#when presented with impossible odds. she looked for alternatives she *tried* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol. This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

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He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed, getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon. It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.” He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties, an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you. “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.” The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too. Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him. He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly. “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers. You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy. You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart. He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen. You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope. You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like. Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

#yandere keigo takami #keigo x reader #Keigo Takami #yandere takami keigo #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #Yandere bnha #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somno #tw dubcon #creepy keigo

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stutterfly · 5 years ago

Text

Swipe Right 01 | Context Switch | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Fic Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was and you don’t want to admit that he had you fooled. You quickly discover he has a lot more to offer than exchanging pleasantries and awkward small talk. In fact, he never seems to shut up.

For the better part of a year, he’s held your irritation hostage, never passing up an opportunity to deliver savage one-liners at your expense. When he discovers you’re on Tinder, he turns up the brattiness factor and intentionally seeks you out. Who knows? Maybe if you gave him a chance he could charm the pants right off of you. Then again, maybe he’s just a fuckboy.

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, like cannot stress enough Fuckboy Jungkook but gets soft later, dirty jokes, talk nerdy to me, PUNS, friendship feels, sexual tension, Jin being bad at copying Mario’s accent, Namjoon being bad at accents

CW: panic attacks, filthy language, this whole chapter is setup so like nothing too bad i dont think???

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (1/?- Ongoing) Do not repost. masterlist // next chapter

(A/N: This is part of my “Activate Your SIMcard” series. Each member of BTS has their own AU in which IT/TechSupport/NerdReader gets dating help/advice and ends up falling in love with them instead. As with a dating sim, the same characters are utilized--same professions, similar scenario placement-- but different interactions/pathways lead to different romances. ~Anyway here’s the Jungkook route.~ The Namjoon route, “Love Bytes” is currently in the works.)

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Nerves wrack your stomach as you make your way down the hall, clinging to the man beside you. His strides seem gigantic next to yours and you find yourself struggling to keep up with him. “Stop walking so fast, Namjoon.”

The man laughs, but slows his pace just enough to allow you to walk side-by-side. “Sorry. I’m just excited for you to meet them.”

Digging your fingernails into the flesh of his elbow, you swallow hard. It’s been a couple months since the young English professor stumbled into your life holding the pieces of some very expensive, very shattered college property. State of the art technology, brand new, busted in less than a week of his arrival. He’d get the biggest chew-out of his life if he presented it to your boss, and you were too sympathetic to let that happen.

While you’d willingly paid for the whole thing out of pocket to cover for the newbie, it had definitely put a strain on your finances and what little social life you had. Within a week he’d worked up a repayment plan than spanned the course of a year. He even started buying you a coffee every Friday as an apology for how long it was going to take.

After a few months of bonding over kung-fu movies, life before Namjoon’s friendship seemed like a distant past, a hazy dream. It was natural that your new bestie wanted to grow your pitiful social circle. But there was a reason you didn’t let people get close to you. The fact that Namjoon had slipped past your defenses so fast made him an anomaly worth dissecting for scientific discovery.

Just the thought of having to now socialize with people you don’t know has your temperature boiling and your head spinning.

He attempts to tug his elbow away from you, and you stumble forward, keeping your death grip on him. “I know, but talking to people isn’t exactly my strong suit. Are you sure it’s best I meet all six at once?”

“You’ve already met Jimin,” he begins, clawing at your hand with long, veiny fingers until you release your hold on him, “but he’s not coming tonight, so don’t worry... you can relax a little.”

Your face twists into a sour grimace as you try to sputter out a response. “I-Pfft. I mean. Jimin’s a model. His face is on billboards and shit. Like… how is that supposed to not be intimidating?”

“Jimin is the world’s biggest sweetheart,” he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue down the hallway. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. I have a feeling you two will get along fine once you stop being so shy.”

You huff and tick your jaw a few times before wringing your hands together. Maybe.

“Anyway. Taehyung is out of town on business, but you can meet him another time. He’s kind of quiet when meeting new people too. Hoseok and Yoongi texted they might be a little late. It’ll just be Jin and Jungkook you’re meeting now. And it’ll be just the four of us for a bit.”

A deep breath escapes you as you hook your elbow with his. “Okay. I just… I’m nervous.”

He stops at the door at the end of the hall and looks down at you. “Give them a chance. If you’re still feeling bad in an hour, then we’ll leave, and I’ll hang out with y’all separately from now on. Deal?”

You eye his extended palm peeking out from beneath the crook of your twined elbows before a smile creeps across your face. You shake his hand. He always knows what to say. “Deal.”

As Namjoon knocks, you leave the comfort of his side, realizing how your anxious clinging might be mistaken for a romantic gesture. You begin to shrink back, trying to hide in his shadow before the door opens. You’re about halfway there when a young, well-built man appears, prominent leg muscles bulging from beneath his basketball shorts as he props the door open with his foot. There’s a cup of instant noodles in his hands, and you’re pretty sure at least half of its contents are dangling from his mouth.

The scent of garlic and rosemary drifts into your nostrils, and you freeze as you cower behind Namjoon, realizing how long it’s been since you last had a decent home-cooked meal. You were promised free food so maybe it won't be so bad after all.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he greets and gestures with his head towards the domicile. “Come in--Oh!”

He chokes a chunk of noodles back into the paper cup as he notices your figure standing behind the tall man.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N,” Namjoon says, stepping to the side and pushing you out into the light of the apartment “I told you she was coming tonight, remember?”

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes widen and he pumps a fist into his chest a few times as he tries to get the remnants of spicy noodles dislodged from the back of his throat. Namjoon sent a bunch of texts this week making sure it was cool to bring someone to hangout night since he’d made a friend at work and wanted everyone to meet them. The way the texts were worded definitely didn’t give any indication that the friend he was bringing tonight was a woman. Maybe they did. Maybe he should have read more of them.

The muscular man before you holds the remaining food in his cheeks and waves bashfully with two fingers as he swallows. "Jungkook," he mumbles, as if the name itself is introduction enough and all but sprints from the room.

Seconds later, a new voice shrieks out from the other room. “What are you doing eating that?! Dinner will be ready soon! Jungkookie if you don’t put that down--!”

A dull smacking sound accompanies the clattering of silverware and plates. You swallow hard, trying to think about anything other than the way the young man had rushed out of the room at just the sight of you. Maybe you’re just that ugly.

“Hey! I’ll eat! I’ll eat! I promise!” Jungkook cries out. His voice drops an octave. “Namjoon is here.” Their conversation becomes indiscernible, but you can’t shake the feeling that you are definitely the subject of their quiet discussion.

You throw a worried glance in Namjoon's direction. "Did I do something wrong?" your voice is hushed as you work your sneakers off, trying to hold in the crazy amount of anxiety that threatens to unscrew the top of your head and send your brain exploding into the ceiling.

Namjoon shakes his head, unbothered by his friend’s odd behavior. "Honestly, I texted him a bunch this week to make sure it was cool and I got one-word replies so I'm wondering if he even read them." He bites his lip and spares a glance back at you, knowing he probably should have kept that to himself.

"Oh," your heart sinks into your stomach and threatens to fall out your butt as you straighten your spine. "If that's the case, should I... leave?"

"Leaf?!" A bright green piece of lettuce is thrust into your face. "How about a whole salad? You can't go before you try it! It's unbe-leaf-able."

You blink in rapid succession, trying to stifle a laugh at the cackle emanating from the man whose bony fingers are holding the lettuce. It sounds like a... windshield wiper? A giggle slips out, stronger than your will to keep it tucked behind your lips, and it only seems to make the grin on his face stretch impossibly wider. Heavy shoulders rise and fall with his laughter, causing the bright pink apron across his chest to wrinkle.

Namjoon groans. "This is--"

"Now do you smell that delicious flavor in the air? Because this just a taste of what you will find at my amazing restaurant 'Heart and Seoul'," he announces, cutting off the man beside you as he clutches the lettuce to his chest with eyes closed. "Where I give you a piece of my heart and soul... Some refer to me as Worldwide Handsome, others call me the God of Cookery. Some call me an angel and believe I fell from heaven." He bows with a flourish and takes your hand in his. "But you can call me..." He finally looks at you, a dark smoulder in his features that sets your cheeks on fire. "Later?"

He seals your fate with a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your jaw, which has been hanging open for some time, finally decides to snap itself shut.

"This is Seokjin, and he's going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner." Namjoon is already ushering his friend back towards the kitchen and chiding him as you purse your lips together to hide the smile spreading across your face. Did you just stumble into some alternate universe where all of the men you meet are ridiculously good-looking?

"It's nice to meet you, Seokjin," you call after them before letting your eyes wander around the room.

Paintings line the walls and photos sit on the bookshelf in the corner. As you approach the shelf to get a closer look, you realize those aren't books, but video games. There must be hundreds. Don't people use cloud storage for most of their games now? Your eyes curiously scan the photos on the top shelf. The man who had introduced himself as Jungkook is in all of them. There's another man in a couple that you don't recognize, but his gaze is piercing and cold when he's not smiling. You're able to pick Jimin and Namjoon out in a few, but it feels like looking at a family photo. Everyone seems so close; it makes you envious.

You lick your lips and can't help but admire the collection of video games underneath. You crouch to get a better look at the ones lining the bottom shelf. You're surprised to see there are games for all types of consoles: PS4, XboxOne, Switch, WiiU, Nintendo DS, SuperNintendo, PlaystationVita, PC... The list keeps going. Jealousy spikes your gut as you note a Mass Effect "SSV Normandy" ship figurine on the shelf above your head. You eye it with wonder and pride as your memories flood with the hours you spent playing the trilogy. Your fingers reach out to brush against the raised letters on the side of the ship.

"Have you played Mass Effect?" a quiet voice asks from behind you.

You jump in place and spin on the balls of your feet in a fluid motion that nearly sends you careening into the basketball shorts in front of you. Surprised by how close Jungkook is standing, you gasp and stumble back into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble and bring some of the frames filled with photos tumbling down onto your head. You wait for the impact but it never comes.

As you look up, Jungkook has several frames balanced on his arms and between his fingers, carefully maneuvering them away from you and back onto the shelf. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Namjoon told me you liked video games too and I saw you looking at the Normandy and I thought maybe you've played it. Ah, I'm sorry."

It's hard to miss the crestfallen way he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floor once he places all the photos back on the shelf. You're still in shock that he caught everything before it smacked you in the head, but you force yourself to respond anyway. "No, it's okay. I'm just a jumpy person. It's my fault. I'm just glad I didn't break anything. I'm... asari? Get it? 'Cause like, I'm sorry... but also hot blue alien chicks, am I right?"

He smiles wide and laughs softly as he offers to help you up. As you take hold of his hand, you're quickly thrust to your feet with an ease you weren’t quite expecting. You steady yourself by reaching out to grip his arm, a movement you reverse the moment you feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt.

"Thanks," you mumble. Feeling his hand tense around yours, you take it back and twiddle your fingers. "So what decisions did you make? Renegade or Paragon? Rachni Queen? Samara's mission? Quarian and Geth dispute? Genophage?" You pause only to take a breath. "If you let Wrex die, we can't be friends."

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a relaxed smile. “Of course not. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You allow a relieved sigh to pass your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

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You must have made a good impression that night. It’s been nearly a month and Namjoon’s friends have started pulling you into their group texts and Saturday night plans. This had been fine by you since you rarely had anything going on. Honestly it was kind of nice to be included.

While you still don’t exactly know everyone, you feel fairly comfortable talking with your new friends. Seokjin is absolutely hilarious. He’s so full of himself that his cockiness rides the line between charming and annoying; it’s hard to decide which aspect overwhelms his personality more. But you know that you find him irrefutably, irritatingly attractive because of it.

Jungkook is still polite and rather gentlemanly towards you. Your conversation about Mass Effect was enough to tide over any residual awkwardness regarding your initial meeting. He’s just a muscular, nerdy introvert who seems genuinely nice. However, Namjoon insists that Jungkook is still hiding a louder, brattier side when you’re around. He’s got this theory that since you’re a friend of a friend, Jungkook is holding back his usual antics for some reason. The harmless little crush you’ve developed on him has you secretly holding out hope that it’s because he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’ve considered asking Jin what he thinks, but that man has no tact and honestly you’re afraid he’d just ask Jungkook with you standing right there.

Hoseok is a ball of smiling energy, one who has been begging you to visit his dance studio. It’s hard to say no, but you’ve managed for this long because of the very real possibility that you won’t be able to do anything but stare at the dazzling way he moves. He seems to take pride in his ability to make others feel good and absolutely beams when he’s the cause of his friends’ happiness. You can easily see yourself talking to him without Namjoon around to act as a buffer, which is amazing for someone with your level of social anxiety.

Yoongi is quiet, but when he speaks his words are sharp with purpose. Some people might mistake that for coldness, but you can tell he has good intentions and a soft heart underneath. His pointed remarks in the group interrogations have poked fun at you, but never in a condescending or cruel manner. And it’s certainly not in the way you see him absolutely roast the others. Maybe he’s taking it easy on you.

Jimin is still so beautiful to look at it devastates you, leaving a flustered, stuttering mess behind every time he leaves. Now that he’s become aware of the effect he has on you, he’s been testing the waters of your friendship with some teasing that borderlines flirtation. But you have a feeling he’s just screwing with you because he finds it funny to see you squirm. You’re hoping to build the confidence to dish it back some day.

Taehyung has been a little standoff-ish, but Namjoon had already warned you about that. You wonder if it’s because he’s a hundred times richer than you’ll ever be. Despite seeming like he’s in a different social class, he still seems deeply fond of his friends, and relatively down-to-earth. He’s a bit quirky, but he’s an artist, so you expect that kind of thing.

Namjoon says that he’s known almost all of them since college, so he’s been able to absorb most of the discomfort associated with meeting new people. He’s sweet, and more relatable than you originally would have thought for an English professor. He’s kind of like a pillar that you never knew your life had been missing. And now that he’s got your back, you can’t go back.

The smell of coffee pervades the air as you skim an article on your phone regarding the latest Halloween skins for Overwatch. You’re supposed to be meeting Namjoon here but Seokjin, and Jimin showed up and have been chatting about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they throw a Halloween party every year and it’s Jimin’s turn to host. Seokjin is supposedly in charge of planning the decorations due to his love for theatrics and has been discussing the possibility of a haunted house walkthrough. You smile at the thought of Seokjin popping out of the shadows to drop fake spiderwebs on people. It sounds like the kind of thing he’d get off to.

Namjoon flops down on the couch next to you. “You’re coming, right?”

You’re broken from your thoughts as you scroll further down the page. “E-Excuse me?”

“The Halloween party. You coming?”

You look up from your phone, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I mean… I don’t want to intrude on your group thing.”

“You’re not intruding!” Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon’s voices all stack upon each other and you’re taken aback by the sound.

Jin frantically scrambles to make you feel included. “Y/N, we just assumed you were coming. Of course you’re invited! You can help me get everything set up for the scary walkthrough. Please come.”

“Don’t give her work to do that you should have already figured out,” Jimin hisses before sending a warm smile your way. “I’ll text you the address later. It’s a costume party so make sure to dress up!”

Your bottom lip unconsciously protrudes in a pout as you pass a discouraging look Namjoon’s way. “What are you going as?”

He gives you a heartfelt, dimpled smile. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says with the worst british accent you’ve ever heard in your life. “World’s greatest detective.” He drops his accent and starts gushing. “The tweed suit is fairly iconic and most people will recognize the costume so I think it’s a safe option. Originally, I was going to go as Judge Di but Jimin kept telling me no one would get it. It would take some research to really get a feel for how he’d dress, but I’d be willing to put in the work.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Judge Dee? Like…. Judge... Ju...dy?” you trail off in confusion, immediately regretting your decision to ask.

Jimin throws his hands up as if this is the proof he’s needed to convince his friend that he’s wrong. “You see? I told you no one knows who that is.”

“Judge---! Really?!” Namjoon looks like he’s about to go off, but he shakes his head and sighs. “You know what? It’s okay. I look really good in a tweed suit. That’s all that matters.” He finished his statement by gesturing towards his chest.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a dork.” You turn your attention to the others and raise your eyebrows at them. “What about you two?”

Jimin drags his teeth over his lip and shyly smiles. “I’m going as Iron Man. Tae’s been helping me build my costume for a while now.”

“Jungkookie and I are going as Luigi and Mario,” Jin proudly states he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while tenting his fingers. “I’m Mario, of course, since everyone knows he’s the best.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds like you, Seokjin.”

“What will you come as?” he questions with a smirk, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Well...” you hesitate, knowing that most costume shops will be sold out of anything interesting or slutty; at this point your options are limited unless you want to be a Crayola shit brown crayon. “I’m not sure yet,” you mumble, scratching your cheek sheepishly. “I only found out just now so I don’t have anything ready. I usually go over Jennie’s place, hand out candy in my pajamas and watch scary movies, so I don’t know if I should bail on her like that.”

Solid excuse. Great job, brain. Really. Can I sound like more of a loser?

“She can come too,” Jimin offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head and a warm smile. “It’s a very open party. Lots of people will be coming and going, so it’s no trouble if you want to invite more of your other friends, if that makes you comfortable.”

Other friends. Like you have more than this group and Jennie. You’re going to just pretend like you didn’t hear that part. You can already hear her shrieking at you to say you’ll be there. She loves dressing up and would be more than happy to exchange a night of handing out candy for a night of partying. You suppose you can always get some vampire teeth and dab some fake blood on your mouth, but it feels like a cop-out. It’s a solid back-up plan at the very least.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you murmur with a fleeting look of panic directed at Namjoon.

He offers a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t come. I’m just saying there will be free food.”

Your spine straightens and you perk up.

“Free food?” The words on you’re about to utter spill from a different source. A chin drops into the space between Namjoon’s shoulder and yours. Jungkook’s hair is still wet, but thankfully it’s not long enough to brush against your skin. The soft, sweet, almost floral scent of his body wash wafts into your nose as you turn your head to look at him. You surmise he’s come directly from work if he’s showering in the late afternoon. You internally swat the butterflies playing with your ribcage, trying to remember how to act normal.

Jungkook smiles sweetly, his eyes nearly closing with how high his cheekbones have risen. “Where is this food?”

“At the Halloween party,” Namjoon comments with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I was just telling Y/N that she’ll miss out if she doesn’t come.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and drops his smile as his surprised stare pierces your periphery. “Oh, you’re not coming?”

“I was thinking about it.” You immediately feel the need to defend yourself. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“So don’t wear--” Jungkook catches himself before the word anything comes out. “A costume,” he finishes simply, straightening his spine and clearing his throat. “I mean we can make an exception. No one’s gonna kick you out.”

A devilish grin spreads across Seokjin’s features. “I’m sure I can help you find a pink dress and crown if you’d like to be our lovely Princess Peach. We can give each other items.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at his friend and Jin stares back with anticipation, waiting for him to make the mushroom joke he clearly set him up for. Jungkook purses his lips and quietly regards you. As the moment passes, Jin’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms in a huff, wishing that he’d said it instead. It’s been too long since you’ve blushed for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll show up in a leotard, spiked collar, and fishnets as Bowsette instead.” You nearly snort at your own joke.

