow calmed your spirits.

As you were quietly enjoying your meal, the chief put his steak knife down and began to brush his pinky with yours.

“Is the food to your liking?”

“I’m liking the pasta. The noodles are cooked just right.”

“How about a toast then?” Taking his wine glass, he turned to face you. “For this new found partnership.”

Sighing, you took yours and merely stretched out your arm to clink your glasses. Sipping on the wine, you savored the flavor a bit and swallowed. Glancing at the chief, you saw him furrowing his brows at his drink. Checking his food, he had only eaten half of the amount. Compared to yours, the food was almost gone.

“Are you okay? You’ve barely touched your food, Yokai-san.” Saying his name made the pasta slither up your throat.

“Don’t worry about me sweetcheeks.” He set his glass down and let out a burp. Thankfully, he had covered his mouth. “Let’s continue where we left off. Why are you still single?”

“I’m not really into dating.” You replied. Eating the last bit of your pasta, you placed the fork down and wiped your mouth with the napkin. “I have too many cases to even think about that.”

“You interested in someone?” He hiccuped and burped. His hands rubbing small circles on his stomach.

“Where’s the fun if you know who I’m interested in.”

“Oh. So now you’re flirty. Wine works wonders.” He took his glass and sipped once more. This had to be one of his favorite wines but it tasted different. Perhaps it was the steak. Seeing that you were still taking yours, he deduced that you had nothing to do with it.

“No. It’s just that you have no business regarding that matter.” By now, you were fully facing him. The sudden change of his facial features showed signs of discomfort. The room was comfortable yet you could see sweat forming on his forehead. His chappy lips were now pale. The constant rubbing of his stomach only made your suspicions grow. “Are you really sure you’re okay? You look like shit.”

“Okay. Ya got me.” Pressing the buzzer on the side of the table, he waited for the waiter to arrive. Not a moment too soon, the door opened and the same waiter from before appeared. “Boy, the food you served is making me sick. There’s no way in hell I’m paying for this.”

“I apologize.” The waiter with arrow-tipped hairs responded.

“Useless employee.” He leaned in and whispered to your ear. All you could do was lean away. “May I speak to your manager?”

“Unfortunately, the manager is still in a very important conference.”

“To think this place has a 1 Michelin star.” He mumbled as he took his wallet. Fumbling for his card, his stomach let out a rather loud sound. Biting your inner lip, you tried to suppress the smile forming. When he took his card, he tossed it to the table and demanded. “Swipe the card. We’re leaving.”

Taking his card, he excused himself but left the door open.

“You’re not playing tricks now, are you (Y/N)?” He held your wrist a little too tightly. “You know what happens when you mess with me. I can give you more than 10 cases if this little incident is caused by you.”

“In my defense, I have never set foot in this restaurant.” You fought back. “And if you even wanted to impress me, WcDonal’s or even just Burger Queen would be more than fine. If you think these kinds of things would do the trick, sorry but you’re terribly wrong.”

You closed your mouth shut. Anger had somehow taken over and the words you said were not the best. Biting your tongue, you cursed at the sight of his mind moving and plotting as to what to do next.

The blonde waiter came with the receipt and apologized once more for the issues. Standing up, the chief told you to wait for him in the lobby. Leaving you alone with the waiter, you took your bag and bowed to him.

“I’m sorry about that person.” Your eyes darted to the men’s room where he entered. “But, if it helps, the pasta was really nice. Just sucks he had to experience that. Though he deserves it if we were to be honest. The amount of times he’s invaded my personal space is just revolting.” Shocked that you had uttered your last sentence, the wine must be a little stronger than you had expected.

The blonde waiter chuckled and went off to the kitchen.

While you were waiting at the lobby, checked your phone and saw messages from Gei. Smiling at the story he had to share via message, you quickly put your phone away once you heard a door closing followed by a burp.

“Looks like I’ll have to take you home now, love.” The chief said.

Not wanting to waste another second, you lead the way back to his car.

Chrono and Nemoto stared at the window. Undivided attention as you stepped into the car with a happy face. In Nemoto’s hand was a glass vial. When the vehicle was now out of sight, they walked towards the manager’s office.

“It’s been a while since we had this kind of fun.” Nemoto commented.

“Agreed. Did you actually down the whole bottle into the sauce?”

“It would be a waste if we didn’t empty this. And, the boss would be most pleased to know that the laxatives work well.”

Knocking on the door, Overhaul gave them permission to enter. He was seated on the sofa with a stained cloth wiping his bloody hands. A huge splatter of blood painted the wall beside him. Next to the sofa, the two men saw a pair of legs lying lifeless on the floor.

“It went smoothly, I presume?” He leaned his head on the sofa back. When he heard the grunts of his men, he stood up and faced the decapitated body. Squatting on the floor, he could feel the hives starting to form. “Nemoto. Prepare the propranolol. Kurono. Give the drug to the two waiters as well.”

With a disgusted look, he touched the leg of the deceased body. The blood on the walls began to morph and the next second, the manager’s body was whole once more. When the manager’s eyes opened, he was face to face with the masked man who had just killed him a while ago. Just as he was about to scream, Overhaul knocked him out.

Instructing Nemoto to administer the drug, he began to itch on his forearm. Cursing at the mess he had just made and fixed, it took a lot of his willpower to push those thoughts aside. Instead his mind focused on one thing.

The memory of you smiling and the want to make sure no harm comes to you.

Besides, he could care less about the consequences.

-----

propanolol- a drug that supposedly erases memories

and yes, Chisaki to the rescue ;) just had to write the trio cause they deserve love and all of them are hot.

do you guys have any questions? feel free to comment and ill gladly answer them :) take care and i hope you guys like this chapter <3

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #chisaki kai

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 5 years ago

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5 times you infuriated me and 1 time you made it okay

A/N: okay so the 5 times concept is something i enjoy writing very much, however i am aware that in this piece in particular, a lot of the ideas are underdeveloped and probably especially dont make sense with the ending when you look at the relationship, but please keep in mind that this ‘5 times’ theme i chose focuses on those kinds of incidents so there are a lot of other times in between (and i dont have the time or energy to turn this into a super long fic but perhaps one day.. ) so this is what happened!

Warnings: mentions of torture (like in the 7th when Bellatrix takes to Hermione)

Tags: @expellimarvelous and for some reason my hp taglist got lost so let me know if you’d like to be added!

↠↠↠↠↠↠

I. Bad Start to the Sixth Year

Your sixth year at Hogwarts seems to be off to a good start as you laugh and snack on sweets with two of your three your best friends on Hogwarts Express. Or at least it seemed like it was off to a good start until the train arrives at the station, and Harry is nowhere to be found.

Waving off Ron and Hermione with a promise to catch up, you insist on going to look for him by yourself. Your search leads you all the way to the other side of the strain where the blinds are conveniently drawn. You can hear a voice muffled through the closed door, and you become filled with dread when you identify who it belongs to.

Sliding the door open a crack, you see a familiar head of slicked-back platinum hair. You aren’t able to make out what he says, but you do see him bring down a foot to meet Harry’s nose.

“Malfoy, what the fuck?!” you burst out, causing the Slytherin boy to jump in surprise.

“Y-Y/N- I-I—”

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re getting away with, but you better get the fuck off this train before I curse you,” you snarl, shoving him aside to get to Harry. Seeing that he’s been petrified, you take your wand out of your jacket pocket and mutter, “finite,” to which your friend thankfully wakes up, blinking a few times. He doesn’t move much, as he tries to regain control of his muscles, and you insist he takes a moment to do so.

Throughout this, Draco has gone so quiet you think he might have actually left, but when you turn your head to meet his stormy eyes, you’re filled with rage, once again.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! Get out!”

“But Y/N, I-I'm—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you say in a lower tone as you tend to your friend, not even sparing him another glance.

Why is it that just when you think there might be a redeemable quality buried deep in Draco Malfoy, he always does something that proves otherwise?

II. Welcome to the Slugclub

“Okay, okay! I was gate-crashing! Happy?” He admits, trying to shake off Filch’s grasp on his jacket.

His eyes that used to be sharp and bright, have recently become sullen. They lock with yours for a solid moment before he’s ushered out by Snape.

Your eyes linger on his figure as he’s led away from the party— probably longer than they should have, but you can’t help noticing how thin he’s become. You’ve barely seen him all year, despite having a few classes together. He was never that hefty to begin with, but it looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in ages. Other than his usual perfectly tailored wardrobe, he now wears dark circles under his eyes, and it’s impossible not to notice how the contours of his face have become that much sharper and his already pale skin has adopted a sickly pigmentation.

You and Harry follow the pair out, but for different reasons. You know that Harry wouldn’t be happy about yours because of his suspicions, but Draco looks like he’s crumbling under stress.

Eavesdropping only proves Harry’s doubts about Malfoy, and he then decides to rejoin the party as to not get caught by Snape, but you hang back, telling him you need to go to the loo.

You wait in the shadows until you hear Snape’s steps scurry away before approaching Malfoy who stays behind, sitting on a ledge. A half-smirk appears on his face upon noticing you like he’s been gathering an arsenal of insults to shoot at you, but really, under the snide mask, he marvels at how lovely you look tonight.

“Straying from your date with Potter?” he spits out Harry’s name like it’s revolting to have on his tongue. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think Potter’s lady is ditching him in favour of a more refined pureblood—”

“He’s one of my best friends!” You roll your eyes and flail your hands up in exasperation. “And how is the nature of our relationship any of your business?!”

He snorts, leaning his back on the walk behind him and crosses his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

“You know, I came out here to check and make sure you were okay!” You shout at him hands coming up to furiously push your hair back. “I can’t believe that for a second I thought that— no- but you—”

“You thought what?” His voice has become softer, hard exterior starting to peel away in your presence. He stands from his seat, mild concern washing over his features.

You shake your head, looking anywhere but at him. “N-Nothing—”

“Tell me,” his hands place themselves on your biceps, long fingers curling around your arms gently.

You fall victim to his intense gaze, getting lost in the grey seas of his irises. His features aren’t as hard as they usually are and the grasp he has on you is delicate; like he’s afraid to hurt you and you almost feel like you can let your guard down. Almost.

“Is it true?” you ask him, diverging from the subject and he raises an eyebrow in response. “Did you hex Katie Bell?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it without a word when he realizes he has nothing to answer to that and you’re the only person he can’t lie to. That’s enough of a confirmation for you. You let out a breath of disbelief and he starts to panic, because contrary to the backwards dynamic the two of you share, part of him does care what you think. “Y/N- p-please listen—”

All emotion leaves your voice as you tell him, “Just leave me alone, Malfoy.”

You shrug him off, and spin on your heel, breaking the eye contact. Walking down the hall, you leave him there to bask in the silence and his dark thoughts.

III. Hair Like You

You’re already teeming with rage as you scour the castle for Ron, who slipped you one of Fred and George’s prank snacks that ended up changing your hair color. Running into Draco Malfoy, of all people, really puts the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

To make things worse, it looks as though he’s going out of his way to get to you when he spots you from across the courtyard. At first he squints, not fully sure if it’s you with the new physical change, and then tails you down two hallways, not giving a single damn how creepy he may look.

“What do you want, Malfoy—”

“It seems like you’re more obsessed with me than I had originally thought,” he snickers, catching up with your quickened pace.

That’s when it hits you, and you instantly halt, causing him to smack into your back. Spinning around to face him, your eyes widen in horror as you take in the familiar platinum blonde hair— the same shade you saw in the mirror earlier.

“That’s just great!” You throw your hands up dramatically. “Now I look like you!”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself—”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!”

“You know, it really doesn’t look that bad. Maybe you’re starting to have better taste.”

Despite knowing full well that that was Malfoy speak for a compliment, you’re in no mood for it. “Oh, well I’m so glad that the Slytherin prince thinks me, a lowly commoner, 'doesn’t look that bad’ just fu—”

“No! No! No! Y/N! I didn’t mean—”

“—ck off! Because on top of looking like the most insufferable git in the entire school what I really wanted was to receive a backhanded compliment—” And just then, you spot the familiar redhead with bad influences for older brothers from across the hall who you’re even more pissed off at than Malfoy.

“I don’t have time for this,” is all you say as you bolt down the hall towards Ron, screaming, “YOU’RE DEAD, WEASLEY!”

IV. Held Hostage

Hermione’s screams are enough to make you feel like you’re being gutted, and when Bellatrix takes her knife to your arm, you’re absolutely terrified. At least this means your best friend has a break from her torture. In the meantime, you nearly bite through your cheek to hold in your own screams whilst the saddistic woman spells out the hateful term that’s been thrown at you your whole life, carving it into your flesh.

After what feels like hours, the death eater sits back up, admiring the her work with a sickening grin on her face, and you want nothing more than to smack it off. Or at least you would if you didn’t feel like you’ve been drained. What you do feel is defiled; like your own skin is no longer yours, and the blood that runs through your veins doesn’t belong to you.

And Draco Malfoy has been standing on the other end of the room this whole time whilst his barbaric aunt tries to get information out of you.

The rest of what happens is experienced through the blur of hopeless tears your eyes are clouded with, until Harry picks you up off the floor after Bellatrix had pushed you and Hermione to save herself from the falling chandelier. A certain fire surges through you as you regain full consciousness.

You see Harry and Draco fight over his wand, and instinct kicks in as you lunge forward, efficiently tackling the latter to the ground. Snatching the wand out of his hand, you throw it to Harry. The blonde boy’s struggles are weak under your weight, almost half-assed as you feel the tension start to leave his muscles.

“Why?!” you shout in his face, grabbing him by the collar to keep him down. Tears well your eyes, but your gaze pierces through him nonetheless. The feelings of helplessness and emptiness are long gone as angry tracks burn down your cheeks. “Why—”

“Y/N!” Harry scoops you off him in one swift motion, pulling you to where your allies have regrouped. “This isn’t the time- w-we have to get out of here!”

You don’t say another word, and your infuriated eyes target the conflict and fear that resides in Draco’s. He’s left with the image of your anguish and fury engrained in his mind long after you disapparate.

V. Crossing Over

The Dark Lord himself beckoned him, and for a second you thought he might resist, but then his mother called him, extending her hand for him to come to her, and you saw him break.

“No!” You cry out as he starts to take hesitant steps towards the death eaters. “Draco, don’t do this!” His already shaky demeanor falters for a moment at the sound of his first name falling from your lips. “You have a choice.”

Steeling his nerves, he doesn’t allow himself to look back, because he would surely crumble under the weight of your gaze and the pain etched into your features. He continues forward, into the arms of a proud tyrant, and you swear your heart drops out of your chest.

Then, the whole scene with Neville’s heroic spirit ensues and you feel the fire within you flare up again when Harry tumbles out of Hagrid’s arms. Death Eaters that have been backing Voldemort start to disappear, leaving an unevenly distributed cloud of darkness.