Jungkook and Jin spill their surprise over one another.

“Whaa? Really?” Jin’s mouth hangs open, the image already permanently searing its way into his brain.

“You what?” Jungkook clamps his hands over the edge of the couch, hulking figure looming over you.

While Jimin and Namjoon are both oblivious what a Bowsette is, the words “spiked collar and fishnets” have certainly grabbed their attention as well.

You blink a few times, realizing how serious everyone has become as you sputter out a nervous laugh. “Kidding, guys. Kidding.”

Jin tuts in disappointment, slinking back into his chair. Jimin simply smiles. Namjoon breathes a relieved sigh. Jungkook starts walking away, distracted by the signage on the counter promoting a cinnamon chocolate chip milkshake.

“Besides, I’m more of a…” A lightbulb flicks on in your head and the thought comes spilling out your mouth before you can process it. “Oh, I have a cosplay from the gaming convention I went to a year ago. Maybe I can wear that.”

All three men lean forward, suddenly very interested in the concept of you using a cosplay as a Halloween costume. Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction just as he extends his hand to give his money to the cashier, but he drops it prematurely, sending coins scattering across the counter.

The sound causes all of you to look over at him and he quickly turns back to the cashier. She raises her eyebrows at him as he scrambles to recover all of the money for her. His ears turn bright red from the attention and you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes, cringing at the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the thought of swapping places.

Spinning back to face the others, you find Jin and Jimin on the edge of their seats, staring at you. Namjoon blinks at you and tilts his head expectantly. “You were saying?” he prods. “Something about an anime costume?”

Suddenly you’re embarrassed for yourself rather than Jungkook. “Don’t be weird, Joonie. It’s just a Princess Zelda cosplay.” You scratch your cheek in contemplation, murmuring, “Actually, I don’t even know if it still fits since I’ve gained some weight since then.”

Namjoon pats your shoulder assuringly. “Ah you’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it, ok?”

“He’s right. Just bring your smile, cutie,” Jimin says encouragingly.

You blush at the nickname and grin in response. He said it innocently enough, but you get the feeling that you reacted exactly as he had hoped because he exchanges a smug smirk with Seokjin. “See? Bring that.”

“Ah, you guys are embarrassing me,” you mumble, diving back into the article on your phone. “I’ll talk to Jennie about it later.”

Jungkook listens carefully as he tongues his cheek and waits for his drink to arrive at the counter. Are you really going to show up in that? He pulls out his phone and starts skimming amazon. There’s no way he can pass up the opportunity, regardless of what’s at stake.

A familiar veiny hand sets the drink down on the counter, and he outstretches his palm. “Service was good, yeah?”

Jungkook looks up from the checkout page and locks eyes with Yoongi. He scoops a large portion of whipped cream from beneath the lid and pops it in his mouth thoughtfully, smacking his lips as he washes it down with a sip through his straw. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, but remains silent.

“Hmm, I’ve had better. Maybe if I had some more whipped cream?” Jungkook suggests as he tilts his cup forward and gives it the tiniest shake, shit-eating grin strewn across his features.

Unblinking, Yoongi squirts a puff of cream into the top of the container before loudly setting the can on the counter. Satisfied, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and fishes out some money for a generous tip. “See this is why you’re my favorite barista. You always make it just how I like it.”

Yoongi forces a smile as he stuffs the cash into the half-filled tip jar. “The Java Stop values your patronage, customer.”

He catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone screen before the younger man snatches it from the counter and walks away. What the hell is he up to?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You curse your past self for choosing Zelda’s outfit from Twilight Princess rather than Breath of the Wild; style over comfort rarely is a good choice, but it’s a choice you often repeat without forethought. It’s tighter than you remember, and not just because there’s a corset sewn into the chestpiece. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of Jennie’s Civic, you fidget with the hem of your dress. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches over and slaps your hand.

“Stop it. You look great.”

You rub the back of your wrist and pout, knowing it does nothing to change her mind. You eye her tattered dress, wishing you could pull off something so slutty with the same confidence she does. White contacts make her look even more ethereal than she normally does. Natural waves and curls poke out from beneath the bent witch’s hat atop her head and you can’t help but admire her beauty.

“I look like a nerd,” you say, feeling shittier the longer you compare yourself to her. It’s not her fault. You’re just insecure and wish that you could be more like her rather than the you that you are.

“You are a nerd,” she laughs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You smile. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know why I’m so worried about it. It’s not like I’m gonna be getting laid any time soon. This costume solidifies it.” Negativity is something you’re used to dosing yourself with, but you know it’s an action you need to work at correcting.

“Hey if no one wants to fuck you in a Zelda costume, do they even deserve to fuck you?” Jennie asks, wagging her pointer at the ceiling as if scolding some invisible source above. “I don’t fucking think so.” She tuts for a second. “So speaking of… Which ones are off limits?”

You scoff and stiffen in your seat, trying to play dumb. “What? What’s off limits?”

“Y/N,” she starts in an accusatory tone. “I’m sure there will be lots of hot people there, but I’m talking about seven hot people in particular. Now if they came up to me and said ‘hey Jennie you so fine you wanna suck all seven of our dicks?’ I’d be like hell yeah I’ma suck all seven dicks. Get in a circle and let me at ‘em.”

You smack your hand to your forehead, wishing you could purge that image from your brain.

“Now I’m just saying in this hypothetical situation that I would never turn down going down on any of them if they asked. Unless I remembered that one time you told me you were crushing, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t suck that particular dick.”

“We’re about to go see these people. I don’t want to be thinking about this while sipping my drinks across from Seokjin. That man can smell fear, shame, and insecurity,” you mumble, looking out the window at the trees lining the side of the road.

“So that’s why we get it out now before we get there. Can’t possibly slip out if you’ve already got it out of your system,” she explains with a confident smirk.

You cross your arms and give yourself a moment to truly think about the seven men. You certainly find all of them attractive, but crossing that line might make things weird. But maybe, hypothetically… “I don’t know… They’re all pretty hot in their own way…”

“You’ve got to be attracted to one more than the others,” she prods. “Come on, Y/N. Which one does it for you?”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you sigh. “I guess…” You subconsciously lick your lips and give it a few seconds before the memory of falling picture frames surfaces in your mind. An embarrassed smile flickers across your face as you give your quiet, honest answer. “J-Jeon… Jungkook.”

“The young one!” Her mouth falls open. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel excitedly and spares a delightful, yet surprised look at you for a fraction of a second before her eyes return to the road. “Really? I never would have guessed. But I haven’t talked to him much honestly. Doesn’t he work at that nerdy-looking gym you almost joined? What was it, Iron Kingdom? You could always sign up for personal training. Ya know, get some one-on-one time with those muscles...”

“He’ll think I’m dumb for not knowing how to do anything,” you mumble. “Besides that’s not why.”

You shake your head and pause to start counting the list on your fingers. “Okay so he’s got muscles, a cute laugh, he likes video games, he literally always smells so fucking good, he has a great smile, he’s nice, and like he’s so mature for his age. I’m so surprised.”

“I mean from the few times I’ve seen him, I thought for sure he’d be a tool and a major shithead,” she admits.

“I know, but seriously don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s been so chill and respectful and has made me feel so welcome over the last few weeks. None of that fuckboy shit you’d expect to get with younger guys like, he doesn’t talk over me, no mansplaining, he looks me in the eyes and not at my tits, and listens when I say something, even if it’s just me talking about my day.” You pause, registering the words you just said. “Wow, the bar is really low, isn’t it?”

“Sad, but true.” She nods, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard. It’s says you’re nearly there, but it’s kind of further out from the city than you’d both been expecting.

She laughs, mulling over everything you’ve said. “He seems kinda shy. You probably need to make the first move. Maybe you should tell him you have a big fat crush on him. Tell him you wanna hold his hand. Do you think he’d blush? I bet he would. I bet he has a cute flustered face. You should totally do it.”

Recalling the way his ears turned red at the cafe causes you to purse your lips, but the action can’t hide the smile curling at the corners of your mouth. So you have a little crush on Jungkook. Who wouldn’t? He’s practically flawless and totally swoon-worthy. Your heart races as you imagine his reaction to your outfit. Would he be taken aback by how good you look as one of the hottest, most iconic female characters in gaming history? He’s a huge geek so you know there’s a possibility that he could appreciate it. Sweaty fingers work their way down your wig, carefully smoothing out any loose strands. You hope he does.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Walking into Jimin’s place feels like entering a mansion. He told you that he lives with two other people from the same modeling agency, but you didn’t realize how big the place would be. Seokjin’s ability to gather this many decorations and display them with such attention to ambiance is certainly a feat worthy of praise. You find yourself lost in the orange and yellow lights that border each doorway and drape along the walls. Their soft glow is comforting as you walk down the dim hallway, exploring the house just enough to find the table filled with fruits and snacks.

Jungkook is nowhere to be seen and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you sip punch out of a red plastic cup, filling a plate with an excessive amount of strawberries, peaches, and other sweet fruits. Contrary to your previous belief that admission would mean freedom from the thoughts swirling in your brain, uttering the words out loud has made you paranoid that everyone now knows about your secret crush. You’re hoping that drinking will remove the worry from your brain, so you do your best to down the liquid fast and refill your cup.

Jennie immediately hit it off with one of Jimin’s roommates moments after walking in. You’re envious because holy fuck that guy is tall and jacked, and he’s wearing a Captain America outfit. Jennie is about to make out with Captain America and you’re gulping down spiked punch from a little plastic cup. You appreciate being able to silently agree to split, but know that you have each other’s back if either of you were to suddenly express interest in leaving, even if Captain America is balls deep.

She’s an extrovert. She loves socializing. Tossing a strawberry into your mouth, you eye the table of snacks again. You don’t. You love food. Food or sex would be a tough toss-up for you depending on the menu, and in this situation food definitely wins. There’s a buffet table of appetizers looping around the room and into the kitchen. It doesn’t get much better than this, especially knowing it was catered by Seokjin’s restaurant.

You remove a glove and tuck it beneath your armpit as you stuff your face full of sweet treats and survey the amount of people on the dance-floor. There are a good amount of people here --some with ludicrous costumes-- and it makes you feel better about being able to blend in.

You had arrived fashionably late only because Jennie may have passed the house a few times, thinking this place couldn't possibly be it. A hand skates around the periphery of your vision and you frown as it attempts to surreptitiously claim a peach slice from your plate. Following the hand to its owner, you find a smile quickly claiming your mouth in place of the previous sour grimace.

"There's plenty of peaches left over there," you say, pointing to the table of snacks beside you.

"Mmm," Namjoon hums as he pockets the fruit in his cheek. "But this pile is better. I can deduce that you've already picked out the best pieces, Zelda."

You look him over from head to toe, examining the details of his tweed suit. You hate to admit he's looking dapper as fuck in this outfit. Despite often wearing three-piece suits to work, you rarely have time to stop and really appreciate just how flattering they are on his frame. Your eyes settle on the dark brown silk carefully knotted around his neck. "Don't you get sick of wearing ties?"

His eyes widen and he blinks at you as if you'd just told him that he sat in some gum. "Do you think I should have gone with the bow-tie? I spent hours weighing the pros and cons to both and which would be more quintessential to the whole ensemble. Did I make the wrong choice?"

You open your mouth to respond, meaning to allay his concerns and tell him that he looks fine, but he interrupts rather quickly. "You know what, don't say anything. I brought the bow-tie as a backup. It's upstairs in the guest bedroom. I'll go put it on."

You grab his arm just as he's about to leave, noting the plate full of chicken wings precariously balanced on one hand. "Namjoon. Chill. Your tie looks fine. I was only asking because I would strangle myself if I wore one all the time. Now gimme some of that chicken."

His eyes dart from you to the plate in his hand and his anxiety seems to visibly melt away, replaced with a soft smile. "I'm overthinking again, huh?"

The words have never come easier than they do now. "No shit, Sherlock."

At that he offers a laugh. "How about a trade? I share the wings for access to the princess's treasury of peaches."

"Deal," you agree with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows up and down. "Wanna people-watch with me?"

He nods enthusiastically as he tosses a handful of fresh fruit directly from your plate into his mouth. "I was gonna wander aimlessly and socialize but this sounds way better."

"Glad we're on the same page," you murmur into the chicken wing at your lips, sucking the sauce off of it and scanning the room for any particular eye-catching costumes.

The flash of red, flowing satin catches your eye. Is someone wearing a bathrobe? Seriously? The taste of hot buffalo sauce causes your lips to tingle as you note the soft, fuzzy edges of the robe. It looks comfy, actually.

You elbow Namjoon in the ribs, directing his attention to the slender, black-haired figure gliding across the room. Namjoon opens his mouth as if to identify the stranger, but the flourish of the robe beats him to it. As the material spins, you catch a glimpse of tan skin peeking out from the chest, long legs exposed as he reaches for the sash at his waist.

The silk billows as it comes undone, cascading to the floor like a river of crimson. There's no mistaking it. You're now staring at the nearly nude, half-painted body of Kim Taehyung. You can't help the way you jaw drops open at the sight of so much skin being flaunted seemingly without a care in the world. Namjoon's hand flies up to cover your eyes, as if he's going to spare you the sight you've already taken in. Now that you've seen Taehyung in a thong, there's no going back.

Sauce-covered fingers pry his away from your eyes just in time to meet the piercing gaze of the man across the room. Is it mirth or anger that graces his features? It's hard to tell with a paintbrush trapped in the box his teeth make. He takes lazy strides across the room as you struggle to keep your eyes off the unforgiving fabric outlining every last curve of his dick. It's not until he's closer that you notice the thin belts crossing his hips, which appear to be holding six tubes of paint, three strapped to each side like gun-holsters. You have to admit they frame his crotch rather nicely.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to keep your eyes trained on his face. He carefully takes the paintbrush out from between his teeth and extends it to you. "Draw something pretty on me, Y/N. You too, Joon. Tonight I'm a human canvas on display for the universe."

Your eyebrow quirks as you exchange a look with Namjoon and set your plate down. "You know people are just going to draw a bunch of dicks on you, right?"

He scoffs, waving off your concerns. "Don't be so negative. I will have a beautiful mural by the end of the night. Mark my words."

"I think you're putting too much trust in the goodness of human nature," Namjoon comments, his lips pressing together in an attempt to hide the amused grin that is quickly spreading across his features.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side and leans forward with a lopsided grin. You're afraid he's about to get even closer and whisper some dirty secret into your ear. Instead he asks in a breathy, low tone, "Princess Zelda wouldn't draw such dirty things on me, would she?"

Twirling the thick handle of the paintbrush between your fingers, your eyes dip to the paints secured at his waist. His eyes chase the trail yours make down his side and his delight splits his mouth into a goofy grin. "Oh. Help yourself." He gestures to the colors available with a sweep of his hands just above his hips. "Feel free to use your fingers instead.” He pauses when your mouth falls open slightly. “You know, to paint... Just be careful what you grab, Princess," he jokes.

Removing your other glove with your teeth, you drape them over your shoulder and reach out for the tube of yellow paint, trying to hide the way your hand trembles. He looks down and smiles as the cold paint touches his skin. Before long you have the faint shape of 3 triangles at the center of his chest.

“How fitting,” he murmurs, offering an amused hum as you fill in the last triangle with a glob of yellow that threatens to run down his torso.

“Oops, sorry,” you apologize, moving to tap the brush against the excess, but he grabs your wrist before the bristles can make contact with his skin again.

“That’s alright. Let it do what it does. I like it like this,” he says, watching the clump of paint slowly slide down his midriff. “Besides I’m sure someone else can use it.”

“Like Sherlock!” you suggest, holding the paintbrush out for your companion.

Namjoon takes it begrudgingly and uses the excess yellow to draw a small smiley face beside the triforce symbol.

“Cute,” Taehyung laughs as he takes the paintbrush back from Namjoon. “I love it. Thanks guys.”

Just as he turns to find his next artist, a long object bars his path, pressing against his chest just above the collarbone. You follow the shape of the bar to its owner, revealing a grinning Hoseok clad in an officer’s uniform.

“That’s a bold choice Taehyungie,” he says, securing the faux nightstick into a loop at his waist. “Just make sure you keep that thing on…” He gestures to the small bit of material at Taehyung’s crotch and holds up a pair of handcuffs with his index finger before continuing, “or I’ll have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

“Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know,” Namjoon says, even as he’s reaching out to touch the shiny metal. “Wait. Where did you get these? Are they real?”

You squint at the device in Namjoon’s hands, looking for the safety release latch like the cheap pair you bought to use with your ex. You don’t see it. That can only mean that these are the kind where losing the keys would have real consequences. But you’re not about to out yourself as the kinky freak you are, so you bring your nearly forgotten drink to your lips and guzzle what’s left in the cup.

As the empty plastic hits the table, your eyes happen to trail across the room and land on a crowd of people gathering around a very impressive, fully-lit Iron Man costume. Jimin seems to be soaking the attention up as the crowd grows ever larger. The massive room has begun to diminish in size, and it’s as though the once comforting lights are now wilting and closing in on you, threatening to strangle the air from your lungs. The adrenalin spiking your veins is telling you it’s time to seek the comfort of open space and solitude. Fast.

You duck beneath Namjoon and Hoseok’s arms, carefully sidestepping around Taehyung to avoid brushing against the wet paint on his skin. “I’m gonna get some air. Try not to get cuffed, Sherlock,” you manage to joke with a smile before turning on your heels and booking it from the room.

If anyone responds to your joke or even acknowledges your exit at all, it’s lost on your ears. Sweat beads on the back of your neck as you hastily attempt to make your way down the hall. If you can just get outside, you can breathe. You’ll be fine. You know it.

Warm bodies clutter the path to your freedom and you can’t help but feel more and more breathless by the never-ending apologies spewing from your mouth as you squeeze past each blockade. You don’t feel like yourself, even as you speak. Taking in sharp, greedy breaths like this isn’t helping. Why is this place so devoid of oxygen? Your body moves on autopilot, seeing the faces of the people you pass, but not feeling their eyes on you.

You float out of the front door, your head as light as a feather, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been anchored. You’re positive you’re about to gracefully glide down the front steps, legs becoming amorphous blobs beneath you that will surely allow you to fly. Just as you’re leaning into the momentum of gravity, two pairs of hands steady your shoulders and criss-cross around your midriff.

“Deep breaths,” Jennie’s voice briefly cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“Do you need to sit down?” The other voice spills into your eardrum as a rushed whisper, one that’s dripping with concern.

Huh? You work on steadying your breathing instead of trying to answer.

“What did she drink?” the familiar voice asks Jennie, the brief flicker of panic quashed by the evenness of his tone. “How much has she had?”

“Relax, Yoongi. Not even our lightweight champion gets drunk that fast,” Jennie reassures him as they help you seat yourself on the top step. “Are you familiar with panic attacks?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and nods silently, backing up to give you some space.