Everyone else starts to retreat to the castle to regroup and fight as one, but you chase after the fleeing Malfoy family. It’s as though you have no control as your legs move under you on autopilot and as fast as they can go.

You’ve almost caught up to the trio on the bridge and can no longer help yourself.

“Coward!” You yell, trying your best not to let your voice crack, with no avail. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from spilling freely. Draco meets your eyes with his own that portray a boy who is terrified out of his mind, but you’re relentless. The truth isn’t always easy. “You’re a bloody coward, Malfoy!”

Avoiding your fiery gaze, he turns into his mother’s comfort. Not once do his eyes meet yours again before he disappears in a whisp of black smoke.

What you feel is rage, but with that rage comes with an added indescribable pain and disappointment.

+ Midsummer Night’s Dream

The next time you see the infamous Draco Malfoy is just over a year since he disapparated in a whisp of black smoke. Little do you know, immediately after apparating, the boy fell to his knees in the arms of his mother. He broke that day, and hasn’t been able to put himself back together since, contrary to the proud Malfoy mask he wears out in public. He hides behind crisp suits and perfectly-coiffed platinum locks. It’s enough to have anyone who reads the Daily Prophet fooled about how the heir carries onto a successful path despite everything that has happened.

But not you. He never could fool you of anything, really. So when you and your friends spot him taking a seat alone at the Three Broomsticks you know something’s up, because a refined Malfoy doesn’t just hang out amongst mere commoners like that.

“What is he doing here?” Ron spits out, red fury already starting at the tips of his ears and seething from his narrowed eyes.

As if on cue, Draco’s eyes lift from his glass to meet yours.

Hermione sends you a sympathetic smile before mumbling calming words to her boyfriend. The Malfoys and Weasleys always did get each other riled up.

Harry, who sits beside you, gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder to get your attention and you can immediately read his expression. He can read yours just as easily and can see that you’re starting to get anxious. “Y/N…”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you simper, standing slowly from your seat. “I’ve got this.”

He casts a glance towards the blond across the room before his eyes come back meet yours, sending you a look as though to ask if you’re sure. You give him a nod and he sends you off with a comforting squeeze of your hand.

As you make your way to the table for one, you’re so focused on slowing your heart rate that you’ve arrived at your destination before you know it, seeing the shiny black dress shoes in contrast to the uneven wood panels of the pub’s floor. When you lift your gaze, it’s then that you realize he’s been staring at you the whole time.

“Malfoy.”

“Y/N.”

The sound of your first name rolling off his tongue lights something inside you— and it’s not pretty.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice is steady, but with a strong undertone of something darker. Like the calm before a storm.

“Can’t a man enjoy a butterbeer on his own?” Despite him being absolutely terrified of you, he somehow manages to exude a certain lightness. You look at his untouched pint and raise an eyebrow and he knows you aren’t in the mood for small talk.

“Cut the shit, Malfoy.”

Recognizing the beginnings of anger in your tone, he stands as smoothly as he can manage and gestures towards the door. The last thing he wants is for you to snap because he knows very well what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your fury.

He follows closely behind as you lead him out into the dim lighting of Hogsmead. The summer air doesn’t feel as heavy as it has for the last week, and the sky proudly shows off the twinkling stars. It would be a perfect night if not for your circumstances.

You stop in your tracks and spin to face him so briskly, your forehead almost hits his chin. “You have one minute to talk before I hex you where you stand.”

“You always did excel in hexes and jinxes—”

“Fifty-five seconds, Malfoy.”

“Uh- erm- o-okay—”

You have about zero patience left. The anger thats been quietly bubbling for the last year has been on the brim of overflowing the second he walked in tonight, but so has all the pain and sadness you’ve kept locked up all this time. “You’re wasting my time.” You prepare to stalk off, but a firm hand pulls you back by your elbow, and for the the first time since the war, your face with Draco Malfoy. It’s the first time tonight that you can really see him. He looks worse than ever.

The silver pools that once resided in his irises look like shells of what they once were. And he sure felt that way, until he saw you. That’s when he realizes how empty he always is until he’s around you. My, how he took that for granted all these years.

Trying your very best, you fight against the urge to give into the part of you who still cares for him and wants to know the last time he had a good night’s sleep. You also try to fight against the water accumulation behind your eyelids, but it only makes it worse.

“What?! What do you want, Draco?!”

The use of his first name is the only sign he needs to be brave for once. Without further hesitation, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. Once over the initial shock, you give in for only a half second before you come to your senses and push him back, both hands planted firmly on his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?!”

“I-I- Y/N, I-I’m so—” Right then, is one of the few times you see what he’s really feeling on the inside be expressed on the outside. “I-I just-I thought—”

“You- you thought what?! We’d ride off into the sunset on the back of a unicorn and live happily ever after?!” You don’t care how frantic you look right now. You don’t care that the midsummer night wind is whipping your hair into complete and utter chaos. And you definitely don’t give a single fuck about how the drunk people stumbling by you giggle uncontrollably. You pause for a moment as you wait for them to be out of earshot, and once they are, you let out a frustrated breath and resume. “Did you honestly believe that you could kiss me, and then everything— all of the absolute shite of a mess would just go away?!”

His gaze drops to the ground that his shiny dress shoes stand on, with a few platinum strands that fall from their place. Those are the only visible signs of something amiss with the well-dressed man. But you see something else cloud his features: shame. The last time you saw that, which was also the last time you saw him, he left. He always left you while you were angry, enraged, and never stuck around to face the truth.

Draco Malfoy decides that this time is going to be different.

He has felt as empty as his eyes appeared for months, but when his gaze rolls back up to meet yours, you see the grey storms you saw when you first met him. Sure, they were masked by an outer shell that was brimming with entitlement, but they have now what they had then. Purpose.

“Y/N,” His hands twitch as he fights the urge to reach out for yours, deciding against it in favour of using two words you’ve been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry.” You soften, releasing the tension you didn’t realize you carried in your shoulders. The angry tears that stung the backs of your eyes melt to something peaceful as they escape their ducts. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I know I don’t deserve another chance, or any of the chances you’ve given me, but if you’ll give me one more I promise I’ll be better. Everything you’ve ever said about me is true; I am a coward, but I’m not leaving this time.”

“And what if I want you to leave?” You ask, testing the waters, more than anything else.

“If you tell me to leave— if that is what you truly want, then I will. Tell me to leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Okay, then leave.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Y-Yes—” You stammer out a complete lie. Every cell on your body knows it’s a lie, and apparently so does he.

“I don’t believe you.”

More than anything, you want to fling yourself into his arms but you feel like your feet have been colashoo-ed to the ground. A corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft lopsided smile as his hands raise to thread fingers through the top of your hairline, smoothing wild strands away from your face. His touch is so careful and delicate than you could have ever imagined. He leans down slowly and stops just as his lips have brushed over yours, asking for permission, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Syllables get caught in your throat, and channel themselves through you body as you move to slate your mouth over his. The sensation is so delicately mind-blowing, and it leaves you absolutely breathless when you pull away to lean your forehead against his.

All you can manage to breathe out is, “stay”.

The way your breath fans over his lips is intoxicating, and he’s certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful, no work of art finer, than the way you’re looking at him.

“I’m not leaving this time. Never again.”

His grasp tightens as he pulls you back to his lips and your fingers curl around the light fabric of his shirt. Every emotion and feeling accumulated over lost time is poured into this kiss.

This time, what you feel for him is something stronger and far different than anger.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #5 times fic #hp #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #potatowrites

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theparanormalperiodical · 5 years ago

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The Real Story Behind Krampus (2017), And The 17 Other Terrifying Christmas Tales And Traditions You NEED To Know About

Christmas is a time for family, a time for laughter, and a time for drinking volumes of alcohol that make your cousins concerned about your emotional wellbeing.

But most importantly, it's a time for demons to hunt down children and stuff them full of straw and pebbles. No, I’m not talking about the Eastenders Christmas Special - I’m talking about the Christmas traditions they don’t put in Hallmark movies.

As Christmas has been celebrated for 2000 years, it has amassed a collation of equally terrifying traditions and monsters that only the dark corners of history could conjure up.

Although confirmed by the Dickensian tradition of sharing ghost stories (see Matthew Mcconaughey movie - or failing that some old book about poverty in Victorian Britain), it seems we’ve forgotten the true terror behind the most wonderful time of the year!

So, as your favourite paranormal blogger, I’ve taken it upon myself to bring together everything creepy ‘bout Christmas.

Today’s post is gonna take y’all through the mythical monsters you should be on the lookout for, plus the Christmas traditions that bare a dark, twisted backstory.

Which is all of them.

Let’s get spooky!

First, Let’s All About The Monsters Of Christmas

Hands up if you’ve watched Krampus (2017).

Here’s the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6cVyoMH4QE

It might not be Love, Actually, nor will it ever score a set of great reviews, but it got everyone talking about the mythical creature titling the film.

Need a summary?

This dark-comedy/horror film centres around a dysfunctional family at Christmas. When the youngest child loses faith in Santa, he rips up his letter to him, sending a signal to Krampus that he has lost his Christmas spirit and thus must be punished!

Okay, this film doesn’t fit the actual legend that well. But the kid does get dragged to hell - and unfortunately, that’s what sticks closest to the creature titling the film.

On top of this, the movie features the classic mysterious European grandmother that has a story about the war (as a European I can confirm this). But her story isn’t about an air raid, or some long-gone past ruler; instead, it explains a twisted tale regarding the most famous companion of Father Christmas.

That being said, it provides an introduction that only scratches the surface of the mythical creatures of Crimbo:

Krampus is the half-goat, half-demon creature that is often witnessed wandering ‘round with Santa Claus. Concieved in the pre-christian era in central europe, his aim of existence was to punish naughty children.

“So, Santa provides for the nice kids, Krampus provides for the naughty kids? Got it.”

If only it was that simple.

Krampus’s family tree is more twisted than the British royal family - and has a similar collection of dodgy relatives:

Son of the Norse goddess, Hel (ruler of the underworld and the dead), Krampus is a Perchten, a race of beasts born to scare away Winter. Never heard of ‘em? Well, you’ve probably heard of his grandfather, then: Loki.

Given his famous hegemony, it follows that he is always believed to be the Horned God of the Witches, and sticks to a devilish image.

With a dark, hairy body, large fangs and a tongue hanging far below his bottom lip, beast-like is an understatement. Accessorising his frightful look is a grasp of birch branches or a whip, as well as a sack or basket (to put children in and take to hell or save for a quick drink and snack later), and chains.

However, the chains part is still subject to debate: some believe it is an attempt to bind the devil by the Catholic Church in attempt to control him, while others claim it is because Krampus is Santa’s slave.

This directly relates to the position of Krampus and his fellow monsters - they are all believed to be Santa’s companions.

So, we know who Krampus is. But did you know he has a whole night devoted to him?

Krampusnacht falls on the 6th December, a day from which people put on masks and get drunk, scaring kids. Alternatively, you can dress up and hand out coal, mirroring the Krampus spirit! Nevertheless, both serve as a reminder to children not to be naughty, as does the bundle of golden birch branches you can have in your house.

Now, who’s ready to get their feminist on?

Frau Perchta is the female counterpart of Krampus.

This goddess-monster goes about giving good kids silver coins, and giving naughty kids, uh, well, death.

She’d slice ‘em open, and stuff ‘em full of straw and pebbles. But her backstory goes much further than simply murdering children: as she oversees spinning as a part of the 12 days of Christmas, she focuses on people that get their work done.

And if you slack? Then you gon’ get murdered.

Given her name, it’s obvious that like Krampus, she’s a beast-like creature. But her animalistic tropes only go so far as her feet - just like Krampus’ single goat hoof, she has a swan foot.

“So, she’s a swan?”

Nope - she’s either regarded as a beautiful young woman, or an old crone.

Classic Patriarchy.

Next up is another animal, but this time, it comes in the form of a cat. Unfortunately, the Yule Cat is less Instagram, and more deadly. Yep - this Icelandic beast eats the kids that fail to complete their chores before Christmas.

Just like Frau Perchta, it can be traced back to farmers attempting to scare their workers into getting shizz done. If they hadn’t processed the autumn wool, they’d be eaten by the cat. If they had, they’d receive new clothes.

You’d better be thankful for those socks, then!

But it turns out the Yule Cat isn’t the only monster from Iceland. In fact, he’s actually the pet of a family of ferocious Christmas beasts!

Gryla and Leppaludi are a couple hell-bent on detecting naughty children. Gryla, the matriarch of this famalam - is a Norse giantess, who wanders round each and every village in iceland. Once she’s found said children, she eats them.

Often she is described as a beggar, asking for parents to turn over their disobedient children so she can chuck ‘em in her sack, and add them to her signature stew!

Her husband - well, third husband but who’s judging - Leppaludi, is what the Daily Mail would label a benefit-scrounger as he hangs about in their cave all day. On top of this is their 12 children: The Yule Lads.

(God, this has a Daily Mail story written all over it.)

Each lad has a different, um, quirk.

One harasses sheep. One steels tupperware - no, seriously, he makes a point of stealing pots with lids. And another steals candles from children.

So that’s Iceland covered - let’s head back to continental Europe!

Hans Trapp is our next contender for the ultimate creep of Christmas. Trapp is a resident of Alsace-Lorraine, and comes from near the border of France and Germany. But what’s really terrifying about this monster is that he once existed.

Hans Von Trotha was a French Knight and man of particular political distinction. From his feuds with the church, to his ever-roaming spirit after he died, the following myth was by no means a random creation. However, the backstory to Hans Trapp took a bit of a detour from his past:

Trapp was reportedly a Satanist who would kill children. Yeah, you can see a theme here…

This rich, greedy man was excommunicated by the church, and then exiled to the forest where he would hunt children. Well, he would until struck by a bolt of lightning sent by God. But despite his rather dark past, his backstory is less really-demonic, more redemptive.

A bit like Krampus, he seeks to remind kids to be virtuous, teaming up with St. Nicholas to ensure children would be nice.

Next is Romanian Werewolves.

Yep, that’s plural.

Sure, these man-beasts show up during the full moon, but also makes a point of unleashing their true forms at Christmas. This has merged with caroling in Romania - dressing up as animals and pissing off people busy having a cheeky Baileys rather than see their family is a common occurrence there.

Oh, and they go around and tell you not to have sex.

No, seriously, you aren’t allowed to have sex on Christmas Eve cause Jesus or somethin’.

The other Christmas mythical creatures include:

Le Pere Fouettard, some fella who tags along with St. Nick, delivering lumps of coal to naughty kids. Well, when he’s not beating them up, that is!

Knecht Ruprecht joins Santa on his rounds too, but he isn’t like Pere, don’t worry! He kidnaps children, instead.

Next up is Zwarte Piet, one of Santa’s helpers who listens at the chimney of family homes to deduce if kids have been naughty or nice. Guys, we got a wholesome helper! Wait - people dress up in blackface to celebrate him?

I think we can all agree that racism is far scarier than anything else on this list…

Lastly, we have Belsnickel. And don’t worry, there’s no racism here. This bloke clad in fur and random clothes asks kids if they’ve been naughty or nice during the year.

Let’s Talk About The Terrifying Traditions

Well, we did it, guys!

We made it through the monsters behind a Merry Christmas.

And you can rest easy knowing these are all mythical creatures that can add a smidge of spook to your Christmas. But now it’s time to discuss the spooky side to the traditions we pull out of the attic year-upon-year.

So, no, these aren’t based on myths or religion - its based on historical fact!

Great.

Anyways:

If there’s one thing that defines Christmas - and is currently crippling my bank account - its gift giving.

Thinking of giving someone scissors for the most wonderful time of the year? It will literally cut your friendship or relationship in two. And shoes? The receiver of your gift will metaphorically walk away from your relationship.

But if you’re looking for a more, uh, positive gift, a wallet or purse should be on your shopping list, instead.

Wallets with money in them are believed to ward off demons, ghosts, and all other scary things.

Another creepy Christmas fact is the historical origins of mince pies. As a Brit, seeing Americans attempt to comprehend mince pies always figures as a solid meme. But the origin of it doesn’t steer too far from ‘Murican attempts to replicate this Christmas treat.

Back in the 16th century, cannibals would add human meat to pies, selling it off as actual meat. Oh, and this parallels some vague rumour of Santa being a cannibal. Basics, a holy man told him to give gifts to kids instead of eating them.

In some strange and convoluted way this somehow chocks up to mincemeat now insinuating that there is no meat in there, instead.

*shrugs*

Speaking of tasty treats, why not make sure you stick to the rule of the Baker’s Dozen at Christmas?

When bakers would make batches, they would provide 13 of something instead of a dozen in case something turned out wrong. But they would also provide an extra roll, or a bun, at Christmas!

It’s for that reason that on the 12th day of Christmas, you have to take down your Christmas tree. Fail to do so? You’re gonna have to keep it up all year, then. It’s a mouldy pine tree, or its bad luck.

Our next tradition stakes it claim as the twisting of a Crimbo icon: it’s Santa Claus, himself.

But this time, he takes on an urban legend that I’m sure many actually believe: understandably, ‘santa’ can be traced to ‘satan’, as if it is the unholy being himself but in disguise. And ‘claus’? It can be translated to ‘hoof claws’, a running theme we see with the monsters like Krampus.

So, could it be the devil in disguise?

Satan aside, who else likes trooping up to midnight mass and singing about the JC?

Well Christmas carols - and even carolling itself - actually sticks to a relatively dark past. Take Good King Wenceslas - this bloke let in peasants and encouraged them to join his bountiful feast!

Unfortunately, his charitable efforts were not rewarded. He was stabbed with a lance repeatedly outside a church upon his own brother’s orders, and was then dismembered.

Yikes.

Historically, carollers would partake in similarly violent activities, demanding food and drink from their audience. Heck, they would even so so far as to start attacking, raping, and destroying their property!

Guess it wasn’t a very Silent Night, then…

Our penultimate tradition is that of the Nutcracker: Whether you’re watching it, or using it to have a Christmas-specific nibble, there’s no doubt that this is pretty popular image of the festive season.

But - and it’s a big ol’ ‘but’ - it’s based on a truly terrifying story.

No, there’s no ghosts, no ghouls, and certainly no demons. But there is a child marriage.

The story goes that a girl, Marie, sees a nutcracker come to life. Her Grandfather than launches into this story of how men can be cursed with the ugliness of a nutcracker. She replies by saying she’d marry one no matter how they looked.

She is then whisked away into a magical world from which she marries a nutcracker.

This all goes down whilst she is 8 years old.

Our final tradition of terror is less about the abuse of young girls, and more about evil beings breaking into your house. Merry Christmas?

See, you’d think that people coming down your chimney is reserved for one bloke in particular, but it turns out that European tales of malicious spirits taking the same route is a common tale frequently told.

Belsnickel does the same, as do Greek goblins in order to terrorise the residents of the house.

So - What’s Your Verdict?

Which tradition left you shook?

And what Christmas film are you now going to watch to try and wipe this from your brain?

Be sure to hit follow to see a real spooky story tous les jours (everyday for the unsophisticated among us)!

At this point, I would tell you to have a Merry Christmas, but I think a safe one where, you know, you don’t get dragged to hell by Krampus, is best.

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 13, 2021: Ugetsu Monogatari (1953) (Part One)

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society...

Ghost stories are fantastic. They’re an old hallmark of cultures across the world, in our everlasting attempt to understand what happens beyond the grave. Every civilization has their ghost stories, and their ways of telling it. The United Kingdom had Charles Dickens reading his classic A Christmas Carol on stage every Christmas, and that tradition has exploded into essentially a genre of holiday films.

The United States had my personal favorite ghost story written in book form, then adapted into various media. That story, taking bits of European and early colonial folklore, was Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Ohhhhhhh yeah, that’s the good stuff. By the way, I use @adventurelandia’s GIFs A LOT, and I feel like I never credit them in tags or anything, so, uh...yeah, THANK YOU, you’re a goddamn legend and I wish you the best in your Disney GIF-making endeavors. Check out their pages, they’ve got a lot.

Anyway, we’re talking about Japan in this case, and DEAR SHIT, their “ghost stories” have transcended far beyond that into just being a part of everyday folklore and belief for many people. But today’s movie isn’t just about ghost stories; it’s also about how these stories are told.

Jidaigeki (時代劇) are essentially period dramas, set around the Edo period, before the Meiji Resotration. In other words, we’re talking samurai warriors - with and without masters - roaming the land, kicking ass and taking names. And in the case of this movie, the time of the samurai is about to be overlaid by a more fantastical setting.

Based on a 1776 book by Ueda Akinari, Ugetsu AKA Ugetsu Monogatari AKA Tales of Ugetsu AKA The Tales of the Wave after the Rain Moon AKA Yeah, really, that’s a legit alternate name for this movie AKA How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Ghost is a ghost story set within the Edo period, making is a jidageki as well. This’ll be the first jidaigeki I’ve ever seen, but not the last. Goddamn, I can’t wait for Western month.

With that, shall we? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The Criterion Collection logo brings us in, followed by your typical production logos, backed by the most Japanese music I’ve ever heard. That’s backed by that one guy that makes that one Japanese shouting noise, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about, it’s a traditional stage kabuki thing.

We begin proper in a period of civil war, on the shores of Lake Biwa in the Omi Province in the late 1500s. A pottery maker, Genjūrō (Masayuki Mori) is set to leave his wife Miyagi (Kinuyo Tanaka) and their child Genichi (Ichisaburo Sawamura) to sell his wares in a nearby city, Ōmizo. He’s accompanied by Tōbei (Eitaro Ozawa), a dreamer and wannabe samurai who’s getting berated by his wife as he leaves.

While he’s gone, the Village Chief (Ryōsuke Kagawa ) comes to warn Miyagi about a possible attack on the village, and is upset about the fact that he’s left at such a turbulent time in order to seek profit. However, Genjūrō soon returns with a sizeable amount of money for his work, to his and his wife’s delight. They use the money to get food and new clothes, including a kimono for Miyagi. But Miyagi, ever in love with her husband, asks him not to be too greedy in seeking money, thinking of what the chief said.

Tōbei, in contrast, isn’t accepted as a samurai-in-training, and is mocked for lacking a sword and armor (which he doesn’t have the money to buy). He soon stumbles home to his wife, beaten and ashamed. He comes back to work with Genjūrō, who ignores his wife’s wishes and goes fuckin’ HAM on the pottery. This upsets Miyagi, who claims that the hunger for money has changed her once calm and sweet husband, and turns him bitter and irritable.

However, this is about to stop mattering, as the men of the enemy general Shibata Katsuie has come to the village to take the belongings of the villagers, and to take their men for forced labor. Despite forcing his wife to hep save his pottery, the family escapes, along with Tōbei and his wife, Ohama (Mitsuko Mito). Tōbei is a bit held up, though, as he tries to steal armor from one of the soldiers. Nice.

Genjūrō, despite the ardent objection of his wife, goes back to his still running kiln to obtain more of his pottery. However, the fire’s gone out when he gets there, and he and his wife are forced to hide when the soldiers come to search their house for belongings. Once again, they escae detection from the soldiers, and Genjūrō discovers that his pottery has been fully baked in the process. With the help of Tōbei and Ohama, the group grab the pots and makes it to the shore of Lake Biwa, where they go to escape from Shibata’s army. They steer their boat along the foggy lake.

While rowing, the men speak of their soon to be gotten fortunes in the city But then, they encounter a seemingly abandoned boat, eerily breaking through the mists. It belongs to a Boatsman (Ichirō Amano), who warns them of pirates on the lake, who ambushed him as he was going to sell their wares. They give him water, but he dies immediately after giving his warning.

With this bad omen, the men decide to send their wives and Genichi back to shore, as they continue towards the city to sell the pottery. However, Ohama refuses to stay behind, and only Miyagi and Genichi remain behind on the shore, as the other three continue onwards to the city.

At the market, Genjūrō is indeed successful, as the trio sells all of their wares to passerby. One of these customers is a shrouded woman, Lady Wakasa (Machiko Kyō), attended by a handsmaiden, Ukon (Kikue Mōri). She buys a LOT of wares, and instructs them to bring the pots to a large manor later that day. He agrees, and this definitely won’t result in spooky happenings.

Tōbei, on the other hand, realizes that he can now use his shar of the money to buy armor for himself. While Ohama tries to stop him, he runs off and does just that, buying armor and a spear for himself. Ohama loses him in the crowd, and comes to sit on a beach. There, she’s found by a group of samurai, and...well...samurai aren’t necessarily good people. Afterwards, the broken Ohama rightfully curses her husband for his selfishness.

Genjūrō, successful after the day’s sales, goes to look at a kimono salesman, and daydreams about giving all of these kimonos to his wife. This daydream is interrupted by Ukon, who has come to take Genjūrō to the manor. Said manor is abandoned, run-down, and DEFINITELY NOT HAUNTED AT ALL. Genjūrō, lacks common ghost sense, accompanies them to the creepy-ass manor.

However, not all of the manor appears rundown, as Genjūrō is guided to Lady Wakasa, in an intact portion of the manor. As the sun sets, handmaidens at the manor light candles throughout the manor, suddenly making it brighter and less rundown in appearance. As Genjūrō looks on, Lady Wakasa comes in to give him further praise for his pottery.

Genjūrō is deeply honored by the lady’s praise, as they drink from his cups together. She continues to praise his talent, and tells him that he must deepen and enrich his gift...by marrying her at once. And it’s at this point that Genjūrō starts to realize that something is...off. See, Wakasa’s SUPER fuckin’ into him, and she looks at him with those DEFINITELY-NOT-A-GHOST-LADY-EYES

Genjūrō, absolutely not to his credit, doesn’t say FUCK NO to this, in order not to upset her, even as she literally collapses on top of him. He continues to be attended on by her handmaidens, and she performs a traditional dance for him. The song she sings states:

The finest silk of choicest hue May change and fade away As would my life beloved one If thou wouldst prove untrue Our vow to love for a thousand years Is sealed with this cup.

And then, after that song and dance, the voice of her dead dad starts moaning from a samurai mask in the corner. You know, NORMAL NON SCARY-AS-SHIT SCARY ASS SHIT

Um...halfway point? See you in Part Two!

#ugetsu #ugetsu monogatari #tales of ugetsu #the tales of the wave after the rain moon #雨月物語 #kenji mizoguchi #jidaigeki #masayuki ori #machiko kyo #kinuyo tanaka #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #gifs #mygifs #my gifs

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freezing-kaiju · 5 years ago

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mechaphilosophy in the snack aisle

an AsuRei and KawoShin fic. Fluff and meta stuff.

Summary: While running an errand with Rei, Asuka discovers, to her horror, that she agrees with Rei, Kaworu, and Shinji on something: none of them like mecha anime. Nightmares are discussed, hands are held, Kaworu stands on things he shouldn't.

(au detail: modern au, set during community college, no evangelions, au to be named soon)

September. Saturday afternoon, about three-ish, Asuka didn’t bother to check. One of the handful of friends she’d made at the community college had invited her to a movie night at five. Of course, like everything in life, an escape like this came with a catch. This catch wasn’t the worst, though; if she was picking snacks, then she could pick her favorites.

And like always, Wonder Girl decided to tag along.

That was both a problem and a benefit. Benefit, because Asuka knew there was gonna be someone there she could talk to, someone to start a petty fight with, someone to sneak out a window with if shit got rough, someone to make sure she didn’t touch any booze, and someone to back her up and deck a motherfucker if this turned out to be some shitty prank.

Problem, because she couldn’t for the life of her think of a topic to argue about while they bought snacks.

“Well?” Ayanami asked, as she plucked a microwave popcorn package off a shelf and swept it into the cart.

“Gimme a sec.” Asuka’s eyes scanned over the rows of chips, as if bags would give her an idea that wouldn’t be insipidly tumblr-ask-game-y. And she already knew Rei didn’t know a thing about discourse, be it Doctor Who or Voltron.

Wait. Voltron.

Asuka snapped her fingers, yanking a bag off the shelf in a dramatic flourish and lobbing it in the cart. Stopping and checking is for wusses. The chips landed with a satisfying crunch.

“So!” She felt Ayanami’s creepy stare boring into her neck like a vampire who missed the whole ‘teeth’ memo, and whirled around to meet her gaze. “I’ve got our topic.” Hands on hips, smirk in place, Asuka gave herself a dramatic pause. “Mecha!”

“Mecha,” Ayanami echoed, stare flickering away from Asuka to a glance at some shelf. A couple years ago, that would’ve pissed her off to no end. Now she knew better; that was Wonder Girl’s sign she was thinking. She’d learned a lot over the past years. Her signs of discomfort, of happiness, what not to touch (neck), what not to call her (doppelgänger, fake, tool most of all). She liked to hope Ayanami put the same effort in for her.

“Mecha!” Asuka repeated, then added, “Because it’s stupid, and it’s lame, and I’ve never liked it.”

Ayanami remained silent. The corner of her mouth twitched down; frustration, or fear, either of which was...weird, especially for her.

After what felt like forever (but was probably just a minute), Asuka broke the silence. “Uh...hey? Earth to Wonder Girl? This is where we argue? Did ya forget our whole thing?”