“Jennie. I’m fine now. Thank you,” you mumble, shaking your head and regaining your sense of self. “I’m glad you have my back.”

“Of course. I saw you in the hall and I just knew.”

You jump when you meet the gaze of her white, eerie contacts, which causes both her and Yoongi to laugh. You look up at Yoongi. He shoves his hands into his pockets, long flowing shirt obscuring any flesh poking out from beneath it.

“Hey, you’re not dressed up,” you blurt, realizing he’s sporting a very goth, natural Yoongi look.

He scoffs before bending at the waist and baring his teeth. A single vampire fang is affixed to one of his canines.

You tilt your head like a dog hearing a strange noise. “What, only one fang?”

“Just as dangerous, princess,” he warns with a smirk, standing up straight.

You swear you see a wink, but then again maybe you’re imagining it. You have been known to exaggerate things in your head. Still your stomach somersaults and you focus your attention on Jennie. “I’m okay. I think I’m gonna chill out here for a bit. Get back in there and dance with… god what was his name? Jackson? Jae-beom?”

“Jin-young,” she corrects before biting her lip and glancing back towards the house.

“Go. Hottie McYoungie won’t wait forever,” you tease and point your thumb over at the man hovering above you. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine with toothless over here.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the nickname but nods at Jennie. The answer seems to be satisfactory and she gifts you with a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Now go get laid.” You whisper to her before playfully pushing her back. Before you know it she’s scrambling up the steps and slips back inside, tattered dress swinging wildly with the sway of her hips, revealing just enough of her fishnet-clad thighs to draw Yoongi’s attention. There’s a fraction of a second where he wets his lips as he watches her go, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. You don’t have time to tease because his dark eyes fall to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” His face is stoic but you can hear the sincerity in his tone.

“Wanna take a walk with me? I’d like to keep away from the big crowd.”

“I know the perfect place,” he says, hopping down from the steps and offering you his hand.

You take it with a smile and rise to your feet, carefully moving down the steps as you dust off your butt. The night air is a bit chilly and you start to work your gloves back up your arms to fight the goosebumps forming there.

That’s when you hear it. You want to misread the sound for a flute, recorder, oboe, or even someone’s radio, but you know those are all incorrect assumptions. It’s an ocarina: an ocarina playing a crude rendition of the opening to ‘Gas Pedal.’

Turning slowly, nothing can prepare you for the sight before you. Jungkook stands on the top step of the porch dressed in a green cap and tunic, tan leggings, and the ugliest dark brown boots you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the ocarina nestled between his lips, slowly descending each step with a roll of his hips that accentuates the definition of muscles behind the thin material hugging the shape of his legs.

Your eyes are wide, mouth falling open in surprise. “Jungkook?”

As he jumps down the last step he stops the tune and cups the ocarina in his hands, bowing slightly. “Princess.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, biting back the intimidated voice in your head that’s telling you you’re being picked on.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks in a low tone, a crooked smile crossing his features as he takes a few tempered steps towards you.

You swallow. How are you supposed to answer that? You take a deep breath, trying to drive off the urge to run as he advances on you. Yoongi takes a few steps back and folds an arm over his torso, cupping his elbow as he brings a knuckle to rest against his mouth with intrigue. He couldn’t hold out for one more day? Should I step in? He brings his weight to the front of his foot, ready to diffuse the situation.

“It looks like you’re trying to fuck with me.” You stand your ground, clasping your gloved fingers and calmly resting them against your dress in true Zelda fashion.

Yoongi’s weight shifts back, retracting the step he had taken. A direct accusation isn’t exactly something he would have expected from you, but he finds himself pleased nonetheless. He certainly chose a difficult target this time.

Jungkook gets close enough that you can see the tick of his jaw and the part of his lips as he drags his eyes across your form, settling on the cleavage created by your corset. “Some of those words were right.” He pauses, leaning to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Can you guess which ones, Princess?”

Heat consumes your face as his posture straightens. He doesn’t budge past the space he’s already claimed as his, but he doesn’t move forward again to invade yours. He watches, basking in the full on show your face puts on for his own entertainment. First comes the confusion, next realization, and then shame.

It’s hard to tell if he’s coming onto you or picking on you. You swallow, throat growing drier by the second. “You knew I was coming as Zelda. Weren’t you coming as something else?”

He throws his head back enough to feign exasperation while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Come on. You don’t like my costume?”

Instead of giving you time to answer, he brings the ocarina back to his lips and blows an obnoxious amount of air through the hollow space inside, producing a piercing rendition of ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’

Your shoulders raise as you inhale, suppressing the irritation bubbling within your belly. You wince, turning your head as a particularly shrill note escapes the instrument. Yoongi’s expression sours as he plugs both ears with his fingers.

Jungkook immediately stops playing and offers a sheepish grin. “Oops. I learned that one for you. Maybe I need more practice. Do you want to help me?” He briefly pauses to wet his lips, presenting the ocarina to you. “I can show you how to blow.”

You grind your teeth as your jaw ticks back and forth a few times before answering, “No thanks.”

Yoongi silently tents his fingers over his forehead and tries to massage the secondhand embarrassment from his skull. This is a trainwreck waiting to explode and at this point there’s no looking away.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you as he stuffs the ocarina into a small brown pouch hanging from the flimsy belt at his waist. “Ah. Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to insult you. You’ve probably already mastered the art. Hah. Maybe you could show me a thing or two?”

Unable to form a proper response, your lips purse as the wheels in your head spin. Say something clever. Think of a comeback. Something. Come on. But here you stand, mind blanking for even the simplest of clapbacks. You’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that your innocent little crush on the once “sweet” Kookie has come crumbling down with his facade, leaving your chest aching with the humiliation of your naivety.

He looks you over, admiring the artistry in the gown you’ve lovingly crafted. For a moment he’s lost in the embroidery stitched into the sash swaying in the breeze of a chilly October night. “I love your…” he trails off, eyes darting across your shape to capture every last detail of your attire.

He pays special mind to the gems adorned at your hips, and the heavy-looking chain belt which links the sash to your dress. He marvels over the color and velvet texture chosen for the purple corset at your torso. The sheer attention to detail and craftsmanship in your costume stuns him into silence for half a second.

His eyes reach the perky mounds of flesh peeking over the top of the corset. Miraculously his voice resurfaces. “...costume.”

The way his dark eyes linger on your chest isn’t lost on you. Your cheeks burn in the cool air, despite the goosebumps littering your arms. You cross your arms over your chest, higher than you normally would to combat his lurid gaze. The green hat atop his head folds over itself as he cocks to one side. Dark, hungry eyes snap to yours, voicelessly pouting at your blockade. For a split second a guilty excitement pulses through you, but you’ll be damned if you’re the cause of an obviously already inflated ego.

“You never said what you think of mine,” he prods. His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he slowly runs his hands along his torso, as if feeling himself up is going to sway your opinion.

You tell yourself not to fall for it, that he’s playing you for a fool right now. Still, your jaw is tight as your eyes helplessly follow the flow of his fingers down his body. His pinky purposefully catches on the flimsy pleather strap acting as the belt at his waist. An impish grin spreads across his face as he notes the way your chest stutters out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Satisfied, his hands continue their languid journey down his body. Your eyes are glued to the way he traces the contours of his thighs.

Finally his fingers dig into the meat of his those muscles and you feel the need to look away before answering. “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel? Why don’t you look at me when you say that?”

Strengthening your resolve, you force your eyes back to his smug face. Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re feeling at this point. Biting back tears, you swallow hard and do your best to remain composed. Here he stands, a crooked smile amplifying the air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s playing you. He’s been playing you this whole time hasn’t he?

“I don’t even know who you really are, do I?” your voice cracks, only adding to your humiliation.

“I’m the bad guy. Duh.” With that he cackles as he pulls the ocarina from his pouch, proceeding to play the melody from ‘Bad Guy.’

You spin on your heels and storm past Yoongi, the blood rushing through your ears in a distraught rage, drowning out the bitter sound of the notes. A pang of guilt strikes the half-assed vampire as he stares at his friend. “One more day. You couldn’t make one more day?”

Jungkook shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you see Hobi, tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Dragging your hands across your face, you keep your gaze cast towards the ground.

How fucking idiotic, how self-absorbed have you been to assume that he’s been nice because he likes you and not because he was playing some game with you? He's probably just been waiting for an opportunity like this and you fell right into his trap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you spin, ready to deck the person you assume to be Jungkook. Yoongi's eyebrows raise as you stand poised to punch. He ducks to the side just in time. As you realize your mistake, it's too late. The momentum brings you forward.

His arms come up around you in a soft embrace, one that you're quick to return. "It's just me," he mumbles, kneading his thumb against your back. "...Sorry."

You bury your face into his shoulder, allowing the tiara to slip from your head and hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Why is he apologizing? He didn't do anything wrong. You want to tell him that, but any sound you make might bring about a slew of tears you've been holding back. Instead you just squeeze your arms around him even tighter.

He awkwardly pats your back a few times, not quite knowing what to do with the hug that's lasting longer than anticipated. Sensing his discomfort, you pull away and adjust your wig as you offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

A figure approaches, bending down to pick up the forgotten adornment. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub the dirt off the tiara. Jin carefully places it on your head. "A princess should have a crown."

You look him over, noting the giant overalls, red newsboy cap and hideous fake mustache. You can't help but laugh as he forces a hard blink and puckers his lips, alternating lifting sides of his mouth so the mustache comically tweaks itself in a seesaw motion. "I like your costume," you manage between giggles.

He grins back, donning an over-the-top Italian accent. "I a-like-a yours too! A beautiful costume for a beautiful a-woman."

"Please stop," Yoongi groans.

Jin ignores him, fiddling with the corner of his mustache. "I don't-a know where my brother went. I think he's a-scared of the haunted mansion."

You roll your eyes at the joke. That's right. Jungkook was supposed to be Luigi. "He's busy playing a dick for the night."

A look of realization washes over him and he nods, puffing out air through overly inflated cheeks. "Hmm. You know what might-a make you feel better? Helping me scare-a the pants off of people!"

He folds his elbow and holds it out for you, tempting you to lace yours around it. Channeling your bruised ego and hurt feelings into scaring people for fun? That might just work. You feed your elbow through the crook in his. "Zelda and Mario working together."

Jin laughs. "The dream-a team!" He makes a motion to skip towards the outer entrance to the basement that he's dressed up with spiderwebs and a large, hand-made sign that says "MARIO'S GHOST HOUSE." Beside the entrance is a giant blown-up decoration of King Boo, its pink tongue flapping in the breeze.

As you're tugged in the direction of his creation, he stops abruptly. "Oh, we haven't had that many people though. So we have to make the few that come through count!"

Yoongi's eyes light up. "Hey. I’ve got an idea. I’ll get you a the best customer. But you have to really scare him. I promise it will make your night."

Puzzled, you furrow your brows and tilt your head. “Okay…?”

Jin grins like a maniac as Yoongi makes his way towards the front of the house. “Come on. I’ll show you the best spots to hide.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About twenty minutes have passed since Yoongi left in search of his promised customer. Only a few people have wandered in. You have to admit it’s therapeutic to watch people scream and jump when you bang on the false walls within the maze Jin has somehow constructed in this basement. Watching people run up the final stairs to safety leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, always giving Jin a prideful high-five before returning to the beginning to await more guests.

“Ah! My-a new-a guests!” you hear Jin enthusiastically greet the latest people to stop at the entrance. “Are you a-ready to have fun?”

There’s some hushed whispering that you can’t quite make out from your hiding place within the set.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Yoongi chides loudly. “Seokjin made this. Do you really think it’s that scary?”

“P-Pussy?” Hoseok stares wide-eyed at his friend and scoffs. “Don’t be rude. I just know Seokjin. It will be worse than whatever I think”

Is that Hobi? You were kind of hoping Yoongi would get Jungkook to walk through. Knowing what you do now though, you have no doubt that Jungkook would be unphased by something like this. All you can hear in your head is the echo of his obnoxious laughter and a pang of hurt slices through your heart. God, you’re so stupid.

Yoongi points to the Boo’s tongue flapping in the wind. “It will be like that, probably. It’s silly to be so afraid.”

Hoseok bounces from foot to foot in uncertainty. Even a police uniform can’t steel his spine or guarantee safety. “Why should I do this to myself?”

Yoongi sighs. “I’ll help you look at new places and… help you move. I’ll even be your roommate if the rent is too high.”

Hoseok is beaming. How long has he been asking for help searching? Jin looks from one man to the other, hiding the subtle smile beneath his mustache. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t go in so easily, that something had to be offered up, but he really didn’t expect Yoongi to go so far.

Hoseok points at Jin. “You’re my witness. I go through this and he’s my roommate.”

“If the rent is too high only,” Yoongi tries to reason, but it’s too late. Hoseok has heard what he wants to hear. He grabs his friend and marches into the depths of the basement.

Immediately you bang the walls on their journey down, feeling Jin rush past you to set up for the next scare. Hobi screams. “Never mind! Never mind!”

Yoongi scoffs, dragging his friend forward. “Come on, officer.”

You listen for their footsteps as you circle the walls behind the maze. Hobi’s frantic yelling breaks through the room, slipping into loud curses. You pull your glove up and wait, peeking through the hole you’re hoping he’ll get close enough to. Even shrouded in shadows, Yoongi’s form peeks out from around the corner.

“Don’t think about the dark,” Yoongi says, slowly shuffling towards the wall with Hoseok crouched behind him, using him as a shield from any more scares. “Think about how you bet Jungkook he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get in Y/N’s pants, not even for one month.”

You freeze. Yoongi knows you can hear him, right? He has to know.

“Think about how well he was doing. You would have been cleaning his house tomorrow. Maid Hobi, bound by servitude.”

“I know…” Hoseok groans. “It would have been awful. He’s so messy! I wouldn’t even be getting paid! What was I thinking?”

“But instead, he bet you a month’s rent that he could,” Yoongi continues loudly. “He blew it tonight for the chance to dress up as Link and tease Zelda. He only had one more day.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Hobi comments with a nod, turning to look at the ceiling and making sure nothing is going to drop down on him.

You swallow, taking in the revelation Yoongi has just bestowed upon you. All this time you had spent thinking Jungkook was a sweet gentleman was actually due to Hoseok making a bet with him? You would rather have known Jungkook was a dick straight up because now the innocent, harmless crush you have on him feels so dirty and foul that you wish you could swipe it from existence.

It’s Jungkook’s fault. He lied. He pretended. You know this. But still you can’t help but partially blame Hobi for the bitter taste in your mouth. As Yoongi passes, you reach out, letting your fingers swipe down Hobi’s forearm and retract through the hole in the wall as he lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Hoseok, get off.” Yoongi tries to push away the man climbing onto his back.

“Something grabbed me! Something grabbed me!” Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist and huddles close to his neck pointing. “Over there! It grabbed me from over there!”

“Let’s keep moving, then.”

“No! No more! I’m standing right here until the sun comes up.”

“How is it standing if your feet aren’t touching the ground? I won’t carry you all night,” Yoongi says, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight on his back.

“You will, too,” he pouts.

Jin helps you position a furry spider decoration above them, slowly dangling it lower until it finally hits Hoseok’s shoulder. The wail that escapes this grown ass man almost makes you feel bad. Almost. He swats the creature into darkness as he spurs Yoongi on by digging his heels into his belly. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Jin’s shoulders move up and down with the sound of his laughter as he slaps your hand in victory. Scaring Hobi made you feel a little better at least.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The party has died down quite a bit and at this point Jimin has been passing you far too many drinks as he and Namjoon regale you with tales from college. Namjoon is clearly feeling toasty, laughing like a dork at every memory Jimin brings up. Apparently they were roommates and Jimin has a liberal arts degree from four years of being undecided.

Your head lolls around to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, your backs pressed against the bottom of the couch as Jimin sits cross-legged in sweats and a t-shirt on the floor before you, his costume laying discarded beside him. He’s spinning his latest story of how Namjoon had accidentally thrown up on some girl he really liked. Yoongi silently lays on the couch behind you, smirking with his eyes closed. You can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just relaxing as you struggle to stand, using Namjoon’s shoulder as leverage to prop yourself up.

“Bathroom?” you ask distractedly, searching the room like a door will appear if you look hard enough.

Jimin smiles pointing at the doorway across the room. “Go out that door, take a left down the hall. It’ll be on your right.”

Your head dips a bit as you try to take in the directions. Namjoon looks up at you as you stumble forward, clearly off-balance. “Do you need some help, geeksquad?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, hating the nickname he’s given you from work. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink my drink.” You narrow your eyes at Jimin and he blinks at you in surprise, like you’ve accused him of such a heinous, unthinkable crime.

Rounding the corner, you pass a grinning Taehyung being led upstairs by a cute girl in a red beret, black and white striped shirt, and miniskirt with suspenders. Art hoe? Mime? It’s hard to tell what her costume might be. While his skin is covered in a beautiful mess of colors, your tri-force symbol still stands untouched at the center of his chest. You smile as you watch him climb the steps, clearly distracted. But as his back is revealed, your eyes widen at the sight of a mural of painted dicks. Well. At least he can’t see them.

You walk down the hall for what feels like an eternity, passing a few closed doors on either side. Maybe you should try one? Knocking on the one closest to you once, the door swings in and you lose your balance, not expecting it to open.

“What took you so long? I almost came without you.” The voice is pouty and low, somewhat familiar. He gasps when he realizes you’re not the person he’s been waiting for.

You stumble forward, falling to your knees and catching the bed frame before your face smacks into the wood. As graceful as you can manage, you pull yourself up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize it was open and I was just looking for the---” The will to speak leaves you as soon as you see him.

A very sweaty, very naked Jungkook crosses his arms and he leans back expectantly, smushing the pillows behind him into the headboard. Your eyes take in the pleased expression on his face, quickly scanning the muscles of his folded arms, his chiseled abs, his bulging legs. The pointy green hat he had been wearing earlier tents across his sculpted hips and pelvis, thankfully obscuring any shape hidden beneath it.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, licking his lips as he watches your form tremble, practically falling apart in front of him before adding, “...Princess.”

A devilish grin overtakes him at the sight of you spinning around a little too fast, staggering towards the door and holding onto the frame for dear life. “I hoped I wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

“I can’t say it isn’t a nice surprise. You don’t have to leave,” he coaxes. “Do you wanna see my Master Sword?”

“Grow up!” You make sure to slam the door shut behind you. You hate him so fucking much it hurts.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jennie, how could I be so wrong about him?” you sigh, dropping your forehead against the kitchen table. It’s been three weeks since you’ve talked to him, but it’s still the only thing you can think about.

Jennie takes a sip from her beer. “Sweetie, you’re not good at reading liars. Maybe you should look at some dating apps. You could get good read quick.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you whine into the coated wood. “Why can’t people just be nice?”

“Because. People suck. Come on, Y/N. Jungkook ain’t worth the headache. Drink with me. I’ll show you how Tinder works. It’s not so bad.”