Ayanami blinked, slow and deliberate. “I...agree.”

Those two words felt like a slap to Asuka’s face. “You...you what?!”

“I agree. I... I don’t like mecha.” Ayanami’s stare snapped back to meet Asuka’s, and for some reason there was fear in the depths of her red irises. “I hate mecha.”

The two of them were, in a word, shook. In all twelve years of knowing each other, this was the first time Rei’d ever agreed with Asuka. Well, they’d agreed on some things, but never their Specific Argument Topics. And Rei felt stronger on it than Asuka! Jokes about Wonder Girl finally growing a spine, about how “the robot got sentience,” about how the irony of it all had slipped through Asuka’s fingers, and she grasped for a single word:

“Why?!”

Ayanami lifted a hand in the air, and Asuka tensed. Was Wonder Girl going to punch her? Over a stupid anime opinion? Sure, let’s go, let’s throw down! In the grocery store! Because life is already that goddamn crazy! She could feel herself getting fired up.

...but then, Ayanami’s wrist went limp. Her hand twitched back and forth, a motion that practically short circuited Asuka’s guesses. What was she doing? Was there something seriously fucking amiss?! She directed her glare at the hand, then at the Rei attached to it. “The fuck’s wrong?!”

“I,” Ayanami began, still making the weird hand motion, “Can’t explain why.”

Asuka let out a sigh of relief, and immediately cursed the fact she was holding one in at all. “Well! Nice to see I’ve stumped you for once, then!” She let out a laugh that curdled in her mouth when she glanced back at Ayanami, whose face was a mask (well it was ALWAYS a stupid mask, a stupid blank pretty doll mask) of concentration. “Wait, is it, like... serious?”

Ayanami shook her head ever so slightly, and Asuka found herself wishing for the nine thousandth time that her rival could maybe find the guts to express herself more. It sucked a little, being the only one who could read the book that was Wonder Girl, but hey, take pride in all she can. “Your reasons?” Ayanami asked, more pointedly towards Asuka this time.

“Well!” Asuka put her hands back on her hips and took a few moments to parse her thoughts, rattling off each one whenever it popped into mind. “It’s always some military bullshit, first off! Colorful space military, come join, fight the good fight, all that shady shit. Feels like propaganda for a thing that doesn’t even exist!”

“Japan does have a military,” Ayanami said.

“Do they have mechs, though?!” Asuka shot back.

“Fair, continue.”

“Right! And it’s always kids, or teens! Which, I get it, power fantasy, I love that shit sometimes, but like! That responsibility? On someone like, 14?!”

“That’s the conceit of most shows,” Ayanami pointed. Back and forth, good. Asuka craved these kinds of volleys.

“Yeah, but think about it! Superpowers, magic, both of those are usually, like, accidents? Or self-accepted, or born with? But like, a cool mech was built, designed, approved! Someone at the top of the line had to say, oh yeah, put a kid behind the wheel of that big stomping deathbot! What could go wrong?!”

“Much,” Ayanami conceded.

“And sometimes I...” Asuka paused, practically screaming at herself ‘GENUINE THOUGHTS, ABORT, ABORT, SHUT YOUR FUCK’, but her traitorous mouth kept going, “...get nightmares about like, me being in one, fighting all these other mechs, and the dream always starts out fun and perfect and like I’m doing something, and then--”

“And then?” Rei cut in, and Asuka didn’t know whether she wanted to deck her or collapse in her arms, but the words kept going either way.

“And then the mech gets hit, and I fall over, and everything hurts and I’m bleeding all over and I... and I fucking die, every time, I always die screaming and I always die alone!” Asuka hugged her arms to herself, winding down from her rant. She refused to look at Rei. “I just... It’d suck, to die in one of those. To die alone.”

Rei didn’t respond, and Asuka didn’t look... at least, not until she felt Wonder Girl’s cold, soft fingers, ghosting across the back of her left hand. She let go of her own arms, hands dropping to her side, and Rei’s fingers lightly caressed that hand again, then laced with Asuka’s longer, rougher ones. The grip was loose for just a moment, before Asuka gripped on like a lifeline.

“Like this’ll help,” Asuka scoffed, voice barely above a whisper. “Like I need help. I’m fine! I’m-- Just gimme a moment, I’ll be fine.”

Rei gave a slight nod in response, and Asuka stayed quiet. Shallow breathing gave way to proper rhythm, and Asuka put her smirk back on. Everything’s fine. Can’t lose my grip. Thank fuck I didn’t cry. She refused to let go of Ayanami’s hand, though. “Your turn, Wonder Girl,” she prompted, bravado almost regrown.

“Dehumanization,” Ayanami responded. “In two forms.”

“...huh?” Asuka raised an eyebrow. Maybe Wonder Girl’s stance on it would be interesting after all. Especially given her whole... ’tool’... thing. “What d’you mean?”

“First form.” Ayanami held up her index finger. “Mechs are masks.”

Asuka tilted her head. This she wanted to hear.

Ayanami continued, “A person steps inside a mech enough, they stop being a person. They’re a computer, running the mech. The mech becomes them. Like a superhero, but...” She paused, waved her hand again. “But a hero sees their foes are people. If the two of us were in mechs...” Ayanami averted her gaze. “I wouldn’t know it was you. You’d just be a part of a big robot. Just a target. Easy to kill.”

“... yeah, that’s fucked up!” Asuka laughed nervously. How the fuck did it get this heavy?

Ayanami nodded again and returned her stare to Asuka’s face. Her loose hold on Asuka’s hand tightened, almost imperceptibly, but Asuka felt it. “Apologies. Losing you is my worst-case scenario.”

Asuka felt her whole face erupt into a massive blush. Scheiße! What kind of stupid, pathetic, desperate, sweet, romantic shit is she pulling?! What do I SAY?! “You too!” Asuka blurted out, regretting it instantly. “Idiot!” she added, as if it’d sharpen the admittance into a stab rather than a confession.

It didn’t work; to Asuka’s sheer fury, Wonder Girl cracked the slightest of smiles, and... and blushed.

Rei could blush.

Asuka felt her heartbeat ramp up at just that sight. Desperately, she tried to reign the conversation back into direction. “But about the mecha! Your second reason?!” she asked, though she already had a pretty good idea of what it was.

“Second form: pilots are disposable,” Ayanami said, and Asuka dabbed inside her mind. “Anyone can pilot a mech if the pilot dies. Through replacement, or… cloning. The ‘same person’ could be one in a series. That gets internalized. I… would internalize that.” Her gaze grew distant. Scheiße.

“Hey.” Asuka tugged a little on Rei’s hand, and maneuvered around so Rei was leaning on her.

Rei didn’t respond.

“There aren’t any more of you, dummy,” Asuka said. “You’re Rei Ayanami. The only Rei Ayanami.”

Rei responded only to nudge Asuka. Keep going, got it.

“And...and even if there were more! Even if there were a thousand fucking Reis, you’re the only Wonder Girl.”

No response for a moment, two moments, three… then Rei began to hum. It was soft, tuneless... familiar, though. Rei’s hum. Her special weird way to say she felt safe, or happy, or content. Asuka didn’t really know which. Maybe it was all three. She knew, though, that she could listen to it forever.

Unfortunately...

“May I intrude?”

In an instant, the two rivals ripped away, Asuka with a shriek and a jump aside while Ayanami sidestepped silently. As her fury ratcheted from 1 to 14, Asuka’s gaze whipped over to the intruder on their moment.

Perched atop one of the shelves was the lanky, white-haired weirdo Asuka recognized as Kaworu. He was new in town, but he had made a fucking impression; not many people go door to door to tell everyone they’re new in town without being on some kinda list. He flashed a grin that struck Asuka as a little too wide.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Creep! Dummkopf!” Asuka hurled a string of further insults, finishing with, “And what the fuck are you doing up there anyway?!”

Kaworu’s grin remained. He spread his arms and seesawed his shoulders, like he had never shrugged before and was trying out the concept for the first time. “I climbed. Overheard your discussion and felt like joining.”

“What?” Ayanami asked before Asuka could tell him to go fuck off.

“Mmm. What you mentioned, about... de-human-ing, was it? I find it even more tragic, from the unarmed foe’s perspective. Some powerful creature that,” he made strange air quotes, “‘must be dealt with’ is fighting tooth and nail against something made with the most perfect engineering humanity can figure. It’s...sad? Futile? I’m not sure of the proper word...” Lost in thought, Kaworu slipped off the shelf he was perched on and tumbled to the ground, landing on all fours with a hiss.

Asuka burst out laughing, but it turned into a groan when she heard the frenzied patter of sneakers approaching the aisle. Great. Another person. And with my luck, it’s--

“Kaworu! Kaworu, are you okay?!”

...Shinji. Asuka rolled her eyes towards her currently-out-of-breath former classmate, who was scrambling to help Kaworu up, rambling on about workplace safety or something. Lots of things to call Shinji. Tryhard. Lab partner. Sorta friend. Rebound “crush.” Asuka decided to skip any polite pretense. Not a classroom, not Ayanami’s house, Shinji didn’t need to be her problem. “Hey, moron.”

“O-oh!” He seemed to notice the other two and waved a little. “Hey, Asuka, Rei, nice to see you two?”

“Brother,” Ayanami offered as her greeting for the moment. They had been officially siblings for awhile now, ever since the trial, but as far as Asuka knew they were still on shaky ground with each other. All the better, she didn’t want to deal with Shinji’s bullshit any more than she had to.

“How serendipitous of you to arrive! We were just discussing an intriguing topic,” Kaworu announced, as if he were bringing up the obvious instead of grandfathering Shinji into his interruption. “Mecha? Mecha anime? Are you familiar with it, and what are your thoughts on the topic?”

“Uh...” Shinji’s eyes flicked between them, and shrunk in on himself a little. Asuka… okay, she had to admit, that was kind of a worrying way to take an easy question like that. He shrugged. “I-I’ve seen some Robotech, some Gundam, a little of Tiger and Bunny? Saw all of The Big O and really liked it, but... I stopped watching them, I guess.”

“Why? Ya get scared?” Asuka smirked. She refused to even think “mood” in relation to Shinji.

“Kinda? I mean, I-I--” he stuttered, stumbling over his words as ever, “I just, it stopped being fun? I started... I dunno. Thinking about the pressure I’d be under, if I really was in one of those. Can’t pretend I’m a cool robot pilot once I think of it like a responsibility.”

“And the responsibility could be so cruel,” Kaworu added, leaning on and over Shinji. The moron blushed pomegranate red, and Asuka clapped a hand over her own mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.

“I-I mean yeah, I--”

“Let’s go.” Ayanami nudged Asuka, and she made an effort to tune Shinji out. Not like that was hard. “We’re running late.”

Asuka let out a sigh of relief and grabbed the shopping cart again. “Thank fuck. Let’s get the fuck outta this idiot stand... zone... whatever!”

“We had a good moment,” Ayanami observed, not commenting on the mangled insult. Who knows, maybe someday she’d get Wonder Girl to laugh. “And they ruined it.”

“Ugh! Yeah!”

“That moment. It could happen again.”

Asuka laughed. “In your dreams, Wonder Girl.”

#asurei #reisuka #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #neon genesis evangelion #nge #nge horror au #my fics #soryu asuka langley #ayanami rei

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angels17324 · 5 years ago

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The Violet Paladin (Keith x Reader) Ch. 16

If you previously asked to be tagged and I haven’t added you yet could you please ask on this post I’m going back to find if I missed anyone.

Word Count: Update Schedule: Unknown [Masterlist] [Prev]

I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t know how to respond, he was kissing me. We pulled back I could feel how hot my face was. I looked away not knowing what to say.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, “... That was really stupid of me to do,” I was still trying to compose my thoughts does he like me too? “I just didn’t know what to say and you probably have a lot on your mind but I… honestly I don’t know what I was thinking. You probably hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you,” I quickly spoke up. I was still embarrassed I didn’t know how to respond to this at all.

“If I’m being completely honest, I’ve kind of liked you for a while, but I never got to talk to you until all this,” He explained rubbing his neck also trying to avoid eye contact.

“Wait, are you serious?” My eyes widened. This was all a dream come true, yet came at the worst possible time, or maybe the best? I don’t know anymore.

“Yeah, I used to watch you. Not in a creepy way! Or anything like that, just when you were drawing. It was almost like you’d lose yourself in your drawings,``he murmured. He’d watch me? It made me wonder if he’d ever caught me staring at him.

I curled myself into a little ball, I honestly wanted to disappear this was all too much, “I used to draw you…” I uttered into my folded arms, refusing to look at him.

“... Look I know we’re here to save the universe… Maybe we… I guess what I want to say is will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” I responded almost immediately, I never thought something like this would ever happen. This time he seemed to be the one in complete shock. I smiled a bit. After everything else in the last two days this was the best thing. We talked for a few more minutes after this until we both decided it was best to go to bed. I quickly pecked his cheek before going to my room. As soon as the door closed and locked I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it happily.

Before landing on my bed. I quickly changed before getting into bed.

I opened my eyes and looked around I was back at my house in the living room I was on the couch… What was going on? I was so confused, was this a dream or was it everything else. I looked in front of me there was a letter with my name on it, the quick glance I got of it, it was my acceptance letter from the garrison “Mom?” I heard my voice question I turned and saw my younger self.

“Why?” I felt my body moving like the other times was this my moms memory? What was going on?

“What?” I was so confused.

“Why did you join the garrison behind my back!” She shouted. We went back and forth of yelling about why I wanted to join, and how she was saying it was too dangerous, I didn’t know why she had said that until now. It was almost like I could feel my mom’s emotions though she was scared, and angry.

I woke up really early, this was just getting weird, I saw a memory through my moms eyes and feeling her emotions, what is with these dreams, I sighed. I stared up at the ceiling above my bed. I lay like that for a few hours before I had to get up and had to get dressed in my paladin gear. Allura asked us to fix something on the outside the castle.

I was with everyone as Allura and Coran tried to explain what to do. Lance being the ‘genius’ that he is made it turn red and start blaring at us. Only for Pidge to fix it. I will never get over this machinery and tech and I need to start learning about it if we’re going to be stuck here a while.

I glanced over at Keith who was next to Shiro I smiled at him, we had decided that it’d probably be best not to tell the others just yet after everything else that happened.

We came into a weird spore field, Shiro activated his shield and told us to remember our training I saw two fly by and turn to see Lance throw another one and hit Shiro, I had to bite my tongue because it was pretty funny.

“Sorry Shiro I was trying to hit Keith,” Lance said I grabbed one they were pretty squishy. Lance got hit in the face.

“Heh, like that?” Keith asked I bit the inside of my check before throwing one at Keith myself.

“No I think he meant like that.” I smirked.