When you don’t say anything, she tugs your chair across the floor, dragging your form close to hers and setting her phone down on the table. You peek out at the screen as you raise your head and rest it on a lazy elbow.

“Swipe right on the hotties. Swipe left on the fuckboys and losers. Jungkook? He’s a swipe left. But look at all these good ones on here. These are all swipe righties.”

You nod as she goes through a few profiles and begin downloading the app on your phone. Maybe she’s onto something.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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valhahazred · 4 years ago

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Cryptid Mythos bonus! Everything that appears on this sheet is an entity reported by real people. Why no Mythos this time? Because these encounters are so strange in appearance or behavior that they could slip right into the Sothic multiverse with little to no alteration or alternative explanation. Good luck Investigators!

All Colours Sam In 1973, in the town of Sandown, 7 year old “Fay” and an unnamed friend encountered a very strange individual as they explored the fringes of a golf course. They first became aware of something weird going on when they heard a sound like an ambulance siren in the distance. Following the sound to a footbridge over a creek, the two children were confronted by a three fingered hand wearing a blue glove that beckoned them from beneath the bridge. Awaiting them was a seven foot humanoid figure wearing strange clownish clothing, seemingly reinforced with wooden slats that protruded from his sleeves and pant-legs. The figure had a book in his hands, which he immediately fumbled and dropped in the water. He splashed around cartoonishly before recovering his book, leaping out of the creek and away from the children. He moved to a small metal shed with a high-kneed hopping gait and disappeared inside. The children went to leave, only for the mysterious entity to exit again with a microphone that appeared to be the source of the wailing that drew the children in the first place. It spoke into the microphone in a friendly, non-threatening tone. “Are you still here?” The children were curious and unafraid, so they moved towards him. He held up his book and pointed at the words in order to introduce himself. “Hello and I am all colours, Sam”. They asked if he was human and he said no and when asked if he was a ghost he replied, “well, not really but I am in an odd sort of way.” The children asked what he was then and he simply said, “You know.” During their conversation with the entity they learned that although he went by Sam, he didn’t really have a name, he claimed that there were others like him and that he was afraid of humans and that he was a pacifist, refusing to harm others even if they should attack him. He invited them into his hut, where he shared some wildberries and showed them a magic trick, where he placed a berry into his ear and seemingly teleported it to his mask’s eyehole and then to his mouth with quick jerks of his head. They continued to converse for almost an hour before the children decided to leave. Was he an alien in a make-do disguise? An animated scarecrow? A figment of childish imaginations? Or just a strange homeless man dressed like a clown? Whatever the truth, All Colours Sam, also known as the Sandown Ghost Clown, was never seen again. The Crazy Critter of Bald Mountain This weird looking creature was sighted by three people in the week following a fiery object that passed over the Bald Mountain near Newaukum Lake in Washington. When the local Sheriff began an investigation into the sighting he was visited by heavily armed and uniformed men who claimed to be from the Air Force and forced him to give up the case. Old Saybrook Blockheads Mary Starr was awoken in the early morning on December 16, 1957 by a bright light shining into her bedroom. She looked out the window to witness a 30 foot cigar shaped craft hovering over her yard, less than 10 feet from her house! Inside the apparent spaceship she witnessed a pair of small creatures with fleshy skirts and clear cubic “heads” containing a floating red bulb. They raised their right arms and as a third entity appeared in the portholes the ship brightened before shooting off into the sky. Space Brains of Palos Verdes As John Hodges and Pete Rodriguez were leaving a party at two in the morning they were not expecting to meet anything from out of this world but as the car turned on its headlights illuminated two bizarre entities! The men panicked and drove away, ending the story for Rodriguez as he made it home with no complications. However, in Hodges case he next became aware of himself two and a half hours later in the driveway of his home, sitting in the car as if in a trance. Troubled by the missing time, he eventually went for hypnosis in an attempt to recover his memories of the night. While under regression he claimed that while he got his friend home safely, when he returned to his own residence the disembodied brains were waiting for him! He asked them what they wanted and suddenly he was elsewhere, in a dark room with entities that looked like the classic Greys but very tall and with webbed six fingered hands and yellow eyes. They explained that the brains were “merely translators” used in order for these beings to interface telepathically with humans. He claimed they warned him that Earth had “too much power” and showed him a map of the planet covered in lights that indicated places where humans might destroy themselves. They showed him images of dead planets and made several inaccurate prophecies before he suddenly found himself back in his car. Unlike many other abductees with similar experiences Hodges did not try to make excuses for their bunk predictions or feel like it made him important in any way. He simply assumed the aliens were untrustworthy and were playing with him. The Casa Blanca Entities This is one of the strangest and most confusing accounts of a Close Encounter of the Fifth kind, as eight children ranging from the ages of four to fifteen were terrorized by a parade of extraterrestrial monsters one summer day in 1955. It started with an array of UFOs, sun-like, disk-shaped and semi-transparent, appearing and disappearing with musical pings. Then came the entities. First was a ghostly being bearing a shiny belt buckle that was so brilliant it could blind someone looking straight at it. It was followed by disembodied arms in riveted armor that seemed to beckon to the children, small strange men that used dual ray guns to paralyze and finally a many limbed creature. All through this strange arrival something spoke to the children telepathically, offering to take them away. The kids they spoke to often seemed to be entranced, moving to the dancing UFOs mindlessly and required physical force or even being hosed down to snap them out. One child even fell off a roof in an attempt to reach a UFO, only to be protected by a red force field. The weirdest part of all is that not only did adults not see anything, they couldn’t. Despite being present for the event a mother of one of the children was unaware of the paranormal happenings. Does this mean it was all in the children’s heads, as they were overtaken by some kind of playground hysteria? Or is there some alien force that not only wants our children but can make themselves invisible to undesirable observers. The Garson Invaders In 1954 three of these insectoid entities appeared to Canadian miner Ennio La Sarza. Their appearance was already exceptional by the usual standards of reported alien contact but in a particularly striking detail their faces appeared to glow in colours La Sarza had never seen before! The beings asked La Sarza to do something for them but he refused, not only to do it but to even speak of it. It was so awful and “outright apocalyptic” that he even considered asking the RCMP to lock him up in case the creatures he’d met had some way to enforce his cooperation. The Poole Pyramid This multi-hued metallic pyramid appeared in 1965 to seven year old Terrence Druce of Poole in Dorset when he awoke to it hovering over the foot of his bed. He shrieked in terror, waking his younger brother in time for him to also witness it as it faded into thin air. That encounter might have never been recorded if the brothers hadn’t seen it again the very next day, lurking in a parking lot. They said it seemed aware of their presence and turned to watch them but it did not follow them when they decided to flee the scene. Delta Dogs An anonymous woman was driving through a snowstorm on route 07 through Syracuse in January 1958. She came across what at first seemed to be a downed plane but as she approached her engine slowly ran itself down and the car stopped itself. As she desperately tried to restart the car the snowstorm calmed and more details became apparent. Projecting out of the large object she’d thought was a plane crash was a 50 foot illuminated pole. Two strange beings rose up along the pole, floating by it as it started to retract. When the pole finished sinking into the object the creatures disappeared and the craft took off so fast she couldn’t make out where it went. The Electric Serpent of Tacoma This is easily the most unusual sighting of a sea creature that I’ve ever heard of. Seven men camping on the shore of Black Fish Bay in 1893 encountered a sea monster that appeared to be cybernetic, if not entirely biomechanical! Disturbed by a horrible noise and blinding lights the men left their camp to find a huge, hairy walrus-like animal with steaming horns, bands of coppery metal and a revolving propeller-like tail! One of the men approached it to get a better look, only to be struck by an electric blast from its copper bands and fell to the ground as if dead. When one of his friends tried to pull him to safety, he was likewise shocked by the impossible animal. The other men fled into the woods after seeing two of their number seemingly killed and the Electric Serpent seemed to lose interest and swam out into Puget Sound. Once they were sure it was gone the remaining men returned to the beach and were elated to find their friends burned and stunned but still very much alive! So what happened? Was it just one of the sadly common newspaper hoaxes of the time? Or did a bunch of 19th century fishermen find a literal fucking pokemon? You decide! Stickmen The Stickmen are an extremely recent phenomenon, with reports starting within the last 10 years or so. They are described as being stick thin and roughly humanoid, sometimes with bubble heads, glowing eyespots or even top hats. They range in size from human-like to towering in excess of 20 feet. What is most interesting about them is their apparent two dimensionality, sometimes appearing the same no matter what angle they are viewed at and sometimes being able to turn to the side and vanish as though they were never there. They are also frequently reported as being accompanied by a feeling like static electricity and of aggression or hostility. Despite those impressions the Stickmen do not appear to be hostile, instead seeming surprised and immediately retreating from a witness.

#call of cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #cryptids #eldritch #aliens #monsters #sandown ghost clown #all colours sam #The crazy critter of bald mountain #Old Saybrook Blockheads #Space Brains of Palos Verdes #The Casa Blanca Entities #The Garson Invaders #The Poole Pyramid #Delta Dogs #The Electric Serpent of Tacoma #Stickmen #my art #cryptid mythos

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kainetestament · 4 years ago

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Deciphering Peter’s conversation with Wanda

1. Wanda tried to test Peter by asking him about the name of the boy that has a skin problem who always steal his shoes to which Peter counter “You’re testing me.” And has successfully divert the conversation by telling her “I know I look different.” Wanda do feel his brother is not the same brother she remembers. That even us viewers wonder why Peter and not Pietro is present? Though I do have a theory about that and talk about below.

2. “I'm just trying to do my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats, and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?” For these sentences, it kind of look like someone is speaking for him (like he’s possessed). Peter gave off the ‘mischievous elder brother’ or possibly has a sister complex as seen X-Men Days of Future Past. If this is really him, giving Wanda a grief will definitely be the last thing he’ll do, pranking her? Maybe, like what he did when Vision left the house and sneak up on her back on Episode 6.

3. Peter said “Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all and the next thing I know, I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me.” And Wanda has a confused look on her face. Also, If we go on FANDOM, Wanda’s profile has been updated and one of the updates the user add was “He told her that he heard her calling him after he was shot by Ultron, and that he knew she needed him.” First of all, whoever made an update, none of Peter’s words mentioned Ultron, and didn’t imply Ultron as well, second Pietro was not shot for no reason at all, Ultron was firing bullets from Quinjet and Pietro have to save Hawkeye and the kid he’s holding, Peter on the other hand phrase it as “no reason at all”, so I don’t believe it’s anything related to Ultron.

Let’s translate what Peter just said, “I got shot like a chump on the street” – if we are to simplify this sentence, he could meant he��s running (as usual) on the street and got knocked down because he’s an easy target (after all, chump means a foolish or easily deceived person), or someone stopped him from running then he was hit by something, then when he’s trying to understand what happened, he can hear in his head his sister calling him, in probably mournful voice because he claimed “I knew you needed me.” Because before he appeared, when Wanda mentions Pietro (in past tense), she was still smiling, almost indicating she was able to move on from his passing, then when was asked by Tommy if Wanda have a brother, she now spoke of him in present tense “He’s far away from here, and that makes me sad sometimes.” – this could probably be what he meant when he say “I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me.” Because Wanda is now reminiscing the Pietro, and could possibly be now in denial with him and she wants to see him. We don’t know what’s going on in X-Men Universe and hell Earth-616 is one confusing world. Retelling it here in MCU that X-Men could probably be from different multiverse will make it less confusing as well.

Also Wanda was not officially introduced in X-Men Universe, but on the delete scene of Days of Future Past, Ms Maximoff (their mom) said to her youngest “Go upstairs and bug your sister”, implying (and confirmed by the director) that the “sister” is Wanda and she does exists in X-Men world, Peter being the eldest of the siblings, have a big brotherly love for his younger siblings so he easily got brainwashed and was summoned to Earth 616, we can only theorize that Mephisto discovered him as he was travelling thru the multiverse (as per his comics abilities), discovered Wanda and Pietro. Who knows if Wanda of X-Men Universe is alive or dead, but we can try and think, why this Wanda? If Mephisto has the ability to travel to the multiverse, he can chose Wanda of other multiverse too. Is it because of her involvement with the Infinity Stone? So this Wanda is so special because she is able to mother twins without a man’s help? We just have to wait for 2 more episodes for answers.

Also on top of Wanda not being introduce X-Men Universe, FOX changed Pietro’s name to Peter because MCU is also introducing another Pietro, but in MCU, they killed Pietro, this is probably due to copyrights restrictions (between Disney and FOX) because both Pietro and Wanda can appear on both franchise with some restrictions, which makes sense why there’s only Wanda in MCU and only Peter in X-Men World to avoid referencing the restrictions due to legal rights. Now that the Multiverse is being introduced, they can now cross Peter from X-Men World to MCU as a mutant (vice versa) and can also be referred to as Magneto’s children since the restrictions have been lifted. Although another possibility that the MCU killed Pietro is because MCU and FOX already planned ahead for a possible future Multiverse since way back, once the First Generation of Avengers retires (Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, etc.), that is possibly the time they can introduce the mutants. Because if the First Generation is still present when the Mutants arrive, it could destroy the balance of the super heroes line up and the MCU might become a trash of super hero franchise, which of course they won’t want that to happen. By killing Pietro on the other hand, can actually be both a risk and advantage. MCU’s researchers have definitely done their job well and study other products that involved alternate dimension/reality/timeline. In my point of view (as an otaku), when I watched these type of anime with alternate dimensions/reality/timeline, it does feel weird especially if the character meets her/her counterpart, like in Dual!! Parallel Trouble Adventure where both Mitsuki have actually met (I only remember parts of the story, so I won’t go deeper into this), the awkwardness is kind of hard to watch… So killing Pietro might’ve been the best decision, because keeping both characters and later meets up will not only cause awkwardness but the viewers might also find it weird. With no offense to ATJ but unlike his, Evan Peters’ QS have more cool scenes, his running in the kitchen is definitely a big wow, Age of Ultron didn’t showcase much any cool moves, we do see the slow motions around him and his afterimage, but the kitchen scene looks way more cooler, and personally for me, I find his break in Magneto scene (the glass shattering and escaping the guards) much more satisfying than anything...

Evan Peters could’ve also been given instructions by FOX of him possibly appearing/joining the MCU in the future because in an interview with the X-Men Apocalypse cast on MTV After Hours, Peter (Evan Peters) comment to Cyclops (Tye Sheridan) “Just because you wear shades, doesn’t make you cool.” In which Cyclops responded with “Just because your name is Quicksilver, doesn’t make you an Avenger.” And Peter responded back with “You know, legally I’m not able to respond to that.” Also during Dark Phoenix interviews, Evan Peters was nervous yet silently freaking out, almost like Tom Holland trying to avoid telling anything. In the interview with New Trailer Buzz, Evan Peters was ask to say the first thing that come to his mind like Wolverine = claws, Marvel = X-Men, Magneto = metal, Charles Xavier = wheelchair, then when as SCARLET WITCH – he pause and almost choke and said nervously “okay” and started to laugh, then was asked about cross-over and he responded with sweet, although compared to his previous answers where it only took less than 1sec to respond, the word SCARLET WITCH and CROSS-OVER definitely gave him a scare as he was probably be in talks but is of course not allowed to disclose.

If we think about it back then, we can probably just dismissed it as part of the restrictions between Disney and FOX, but Kevin Feige did mention before that everything is plan even up to 5 years, and X-Men to be in talks for the future multiverse is not impossible and of course they will not disclose that information (to actors let alone media), and what are the odds of killing Pietro in MCU and not introducing Wanda in X-Men.

I will wait for Episode 8 for the next WandaVision update ‘cause it really hard to assume.

#WandaVision #WandaMaximoff #PietroMaximoff #PeterMaximoff #Vision #MonicaRambeau #Marvel

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k7l4d4 · 3 years ago

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 5

Hello all, here is the second to last section of Midnight Striga, episode 4! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“GET DOWN!” Luz screamed, diving towards Boscha. As the two crashed to the ground, the savaging claws just barely skimmed overhead. With a roar of fury, the Owl Beast rounded on them, murder just barely visible in its Pitch-Black eyes. As King desperately waved them towards the hallway, Luz tried to crack a joke, nervous fright bleeding into her voice. “Huh, guess that kids’ story turned out to be true, eh Boscha?”

“I Really Wish It Wasn’t!!” Boscha yelled, naked fright burning through her voice.

“Less talking, and more running!” King shouted, running up beside them as fast as his legs could carry him.

“SHRRRRRRIIIIIIIAIAAAAAAAAKKKKKKK!!!” The Owl Beast roared behind them, the sound of its talons digging into the wood of the floor as it closed in, sending chills down their spines. As the Beast’s footfalls pulled closer, Luz spared a glance back. The Beast was soaring through the air, talons raised to slash through them.

“Shit!” Luz bit out. Raising her hand, she quickly cast. “Quick Flash!” A burst of light bloomed in front of the Owl Beast’s eyes, prompting it to roar in pain as its sensitive sight was assaulted. As it crashed to the ground, it frantically wiped and scraped at its eyes, desperately trying to clear them. When its vision returned, its prey had vanished. It roared in rage. Snuffling, the Beast stalked around, ready to attack at the first sign of the intruders who had dared to disturb its home. Hiding in one of the nearby closets, the three let out sighs of relief as the sound of the Owl Beast went off into the distance.

“Okay, so,” Boscha breathed. “Just what the heck was that!?”

“You tell us, seeing as how you described that curse.” King huffed, trying to disguise his shaking at the close brush with death the three had received.

“I didn’t think it was real!” Boscha retorted, flailing her arms in the crowded room.

“Why would you think that!?” King exclaimed.

“It’s not the kind of thing you really expect to be real, I mean seriously, a curse from the Titan!? Please!!”

“Well we might not be stuck in a closet if you had mentioned this earlier!”

“Excuse me!?”

“Quiet!!” Luz hissed, grabbing the bickering duo by their ears, much to their mutual pain, particularly when she twisted. “We. Do. Not. Have time for this!” She muttered as low as she could, releasing the two. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down, and she wasn’t sure she actually managed it. “Okay, look. This is a very bad situation. Eda has apparently turned into a freaking Owl Beast, and we need to do three things: 1) figure out how and why she turned, 2) subdue her so she can’t keep trying to kill us, and 3) find a way to turn her back so we don’t have to worry about keeping her bound. Agreed?”

“”Agreed.”” The two echoed, both sharing looks of mixed fear and determination.

“Alright then,” Luz said, putting on a confident expression, while internally squealing in relief that they listened. “Let’s make a plan.”

They hungered. It was not unusual; they always hungered when awakened. Once more, they found themselves bound. This time, the binding was less… infuriating. They were bound within the not-tree/nest/den that the shell called their own. They growled. This was not THEIR home. They were an outsider, but the shell acknowledged this place, thus it was acceptable.

They sniffed, growling at the scents of invaders. Those who would bind/capture/restrain them. They would be eliminated. They prowled forward, claws digging into the not-tree dead-wood-flesh beneath them. They would not be caught by surprise again. The bright-flash-with-bang was painful, but not impossible to defeat. The one-who-danced-with-light they saw in the shell’s dreams was skilled, but could not challenge their might.