“YES! Squishy asteroid fight!” Hunk shouted before throwing several, we all were throwing them except Pidge. We had even gotten Shiro to throw a few. “I don’t think this are asteroids,” Pidge said “This bioluminescent pulsing doesn’t seem natural, it's almost like a code,” She explained.

“But that theoretically impossible, you can't program a spore,” I said before someone nailed the back of my helmet.

“Well before you figure it out everyone needs to come in for decontamination,” Allura told us. After we were all back in our rooms. I was grabbing my sketchbook, and maybe going to ask Keith if he wanted to hang out. I walked out to see Coran, Keith, and Lance. Lance had on a face mask and robe and was saying something about him and the blue lion being very happy together. “Guys, check this out!” Pidge called out over the intercom. I quickly put my sketchbook back before joining the others in the green lion hanger.

“Oh, I’ve seen this experiment before! But wait why do we need electricity from a potato?” Hunk questioned.

“No, I was able to crack the sporse code… Heh sporse code,” She chuckled, “I ran the bioluminescent pattern through a variety of code-breaking…” As interesting as I found all this stuff I really wanted her to get to the point.

“What does it say?” Keith asked.

“Oh, right! ‘Under attack. Galra. Help’ followed by coordinates.”

“It’s a distress signal good work, now let’s get those coordinates into the castle-ship’s navigation system.” Shiro said.

“The signal came from Olkarion, home to the Olkari a proud class of engineers.” When Coran pulled up an image of the city I could see the stars in Pidge’s eyes. “An Olkari once gave me this!” Coran help up a floating cube.

“What is it?”

“Uh, hello? A floating cube!” Coran stated the obvious “And watch!” He smirked, “My name is Coran and I’m a gorgeous man.” He said and the cube repeated him. Pidge was amazed by it. However I started to wonder why they used spores as a distress signal, when Keith voiced my exact complaint.

“Actually the signal was coming from the forest not the city Pidge.” Allura explain, as all the joy drained from her eyes. I patted her shoulder.

“We could probably see the city after we defeat the Galra.” I told her.

We were flying our lions before all of them got shot by arrows. “Hey Violet isn’t working,” I said.

“Neither is Red.”

“Seems like we’re being dragged down.” Shiro said. This just didn’t seem like a Galra attack. We landed in front of these people… and wooden mech suits?

Eventually we all got out of our lions where a lady named Ryner explained to us that a small group were able to escape when the Galra attacked and that they’d evolved to use the trees to make weapons and homes. This was honestly amazing to see everything.

Ryner brought down one of the wooden mechs we were amazed and kind of wanted one. Ryner showed us these crown things and explained that we needed to send binary code. I put it on and walked to one of the trees. I placed my hand on it I cleared my head as much as I could before closing my eyes and sending code. I felt a slight heat radiate from my back and hand before I could open my eyes one of them plopped down behind me.

[Next]

Tag List~ (If your have a strike through your name I can’t tag you)

@somebodytouchedmysaeran @ittie-bittie-tittie @izabellah816 @zanysouleggstudent @chraracterfxreader1shots @chewymoustachio

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manggojooz · 5 years ago

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Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 2)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: 3,045

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: none

previous part: Prologue | Part 1

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

comments: too excited to start writing again, not edited just posting first. please reblog or comment if you liked this chapter <3

“Oh my gosh, my ankles hurt so much... I wish we were just chilling in the streets of Hongdae and eating odaeng right now...”, Yuri whined.

You walked around the well-equipped apartment with mouth still hanging half-opened. They provided an apartment for the both of you to stay, in that same lavish building with the boys, just one floor below their dorms.

“Guess that’s what we have to suffer for this kind of welfare?”, you threw open the living room curtains revealing a ceiling-to-floor window that has the most stunning view of Hangang river.

“Yeah you know they are only letting us stay here because we have to be on call 24/7 just in case they find a random creepy fangirl hiding in their closet upstairs right?”, Yuri was turning on her snappiness.

The horror stories which Sejoon relayed while you girls were waiting for the photo shoot to be over were sometimes a little too absurd to believe.

Once they found a fangirl who managed to sneak into the boys’ apartment, pretending to be a plumber, and she was digging through Jimin’s cupboard when they nabbed her. Another time a fanboy tried to pose as the new assistant to the managers and almost drove Namjoon away in his own mini van. Then there was the time a sasaeng got mad that Jungkook was not answering her calls or replying her messages so she stalked him in the hotel during their concert and set fire to his room door when he wouldn’t open it for her.

“Those people are cray cray...”, you mumbled.

“Yeah and guess what, we are going to be dealing with those cray-crays... you see why they have to hire us? Because crazies don’t follow no rules, but people like us, we gotta follow the rules. A man can’t touch a woman... so they hire a woman to "touch" the woman...”, Yuri clicks her tongue and drags herself off the couch, undressing herself for the shower.

---

The next day Yuri and you were brought in to see the management, the management. Her name is Lee Heeyoung, people call her Direction Lee. Even though most people know Bang PD to be the head of Big Hit, he was a producer after all. The reins on the business operations, or in plain simple words, the money, was held in the hands of this woman.

She wore a midi nude dress, which clinged to her gym-built figure alluringly, making it difficult to put a pin on how old she actually is. Yuri and you shifted uneasily in your seats on the couch in her room.

“I hope you girls don’t mind chlorophyll?”, she smiles as she takes her seat and the secretary places three glasses of dark green liquid housed in tall transparent glasses onto the coffee table.

“Excuse me?”, Yuri responded a little too quickly.

The office lady simply continues, “Chlorophyll. I drink one glass of it every morning, it has many benefits. I don’t drink coffee, you see. Try it”, she urged, her facial expression almost never changing from that plastered on polite smirk.

“Thank you”, you said as you nudged Yuri to pick up the glasses and drink from them. It tasted... healthy, and you quickly placed the glass back down.

“Sejoon says that your company needed us to pay a deposit for your services? We don’t usually do that. But Sejoon’s been a great help to the boys since they debut and he said it’s a senior he knows, so I agreed”, she narrated calmly after taking a sip of the seaweed-coloured drink. “I’m not saying this to make you feel indebted to me. I just want you to know that we have done everything within our means to get the boys to the top and we are willing to do even more to keep them there, so please, don’t think of your jobs as inconsequential.”

It was hard to ascertain which of her words bore sincerity, her tone and expression never falters.

---

The boys had no schedule that day, so Yuri and you spent the most of daytime exercising, gaming, and generally bumming around in the apartment. When Yuri’s phone rang, you both assumed it was the jjajangmyeon delivery guy who must have lost his way since it’s been almost twenty minutes from the time Yuri ordered the food.

“Oh Dad it’s you... I thought it was the delivery... Huh? How much does he need?”, and Yuri walks away to answer the phone nearer to the window.

When she finally hung up, you asked her cautiously, “Your Dad? Is everything ok?” You have known Yuri for close to a decade now, her father was the sweetest man, but he often involved himself in other people’s matters and that always makes Yuri miffed.

“Our uncle’s sick and needs money for his surgery. He has no children so my Dad wants to lend him the money. He’s asking me to send it over tonight”, Yuri said through gritted teeth, “He always thinks about helping others, what about us? Why do I have to keep giving away my hard-earned money... ughhhh...”, Yuri blows up and looks at you.

You said nothing.

“Sighs, he’s my uncle, I can’t just watch him die either”, Yuri closes her eyes tight and accepted her fate. You smiled a little watching her solo struggle. She takes after her father after all.

Then someone rang the doorbell. You ran over thinking it would finally be the delivery guy but when you opened the door, Sejoon was standing outside.

“I need one of you to get ready and come with me now”, Sejoon directed.

“Huh? But it’s past 10pm”, you answered instinctively.

“So?”, his eyes widened at your reply, genuinely surprised, “Jungkook needs to go somewhere, just need one of you to tag along. Who’s free now?”

You thought for a moment, “I’ll go, Yuri’s busy...”

“Good. Carpark in ten minutes”, Sejoon then turns to walk off quickly.

---

The car ride was silent. You sat in the front passenger seat while Jungkook sat in the back, typing furiously away on his phone. He was dressed rather formally for his standards, black skinny jeans, black T-shirt and a black jacket fashionable adorned with embroidery. He even styled his hair up for something this late at night. It must be an important meeting.

You entered a building from the back door situated in a soulless alley, eventually realising the place was a restaurant. The private room you walked into was dim, a table was already set up in the middle of the room with two seats, Jungkook taking one of them.

“Jungkook, we’ll be outside, if there’s anything just text me”, Sejoon says it as though it was routine and then pushes you along with him to exit the room.

Both of you then made yourselves comfortable at a table outside in the hall area which was otherwise empty and had a view of the narrow corridor leading to the private room. Shortly after, you spot a lean and dainty woman walking briskly towards the room. She was wearing a cap pulled low to cover her eyes and a black face mask.

You shot up to check on the situation when Sejoon grabs your arm and pulls you right back down onto the hard wooden chair. “We’re good, it’s ok”, Sejoon says as he continues to play his game on his handphone.

---

Time crawled along and when you checked your phone you saw that it was only 11.33pm. This time though, when you looked up again, a woman was strutting forcefully towards your table.

“The paparazzi are gathering outside, I saw at least two from different tabloids. We gotta go, get them out of here, I'll pick them up from the back”, she spat at Sejoon in lightning speed and turns to dash off, not without turning around to make sure Sejoon and you were moving along, “Go! Go!”, she shouted.

“Who was that? What-”, you stammered.

“No time for questions now! Come come!”, Sejoon runs off first towards the private room.

By the time you reached the room, Sejoon was dragging Jungkook out the door. A girl was following closely behind him. As she comes through the door and looks at you, you recognised her. Kang Yeonjoo, a popular girl idol who was well-known for her singing skills. “Are they... secretly dating now?”, you thought to yourself.

“What are you waiting for? Get them to the back door and-”, Sejoon chided as Jungkook and Yeonjoo squeezed past you to run towards the back door. Just then, a flash of light bursts and you turned around to see a huge camera pointed in your direction, aimed right at this narrow corridor.

Sejoon dashes towards the cameraman and yelled at you, “Go! Go!”

---

You ran after the two figures in the dimly-lit back alley. A car screeches to a halt before them, the door flies open and they get into the car. Another man alighted and the vehicle leaves in a rush.

The man walks towards you sighing in a serious tone, “These paparazzi are like hyenas, I guess we have to throw them some meat to fend them off.” With that, he grabs your arm and swings you around, his arm circling your shoulder, causing you to crouch down under the weight.

Something with a cotton-like texture was swung over your head but you could still see flashes of light and hear loud voices through the soft material.

“She’s there!!”, someone shouted and you could practically feel the energy of humans closing into you.

“Hey! Hey! Back down!”, the man who was holding your shoulders bellowed loudly. You felt at least a dozen hands trying to pull and tug at you at the same time, then suddenly the dark cloth covering your head was hauled forcefully onto the ground.

“Ya!! Quick!! Where's the camera?!”, a woman’s voice was thundering into your ear drums.

“What the?! Stand back! I said leave her alone!!”, the man was still holding on to you but was now futilely shielding your face from the piranhas with his forearms. A car horn beeps from far away and you see a black vehicle stop abruptly in front of you.

“Get in! Quick! Get in!”, the man shouted at you and shoves you into the van. But for the chaos that was surrounding you, you would actually have thought that this was a kidnapping attempt.

Whoever was driving the car floored the gas pedal and the car sped off with you in it, still trying to catch your breath. “That was some intense shit, so much for coming back from a vacation and immediately having to fight off an army of paparazzi”, the mysterious man mumbled.

For a moment you actually contemplated whether this was really a mafia’s van. Now that you looked at him a second time, the man has the looks and demeanour of a typical thug, the kind you would expect to be working for people like Madam Yoo.

“Kijin Hyung, Y/N, are both of you ok? I thought I was in a zombie apocalypse movie...”, Sejoon’s voice came from the driver’s seat and you were relieved to see a familiar face behind the wheel, assured that you were now in safe hands.

“Sejoon-ah, the apocalypse is only just starting...”, the man known as Kijin warns forlornly as he leans forward to pat Sejoon on his shoulder. “Let’s send her home first, then we are heading to your office”, Kijin instructed Sejoon.

---

You had fallen asleep almost immediately after you plopped down onto the sofa in your apartment. The next morning you were awoken by the sharp piercing noise of your handphone’s default ringtone. It took you a while to register that it was your phone that was actually ringing since you were not used to this tune.

“Hello?”, you picked up the call after locating your phone on the floor with your eyelids still glued to each other.

“Y/N, are you still sleeping? Come over to the office quickly!”, you bolted up upon hearing Director Lee’s voice.

“Yeah yeah ok, I'm going over now”, you tried to enunciate as clearly as your numb lips allowed you to.

---

You dashed into the agency’s building, impatiently waiting for the lift that never seemed slower.

Finally, you reached the tenth floor where Director Lee’s office was on, and her secretary hastily ushered you in, “Ms Lee, she’s here”.

Inside the expansive office was a bulky black leather sofa set. Director Lee sat in one of the one-seaters, while Kijin and Sejoon were on her right side, Jungkook sat crouching with his hands covering his face to her left. Namjoon sat next to Jungkook, looking rather perplexed but lightening a little when he saw you enter.

“Have you seen the papers?”, the lady queried.

You meekly shook your head, noting the mood in the room to be generally an unpleasant one. She jerks her head slightly towards a pile of newspapers, “Or you could have just used your phone on the way here...”, she said somewhat sarcastically.

Steadying yourself you walked over to the low-rising coffee table, picking up one of the tabloid papers.

“BTS Dating Scandal – Jeon Jungkook’s mysterious girl”; “Boy with Luv – Is Jeon Jungkook secretly dating one of his staff?”; “A Midnight Rendezvous with BTS”

You scanned through the photos, they were all of you dashing out from the restaurant behind Jungkook, and of Kijin shielding you from the paparazzi. A frown starts to appear once you began to understand the situation. At least for now, your face was blurred out in the photos.

“What were you thinking, Kijin Hyung? I know it’s your job to protect Yeonjoo but why did you need to pretend like Y/N was the one meeting Jungkook?”, Namjoon sighed rather aggravatedly.

“I didn’t expect them to catch photos of her face. And they were all ready to chase after our car. If they had followed it thinking that Jungkook and “the girl” were both in it, they will stake it out and they will eventually see that he was with Yeonjoo”, Kijin explained.

“Sure, that’s all fine. But Hyung, how could you tell the media that I am dating her?!”, Jungkook yells at Yeonjoo’s manager, and then glares straight at you.

“Look Jungkook, the scandal has been brewing for a while now. The tabloids continuously send us photos of you out there with someone looking like Yeonjoo and asking us to confirm it. We have paid off so many of them, this isn’t a long-term plan”, Kijin almost sounded like he was pleading with Jungkook.

“Yeah ok, then just deny that I was out there with anyone! Why do we have to say that I’m dating her?!”, Jungkook was exasperated by now.

“There is a girl in those photos Jungkook. Either we have to say that it was Yeonjoo or we have to say it was some other girl. But if we said it was Yeonjoo... would she be prepared to confirm it? Are you two even really... I mean formally... dating right now?”, Sejoon jumps in to clarify, gently proding.

There was a tense silence between the men. And then someone raps on the door.

“Ma’am, Director Park from Rapid is on the line, he wants to speak with you urgently”, Director Lee’s secretary peeped in to say.

“He probably wants a scoop for his tabloid. I owe him one since he blocked out the last one for us. Well I guess the decision is yours then young man, we have to come up with a story this time. Who was it? Her? Or Yeonjoo?”, Director Lee was still as unpredictable as she threw the ball into Jungkook’s court.

Jungkook was tormented, he looked tormented. The entire surroundings started to resonate with him. That was when Kijin stepped in to persuade him, “Jungkook listen to me. It will just be for two months, or at most three. Then your agency will say that you broke up with her. This will quell all the previous rumours about you and Yeonjoo too. Think about it... don’t you realise this is the best way you can protect Yeonjoo from all of this now?”

You could see it in his eyes – his heart was swaying, his mind was being bought over. Kijin knew how to sell him the idea, because Kijin knew that to Jungkook there is nothing more important than protecting Yeonjoo.

“Are we not going to ask for her opinion in this?”, Namjoon blurted and pointed at you.

You were displaced, the only person still standing in ceremony in the room. The black outfit you still wore always suited you, because a bodyguard was meant to be a shadow.

Sejoon shifted a little in his seat before saying uneasily, “I don’t think she has much say in this...”

Without mincing her words Director Lee said as much, “Do you disagree? Should we terminate the service contract with your company and take back our deposit?”

You always hated people who don’t play by the rules, those who punched below the belt. You always hated anyone who took advantage of another when they were down on the ground. But this is reality. There are no rules to the fight.

Yet your insignificant silence was still unsettling, Sejoon stood up and quickly came to your side. “It’s only two months, we will double your pay. And Yuri’s too. Deal?”, he whispers to you while stretching out his hand. You held Director’s Lee challenging stare. “Deal”, Sejoon proclaims himself and grabs your hand in his to shake it, turning to smile awkwardly at the others.

“Good. I am starting to like this narrative. Isn’t this a popular drama trope? Poor girl meets handsome rich guy kind of thing? Maybe this scandal will turn out to do us some good instead...”, Director Lee smirked as she gets up to prance towards her phone.

In ordinary circumstances you will never, never, let anyone use you like this. But you see it, it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. Everyone except you. From the way he looked at you, you knew... that even if Jungkook had not already started disliking you, he surely was starting to resent you now. You were just a shadow, what right do you have to stand in the light, in the place that should be rightfully hers?

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tinydemondragon · 5 years ago

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AHHHHH!! It just keeps going! We haven’t even gotten to the main reason for writing this thing yet!! I promise I’ll get it out soon(ish)!!