They screeched in fury. Once more, oppressors attempted to steal their freedom. Unacceptable. They sniffed. One of their prey was nearby!! But where!?

With a growl, the Owl Beast shook its head, trying to track down the source of the scent. Unbeknownst to the fierce beast, it’s target was actually creeping along the ceiling, right behind it. Boscha tightened the handholds she had gotten in the ceiling, internally begging for her fingers to stay strong. ‘How did I let myself get talked into this!?’ She worried.

“Wait a minute, you want ME to spy on that thing!?” Boscha incredulously demanded.

“I’m wondering about that myself.” King said. “I mean, I hate to say it, but I am smaller than her, wouldn’t it make me harder to see?”

“You are smaller,” Luz conceded, before her gaze sharpened. “But Boscha is an athlete; out of all of us, she most likely has the best stamina for getting to safety if caught. Besides,” She smiled, giving Boscha a wink. “I believe in her.”

‘Oh yeah,’ she deadpanned, ‘that’s how.’ Dang it, being praised was gonna end up being a weakness for her now, wasn’t it? Ah well, at least she stayed out of the Beast’s sight. Silently sighing, Boscha crept after the Beast as quickly as she dared. She had to keep the Beast in her sight at all times, and if it looked like it caught wind of what was happening upstairs, she was to make a big racket to distract it, and then break for cover. And, if necessary…

‘I always have my… flames to fall back on.’ She mused internally, holding back a shudder at the thought of those bloody flames. No, she had no room in her heart and soul for doubt right now. No matter what, if she needed to use those flames, she would. The alternative was one she refused to accept.

“If everything goes to crap, make a break for it and run away.” Luz bluntly stated.

“What!?” Boscha just barely kept from shouting.

“Luz?” King trepidatiously asked.

Luz gave her small friend a sad smile, and ruffled his head. “Out of the three of us, she’s the only one who can reliably survive the rain. Odds are, this will end one way or another far before it stops.” She sighed, fixing Boscha with a stern look. “That’s why I’m saying, if only one of us can get away, it should at least be the person who will survive getting through the barrier. Make a break for it, and live, you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Boscha said numbly. “I hear you.”

‘Sorry Luz,’ Boscha internally focused her resolve. ‘I’m not going to keep that promise.’

Luz huffed, feeling like she had just been defied for some reason, as she and King silently crept through the rooms, looking for any sign as to what could have caused Eda’s transformation. After a few false starts, they eventually found themselves in Eda’s room. Luz just stared in dumbfounded disbelief. “Wow.” She quietly muttered. “She actually sleeps in a nest.”

“Yeah.” King quietly added. “With the whole ‘turning into an Owl Beast’ thing, it makes a lot more sense.”

“Same with the attraction to shiny objects.” Luz mused.

“And eating small rodents at night!” King laughed.

The two shared a quiet chuckle, picking through Eda’s nest/bed, and while they found a lot of strange bones, including a disturbingly complete humanoid skeleton, and a miniature mountain of shiny bits and bobs, they hadn’t found anything that could be considered a source for her present state. Holding in a growl, the only thing keeping Luz from thumping her head against the wall was the knowledge that it would draw the Owl Beast’s attention. “Let’s go King, I think this is a bust.” Luz muttered softly.

“No!” King insisted. “I’m sure we can find something, we just have to keep looking!”

“I don’t know King,” Luz muttered sorrowfully. “It really doesn’t look like there’s anything here. Come on, let’s try another-” She cut off, her eyes drawn to the slight opening of the closet. It was a long shot, but it just might work. “Scratch that, King. Let’s check one last thing, then we head to the next room.” With that said, she headed for the closet. King followed behind, grumbling but accepting her decision, knowing he wouldn’t be able to out-stubborn her.

Opening the closet, Luz scanned it’s contents, panning her vision up and down, before catching sight of an glowing bottle filled with an orange liquid. Bringing it up to eye level, she slowly read out the tag affixed to it. “A potion a day keeps the curse at bay…” She muttered. Turning wide eyes towards King, she said, “This must be how she’s kept the curse under wraps!”

“Yeah!” King agreed. “But, why didn’t she take one today?”

Luz’s mind flashed back to the events of earlier today; when Eda sorted through the massive pile of Lacrimas she had accumulated, something that took upwards of four hours to complete, and when she pushed herself to set up the barrier against the rain. Luz grimaced. “I have a pretty good idea.” An ear-splitting scream cut through the air. “”Boscha!!”” The two exclaimed, abandoning subtlety to race towards the commotion.

They were growing annoyed. No matter where they went, they could not find the intruder. It was very aggravating. They growled, spitting to the side. How could the intruder avoid them so completely? It was impossible. They were apex, a beast beyond the limits of what could normally be challenged, let alone avoided when hunting. It made no sense! Where could the intruder be…? They were not found on the ground, not in the smaller dens riddling the not-tree/nest/den, so how could it avoid them? Unless… pricking their ears, a faint noise came through. The faint sound… of a heartbeat. They bared their fangs.

Boscha was worried. The Beast was just standing there, panting lightly. Could it have…? No, that was crazy, no way this thing was smart enough to try and trap her!! Still, better to be cautious. ‘After all,’ Boscha mused darkly, ‘being reckless is ultimately what got Skara hurt. If I had never gone after Luz that night, I never would’ve gotten that stupid Lacrima, and never gone crazy.’ Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Boscha relaxed her hands and wrists, ready to start casting the instant the Beast made a move.

Without making a sound, she slowly crept closer to the doorway, ready to spring into action. She turned her head for just a second… and blinding pain surged through her side. With a shriek, she jumped as hard as she could, feeling the talons exit the newly formed wound in her side. Biting back a curse, she crashed to the ground, blood oozing underneath her fingers as she stared at the Beast, which was clearly staring back. Its teeth were bared, its nostrils flared and scenting, the movements of its head clearly showing it was tracking her visually as well. The twitch of its ears drew her eye. Was her noise how it had caught her?

They gurgled, pleased they had managed to wound the intruder. It was a youngling of this Land’s dominant race. How amusing. With a shriek, they closed the distance between themselves and the intruder, her scent reeking of fear. She twirled her hands… With a shriek, they pulled back as the bright light burned before them. That little rat!! How did she threaten them with the light!? Howling in rage, they chased after the wretch. They would savor the taste of her blood upon their tongue for such an insult.

Bouncing off of the walls as platforms to propel themselves forward, they chased after the soon-to-be-dead youngling. They would grudgingly admit, they found her tenacity admirable, were she not trying to bind them again. With a pleased roar, they leapt into the air, ready to rip and tear… why was the youngling showing joy?

“Eat Boiling Rain, you dumb bird!” Boscha shouted, jumping to the side. The Owl Beast howled past, crashing through the window and part of the wall from the force of its jump. Internally, she felt guilt at putting the Beast through something like that, but it would at least slow it down-

With a roar, the Beast hurled itself back inside using the talon it managed to keep clinging to the floor.

-Scratch that, she had just delayed it for a few seconds, and probably annoyed it.

“Demon King’s Rocking Roar!” A familiar voice screamed. Boscha barely had time to cover her ears, for all the good it did, as a solid mass of sound slammed into the Owl Beast, prompting it to scream in agony. Boscha felt a twinge of sympathy; she was fully aware of how painful King’s magic was for those with sensitive hearing. While the Beast was distracted, she rushed over to King and Luz who were waving her over.

“Guys!” She cheered. “Did you find something!?”

“Yeah, we did!” Luz said, giving her a quick hug, which honestly left her feeling… weird. She wasn’t used to hugs. Luz gave her a crooked grin. “We honestly found it just before we heard your scream. A second earlier, we’d have probably taken off without.” She opened her hand, showing off the potion inside.

“A Curse-Suppression Potion… of course!” Boscha exclaimed. “That’s how she keeps it in check, and keeps from turning into that thing- Gah!” She yelped as pain flared throughout her side.

“Boscha!” Luz shouted worriedly, looking at her side. “What happened!?”

Boscha grimaced. “It figured out how to track me.” She glanced back at the Beast, wondering how long they had until King had to drop the spell; when he let it down, it would be up to Luz and herself to get this potion down the Beast’s throat. “I’m not sure how, but it got to me, and slashed at my ribs.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Luz deadpanned, looking over the wound. “It’s kind of weird, this injury isn’t as deep as it should be, and it’s not bleeding anywhere near as bad as you’d expect. How’s the pain?”

Boscha blinked, it finally clicking into place how odd the fact the wound had phased her so little was. “Honestly, not much at all.” She gently brushed the gash. “That is weird.”

Luz snorted. “I guess we can add hard to injure to your list of Devil Slayer powers.”

Boscha chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I guess we can!” She was still incredibly uncomfortable with the whole ‘Devil Slayer’ thing, but if it came with benefits like this, she’d try not to let it get to her.

Luz grew serious. “Okay, King’s going to have to drop his spell any moment now, and then we’ve got what has to be at least a ton of Owl Beast bearing down on us. Are you ready?”

Boscha grinned with a confidence she wasn’t sure was fake. “I was born ready.”

The Beast shrieked, King having tapped out and released it. It charged them.

“Then let’s go!!” Luz shouted, jumping into the fray, Boscha joining her with a shout.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #boscha the owl house #king the owl house #eda clawthorne #owl beast #magic

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inkheart01 · 3 years ago

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The Crossover conundrum

Or the DOOM x EFTS crossover nobody but I was interested in

Alternative title: Someone builds a dimensional hole puncher and the first one thru is Doomguy

I'll edit when I have enough brainpower to make words do the pretty thing. Bonapitete. Enjoy. Here's my disaster. adios

The day started like any other, though Calle didn’t know whether to call it day, night, dawn or dusk, or everything and anything in between considering she was floating around in a giant warship in some sector of the galaxy that she had no possible way to pronounce. She took pride in knowing that she was the furthest human away from Earth. No, that was a lie. Last she had checked, Jade was on the other side of the ship. But still, the sentiment was valid.

A rough blow to her shin spurred the young woman out of her stupor. She whipped towards the culprit, who was buried half under a giant ring, deep in the guts of the mechanism. Calle didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to.

Jemma pushed herself out from the behemoth, signing for a helping hand before clambering back under, pale face stained with dirt and mousy hair slick from sweat.

Calle reached towards the nearby mess of supply’s, handing Jemma exactly what she had asked for.

Which meant that moments later, she had front row seats to watch as the girl channelled her inner high schooler and rocket out from under the ring, tossing the literal hand with all the strength and speed of a professional pitcher.

And then she came for Calle, going straight for the talkers ankles as she ran, laughing and crying in mad glee.

Almost lost in the cacophony of joy, the machine beeped loudly, once, twice, three times.

Then it screamed.

Bathing the room in a violent red glow, it sprung to life, gears and cogs churning as it wailed, beeping and flashing in a wild symphony of horror.

The two girls sprung to action, Calle slamming the button to the intercom, screaming over the chaos as Jemma lunged towards the beast, twisting knobs and levers in a mad attempt to silence it. Time seemed to drag on ph so slowly as the two battled against the towering ring, desperate to quell it before the ship tore in half from its quakes.

They almost missed the door shuddering open like a camera, an influx of children and aliens pouring into the room and into action.

Jade was still in her flight suit, and Calle briefly realised that she would have to apologise again. The self-proclaimed pilot never got to fly.

Ian raced to help Jemma with the controls alongside Rochelle and Hunter, the towering aliens orange complexion drowned out by the violent red.

The only one who seemed to sink deeper into the glow was Max, who, alongside Hayley and Bayley and Adam, took up defensive positions around the machine, guns drawn and ready for anything that emerged.

The rest, Calle, Jade, Eviee and Maeve rushed to tear into the machine but were forced back by another shudder.

Which meant that the whole of the Lazarus’ VIP crew had first-class access to the portal swirling with a sickening green, and a metal giant emerging.

Towering and frightening, the human emerged from the portal, shotgun at the ready and so impossibly imposing.

Clad in green armour, the man was a sight.

And then he charged. Far too fast for anything human, he barrelled past Jade, past Ian and Adam. Straight for the triplets standing guard.

Calle cried out a warning, unable to help as the siblings leapt aside, followed closely by the man.

And then, almost in slow motion, the door opened again, revealing the tiny shape of Emily, bathed in light. She stood with her bear clutched tight, eyes wide and searching. “Teddy?”

And the man froze, turning to the six-year-old in shock.

Taking the moment of opportunity, Max lunged, all 11feet and 4inches of alien crashing into the man like a freight train.

But the man was quicker, spinning out of the Rashikk’s way. But he didn’t account for the aliens head-tail.

Quick as a whip, the length shot forward, desperately trying to wrap around his armoured neck, but with little luck. And so Max lunged again, dodging the arm blade and pulling the man to the floor with a strength that anyone who had seen a Rashikk fight, would know was a mere fraction of their might.

And anyone who knew Max, also knew that he was just waiting for an opportunity to unleash hell.

And that presented itself in the armoured man on the floor, who, with startling strength, pushed the alien off and lunged for his Shotgun, the weapon having been knocked aside in the calamity.

But Adam was faster, nimble and quick, he scrabbled for the gun, tossing his rifle to Calle who easily slid into his place, gun aimed at the man and finger on the trigger. Adam slid under the man's arm, gun in hand as the warship lurched.

The armoured man slid, unaccustomed to Vivaane’s piloting, or the alarming nimbleness of the Lazarus, and Max took the opportunity to force the man's helmet off and knocking him out in the process.

Hours later, after the crews buzzing had died down, Captain Kalishnamara strode was not the medical wing, intent on finding out what the incident was this time.

But nothing could prepare her for what she saw when the doors opened.

Eight humans flitted around the room, Emily was perched on Max’s bed, bear in her lap as she laughed at her adopted father's antics. Eviee and Jemma, ever the scientists, were drilling into the half armoured man confined to the room, a dark robot at his side, translating. Jade, Rochelle and Ian were watching, transfixed as the Rashikk triplets tried and failed to beat Adams score for the fastest time to take apart and re-assemble a gun.

And then there was the Askiir, Maeve, the one she trusted the least, who was hovering nervously around Eviee. She had nothing against him personally, but when one gas the ability to manipulate emotions, there will always be a slight distrust, at least in her experience, Eviee seemed fine with the lanky bug.

Jade was the first to notice Kalishnamara and snapped to attention seconds before everyone else, bare the two newcomers, and Emily who was using the wrong hand, but no one held that against her, and if they did, the Lazarus fleet was always ready for a hunt.

“At ease. Alright, I’ll keep it simple. Someone’s already given me the incident report and I’ll get around to it when I have the patience”, Eviee made quick work of translating the Rashikk’s odd symphony of clicks and whistles that made up their spoken language. “All I want to know is if there is a body count”

“Not today”, Bayley answered cheekily, earning a laugh from those in the room that could understand, and leaving the last two to Waugh’s for Eviee translation.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way a little longer”, finally moving from the doorway, she stalked towards the newest members of her VIP crew, noting something peculiar in the way they communicated.

Leaning down as not to be overheard, she motioned to Jemma. “You both speak in the language of hands, yet you cannot understand each other without translations. Why is this?”. Though she was still not fluent in Jemma’s hand language, she understood enough of the basics to cobble together a sentence.

‘Different hand language. Different Home’

“I see. Thank you”. The captain rose to her full height, and the man glared, unknowingly annoyed at feeling oddly small not once, nor twice, but three times since coming through the portal. Was this what everyone else felt when he walked past?

Eviee dutifully translated the aliens oddly melodic language, a strange sound to come from creatures so adept at war.

“On behalf of the Crew and Residents, I welcome you aboard the Lazarus” the robot thanked her, introducing himself and the man. Flynn and Vega. Odd names, but who was she to judge. “I am Captain and Fleet Commander Kalishnamara. But you may call me Lisa. It is a nickname, as I am told.

“You will be regarded as VIP guests while aboard, much like everyone in this room. Please, referring from breaking any of my men why we try to get you home. Now, any questions?”

“Just one actually”, Vega spoke up, “how can you understand them?”

It took Lisa an embarrassingly long time to realise that the robot had been talking to Eviee, who was desperately hiding her laughter from the confused Captain. But still, she managed to pull her source up and reveal the thick golden band around her bicep. “Universal translator. It hurt like hell but is incredibly useful. The downside, both speaking parties have to have one to be able to communicate.”

Flynn turned to look towards Emily, who was squealing as Max and Rochelle bickered.

“What’s the diagnosis doc?”

“You want my diagnosis? Your gonna fuckin die!”

“Don’t worry about her”, Eviee waved off the giants concern. “She doesn’t have one. We’re working on an alternative”

At that same moment, Lisa turned towards Max. “I was told that no major injuries were sustained. Why are you in Ned at?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The beds are just comfortable”

Lisa sighed as she left the room, muttering about needing a drink. Followed by Jade, Calle, Ian and Adam, the rest of the Chaos club, two aliens, a robot and a confused mountain of a man and a six-year-old and her stuffed bear.

The day ended like any other, in that the Days without Incident board was wiped clean, five new reports were written up, and the crew was abuzz. The only new thing being that the armoury was now locked, indefinitely.

#EFTS #DOOM #God these kids #its a wonder there still fucking alive #Doomguy: Sees child #Also Doomguy: The fuck is you?#G/T #If you squint #Minigiants maybe #my writing #FUCK YEAH EFTS #Escape From The Stars

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years ago

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chasing visions of our futures: chapter two

a/n: I meant to have this done much earlier today, but at least I got it finished!

word count: 2k

pairing: barry allen x oc

summary: River Matthews decides to cause some chaos in Central City, mostly for fun, but also for the attention she knows she’ll get from The Flash. When he catches her, and she gets a second chance, she has to decide whether she should take it or if there’s no changing for her. There’s a lot more to her the more Barry tries to dig, and the more he does, the more River’s afraid he won’t like what he finds out.

chapter summary: Team Flash has to decide what to do with River, and with Hawthorne’s help, things might start looking up for her.

Being stuck in the Pipeline for this long was already driving River insane. Maybe not literally, but she was extremely bored, and she didn’t handle her boredom well. Not that she could do much about it if she wanted to. Cisco really had done a good job of designing the cells.

While the rest of Team Flash - Hawthorne included - was deciding her fate, River was left to hope she wouldn’t be kept here forever. Yeah, so she’d been causing them a lot of trouble for several days now, but they couldn’t just keep her in here forever, right?

Luckily, Hawthorne came back eventually. She held onto the hope she had that maybe they’d let her go. After all, she could have done a lot worse, and River could be fairly persuasive if she tried. Not that she thought it would matter. Whatever they decided, they’d probably be set on it.

“So, I have some good news and some bad news,” Hawthorne said. “The good news is, apparently, they’re willing to let you out of here."

River, who’d previously been splayed out on the cell floor, shot up to her feet. "Seriously?” Honestly, she hadn’t expected them to actually do it.