If you haven’t checked out part one yet, I would suggest doing so! Otherwise you may be a bit confused haha

~~~

Turns out he didn’t have to worry. Thomas was kind and helped Virgil work out the awkwardness. Though he still wasn’t at his best, he was moving smoothly and recalling more and more with every passing second.

A sudden slam interrupted the little sparring match Thomas and Virgil was having. He nearly tripped and fell on his own face. Only Thomas’ quick thinking kept that from being a reality.

“I’m back!” The man sing-songed. “Who missed me?”

“You’re late,” Logan deadpanned, turning away from Patton.

“Chill out calculator watch, I’m here now no biggie.” With a wave of his arms, the man strode into the room. “Give me just a minute to change and I’ll be here to enlighten you all on what it means to be a fencing prince.”

Something about that voice was familiar, but the man himself wasn’t. Still, it bothered him. Was he supposed to know him? Had they met before? Was he expected to talk to him like they were friends? God he hoped not. Something about this guy just rubbed him the wrong way.

The thoughts were in the back of his mind as he turned back to his match with Thomas. They slowed him down and made him awkward in his movements.

They cycled over and over and Virgil felt himself getting more and more annoyed, more and more frustrated. With himself, with what he was doing, with his inability to push back his anxiety.

Thomas seemed to have been picking up on the fact that something was wrong. “Let’s take a break,” Thomas said, a frown on his face.

Virgil felt himself cringe a little. Even someone who didn’t know him was picking up on his anxiety. Wonderful.

Still, a break sounded nice. With a nod, he went over to Patton, who was still chatting with Logan. Hm. He should see if he could play wingman at some point.

Assuming he could figure out how to not mess that up.

“Hey Pat, got a water on you by chance?” He shifted from side to side, feeling a bit bad for interrupting their conversation.

“Uh…” Patton trailed off. “‘Fraid not kiddo. Maybe there’s a water fountain nearby…?”

“No need.” Logan stated. “There is a small fridge in the office with bottles of water. I can retrieve one for you, if you’d like?”

“Uh, sure, thanks.” He took off the mask with a sigh. He needed to get his thoughts in order, and fast. It was starting to get overwhelming.

Thankfully, Patton seemed to catch onto this. “What’s going on, Virge? You okay?”

Virgil shrugged. He didn’t really want to talk about it, he knew it was an exaggeration. Didn’t make it any less real to him.

Patton narrowed his eyes and tilted his eyes. For a moment, it was quiet, then Patton sighed. “It’s alright kiddo, whatever’s happening, it’s going to be okay. I saw you sparring with that one guy, Thomas? You’re really good! And you seemed to be having fun?”

Thankful that Patton decided to move on, Virgil latched onto the new conversation gratefully.

When Logan returned, somehow the two were debating the pros and cons of spiders.

“Look Pat, they’re not even that bad. They just eat the rest of the bugs and make cool houses.”

“Well listen here, Virge. Those creepy crawly death dealers would eat your leg if given the opportunity!” Patton pouted, and Virgil had to hold back a laugh. They had debated this before, and at this point it was less a debate and more of a well known conversation. A comfort, if you will, in the midst of this new situation.

“They wouldn’t eat your leg,” Logan interjected, looking confused. “They’d eat you whole if they were that big.”

Patton turned to look at him, looking betrayed. “Not helping!” he shouted, though his “distraught” look was ruined by the smile on his face. Virgil nearly choked, holding back his laughter. The anxiety wasn’t gone, he was still bothered by the fact that he couldn’t place that guy’s voice, but it was manageable now.

“Thanks for the water, Logan, I’m gonna head back to Thomas now.” With that, he grabbed the water bottle and started jogging away.

Just as he made it back to Thomas, he heard someone clear their throat and call out for everyone’s attention. It seemed the dude had returned.

Everyone gathered in the center, where the ring was. In the middle was the guy.

“Okay, let’s start the pool bouts, shall we?” The man -Virgil still hadn’t his name yet, what was with that?- clapped his hands together. “For today, let’s focus on using our foils. We’ll do this tournament style, until we get to the last people. Then we’ll bring them up on stage for a DE bout. Make sure to pay attention, we’ll be discussing the match before we head out, to make note of what went well and what needs improvement.”

And with that, everyone dispersed, pairing up randomly. With a wave goodbye, Thomas started heading towards someone else, though who he didn’t know.

He flinched as he felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a man, shorter than him, smiling up at him. “Hey! Name’s Terrance. Looks like you need a partner, yeah?” Virgil nodded. “Come on, I’ll partner with you.”

Virgil was dragged into a different part of the room, but he found himself quietly amused. For some reason this guy, Terrance, reminded him of Patton.

Once they were isolated enough, it was easy to settle into the match. Thrust, parry, block, jump back, thrust, jump back, sidestep, thrust. The motions were fast paced, and all consuming. This. This was what he missed.

Not the ceremony, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the spotlight. Not the matches themselves, though they contributed.

No, he missed this feeling, this freedom. He missed the fact that when he was in a match, a real one, he could think of nothing else. His anxiety was lifted, at least temporarily. It was amazing.

It was enough to make him crave more.

But all things must end. Their bout came to a close when Virgil closed in, making one last thrust at Terrance’s chest, taking the final point.

The anxiety came rushing back.

Would this person hate him? He did just beat them and he wasn’t even a part of this club. Maybe they did hate him?

“That was awesome dude! Where did you learn to fence like that?” Terrance enthused, taking off his mask. He was beaming, no trace of bitterness or anger on his face.

“Oh uh, I had this summer camp I had to go to when I was little. Learned there. I moved before I became a teen though, and stopped doing it.”

“Oh neat! I know someone else who learned at a camp. Say, what was that camp called?”

But before Virgil could answer, Thomas came up behind him, bringing someone else with him.

“Hey guys! Virgil! This is my friend Joan. They’re the one who won, and I mentioned that you’re pretty good.” Joan waved.

“Sup. Who won between you guys?” They asked.

“Oh, Virgil did. You’re right Thomas, he is good. He’s apparently been doing this since he was a kid!” Terrance said.

“Not exactly,” Virgil muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Like he said, the spotlight wasn’t his thing.

“Hmm, I think I shall be the judge of how good you are! Let us duel!” They declared, striking a pose. Virgil could help but snort.

From there it was a whirlwind of highs, interrupted at the end of matches, when the anxiety returned. But, as he went on, bout to bout, the crash became less intense, affected him less. He was having fun. He was losing himself to the joy of parrythrustdoge and loving it.

In seemingly no time at all, he looked around and realized almost everyone was sitting on the edges, out. He was shocked, standing there and blinking. Wait a second, was he the only one left?

No, the leader dude was still left, sparring with someone else. He was… really good.

His moves looked effortless, like he was gliding through the air. He was fast too, turning a parry into a counter almost faster than the eye could see. It was… enchanting.

Virgil stood there for a second, just staring at him, enraptured. With one deft movement, it was done. The guy had scored the final point, a face hit executed so well it only seemed natural that it would happen.

With a flourish and a bow, he ended the match and took off his face mask. “Well then,” he said, taking a look around. “Seems we’re on the final match, hm? Who, pray tell, is my opponent?”

With a gulp, Virgil stepped forward. He was gonna get destroyed, wasn’t he?

Tag list! @coconut-cluster, @madsk3tch, @thgjclw, @lydixa-petal, @thatcacidork, @its-the-cat-queen

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #logicality #sorta?#prinxiety #eventually i promise #fencing au #ts sides

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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Not Your (soul)Mate {12/16}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: As always, thanks to @captainsjedi for all of the time and effort she put into making all of the wonderful artwork for this story! It’s the coolest thing to get to have❤️ And thank you to the organizers of @cssns!

Also, look! I add a chapter! You guys now get an epilogue! Woohoo!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @cssns

-/-

Killian: But categorically, you cannot tell me that cold pizza is better than fresh out of the oven pizza.

Emma: Ugh. I’m not saying that. I’m saying that if you get nasty delivery pizza, it’s just as good cold as it is warm.

Emma: If you’re getting wood fired pizza, obviously you eat that shit warm.

Killian: ‘Eat that shit warm’ is not a sentence I ever wanted to read.

Emma: Don’t make it gross.

Killian: It’s too late for that.

Emma: I seriously want Ariel to get a pizza oven in her house because I have to put on a bra to go to Eric’s restaurant.

Killian: I mean, I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t.

Emma: Again, don’t make it gross.

“Are you texting your boyfriend again?”

Emma jumps in her office chair, her phone tumbling out of her hands and onto her desk, bouncing around until it lands on top of her computer’s keyboard, jamming down on several keys all at once like a toddler that just got one of those toys that make too much noise when you press a button. That’s not going to mess the database she was going through up or anything. They finally got the funding to computerize their files, so she spends all of her days doing just that. She’s really regretting putting in that request right about now. She won’t in a few weeks, but she does now.

(At least they didn’t have to make a calendar or do a bake sale. She really doesn’t need to see a picture of David wearing, like, a “Kiss the Cook” apron and nothing else just to raise a little money.)

She also regrets tossing her phone in the air and how quickly her heart is beating. David’s going to see the nerves all over her face, going to see how frazzled she is, and he’ll see right through it. Hell, he pretty much already does. At least he’s a hell of a lot more chill than Mary Margaret.

Not like that’s hard.

(What, like it’s hard? Elle Woods for the win, always.)

Last night she was eating dinner with them at the farmhouse, and for approximately three seconds she looked down at a text on her phone and apparently smiled. She’s sure it was nothing more than a slight curve of her lips, a whisper of happiness, but Mary Margaret practically threw her fork across the table (which is a great way to stab someone in the eye) and demanded to know who she was talking to.

It was Killian. It always seems to be Killian.

She’s not sure how she feels about that even if she’s admitted to herself that she kind of (definitely, really, truly) likes him. It’s a very odd feeling that makes her soul feel like it’s not connected to her body.

She told Mary Margaret that it was Ariel complaining about how much it sucks to be eight months pregnant in the summer heat. The fact that Mary Margaret didn’t call Ariel right then and there and offer up every bit of advice was a miracle. Honestly, looking back, Emma knows that she should have said that she was talking to Ruby about a date that she has. Mary Margaret rarely asks for more details on Ruby’s dates than what Ruby offers up, not that the girl leaves a lot to be desired. It’s one of her best and worst qualities all at once.

But Mary Margaret believed her and got carried away talking about the joys and sorrows of motherhood, and if it weren’t for David, she would have gotten away with her lie unnoticed.

She feels like a freaking Scooby Doo villain thinking something like that.

If only she had a creepy mask to take off too.

Or maybe not. That could be weird. No, definitely weird.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and you know it,” she says as calmly as she can, reaching forward and grabbing her phone only to look up at David and the smirk that’s plastered on his face with his hands behind his back. “What’s with the creepy look you’ve got going on there?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“So are you.” He moves his hands from behind his back to reveal a small vase full of yellow roses and whatever that white filler flower is. It’s some weird name like breath of a baby or baby’s breath because that’s totally what a flower should be called. “Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t send baskets of baked goods and flowers to my friends.”

She’s definitely going to kill Killian. The word is in his name, so it’s basically fate.

Murder should not be where her mind goes.

That is probably not the reaction most people have when they’re sent flowers by the man they may possibly have some major feelings for, but she is not most people. She thinks of murder when she should be thinking of...romance? Is that the word she’s looking for? Do these flowers signal romance?

It’s all confusing. Seriously. She has no idea what’s going on. She has no idea if there should be feelings of romance or murder or even friendship.

Okay, friendship seems like the best option. Murder seems like the worst.

“Those probably aren’t for me,” she lies, knowing that it’s a horrible one, especially since David already knows who sent them.

David rolls his eyes before placing them on her desk. “Your name is on the note.”

She glances toward the flowers and at the note, Killian’s handwriting largely penned across the envelope, before she looks up at David, nerves working their way down her arms. Which, technically thinking, that’s how nerves work, but she was never really very good at biology.

“Did you read it?”

“I can be an ass, but I’m not going to read the closed note that your not-boyfriend sent you.” David shrugs his shoulders and sits down in his desk chair, rolling it up underneath the desk. “And I’m not as nosy as my wife.”

“Which is why I can spend so much time with you.”

“You have to spend time with me. Did you notice that we’re missing the hard copies of the files for the Anderson case from two years ago?”

“Yep. I’ve already emailed the records office at City Hall to see if they have anything. I don’t know why it would be there, but it always could be.”

“If this town ever had serious crime, we would be screwed.”

“Hey no, I kick ass. We could totally work that thing out.”

“You’d intimidate everyone until they confessed.”

“I am a very intimidating woman.”

“Who receives flowers from men who are pining after her.”

She huffs, not wanting to even respond to that, but she grabs her empty to-go cup from her coffee this morning and throws it at David, hitting him in the back of the head. He doesn’t even acknowledge it, letting the paper fall to the ground and clatter against the tile floor all while he hums to himself a theme song that she recognizes from one of Leo’s shows…which means she’s heard that theme song far too many times since it’s not her kid.

Seriously.

And Killian Jones is not pining after her. Definitely not.

(David knows far too much, but at least he doesn’t know that Killian is her soulmate.)

They fall back into work after that since they are technically supposed to be competent professionals in a very loose sense of the word, and she tries not to look at the vase of flowers on her desk for the next few hours, telling herself that it’s not a big deal and she absolutely will not read the note until she’s finished getting through this section of files. She will do her job first…whatever it is with Killian can come second.

Surprisingly, working on her computer keeps her busy until her shift is over, and since it’s Friday, she picks up her vase of flowers and holds them in her lap as she drives home, hoping that there’s not pollen or anything to get onto her shirt since she knows from experience that it’s hard to get out. Plus, she really likes this shirt. And it’s not until after she’s changed out of it and into some shorts and a t-shirt that she remembers to check her phone and the note that came with the flowers.

The note with the flowers comes first. Priorities and all that.

Swan,

So I couldn’t decide between sunflowers and yellow roses. And before you get any ideas as to why I’ve sent you flowers (besides the fact that I imagine whoever delivers them to you will tease the hell out of you. I’m hoping for Dave.), just know that Luis and Luca made me buy a voucher booklet from their school, and the one to the floral shop was about to expire. So it was either you or Will, and Will isn’t quite as pretty as you are.

I hope they bring a little extra sunshine to your day.

Killian

She pulls out her phone and sends of a quick text, unable to stop the small smile that’s formed on her face. Unable to want to stop it, really, as she falls back against the couch, her legs hanging over the end.

Emma: I’m glad you used your flower shop voucher on me.

Killian: Yeah, well, like I said, the other option was Will.

Emma: If he comes over tonight, I’ll tell him they’re for him.

Killian: They viewing apartments still?

Emma: Yep.

Emma: I have ‘All By Myself’ playing on repeat.

Killian: That’s very fitting.

Emma: I thought so. Any fun plans for you tonight?

Killian: I am wrapping all of the gifts for tomorrow and then going to sleep early to celebrate the near end of summer and my mildly busy season.

Emma: You are the life of the party.

Killian: Just wait until the baby shower tomorrow. I’m going to crush all of those awful games. No one can change a diaper as fast as I can.

Emma: Is that on your resume?

Killian: Yep. Liam is a bloody stickler of a boss. The skills we have to have here are insane.

Emma: I thought you were co-owners? I don’t think of Killian Jones of ever being anything other than a boss.

Killian: I have that commanding of a presence, do I?

Emma: Well, your ego does demand a lot of the space in the room.

Killian: Luckily for you, I’m happy to share the space so your ego can have a little room to breathe as well.

-/-

When she wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sound of movement in Belle’s bedroom, and she instinctively pulls her pillow over her face. Maybe it’s to cover her ears. Maybe it’s to smother herself over the sounds that she’s hearing in the next room. Who knows? She certainly doesn’t. And as sad as she is to be losing Belle as a roommate whenever she and Will find a place of their own, she is certainly not going to miss the muted sounds of Will’s dirty talk.

Seriously.

A woman can only take so much.

(Belle can apparently take a lot. She keeps asking for more.)

Instead of suffering in silent misery, she gets up out of bed and slips into a pair of sandals, figuring she can go check her mail just to get out of the apartment while Belle and Will finish. She and Killian have mostly been texting over the last few weeks, their conversations going deep into the night and throughout the day, but they’re also still sending letters. It’s a weird thing, she knows, and every internal instinct that she has is telling her to burn the letters and run, but something keeps her from setting it all aflame.

Someone.

She’s lost her mind. She really has. Killian is…he’s Killian. He’s a nice, handsome guy who makes her laugh and causes the bricks weighing down her shoulders to lift one by one until she’s not feeling quite so weighed down anymore. He’s her – they match up well, and she still doesn’t know how to feel about that. She knows how she feels about him, she knows that she likes him, that she enjoys talking to him in the limited way that they can, but then, in the back of her mind that demon comes out and whispers in her ear that he only likes her because they’re soulmates, that the knowledge is tainting their...relationship thing.

That’s been one of her worst fears ever since she found it.

Because what if she falls in love and he doesn’t? What if they break up? What if it doesn’t work out? What does she do then? What happens if the one person she’s supposed to be with forever doesn’t want to be with her? Is she supposed to then live out the rest of her life as the poor girl who was too broken for even the universe to help out?

The ‘what ifs’ kill her.

Not really. She’s obviously still alive and breathing and all that fun jazz, but they still keep her up at night wondering of all the ways this could go wrong. And she doesn’t really know how any of this can go right. She likes sex. It’s a great time, it feels freaking fantastic, but she and Killian can’t possibly live out the rest of their lives wanting to constantly have sex whenever they have conversations. Logistically, that’s not possible. And, like, she knows it’s better now than the first time they met, than the second time too, but every time she spends an extended amount of time with him, especially when they talk, all she wants to do is grab him by the collar again and kiss him.

Just without the clothes and all.

Definitely without the clothes.

If she could put into words how she’s feeling, she’d write it in one of these damn letters and never mail it simply so that she can maybe understand.

Understanding is never going to happen.

There’s no one at the mailboxes or in the laundry room, so before she even gets her mail, she runs back upstairs and grabs her basket of clothes and detergent, humming to block out the noises still happening, and then walks back to the basement, putting her clothes in the washing machine before getting her mail, taking the one letter that resides there, and propping herself up on the wall of unused machines as she reads.

Emma,

I’m going to blame the rum for this letter. I really am. It’s around two in the morning, the moon high in the sky. We’ve just spent the day together, which was bloody wonderful by the way, and I can’t seem to stop thinking of things. Even as I write, it seems rather foolish to put my thoughts onto paper, but hopefully I won’t think to mail the letter. Or maybe I should. I honestly don’t know. This is all uncharted territory for me, and I seem to be diving in headfirst even if I am wearing a life jacket.

You see, I rather fancy you, Emma (No Middle Name) Swan, and it’s been a long time since I fancied a woman for more than one night or possibly a few weeks. The last time that I did, I had my heart broken so horribly that I retired from the Navy and moved across an ocean. Quite dramatic, don’t you think? I’ve been told that I’m a dramatic ass. That may have been Liam, but it also may have been you. I can’t recall at the moment.

Her name was Milah. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning, and I loved her with what felt like every beat of my heart until her heart was no longer mine to love. We met at a Naval Christmas ball. She was there with her brother, and I’ll never forget the black dress that she was wearing. We danced, and as they say, the rest is history. But as you know, I’m a bit of a history buff, so I like the details. I imagine you might too. I always knew that she wasn’t my soulmate. I didn’t have a sign, but she did, a simple tattoo on her hand. It was something we didn’t talk about in our three years together until one day we came across a man with a matching tattoo. She didn’t leave me, not at first, but as she got to know him, she fell for him. And who was I to keep two soulmates from having each other?

I think that’s what makes it worst of all. There was nothing wrong between us, but she had someone who she belonged with. It wasn’t me.

So you may think you’re the only person with an aversion to soulmates. You’re not. We all have our issues, our baggage, but I’ve found that since spilling that iced water down your dress (you should wear that dress more often by the way) the weight on my shoulders seems to have lessened. I’m…happier, I guess. I have such a wonderful life, but lately, I’ve had more reason to laugh. I think it’s because of a certain blonde with a penchant for mismatching her socks and junk food that no sane person would ever eat so regularly.

But who knows? This could all be the rum speaking.

Love,

Killian

She reads the letter three more times before she truly allows herself to let all of it sink in. It’s been three weeks since Labor Day, three weeks of the two of them going on and continuing to text and write letters – ones other than this one – and yet this one has shown up in her mailbox this morning. Either the US Postal Service really sucks or Killian didn’t send this the night he wrote it. He was likely drunk, at the very least tipsy, but he’s the most well-spoken (written) drunk man she’s ever seen.

And he bared his soul to her.

Because she makes him happy.

She does that.