“Yes, but on one condition.” That made her pause, the smile she’d had on her face dropping. “I convinced them to give you a chance as long as you try turning a new leaf.”

“What?” River exclaimed. That was practically impossible for her, and she already knew she’d just let them down if she even tried. “What even makes you think I could do that?”

Hawthorne sighed, crossing his arms. “I think you could if you actually tried. You’re not a terrible person, River. Maybe just a bit…misguided.”

That felt like the understatement of the year. She might be worse off than he thought.

River groaned and pressed her forehead against the glass of the cell. This was a lot to process. “Okay, so let’s say for a second that I even entertain that idea. What have I ever done to make you think I can even change?” Even she had her doubts, and she could imagine it would take some time before the team even trusted her if she went along. On the other hand, it might be a nicer alternative to being kept in the Pipeline for however long.

“Not much, but I care about you enough that I did what I could to convince them to give you a chance. Because I know what you’ve been through, and I think you at least deserve that chance.” It was clear that Hawthorne meant it, but she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around his words.

“They’re just stressed out with all the metahumans that are constantly popping up, and they’ve been through a lot, so it might take them some time to warm up to you,” he continued. “But if you just give it a chance, I think you’ll like it a lot better than being stuck with dad for the rest of eternity.”

River sighed and looked away as she let it all sink in. Realistically, she knew he was right, and squandering this chance might be her worst decision ever. “And what happens if I don’t go along with it?”

Hawthorne shrugged, feigning a casual expression. “More than likely, you go to Iron Heights with the rest of the metahumans. Which is just as hard to escape as this cell.”

The odds were stacked against her, and while River could be stubborn and unwilling to cooperate in the worst of circumstances, it was clear to her what her best option was. She’d have to play along.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give it a shot,” she decided. “But I’m not guaranteeing you this will even work.” In fact, she had a very good feeling his misplaced faith in her was only going to bite him in the ass eventually.

“I only ask that you try.”

Hawthorne relayed her decision to the rest of the team, and he came back with Caitlin to let her out. Of course, they were going to watch her like a hawk now that she was free, but River much preferred it to the boring cell she’d be stuck in otherwise.

“Are you ready for the bad news?” Hawthorne asked once she was free. In her eagerness, she forgot there even was a bad end to all this.

“I suppose.”

“I have my own team to work with, so I won’t be around much. So, as much as I’d love to have you stay with me, I won’t be in Central City to keep an eye on you. I’m a little busy with the Legends,” he explained. “But Caitlin’s agreed to show you around while I sort out everything else I need to.”

Admittedly, the thought of exploring a little was exciting. S.T.A.R. Labs seemed like a pretty big place, and to say she didn’t think it could be cool to look around would be a lie. “Sounds fun,” River said.

Hawthorne patted her back, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be around for a little longer before I have to head out."

With that, he left her with Caitlin. River followed her around the building, curiously looking around. Already, she could tell she was bound to get lost on her own, at least for a while. She tried to create a mental map, which was easier said than done. Still reeling from the fact that she was even here, she’d only caught half of what Caitlin was saying in her tour of the lab. Part of her felt bad for not totally listening, but another part of her wondered why she even felt bad at all. Really, her thoughts and emotions were all over the place, but she made a mental note to thank her brother sometime for getting her out of the Pipeline. From what she could tell, he was pretty good friends with everyone on Team Flash, which was probably the biggest deciding factor in her release. Otherwise, she was sure she wouldn’t be following Caitlin through the halls.

River snapped out of her thoughts as they stopped in Cisco’s workshop. The only other person in the room, though, was another man who was definitely not Cisco. And he was throwing things out of frustration.

"This is Harry,” Caitlin explained, seemingly not even fazed by his behavior. “Don’t worry. This is normal for him."

It was almost comforting how strange everyone on the team was. At least from her perspective. While she still had her doubts about this working out, she felt a little better knowing she probably wasn’t much stranger than them, or at least that they’d probably accept how different she was if they could accept Harry’s weird outbursts.

"I can tell,” River said. Not the strangest thing she’d seen.

Caitlin pulled her away, letting Harry work through his problem as they finished up the tour. “Don’t worry if you get a little lost right away. It take a little adjusting to this place for everyone.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s bigger than I thought.” Though she didn’t say it, it was kind of exciting. She could definitely get used to this. And, if she was being honest, she kind of enjoyed listening to Caitlin, at least for as much as she’d listened.

“Well, I’ll be here if you ever need help,” Caitlin assured her. “We’re all supposed to make sure you’re supervised until we can fully trust you, but that wasn’t my idea.”

River wasn’t too surprised, and she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. It was probably a fair call, though. A smart move on their end. No doubt they knew better than to trust a stranger right away, especially someone they’d been trying to catch for a few days now.

“Speaking of which,” Caitlin continued, “We figured, since Hawthorne’s usually busy, you probably need somewhere to stay. So, I volunteered to let you stay with me for a while.”

Of all the people River could have ended up with, she seemed the most tolerable. Caitlin hadn’t been anything but kind so far, which kind of threw her off guard, admittedly, but it was kind of nice.

“You’re really sure you want me around?” Caitlin nodded, a smile still present on her face. “Alright, but I’m a lot to handle being around for that long.”

She didn’t seem too dissuaded, oddly enough. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse,” Caitlin said.

Seeing as it was getting pretty late, Caitlin wrapped up and let everyone know they were heading out. Everyone seemed worried about leaving her with River, even if they didn’t say. And surely Caitlin knew her friends well enough to see it, too, but she didn’t seem to carry the same unease as the rest of them. She simply dismissed it and lead the way to her apartment.

Caitlin’s apartment seemed nice than anywhere River had ever lived, though her standards weren’t very high. Hell wasn’t exactly a great place, so anywhere might have been nicer. Just from looking around, she could tell Caitlin must be a neat person. Nothing was really out of place, and she didn’t seem to leave many messes, if any.

Figuring River must be hungry, Caitlin found something for them to snack on in the meantime. Though she’d eaten a little while in her cell, she would never turn down food, and she did often found herself hungry quicker than she knew was probably normal. So the thoughtfulness didn’t go unappreciated.

It really was strange having someone actually being kind and concerned for her, even if it was just small things. It was just new and different, in a good way.

Caitlin made sure River was set for the night so she could sleep well. Tomorrow, they’d work on some training and getting her used to working with everyone else, so she’d need as much sleep as she could get. River knew that would be hard with how much difficulty she had sleeping, as if her brain refused to shut off, but she didn’t worry Caitlin with that. She could deal with it herself.

Once River had a decent layout of the house in case she needed the bathroom in the middle of the night or anything else, Caitlin let her be and went to her room to rest. As she’s expected of herself, River couldn’t sleep right away. Which was fine. It was normal for her. But now she had so much time to herself, and therefore more time to think.

Today had been so strange. Such a whirlwind as everything changed. If it hadn’t been for her brother, she wouldn’t be here right now, and though they had a lot of problems to sort out between each other, she greatly appreciated his help. And Caitlin was probably the first person to show her any kindness in a long time. As strange as it was, River welcomed it. And though she had some concerns and doubts about joining a team of heroes, she was kind of glad they’d even given her a chance. They certainly didn’t have to, though she knew it was mainly to do with Hawthorne.

This could be the start of something much better. And if she had anything to say about it, she was going to make the most of it while she could. River thought back to what Hawthorne said about her being misguided. By all means, she knew he was right. She might have done some horrible things - things she often regretted when she stop to think about it - but it wasn’t the end of the world for her. There might still be a chance for her after all.

It was with that small shred of hope that River actually found herself growing tired. It had been a long day, and she was far too comfortable not to feel sleepy. Her last thought before letting sleep take over was, I hope I don’t let them down too much.

#barry allen #the flash #the flash cw #barry allen x reader #barry allen x original character #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #the flash imagine #the flash x oc #the flash x original character

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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A Birthday Gift for @itsfabianadocarmo

So I have been LOVING @itsfabianadocarmo‘s CSR Aesthetic Picsets, and especially the ones telling the story of an alternate S7 in Hyperion Heights, but where Emma was also present as a waitress named Eva Cygnet. Then, as @itsfabianadocarmo and I began to chat on here more, I learned we share the exact same date of birth! (What are the odds?!?) So, my birthday twin, I began plotting a little surprise for you. I hope you’ll like it. It’s just a little one shot to go along with your first picset in that series (which I have hopefully attached so those who haven’t seen it can do so HERE). I hope you’ll enjoy this - and maybe, if I get a few more WIPs finished, more will accompany this one!

Anyway, I hope you have the very best birthday!! I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you!! :)

“Marmalade and Tea”

by: @snowbellewells

“What about this place, Tilly?” Rogers questioned his jittery passenger with a sidelong glance as he eased his classic Chevelle into a parking space along the sidewalk. “Looks cozy, hmm?”

Though making a valiant effort to remain patient and upbeat, the vagabond sprite he’d taken into his home and his affections had already shot down every dining establishment in a two block radius and he had begun to fear none would suffice and they’d run out of options. Not for the first time, the worry struck him that he was ill-equipped for the needs and wishes of a young lass such as Tilly. But she was so lost, so vulnerable - scrappy and resourceful as she might first appear - that he hadn’t been able to leave her fending for herself. She tugged at his emotions more than he could understand. All he knew in that moment was that he was far too hungry to get by on the toast and marmalade Tilly usually wanted for supper.

His young companion cocked her head to the side, staring out the passenger window to study the kitschy little diner her detective had indicated. She bit her lip in concentration, and Rogers held his breath, hoping this one might be a winner, until finally she bobbed her tawny head, light-brown waves of her hair rustling as she did so. “Yep! Let’s check it out!”

Without further hesitation or doubt, Tilly flung her door open and hopped out onto the sidewalk excitedly. Shaking his head at the quick change in disposition, Rogers found himself hurrying after her as she practically skipped up the walk toward the diner’s entrance, humming cheerily to herself. For all her deliberation of moments ago, once Tilly made up her mind, he had to admit she threw herself into any given course of action with gusto and commitment.

Catching up to Tilly at the door, Rogers playfully bowed to her with a crooked grin and raised eyebrow, “After you, milady,” he teased in his lilting voice, as he held the door open for her to pass.

To his delight, she giggled, just as he had hoped, her face lighting up with glee at the simple moment of playfulness. Lifting her chin regally, she preceded him into the diner with a haughty toss of her hair, “Why thank you, good sir,” she returned.

As she spoke, her shorter form brushed past him in the entry, and Rogers felt a current of recognition run through him - freezing him in place. It was as if he had spoken those very words, heard her exact response, lived the entire moment before. He blinked, trying to shake his head clear of such impossible nonsense. Not only had he only known Tilly for a few months, but before that he had been utterly alone, no one in his life to joke around with - or even to enjoy a pleasant lunch with as he and Tilly were doing now. He had to be mistaken, and yet…

He glanced to the young runaway, now living in his spare room and filling it to the brim with her colorful, splashy paintings and sketches as well as the trinkets and treasures she picked up on her daily rambles while he was at work. She too appeared startled, wide-eyed as though she were trying to process something which had flashed across her mind’s eye before vanishing again.

For a second, superimposed upon his vision of Tilly before him, he saw a younger version of her, dressed in a pretty dress and pinafore, a much younger iteration of her face gazing up at him in adoration. It was all he could do to hold onto his breath. What was happening to him?

Afraid to share what he had seen, knowing Tilly’s grip on reality could already sometimes be fragile, Rogers tried to push the strange near-reminiscence and the image aside, gesturing toward the counter in question to see if TIlly would prefer a seat there in the tall stools rather than a booth. She too seemed to shake a dazed expression from her face, and nodded, hopping onto the nearest seat quickly. He noticed her agitation though as she softly drummed her fingers on the countertop and swiveled in her seat.

Rogers wondered briefly if he should ask her what was wrong or let her pretend. Should he find out if she had seen something odd as well, and if so, what? He hated to disturb the equilibrium she had recently found; dreaded upsetting her or encouraging flights from reality. So he bit his tongue with effort and held back his questions. Instead, he asked what she had been working on in her latest art piece, and Tilly launched into a detailed and enthusiastic description of the enchanted setting of some Wonderland in a book she’d read.

Just as he was drawing in a breath of relief and feeling normalcy return, their waitress arrived before them. “Hello, welcome to Ruby Red’s! What can I start you off with today?” The voice was welcoming and pleasant, but lower and less gratingly perky than often assaulted one’s ears in such small, cutesy restaurants. The detective had hardly even picked up his menu, much less perused his choices, and he flushed, embarrassed to the very roots of his dark hair, scruffy cheeks pinking and even the tips of his subtly pointed ears taking on the hue. Tilly noticed, and elbowed him with a snicker, causing Rogers to fumble with the laminated sheet of their offerings and bring up his stiff, gloved hand as well to keep from dropping the menu. He’d been too busy pondering over his strange reverie and observing his younger companion’s disquiet, but she seemed to have thrown that aside and resumed her jovial nature once more, so he attempted to do the same.

“Ah, hello Lass,” he offered awkwardly, reaching up to scratch behind his ear uncertainly and wishing for at least the hundredth time that he were a bit more suave and self-assured. “Sorry about that, haven’t quite made up my mind yet.” Looking to offer her an apologetic smile, Rogers nearly swallowed his own tongue at the sight before him.

Their waitress was stunning. Surely the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. She was dressed simply in a sleeveless chambray button-down top and khaki skirt that came to mid-thigh toped with short red apron. Yet, even with her bright fall of blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and dark, plastic-framed glasses on her nose, she was dazzling to his senses.

“That’s quite alright,” she assured with an easy smile. “Maybe just your drink orders while you decide?”

“Right you are, Miss…” he paused, stumbling over his words and inherent politeness when he realized he didn’t know her last name. “Ah... Eva?” he finished sheepishly as his eyes found the small plastic nametag she wore.

Not seeming in the least put off by his nerves or fumbling manner - in fact, if Tilly, who was watching the exchange with a deviously pleased grin and avid interest, were any sort of judge, their pretty waitress seemed decidedly charmed. Nodding, the woman hurried to answer him. “Yep, Eva, that’s right. Eva Cygnet.” She reached out to shake his hand only to find that he hesitated to offer his, leading her eyes to fall on the prosthetic she had failed to notice. Rogers’ eyes fell to the countertop, lips pressed together in a firm line, but his head shot back up in surprise when she laid her hand atop his gloved replacement appendage, kindly adding, and holding his gaze until it was clear she meant her words and that the false hand didn’t bother her at all. “Glad you decided to visit us today, Mr. …?”

“Rogers,” the detective spoke up, confidence growing in his voice as he marveled at the woman’s simple kindness and understanding. “Joel Rogers, Hyperion Heights detective.” His cheeks flushed again, not sure why he’d added that part, but holding her gaze all the same.

Tilly, however, was now completely won over. Seeing the change that had come over her friend and benefactor in the short exchange with this Eva Cygnet, and just how amazed he seemed by her mere presence, Tilly was practically beaming. With a bounce of enthusiasm, she chirped, “Best on the force, that’s him!”

Ms. Cygnet chuckled easily, flattering laughlines crinkling the corners of eyes that might have seemed a bit tired when she first reached their seats, but now appeared friendly and amused. “Good to know,” she said seriously, turning her attention to Tilly then. “If we have any trouble here, I’ll know just who to call.”

Tilly nodded smartly, reaching out to shake Eva Cygnet’s hand readily and then adding, “And you don’t have to wait on my order, either. Could I just have toast with butter and orange marmalade and a glass of milk?”

Eva’s head tilted as if uncertain, and possibly even trying to decide if the younger woman was playing some sort of trick on her. She scrunched her nose in a thoughtful way that made Rogers want to reach out and tap the tip of it with his finger, an urge he barely managed to wrestle down. Finally, the waitress seemed to make up her mind, and with a shrug, jotted Tilly’s order on her pad. “If you’re sure that’s all you want, you can certainly have it. Our bread is baked fresh right here in our kitchen every day - and Granny makes the preserves herself as well - best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Granny?” Tilly repeated curiously as she looked at their server.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Eva offered. “Mrs Lucas, the owner. Most of us have worked here forever, so it’s almost like family, and that’s what we all call her. She told me her name was Granny when she hired me.” Shaking her head, she leaned in closer to Tilly in a conspiratorial whisper. “We just finally got her to take a two week vacation for the first time in years. She went to Colorado to see her granddaughter and her husband and great-grandkids. He’s some sort of woodsman, forestry officer, something like that, and they live in a national park basically. Granny’s been thinking about it for ages, and Ruby - this place is named after her - keeps begging her to, saying she and Pete would love to have her stay with them. And so she finally did it!”

Tilly’s eyes were shining, looking as thrilled with the happy story as if she too knew the people Eva spoke of so fondly. “Wow,” she commented. “That sounds amazing.”

“Yup,” Eva confirmed, with a bob of her head, “but look at me gabbing on when you’d probably like your food sometime today!”

She turned to Joel then, a patient look on her face and pen poised to take down his order as well. He would never have assumed it had anything to do with him (it did) but she looked flushed and more than a bit apologetic, and he wanted to tell her that he would listen to her stories all day. She could read them the entire menu word-for-word, and he would welcome it if that was what it took to keep her near.

“What would you recommend?” he questioned instead, brow furrowing in consternation as he almost added “Love” at the end of his request.

Eva grinned, offering her pick without hesitation. “This may sound crazy. I’ve been told more than once I’ve got the palate of a 10-year-old, but I’d have the grilled cheese club. The bread’s all crisp and buttery and there’s this secret sauce and bacon in the cheese. It’s just melty, perfect goodness.”

Winking at her, badly, both eyes seeming to close as if unable to work independently, Rogers took her at her word. “Sold! That does sound delicious, maybe with a side of - “

“Onion rings?”

“Yes, exactly! Brilliant, Lass.”

“You have good taste,” Eva Cygnet offered sagely. “I’ll always pick onion rings over fries myself. And to drink?”

“Iced tea, please,” he concluded, handing his menu to her as Tilly did the same.

When she had taken off to place the order, assuring them it wouldn’t be long, Tilly nudged him repeatedly, looking all-too-excited. “Was that flirting?!?” she half-whispered, half-squealed in a tone that felt entirely too noticeable to Rogers’ ears. “Ohmygoodness! Adorable! I’ve never seen you like that, Detective!” More nudging and giggling followed, even after Eva returned with their food, until Joel honestly wanted to slide under the counter and out of sight. However, the food was as delicious as promised, and he found himself happy in a way he hadn’t been in some time - despite any lingering embarrassment.

Tilly seemed to feel the same satisfaction, even asking Eva when she returned with the bill and to hear what they thought of the food, if they sold the marmalade by the jar.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Eva laughed good naturedly as she rang them up. “Though I’ve been telling Granny she should.” She paused for a second as Joel offered her a twenty and her fingers deftly made change. “You’ll just have to come back often to have more.”

Her words were spoken to Tilly, but her glance darted over to take in the handsome dark-haired detective as well, hopeful as they studied his face quickly before flickering away again.

“That we will,” Tilly affirmed, her look bouncing back and forth between her friend and the waitress mischievously. “Don’t you worry.”

“Aye,” Rogers added with his own crooked smile, reaching out to take his receipt. “I’ve no doubt we’ll be returning often.”

His words cut off abruptly when he and Eva’s fingers touched. The thin cash register paper crumpled as their fingertips met, and his calloused fingers brushed her soft palm. Pictures flashed behind his eyes - of her golden hair cascading loose from her ponytail and his hand tangling in it, of her in a pale pink dress and his favorite leather jacket draped over her shoulders, the two of them sitting by the water somewhere passing a flask of rum back and forth, her fingers clutching at his collar desperately while she hauled him to her for a kiss, surrounded by green leaves and sticky humid air. It was all the more shocking for his having so recently experienced something so similar with Tilly, but if possible this with Eva Cygnet was even more intense. There was no way to deny what he saw - or the way it made him feel.

Eva said nothing, but was similarly arrested by pictures in her own mind: this man before her running his tongue along his lower lip as he flirts with her shamelessly, opening an old-fashioned spyglass with his mouth and then offering it to her as well, brushing her hair back over her shoulder with a hook at the end of his arm in place of the prosthetic, him standing with her by some sort of well, holding out a ring on a necklace chain.

Both of detective and waitress stumbled backward with similarly stunned gasps for air. Their hands fell to their sides, Rogers’ flexing unconsciously as if he had been shocked, and the receipt falling forgotten to the floor between them.

Neither were able to speak, until another customer behind them cleared his throat impatiently, and Tilly linked her arm through the detective’s, propelling him toward the door. “Thanks! We’ll see you soon.”

Eva moved to ring up the next tab, but her fingertips danced over her lips briefly, as if feeling the tingle of a kiss that didn’t happen. “Good,” she thought to herself. She could only hope those words were true.

Tagging just a few others who might enjoy (or have seen enjoying the aesthetic inspiration!) : @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree

#csr ff #cs alt s7 headcanon fic #csr oneshot #birthday fic gift #for @itsfabianadocarmo

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snowflake-of-destruction · 4 years ago

Photo

This isn’t something I normally participate in, but, since I didn’t write much in June and shared hardly anything(something I plan to change in July if I can), I thought I should give some proof of (creative) life if anyone wants it.

Under the cut, a series of tiny excerpts, most more than six sentences, of different Kingdom Hearts pieces to be rescued from the limbo of “half finished chunk of something in a google doc.” Some of them belong to WIPs and some are from various other things started and then interrupted or....we’ll say set to a back burner.

All excerpts headed by a bolded header in the style of

Title of Piece This Belongs To (Brief description of what kind of fic that is in between parenthesis)

Advantage Rule (Isalea Modern AU. First Chapter Up On AO3. More Info There.)

"You lost or are you the new caulk?" The speaker didn't fit the typical profile of a tech professional, especially one that worked behind the scenes with the coders. Mid-fifties judging by the lines on his face with thinning blond hair so light you could hardly tell where some parts had gone silver combed to stick up as a compensation for where it threatened to recede and leather skin that said he'd worked outside in some decade past, paired with a southern accent that seemed stronger than it was with the effect added by the toothpick precariously balanced in the corner of his mouth. He'd rejected business attire in favor of cargo pants and a dark blue flight jacket that looked like they'd been bought in the last century, and the look in his eye was so fierce without prompting that Axel had to wonder if he was a failsafe for the air conditioning breaking down.

"Am I the what?"

"Caulk." The toothpick switched sides of the man's mouth with a roll of his bottom lip. "Fixing the leaks? The cybersecurity specialist? Axel Lea?" His impatience mounted by the moment. Working on the fourth floor would certainly be interesting.

"Yes, sir. That would be me." Axel tried to smooth the way with deference and the easy smile that rarely steered him wrong. "Does that make you...?"

"Cid Highwind. I'll be showing you the ropes. Now that you've seen fit to grace us with your presence." Cid continued to stare him down and Axel wasn't sure if he was supposed to apologize or bare his teeth and smack his chest like a gorilla to challenge the alpha.

Without False Hope ( First Chapter Up On AO3. More Info There. Akuroku KH/FFX crossover)

Axel was waiting for them, or it seemed that way at least and Roxas didn’t think himself vain for thinking so, when Roxas spotted the lanky redhead not jogging himself but leaning against a pole until he saw the Crusaders approaching and then falling in next to Roxas just behind Xion as she bellowed, "Young Crusaders gather 'round," the beginning of a call and response chant that the rest of them would answer with a promise to knock enemies back and stand their ground or an alternate about beating Sin beneath the ground if they were feeling

Axel finished the line a beat before the Crusaders would have, substituting his own words. "...Eager for Sin to put you in the ground." Roxas's heart, which had soared for a moment when Axel had come up beside him and dared to hope that Axel's first words would be a version of sorry or an invitation out somewhere without other people, took a sharp plummet to his toes then returned to his chest angry at being mocked.

Assorted grumbles and shouts showed many others felt the same way, but Xion seemed to take it in stride, sing-songing her own improvised lines that continued the cadence of the original chant without missing a beat, "Young civilian come to heckle and stare. What would you do if a fiend attacked and we weren't there?"

Axel near stumbled but recovered and let out a short bark that might have been a laugh he wasn't sure he was allowed without inviting training Crusaders to make him pay for it, afterward rumbling in an impressed tone, "You, I like,."

"You should. " Xion shot back and her casual tone alone was enough that everyone else in the formation knew Axel was an acceptable stranger even if he was rude, and that they should ignore the intrusion. "I'm not sure I like you back. Roxas has been mooning and it makes him impossible."

Guardian Force (Akuroku. Axel and Roxas in the next life, living as NPCs in the world of/during the story of FFVIII. Part of my eventual plan to show Axel and Roxas living out every Final Fantasy game. Unpublished/First chapter never completed because I decided on Without False Hope/a FFX crossover instead)

"You often talk to yourself?" an insolent lazy drawl came from somewhere to Axel's left and he turned, eyes narrowing to see a boy in a rumpled Balamb cadet uniform lying across the second highest step, book in hand, vibrant blue eyes, ice eyes like he'd junctioned Shiva right to his vision, trained on him over the spine.

"To my Guardian Force," Axel explained, though that seemed worse. Over six foot of height and lean muscle and the SeeD uniform Axel wore at least enough parts of for it to be vaguely recognizable that he belonged to the elite unit, all usually worked together enough that there was usually no reason to be embarrassed by anything he let slip out. Nobody would laugh even if Axel welcomed it.

"Thought you didn't like using Guardian Forces," the lounging student's voice was just as nonchalant as it was before, but his gaze was sharp, interested, and he spoke as if he knew Axel.

"Have we met?" Axel knocked the sole of his left boot against the side of his right as if scraping mud off the bottom. It wasn't odd for him to shift constantly even when mostly still, unless he was specifically called to stand at attention. There was an air of discomfort about the present action though, when taken with how jade eyes known for constant analysis on and off the battlefield, seemed attracted to the handrail of the steps rather than searching the face of the boy that had just spoken to him with familiarity. Axel's normally iron stomach soured immediately at the idea they had met and he'd forgotten, to the point he couldn't even bring himself to try and jog his recollection. All he could do was force out his least favorite question next to 'when did that happen?'

Lollipop (Soriku and Akuroku. College AU/Modern AU. Unpublished. Sora and Roxas in an acapella group because that was the only way I could work out how to get them to sing and do choreo for songs that get stuck in Shaky’s head, which was the Goal of the Day one day before I got distracted)

When Sora said he had a new idea for a piece for the CrescenDudes' next performance, Roxas had been more than happy to volunteer to work on the arrangement with him. Sora was great for ideas, large picture and little flourishes that made a song a show, and he was, hands down, who you wanted doing choreography, even if he tended to get carried away and not realize there weren't many others with the dance and movement background he had in their group, but he wasn't suited for the musical side of sculpting a piece. He'd sing what he was given and he'd stay on pitch doing it, but he had no idea to weave songs together to form a mashup that sounded natural and created the right feeling in a crowd, and he'd forget to accommodate for everyone's voices or go the opposite direction and try to highlight everyone and have twenty solos. So it was up to Roxas to take his vision from neat idea to reality, and he jumped at the chance. He'd do anything at this point to distract Sora from dragging him into wedding planning for a few days when that should be Riku’s job as the other groom.

Hourglass (Unpublished. Self-indulgent BBS Era--at least for this excerpt-- story about KH Squall/Leon and Seifer growing up in Radiant Garden and explaining how they got to be on separate planets and separate ages by the time KH1 rolls around. May be competed and posted to AO3 or just used as a base/record of headcanon for sprinkling backstory references in other pieces.)

Seifer challenged Lea and Isa to break back into the castle and come back with proof this time. He would have just called Lea a liar, but that would lead to Lea trying to fight him, which would lead to Isa trying to fight him, which would lead to Squall getting in the way, thinking Seifer couldn't handle a two on one fight with some chicken wusses. Then Squall would still try to sneak into the castle himself to see Ellone anyway--and she wasn’t in the castle in the first place...probably. Seifer would have to drag Squall’s ass out of there, and, if they got caught by the Royal Guard, then they’d be the next rumored prisoners in the basement. It was safer to make it be Lea and Isa's challenge.

Lea took the bait. Isa, surprisingly, added they were planning a return trip anyway. Squall shot Seifer a questioning look, which he ignored in favor of taunting Lea and sealing the deal, "I can't wait to see you two hobble in tomorrow after getting your asses beat by the Guard. Try not to hit your thick skulls on the flagstones when you get thrown out."

Drowning (Unfinished/unpublished. Placeholder name. Sorikai. Supposed to be for the Sorikai Summer Event. Prompt: Drowning. Long one shot about eight times one of the Destiny Trio has nearly drowned and then been saved by the others)

Their first prototype of a raft had fallen apart underneath them in open water, the ties that lashed the planks together having not been as securely tied as they could have been--the book on sailor's knots Sora had provided was a lot more obtuse than it had seemed at first, descriptions dense and picture demonstrations too sparse. Kairi and Sora each fared well, each grabbing onto a floating plank to drift a minute and orient themselves after being plunged into the water. Riku was less successful, being fixated on saving as many of the supplies Kairi and Sora had gathered (coconuts, mushrooms, and bottles of water mostly, though there had been a tackle box that Riku's father would kill him for losing if he had to go back and face him, and that was what Riku was primarily focused on) and exhausting his breath on too many dives in a row without recovery in between until he was lightheaded from not taking in enough air in his hasty gulps when he broke the surface and increasingly imprecise in where he chose to come out of the water until he hit his head on the bottom of the plank he was loading the recovered supplies onto and went down without resurfacing.

No Set Recipe (Unfinished/unpublished. Sorikai. Supposed to be for the Sorikai Summer Event. Prompt: Ice Cream. Kidfic. Sora’s mom is left with the job of explaining polyamory while making homemade ice cream with a group of five and six year olds.)

It was all Selphie's fault to start with, though if she was going to be ascribed the blame for the hurt feelings, she would have to be given credit for all that happened after, which Riku and Sora both agreed she did not deserve, even if Kairi was more magnanimous, so it became habit just to talk of the ice cream and the impact it had on their future. Still, the most accurate account begins with: one day when they were all young-- too young to even be allowed to swim in the water surrounding play island without an adult in the surf with them, if that gives perspective--Selphie, to everyone's surprise, scored the winning goal in the game of land-blitzball the group of them were playing in order to decide what game they would really spend the day playing, and chose, to absolutely nobody's surprise, house.

Everyone accepted their fate and divided into family units with minimal grumbling, phrasing which means that Wakka threw the blitzball into the sea and lost it forever when Jecht--the parent chaperone on play island that day who was five minutes away from falling asleep on the sand and typically didn't care what they did, unlike most parents who at least had restrictions about not hitting each other in the head with wooden swords or throwing sand, and was the favorite of the children for that attitude of freedom to make mistakes being a better teacher than rules--refused to go into the water after it.

Selphie, however, found a problem with Sora, Riku, and Kairi's family. Specifically, she didn't like that the family was Riku, Kairi, and Sora all together parenting a yellow coconut Kairi was trying to rock to sleep while Riku built him a bed out of sand and palm fronds and Sora cooked dinner for the household--a savoury stew of sticks, sand, and mushroom. She stood with pursed lips and hands on hips, and declared that their proud coconut son, Rekka, couldn't have all three of them for parents because that wasn't how things worked.

"Why not?" Sora asked with all the curiosity and innocence of a child.

Riku tried a more practical, solution based approach with, "Can we change the rules?"

Kairi was more direct and firm, her, "It does if I say so," leaving very little room to argue.

#snippets #not clogging tags with this though

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alpaca-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Mystics, Chapter 23

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-22 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: gore, blood mention, human hearts, mutilation, darkness/ voids, death mention. Enjoy!

Be an angel. Give me a heart and don’t forget to reblog. Xx. - Alpaca.

---------------------------------

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TAKING NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND

They thought that Paimon would drag them back into their room; through the carved-up halls and up the spiral stairs that led through more winding passages and that they would eventually be left to their lonesome behind the door again.

… Instead, Arch was being taken toward the dining hall- with the extremely long dining table.

“Was that who I think it was?” Arch managed. Paimon had very little to say after Arch had been caught with his prisoner. His brows were furrowed and his eyes glistened with more darkness than they had before. He was distracted by something, and it was clear that the last thing on his mind was caring about Arch’s encounter with the prisoner. It put Arch on edge at first, always wondering if they would be paying for the misdemeanor in some physical way. They would be relieved to know that no forms of torture were on Paimon’s mind.

“Who do you think it was?” He growled, turning the question back on them.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Arch started, keeping up with him. “You’re a demon- a King, if I recall correctly. I did at least some research after we first met at Mystics”- they quickly explained as an aside. “But I also know from Catholicism, all that Latin they’d spew… That was…”

Paimon raised a brow as he led them through the halls, wondering when they’d make their connection.

“Yes?”

Arch straightened a bit. “That was Lucifer… the ‘light bringer’, wasn’t it?”

“Very good, Arch.”

The sudden praise stopped them in their tracks and together Paimon and Arch stood by the closed doors of the dining hall. Facing them, Paimon grinned broadly clapped his hands onto Arch’s shoulders- an action which earned a flinch in response.

“One of the things that drew me to you was your unique perspective and your creativity. You draw conclusions where other people can’t. It’s quite impressive.”

Arch scoffed lightly, shifting their eyes side to side. “It’s not that impressive.”

“Do not doubt yourself so,” Paimon studied their bruising and bloody face. Lifting his hands, he put his thumbs on either side of Arch’s nose.

They felt the bones crack back into place, though no pain followed from his healing touch.

Arch relaxed from the showering kindness. It was unusual; unexpected at the very least. Healing powers in a demon seemed a bit... out of place.

“Thank you,” they muttered.

Paimon released them and his admiration turned solemn. He nodded toward the door, and took a heavy breath.

“I have something for you behind this door. A gift,” he spoke calmly. The calmest, in fact, that Arch had ever heard from him. “I wish that Lyrem could have presented it to you directly, but…”

Falling silent, and unfinished in his thoughts, Paimon opened the doors and ushered Arch through.

Mildly confused, Arch rubbed their shoulders where Paimon’s claws had been and followed him inside.

“You said I wouldn’t see Lyrem for a long time,” they replied. “What happened to him? Where is he?”

The table almost looked empty since it was barren all the way until the end section. Something on it was moving, but it couldn’t move very far. Arch only saw the alternating rubber soles before realizing who the gift was.

“Marcus?”

There was a muffled cry heard beneath the cotton that had been stuffed into the boy’s mouth. Arch ran up alongside. Their humanity getting the better of them, they approached in concern and gulped as they took them in. He looked in a bad way. Rosacea seeped up his neck and into the base of his cheeks. The sides of his face were already slick with tears and drool, and his eyes were bloodshot and baggy. His forehead, under auburn curls, was dreadfully sweaty. He was pinned to the table with nails stabbed through his hands at each corner leaving bloody pools that stained the wood. Paimon had provided him with the merciful chains to his ankles that held him taut to the massive table and its legs.

Paimon watched Arch carefully as they studied their captive. He didn’t want to step in. He could tell from here, that Arch was beginning to realize the expectations he had of them. He waited. He wanted Arch to initiate the next step.

Scratching a brow, they backed away from the table, and only then noticed the bloody bowie knife sitting on the chair. That was Uncle Arty’s. Arch flicked their eyes from the knife to Marcus multiple times before checking back to Paimon and his darkening gaze.

“I was unfortunately too late,” he said. “It seems as though someone had released this boy from his shackles in the back room of Mystics. By the time I had got there, it was a bloody mess.

Lyrem is dead.” He said simply. The twisted truths were his favorite.

Arch paled in their complexion and picked the blade up by its worn wooden handle.

“Marcus… killed Lyrem? What about my uncle? This is his knife. Did you see him? Is he okay?” Arch panicked, the words and questions poured out like a waterfall.

“Your uncle; I don’t know what happened to him. But clearly, his knife was in the wrong hands. Likely stolen,” Paimon answered.

Arch regarded him skeptically. It was impossible to tell if he was speaking the truth, but they knew that Paimon cared about Lyrem. They also knew that Marcus would have done anything to be free from him.

“Lyrem was… saving Marcus for me,” they managed. The idea of Lyrem being dead had hardly sunk in yet. “As a birthday present.”

“He was quite excited about it too,” Paimon added from across the table. “He was so proud of how you had been progressing, and how strong you had become in such a short amount of time.”

Arch sniffed and wiped their nose with the back of their hand. Remembering how much Lyrem had done for them since April, their heart sped up with the familiar rage that Marcus had commonly instilled within them.

They raised the knife high above their head, and watched the fear rise in a tidal wave in the face of the lowly one on the table. They tried to bring it down but were interrupted. Paimon stood behind them, keeping their hands from lowering the blade deep into the boy’s chest.

“What?”

Paimon gently pried the knife from Arch’s hands, tempted to allow them the pleasure of sinking the blade deep into an innocent one, but thought the better of it.

“Presentation is important, sweet thing,” he advised. “If you want to consume the heart, it’s best to carve the meat in another fashion.”

“Like how?”

Paimon smiled. He led their dominant hand onto the handle, and wrapped his own fingers around theirs.

“Allow me to show you.”

----------------------------

The emptiness was the most frightening aspect of the Labyrinth. The sheer quiet darkness. Sensory deprivation at its finest. The second time around was just as jarring of an adjustment as the first, but this time, at least Arthur tried to come prepared. There was something oddly comforting about the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be alone this time.

“Wild, wild horses…” he sang low, flicking the gyro wheel and following its calming hum. “couldn’t drag me awaaay…”

The rope dropped off behind him, hitting the floor without a sound the moment it had been released.

Then, he turned on it, searching for it again because of some inkling in the back of his mind that told him the Labyrinth was not a reliable place. What was there one second, could be gone the next. He clicked on the flashlight, and his heart fell. The rope had been there for as long as he would hold onto it. But it was gone now- eaten up by the merciless void. Just as he expected.