Her gut feeling is to run, not really sure where she’d run to since this town and these people are her family and she’d never leave them, but she wants to run from her feelings, from the way that her insides unpleasantly twist and the way her heart squeezes. She knows that she feels the same way about Killian, that he makes her happy, but seeing it written out like that, seeing the words in Killian’s handwriting, that’s an entirely different story. And it doesn’t matter that he was drunk. Drunk words are sometimes the most truthful.

How in the world is she supposed to handle any of this?

Does she push it away? Pretend she didn’t get the letter? Does he even know that he sent it? Does he remember writing it? Should she write something back? What the hell would she write back? How would she even do that without having a little liquid courage too?

She can’t get drunk today, not with Ariel’s baby shower, but she really, really wants to.

That’s the thing too. She’s not even sure if she wants to get drunk for herself or because Killian’s letter brought back every feeling of abandonment she’s ever experienced. He was left, just like her yet again, and whether she likes it or not, they do understand each other.

(Of course she likes it, likes being understood.)

Her brain never quite turns off after that, reading the letter over and over again so many times that she might as well have it memorized, and she only knows that she moves because she changes her clothes over into the dryer, cleaning out the lint filter before twisting the knob and listening to it rattle to drown out all of her thoughts.

Goodbye shower. The laundry room is now the place to have an existential crisis.

But she does somehow manage to turn her thoughts off enough to know that she really does need to shower, so while her clothes are drying, she heads back upstairs and takes one, quickly washing her hair and her body, shaving her legs up to her knees since her dress for today only really shows half of her calves. She’s got three hours until Ariel’s baby shower, but she needs something to do, so she tugs on her dress, letting the blue and white striped print hug her body, and takes the time to apply her makeup, going through an actual routine instead of simply slapping some mascara onto her lashes.

Today really must be shaping up to be a day.

“Why are you already dressed?” Belle asks when she walks out of her bedroom, making her jump at the sight of Belle sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal in pajamas that she definitely wasn’t wearing an hour ago. “And why do you look like a deer in the headlights?”

“Oh, I, um…”

She tugs at the waist of her dress, pulling the tie a bit to tighten it as she thinks of a lie. As much as Belle knows about she and Killian, she doesn’t know the half of it. She purposely hasn’t told anyone. She can’t. If everyone thinks that she and Killian are flirting and maybe fucking, that’s fine with her. That’s nothing. But if anyone were to know that they were soulmates, it’d make everything far more complicated. There would be expectations and hopes, and if others have those, how could she not? And why can she not figure her brain out?

But Killian told her he wouldn’t tell anyone, so no one else is going to know.

“I’m doing laundry,” she finally says, knowing that the best lies are routed in truth. “I needed something to pass the time, so I went ahead and got ready. Well, with everything but the mess of my hair.”

Belle’s brows pinch together, but she doesn’t say anything else, scooping her spoon into her bowl before taking another bite. “So Will and I think we found an apartment yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, nodding her head. “It’s downtown, in that cute little complex across the street from Granny’s with the pink awning. I loved it. I mean, it’s bigger than this place, but it feels very homey. And there’s this built in bookshelf that I think I might love more than I love Will.”

“Oh good. That means I can keep the one here.” Belle rolls her eyes, and Emma walks forward to pull out her chair from the table before sitting down. “I’m so happy that you guys found a place. Like, obviously I’m going to miss you, but after the show I heard this morning, I think we might need a little space.”

Belle doesn’t even blush. All she does is reach into her bowl and pick up a dried strawberry, flicking it at her. “In all fairness, you never wake up that early on a Saturday.”

“I mean, how could I sleep through such a performance? Whatever you’re doing, you’re obviously doing very well.”

“You’re going to share all of this at the wedding, aren’t you?”

“Oh absolutely. And if you put a little tequila in me, I might even act out my own version of the events.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get arrested for that.”

“I’m on good terms with cops. Where is your partner in crime, by the way?”

“I left Ariel’s present at his place, and he went ahead and went home to get it and get ready. You want to drive there together?”

“Absolutely.”

-/-

“Why do you look like you’re dying?” Ariel asks, wrapping her arm around Emma’s waist as she stands in Ariel’s kitchen looking at the spread of food out ahead of her, Max wandering around the table in an attempt to get scraps.

“Because I am. What’s up with the creepy pigs in a blanket snacks that are made to look like babies? Am I supposed to eat those?”

“No, no.” Ariel rubs her hand up and down Emma’s back, and if she wasn’t already thinking about the fact that one of her best friends is having a baby while the other is getting married, she’d definitely be thinking of all of the motherly instincts that Ariel possesses and how she has likely never had those even if she thought that she did at one point. “That’s just a weird thing that Mary Margaret brought. I think she saw it on Pinterest and thought it would be cute, but it’s super creepy.”

“I mean, like, the creepiest. And the deviled eggs are the same way.”

“I’d stick to other foods if I were you.”

“Anything not baby related.”

“Ah, yes, but save room because I believe there’s a game later where we have to eat baby food.”

“Just kill me now.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

She rolls her eyes and leans her head over to Ariel’s shoulder, wrapping her arm around Ariel’s waist knowing that she’s taking up too much time from the guest of honor, but everyone else seems to be just fine milling around the kitchen and living room, most of Ariel’s regular furniture pushed aside to fit in table cloth covered tables with flower centerpieces sitting in the middle of all of them. It’s cute, and she has to admit that Mary Margaret definitely knows how to host a party, weird food choices aside. But it most definitely hasn’t been the worst hour of her life, especially since she knows every single person here. The only real issue was when Killian showed up because she thought that she was going to have to stop talking, which isn’t the easiest thing in the world when she’s with her friends. But he stayed away from her, making sure to speak quietly instead of being his usual commanding presence.

His words, not hers.

And mostly she was thinking about how refreshing it is to have both the father of the baby and male friends at a baby shower. She gets that the woman pretty much does all of the work (she’d like to speak to someone about that because it seems fundamentally unfair), but both Ariel and Eric are having a baby. It’s not simply Ariel’s to raise. It’s Eric’s too. And yet most fathers don’t show up to showers, don’t put in the effort, and no part of her has ever understood that. But maybe she’s simply hoping for something that’s better than most people’s reality. She doesn’t know. She never had parents, never got to see it first hand, but when she thought…no, it doesn’t matter. None of that was real, and there’s no use in thinking of it now even if thoughts of Neal have been niggling themselves into her mind since this morning.

She’s simply glad that Ariel has Eric, that they have each other and baby Fisher.

They have a family.

“I’m not eating pureed food unless it’s, like, pureed donuts or something.”

“They don’t make pure sugar for infants. That would be a fundamentally awful idea.”

“Eh, I don’t think so. The babies would probably be super happy.”

“You’re going to be the person who gives the baby sugar right before you send them back to me, aren’t you?”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“Alright,” Mary Margaret claps, making Emma turn her head to look in the living room, “who wants to play a game?”

The game isn’t eating pureed baby food, but somehow it is much, much worse. In reality, she knows that it’s really not that bad. It’s cute and funny, and if she wasn’t who she is, she’d be thankful that this is the game that Mary Margaret picked out because it’s damn fun.

Who’s That Baby?

She’s got a large board full of baby pictures, some of them adorable, others a little scary (not that she would ever say that out loud), and everyone is having to guess which baby is who. She hasn’t guessed a single one because, really, she’s selfish and can only think about the fact that her picture isn’t up there.

And she knows this because, well, Mary Margaret never asked her for one. While Mary Margaret can work wonders, it would be pretty much impossible for her to gather baby pictures of everyone without anyone knowing, so she must have asked everyone to send them in. But Emma was never asked, not at all. Sure, she could pass it off as an oversight, as a mistake, but she knows that none of that is true.

Mary Margaret didn’t ask for her baby picture because she knows that she doesn’t have any.

Today was not supposed to be emotional like this. Today was supposed to be…a sob suddenly catches in her throat, one she has to force to keep down, and when she feels hot tears forming in her eyes, threatening to escape, she quietly excuses herself from the room, knowing that she won’t be missed if she ducks into the bathroom for a moment. But the bathroom is locked, and since she sure as hell isn’t going to go into the nursery right now, she opens Ariel’s bedroom door and collapses against the wall, letting her legs bend until she’s sitting on hardwood and pulling her legs to her chest as she tries to breathe.

Breathing is seeming pretty difficult at the moment.

So is not crying.

Why does she want to cry?

That’s a dumb question. She knows why she wants to, why she’s about to, but it’s been almost eight years. Things like this shouldn’t hurt anymore, should they? She should be over it. She has to be over it.

She isn’t over it.

Another sob rumbles through her, this one escaping from the confines of her throat, and when she hears it, even she notices how ugly of a sob it is. It’s one of those where she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but let her shoulders tremble and tears fall down her cheeks. The more she tells herself to calm down, the more uncontrollable she gets, the more she feels like she has no control over anything.

And then there’s a click, a turn of a knob, and she’s paralyzed in fear and embarrassment that is only exacerbated when she sees tight blue jeans over muscled legs and a simple white button down with small light blue stripes that she knows belongs to Killian.

Words don’t come out of her mouth even though she’s got an excuse on her tongue, a pathetic one about being allergic to the weird baby themed foods, and while she expects him to be snarky, he’s not. It’s so much worse because after she takes one look at the raised brow on his forehead, he slides down on the wall next to her, their thighs hitting each other as his arm wraps around her shoulder so tentatively that she nearly grabs onto it and pulls it over her shoulder herself.

She definitely has gone crazy.

But when she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move away from his embrace, he moves closer to her, his embrace a little tighter, and she can feel the heat of his body all over her as his hand rubs up and down her shoulder while she buries her face in his shirt near the slight exposure of his collarbone and the chain that resides there. He smells like the spice of his cologne, something warm and comforting, and even though it’s ridiculous, that’s what calms her, what makes her stop crying, just the smallest of whimpers and hiccups occasionally escaping her lips.

It should hit her that she’s having a meltdown in her best friend’s bedroom at said best friend’s baby shower in front of the man who she has…something with. But honestly, she feels puffy and exhausted, and she’s more concerned with the fact that her mascara is going to ruin Killian’s shirt and the way that his hand seems to be large enough to cover every inch of her as he comforts her.

And she focuses on the fact that he’s silent.

Well, he was.

“You know, darling, I think that you should cry in here a little longer so that Ariel and Eric can get some practice with someone crying in their bedroom at weird times.”

She huffs into his chest, rubbing her nose into his collarbone as his scent consumes her. “That’s bold of you to assume that there’s not already someone crying in here on a regular basis.”

There’s a thud against the wall as Killian’s head falls back with laughter, his chuckles deep but light, and she hiccups again in response, not really able to do much else.

“Now, Swan, I don’t think their sex life is that bad. They are having a baby.”

“Believe it or not, an orgasm is not required for conception.”

“No, it’s not.” He rubs his hand up and down her arm again, squeezing her bicep before continuing and moving along her back so that his nails trace patterns into her skin. She must be really upset and out of touch with herself right now because they’re talking, and she feels no shivers running down her spine or heat curling between her thighs. Maybe all it takes is for her to be having a meltdown. That makes it even worse. It’s probably just that they haven’t talked enough. “Would you like to talk about what’s got you hiding away in here, or do you want to talk about our friends’ sex life for a little longer?”

“Can I have the option of neither?”

“No.”

“That’s unfair.”

“So is life.”

Emma rolls her eyes knowing that Killian can’t see it, and maybe that is the reason why she rubs her eyes into his shirt some more. “Aren’t you going to get a boner if I talk too much?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Ridiculous man.

(Sweet man.)

“I got your letter about Milah this morning.” Killian’s hand stills and his tongue clicks, but she keeps going, knowing that if she’s going to talk, it’s got to be while she can’t control her body and emotions and her tongue basically has free range. “I don’t know if you knew that you sent that, if you did it on purpose or got drunk again, if the mail was just late. I don’t know, but I read it while washing clothes and I hated it. I hated that you were screwed over, that you were screwed over by the whole soulmate thing. I mean, you were in love, and it ended because of what? Because she had a tattoo that matched another man? That’s such bullshit.”

“It’s okay, love.”

“It’s not. Nothing about any of this is okay. But, like, that’s not even why I’m having a meltdown. I mean, you definitely put me in a confused mood because you talked about your heartbreak and how I’m helping with that, and I – I can’t deal with any of that right now when all I can think about today is the fact that there are all of those baby pictures up on that board and not one of them is of me. Mary Margaret didn’t even ask because she knows that I don’t have one, that no one cared enough about me to take a picture and give it to me. And obviously I’m spiraling because then I get upset about a baby that never even existed. I’m not even one of those people who desperately wants a baby or something.”

“What are you talking about, Swan? What baby?”

The only reason she has the bravery to say this is because she’s not being forced to look at Killian, to look at the blue of his eyes, and if she can’t see his eyes, none of this is real, right? It’s like the texts. They’re separated enough that it’s not all overwhelming for her.

“When I was seventeen, I met a guy, Neal. You’ve probably heard of him from our friends. They’ve never met him, but I guess…he’s kind of a legend in the group. Anyways, we dated for three years, and when I was twenty, my period was late. So obviously I’m freaking out, probably having a panic attack, but then I take a test that says I’m pregnant. And weirdly, I feel calm. I feel calm because, you know, I’m going to have a family, have something I’ve never had.”

“Swan – ”

“I wasn’t pregnant,” she interrupts, not wanting him to stop her and ask any more questions. “It was a false positive, a cheap test. But I didn’t know that until after I told Neal, and he basically told me that I should have kept my legs shut before packing his bags and leaving to go live with his father in fucking Tallahassee. So I was left alone with no boyfriend, no kid, and a hell of a lot of bitter thoughts because I thought the man was my soulmate and I’d never have to feel alone again. I thought I was done being abandoned. The joke was on me.”

She’s not crying anymore, not even sniffling, but she feels cold and stiff and like she can’t really breathe through her nose. Here she is baring her soul to this man who has all of the power to break her, and yet she still told him, still let the words pass her lips are they were spoken into his skin. But he did tell her about himself too, tell him how he was broken too, and maybe that comforts her.

Maybe it also comforts her that she knows Killian’s got to be pitching a tent right about now. She’s been talking for ten minutes at the very least with her long pauses and ramblings, and there’s no way that he isn’t struggling. And yet he’s sat in almost silence listening to her and comforting her all the while he wants to fuck her.

What the hell even is their lives?

And that’s why she starts laughing, a chuckle bubbling up through her throat while her shoulders shake, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile, and she moves her head up to look at Killian even though she knows that she probably looks like a raccoon would after a night out at the bar.

That thought is unsurprisingly not the weirdest thought she’s ever had, not even the weirdest this week.

“There’s that smile,” Killian encourages, nodding his head and thumb at her chin while his own smile appears on his face, making eyes crinkle. She likes that a lot. It makes her stomach twist in unfamiliar and yet not entirely unpleasant ways. He complains about them only being there because he’s older than her, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest. “The sun would rise early to see your smile.”

“But then I would literally get less sleep or have to spend money on blackout curtains.”

“I’ll buy them for you.”

She chuckles again and shakes her head even as Killian’s thumb moves from her chin to beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears that remain and probably still continue to flow. She feels like jelly or a blob or something else shapeless, something else that can’t be contained. They haven’t been this close since…she wants to say since she kissed Killian on the fourth of July, but it’s most likely as close as they were on Labor Day.

Summer holidays seem to be a pattern for them.

But it’s nearing autumn now, and her breath hitches as she looks at the scar on his cheek, the freckles near his nose, the long, dark lashes contrasting against blue eyes. He’s such an attractive man, almost so much that it would take her breath away if it wasn’t already gone. She’s not going to kiss him now. She knows that he’s not going to kiss her. But their breaths are intermingling, and she can still feel the warm presence of his hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry that you were hurt like that,” he whispers, her gaze flicking up from his lips to his eyes. “I’m sorry that you were hurt by Neal and Walsh and your parents and every other person who doesn’t deserve you and your funny sense of humor and kind heart.”

“It’s fine. It was all a long time ago.”

“Wounds made when we’re young tend to linger, and it very obviously isn’t fine. You’re having a bit of a time hidden away in our friends’ bedroom, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to be hurt. I wrote you a drunk letter about my ex because I was hurt. I still get angry over my dad leaving and my mom dying. The universe has fucked me over in a lot of ways, but I think it did something right in letting me meet you.”

Oh well damn. That’s just not fair.

“No one should be as good with words as you are. Like, even your drunk letters were basically professional novels.”

He shrugs at the same time that he reaches forward to tuck her hair behind her ear, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. “I was a wonderful English and literature student if I do say so myself. And for someone who reads as many books as you do, I’m surprised you’re not always speaking in limericks.”

“Yeah, well, besides the occasional historical romance, I read a lot of books about murder and mystery. They’re not exactly teaching me to speak like Shakespeare.”

“All I got out of that was that you know how to murder me and get away with it.”

Emma chuckles, shaking her head as she gently pats his chest, their faces still impossibly close. “I’ve told you before, I’m not someone you really want to mess with.”

His brows raise in the way that they always do, the lines on his forehead appearing. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve told you how I quite fancy with you even when you’re yelling at me, haven’t I?”

“You fancy my ass,” she deflects.

“I am a fan of every part of you,” Killian sighs, rubbing his hand over her back in the way that he does where his hand nearly covers all of her, his forearm pulling her closer. “If that includes your ass, so be it. Though, I always considered myself a breast man. You seem to have converted me to both.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or completely and totally disgusted.”

“You can compliment my ass if it makes you feel better.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulls back from him, putting more space between as she moves back to sit a little closer to the bed, her limbs still a little shaky. “I’m not falling for that.”

“Damn, I really could have used the ego boost.” Killian stands from the ground, and she’s not at all distracted by the way his thigh muscles look under his jeans. But maybe she kind of is as she doesn’t notice the way he holds his left hand out, the one covered in scars from the accident, until he’s looking down at her expectantly. She takes his hand, the warmth and roughness overwhelming her, and he helps her stand so that her legs are a little more stable. “Do you think you’re ready to go back to the party? I’m sure they’ve moved onto A opening up breast pumps and someone doing something entirely inappropriate with them. How could we miss that?”

“I mean, the only thing that could top that would be if there were more weird, baby-shaped food.”

“Isn’t that bloody disturbed?” Killian laughs, his face lighting up with joy in that way that makes her stomach twist yet again. Her intestines must really hate her. “I mean, why would I eat that?”

“Because it tastes good.”

“You should not say things like that. I can’t look at you the same way hearing those words come out of your mouth.”

“Hey now.” She holds her hands up before reaching back and tucking the hair that keeps falling in her face behind her ears. “At least there’s not one of those cakes with the baby’s head coming out of a frosting vagina.”

“Swan,” he groans, leaning forward and resting his head against her shoulder while his own shoulders heave with muted laughter, “please don’t talk about that. I’m rather fond of that particular area, and I’d rather not imagine things coming out of it.”

“That sounds kind of painful for all of your sexual partners if you can’t pull out.”

“Well, the baby does have to be made somehow.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

“You can’t say that about everything that I say.”

“I can if you keep getting that ridiculous.”

Killian laughs once more before leaning back off of her and wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulder, the weight heavy and comfortable while he opens the bedroom door with his free hand. “Come on, love. Let’s go see if there’s a cake depicting Ariel giving birth. If not, I hear Mr. French takes requests.”

Ridiculous.

Such a ridiculous man who is making her laugh and feel comfortable with his arm around her shoulder after she just spilled her guts to him about some of the darkest parts of her life. She should feel uncomfortable, awkward, ready to run. She’s been waiting for all of those things since she read his letter. They’re not coming. They could later, but for now, all she can do is laugh at Killian telling her about Liam nearly passed out when Elsa gave birth.

In all of this, all that has happened, all that she has revealed, only one cohesive thought truly remains.

She and Killian are inevitable, always have been, always will be, and she’s fallen into the trap of liking him much more than she ever intended to.

Maybe even loving him.

That’s the craziest thought of them all.

But she has to wonder about the fact that she didn’t feel aroused once in that conversation when she always thought that was the thread that was holding the two of them together.

#Not Your (soul)Mate #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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