“I watched you s-suffer… A dull aching pain,” he wouldn’t lose hope. Persephone was still around here somewhere. Charlotte could be with her now, for all he knew. That was a comforting notion. “Now you've decided, t’show me the same…”

He hadn’t realized that the flashlight was still on. There was still a darkness all around that had basically drowned the light out. He pulled out the baggy of confetti, and left his first little trail, knowing that he would run out of the bag long before he found anything promising. He’d probably be lost in here forever.

“Wild horses, couldn’t drag me away…” he continued. The gyro wheel was the only useful object here. It at least kept him mildly entertained.

He stepped onwards, repeating the songs that gave him the most calm.

One foot in front of the other. For hours… days? Every second felt like a century. Every hour could have gone by in a single blinking of an eye. Was he making progress? Or walking in circles?

Something clinked under his boot, something small. It dragged under his foot as he lifted it for the next step. Arthur looked down, the glinting of a crucifix and a broken gold chain stared up from the light. It was Charlotte’s.

Knowing that filled him with relief.

“Charlotte?!”

There was silence.

�� “Char?!”

If her crucifix was here, then certainly she had to be.

And more than that, it meant that not everything would be sucked into the void, like the rope and confetti were. He didn’t know why the crucifix was spared that same fate, but he didn’t particular like staring gift wild horses in the mouth.

There was still nothing but silence.

He sighed deeply, clutching the gold pendant in his palm and whispered himself a prayer. Hoping for a miracle, he kissed his clutched fist and continued on. He couldn’t waste too much time. Arthur continued on, determined and without losing faith that he would come across his sister at some point.

There was an odd sound above his head. High pitched… tweeting?

It grew louder, and mixed in with sounds of more birds and rustling leaves. It shouldn’t have been so alarming.

“Charlotte?” He called out again.

The ground grew softer beneath his feet, like he was sinking into it just a little. Arthur bent himself down, just to touch the ground, and found the unmistakable feeling of grass between his fingers. The scent of a blooming cherry tree filled his head, and he sneezed.

“Hello?!”

Nothing.

Arthur stood up. In all the time he had been here before, he had not once, come across something like this.

“This stupid… fuckin’ place,” he muttered. “What did I do to deserve this, huh? I never hurt anybody…”

There was a whining creak ahead of him, and then the sound of a door shutting after it had been opened. Like a screen door. A swift breeze brushed through his hair.

“Persephone?” Arthur asked.

“Sh!”

Arthur backed away as he heard steps coming up to him.

“Be careful!” the voice said through the dark. “You’ll wake the baby!”

“CHARLOTTE!”

“Arthur, wait!”-

The world lit up in color and light. A bright summer’s day outside a large house with concrete steps that led up to a porch.

Charlotte was standing in the grass, her dark hair tousled but tied up in a bun. She was puffy eyed, like she hadn’t slept in an age, and oddly unperturbed by her circumstances. Arthur took her in for a moment more before he realized what she had said.

There was a gurgling, and then a crying from the window above their heads. Charlotte sighed in exasperation.

“I had just put her down for a nap.”

Her long fingers massaged her temples, and then she pulled her brother in by the elbow.

“Char? …” he started. “Why do you have a baby?”

“I’m not really sure. Come inside, Arty!”

He was resisting the yellow door, not wanting to follow his sister through. But she had inevitably dragged him in by the front of his collar and then let the door close behind him. She ran up the stairs.

Arthur looked around. It was a modest, traditional house, and not one that he had ever been inside before- though the layout was familiar enough to be a house that he would’ve driven past through the suburbs.

There was a closet to his left, by the boot room, a dining room with full place settings left untouched beyond that, and a living area/ play area to his right with one of those swinging chairs for infants and a hanging mobile there as well.

He heard his sister upstairs, making the calming cooing noises. Mothering had always come so naturally to her… until a certain point. When Arch had turned about eleven was when everything started going downhill. He followed up the stairs. The old wood groaned with each step until he reached the landing, and turned around the ballast. Charlotte was indeed, rocking an infant to sleep in her arms and whispering a soft lullaby.

The baby calmed down, and Charlotte carried her back to the crib, setting her gently inside and then left the room. The door clicked shut behind her, and she looked at Arthur and smiled.

Then she broke down. Her hands lifted to her face to help the shedding of tears. Arthur wrapped her in a tight hug. They cried into each other’s shoulders at the top of the stairs for several long minutes in relief before pulling away. He sniffed, and wiped his face on the backs of his hands.

“When Arch told me you were gone, I- I thought…” he couldn’t say the rest. Instead, he produced the gold crucifix and presented it to her. “Here, this is yours, right? I found it on the way here”-

“I don’t want it,” she said quickly through a stuffed-up nose. She nodded for him to go downstairs. “Come on, we need to talk.”

Arthur pocketed the crucifix and did as she said. They did need to talk. There was a lot that they needed to catch up on and they desperately needed a plan.

--------------------------

Arch was surprised that Marcus was still awake and still making sound.

His sternum had been split open, and it took a bit of surgical machinery to keep it that way. So now, Arch had a clear view to his beating heart and portions of his lungs around the metal clamps.

“He can’t die here, not really,” Paimon assured. “He gets to feel every ounce of what you’re doing. Isn’t that fun?”

“What happens when I take his heart out?” Arch asked.

“He continues to live, and decay.”

“Like those things I found downstairs?”

He nodded.

“Now,” Paimon urged them to continue. “What is next?”

“I should sever the arteries?” they suggested. “Does it have to be done in a certain order? I’m just going to eat it after, aren’t I?

“Presentation is everything, remember? It’s important to do it right.”

The next incisions removed the ventricles from the bottom, the blood pooled and spurted up, spraying Arch in the face, and getting some of it on their apron.

Paimon leaned over their work, and pointed to the upper portion.

“Good start. Next time, sever just here, to relieve the pressure first,” he advised.

“I should have paid more attention in biology,” Arch commented.

“Perhaps,” Paimon agreed as he watched them sever the remaining arteries. “Ah, wonderful, now reach in, and simply pluck it out.”

“I wish Lyrem was here to see this,” they said. “Are you sure you can’t just serve transfer papers to Hades and have him sent here?”

“Unfortunately, with Lyrem’s Greek heritage, it is more difficult to adopt him into this realm of the afterlife. Legally, he is bound to Hades personally in death.”

“Oh,” Arch commented disappointedly. They reached their hand into Marcus’ chest, and pulled it out. It was heavier than the others. Though that might have simply been the illusion of guilt that weighed it down.

Arch brushed the feeling aside as Marcus heartlessly sobbed through the cloth.

“Well,” they sighed. Staring down at it, something was missing. It wasn’t ready yet, and presentation was everything. They turned to Paimon.

“Do you have a birthday candle?”

1 note · View note

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 86

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

Three hours seem like thirty. She feels numb; both body and brain simply running on autopilot. Head swimming with a multitude of emotions, yet incapable of showing or expressing a single one. Limbs feeling impossibly heavy. Too much energy expected and expended with even the simplest of movements; gnawing on a thumb mail or twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, or tucking loose strands behind her ears. She’s tired; already worn out from the bombardment upon her earlier arrival at the hospital. Updates given by both emergency room staff, the radiologist, and a team of surgeons; presented with the best and worst case scenarios for short and long term progress, difficult decisions having to be made on the spot because there was no time to waste. Consent forms and insurance and financial matters that had to be discussed, legal issues that her already overwhelmed mind couldn’t fully comprehend.

She hasn’t had time to think; no spare moment to focus on exactly WHAT she’s feeling. Knowing that just under the surface lingered tremendous worry and all consuming fear and an imminent panic attack, yet never actually succumbing to any -of all- of those things. She can feel the tsunami of tears that continue to grow and strengthen, the dull ache of sorrow and grief that sit heavily on her chest, the lump of emotion that is lodged in her throat. Yet she’s seemingly incapable of letting any of those things out, and instead has done little more than sit in a cramped and uncomfortable chair in the crowded OR waiting room. Passing the time by repeatedly counting the tiles on the drop ceiling or staring at her feet as she continuously brushes the toes of her runners against the highly polished floor.

When she’d first arrived she’d been met by the CEO of the hospital -Anil’s friend who had visited the house just the night before- and he’d offered not only his most skilled and revered physicians and surgeons, but one of the private meeting rooms genuinely used by families with a loved one on death’s door. And while she’d initially accepted and had appreciated the spacious -and surprisingly bright and cheerful, given the circumstances the room is used for- area and the comfortable furniture, she’d lasted all of ten minutes when left to her own devices. Once Koen and Rata left to tend to the things at the safe house and the hotel they’d initially been staying at, she’d quickly gone stir crazy. The silence and the stillness unbearable; each tick of the clock on the wall seeming impossibly loud and grating. She can’t remember the last time she’d been subjected to that level of quiet. She’s spent six and a half years surrounded by noise; crying and babbling babies, children laughing and playing and squabbling, a husband that blares his music while working out and is always finding some kind of noisy home or land reno project to keep himself busy with. She’s become so accustomed to continuous noise that everything seems alien now; unfamiliar and uncomfortable and anxiety inducing.

She’d retreated to one of several OR waiting areas. Oddly comforted by the cramped surroundings and the conversations carrying out in Bengali and broken English. It didn’t matter that these were strangers; everyone in the room in a similar boat. Some silent, some quietly praying, others gathered in small groups as they anxiously await news on a loved one. The noise and the smells are strangely soothing; the hum of chit chat and the scent of cafeteria coffee. She tries not to make eye contact despite the curious stares and the odd whisper; occasionally catching glimpse of sympathetic smiles throw her way. Normally she’s social and chatty, even under the most stressful of situations. But now she’s afraid to open her mouth. Scared that if she looks at someone and sees sadness or pity in their eyes or they try to engage her in kind yet curious conversation, she’ll lose it. That a simple act of compassion will have her throwing her arms around a complete stranger and sobbing into their shoulder.

That’s not where she needs to be right now. Giving in to the immense fear and all consuming worry and the doom and gloom that had come with the lengthy list of diagnosis’ she’d been given; less than optimistic results from emergency x-rays, CAT scans, and ultrasounds. She can’t dwell on that; what MIGHT happen. They may be the experts; top notch in their fields and highly educated with decades of practising medicine under their belts. But they don’t know Tyler. Not the way she does. They don’t know the trials and tribulations he’d been tested with over the course of forty-one years. They don’t know how strong he is; how resilient. They didn’t see him beat the odds seven years ago; bouncing back when the cards were stacked against him and busting his ass to get back on his feet again. And they definitely don’t know how much he loves his family; the depths and the lengths he’d go to stay alive and return to them.

The universe can’t give a man a second chance and then try and snatch it away that easily.

She checks the time on her cell phone. It’s now been three hours and twenty two minutes since he’d been taken down to the OR and a small team of surgeons had set to work. Three significant and invasive procedures at once; back and the knee and the femur of the right leg. The latter seems to give the doctors the most concern; a massive open fracture that has caused damage to the spurring muscles, tendons, and ligaments. The main fear -aside from infection setting in- is whether or not there’s too much damage and the leg will be beyond repair. That is a scenario she refuses to acknowledge. The thought of having to make that decision -having to take away something so vital to someone so active and who can’t still for more than five minutes- leaving her dizzy and nauseous.

Instead she’s been putting all of her energy into thinking...believing...that the operation will be a success. That the damage can -and will- be fixed and the placement of an ilizarov -a metal ‘cage’ over the femur with screw going through the skin and down into the healing bone- will aid in a successful recovery. It will be a long haul; several months of out patient physiotherapy and learning how to weight bear and walk again. But it’s better than the alternative.

Sighing heavily, she places her elbow on the chair’s armrest and places her head in her palm. Eyes closing as she lets the hum of the nearby beverage machine and the multiple conversations taking place around her lull her into a state of relaxation. Between her feet rests a clear, hospital issued garbage bag; filled to the near brim with her husband’s personal effects. The clothes are beyond salvation, and she questions their mere presence among the other objects; torn and tattered and soaked in blood. And she catches herself thinking about how there hadn’t seemed to be that much of it seven years ago. When she’d rummaged through the items given to her and she’d fled to the nearest public bathroom; furiously sobbing as she irrationally tried to scrub the utility vest clean with water and hand soap because she’d thought he might need it again. Had there been that much blood? Had his things been that saturated and damaged? Or is it one of the small details that have simply escaped her after so many years?

She scolds herself for thinking about it; comparing the two instances. And she briefly considers trying to distract herself by opening the bag; throwing out the clothes and even the vest, and cleaning up whatever is left behind. The two cell phones, a wallet, his watch and bracelets. The kids would want those last items. Especially the latter for Millie, who had made the newest one and a matching one for herself. If anything DOES happen, it would give them something of his; things that were on his person and would tie them to him forever.

But nothing is going to happen, she reminds herself. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get through this just like he’s gotten through everything else. And when all is said and done, we’re going to put this all behind us and go home and live our lives.

“Hey,” a quiet voice greets, accompanied by the tap of toes against the side of one of her runners. And when she opens her eyes she finds Yaz standing over her. His eyes glassy and his brow furrowed with worry; a take out cup of coffee in one hand, a tea in the other.

She manages a small, shaky smile. “Hey.”

“Want some company? I come bearing gifts.”

“Company would be nice. Gifts or no gifts.”

He hands her the cup of tea, then lays a hand on the middle of her back and leans over her chair, pressing her lips to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

Esme wraps her arm around his waist and briefly rests her head against him. “Thank you. But there’s nothing to be sorry for. You did everything right. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. Or stop it once it did happen. It was way out of your hands.”

“Still feel like shit about it though. Guy’s been like a brother, you now? Known him for a long time. If it wasn’t for him putting a foot up my ass and forcing me to grow up I wouldn’t have Siobhan. Or a baby on the way.”

“It’s kind of alarming when Tyler is the voice of reason,” she chides. Nothing could be further from the truth. When things are their darkest or their scariest, he’s the one that holds everything -and everyone- together. The strong, stoic type who may not say a lot, but is genuine and heartfelt when he does. And he doesn’t shy away from calling people out on their bullshit; always trying to help them avoid making the same mistakes he had years ago.

Yaz sinks into the chair alongside her, arm loosely draped around her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“Okay, I suppose. I haven’t had an emotional meltdown yet, so I guess I’m doing okay. Some wicked deja vu though. Sitting here like this, in Dhaka, waiting for news. It would be kind of funny it wasn’t so goddamn scary and depressing.”

“I would have been here sooner, but there were things that needed to be taken care of. Loose ends that had to be tied up. You shouldn’t be here alone. Last time you didn’t really have anyone, but now you have a whole team behind you. A whole family. No way you should be going through this by yourself.”

“Koen and Rata had some things to take care of. For themselves and for Tyler and I. And they needed to clean themselves up. All that blood. All HIS blood. There’s so much of it.” She nods down at the bag between her feet. “How does anyone survive that? How can they lose that much blood and still be breathing?”

“He’s tough. Tougher than most. He doesn’t know how to give up. Doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit. How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad. They’re doing a three in one. He has a torn ACL and MCL in his right knee; they said it’s probably been like that for months and they don’t understand how he was even walking on it. Open fracture of the right femur; it’s caused some damage to the quad and some ligaments and tendons. They’re hoping they’ll be able to save the leg.”

“Jesus…” Yaz breathes, and gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Gunshot wound to the lower back,” she continues. “The bullet is lodged near his spine. I had to decide what to do. If they left it, it would eventually shift. Days, weeks, months, years And once it would sever the spinal cord and cause instant paralysis. I went with the other option; take it out and hope they don’t fuck anything up while they do. If that's going to happen...if he loses the ability to use his legs...I’d rather it happen now. Here. In the hospital. Not when we get home. He’d be able to accept it better right away. At least that’s the reason I gave them when I told them to go ahead and to the surgery.”

“It was the right choice,” Yaz assures her “That’s exactly what he’d want. Exactly would be easier on him.”

“We have talked endlessly about these kinds of things; stuff going wrong on the job. But we never talked about THIS. We’ve talked about what happens if he dies, what happens if he gets a severe brain injury and has to have around the clock care for the rest of his life, what happens if he loses his hearing or his sight. But not about this. Not about losing a leg or never being able to walk again. And I’m worried. I’m scared I didn’t do the right thing. For him.”

“You DID do the right thing. You know Tyler better than anyone.”

“And I don’t care if he can’t walk again. Or if he loses his leg. Or if something goes wrong during surgery and I have to take care of him for the rest of our lives; be a wife AND a nurse. None of that matters to me. He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children. And I love him regardless. I just want him to be okay. I just want him to live. We have five kids. We have another on the way. We…”

“Wait...hold up..what?”

“Shit….” she groans, and places her palm against her forehead. “...I wasn’t supposed to say anything. We were waiting; until we got home and I found how far along I am.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

“Surprise, right? It technically shouldn’t have happened. But Tyler didn’t exactly handle the recovery from the vasectomy the way he was supposed to and….well…” she lifts the bottom of her hoodie and t-shirt and runs a hand over the small baby bump. “...here we are. Little bean and I. Another Rake to add to the world.”

“More proof that things happen for a reason. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. The silver lining, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess. And that’s what he needs to be okay. Because of the baby. What kind of universe would let a man create a life and then kill him before he gets the chance to even see it?”

“He’s going to be alright. He’s strong. Tough. And stubborn as hell.”

She gives a small laugh. “That seems to be the quality everyone associates with him. You guys only the tip of that particular iceberg. Try living with him every day for almost seven years. You don’t know the full extent of that stubbornness, believe me. And I know I complain about it; how hard headed he is. But it isn’t all bad. Him being that way. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me and kids. No battle he wouldn’t fight. And that’s how I know he’ll get through this; he wants to see us again.”

Yaz presses a kiss to her temple, then lays his hand on her shoulder, drawing her into him. “I should have got you decaf,” he says, and nods down at the tea in her hand.

Esme manages a laugh. “It’s fine. One regular tea a day won’t hurt. And thank you.”

“No thanks needed. It’s just a tea.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for coming here. Showing up. Sitting her with me. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I got you,” Yaz assures her, placing a hand on the top of her head and bringing it down to his shoulder. “I got you.”

****

Nik is waiting in the hallway when Esme steps through the sliding doors that lead to and from the intensive care unit. Uncharacteristically dressed down in a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt; no make up on her face, glossy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pacing relentlessly; the soles of her black patent flats clicking against the polished tiles.

“How is he?” Nik inquires, and Esme gives a small start; lost in a world of worry and fear and tremendous responsibility; brain doing battle with all of the negatives of the situation when she’s trying to search for the positives.

“Still in recovery.” It’s been seven hours since the incident at the storage facility; six spent anxiously waiting as her husband underwent extensive surgery “They just moved him there half an hour ago. I was just getting a tour of where he’s going to be for a while. This will be home for a bit, I guess. It’s really nice; as far as ICUs go. Very patient and patient family friendly.”

“There’s a hotel right across the street,” Nik informs her. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?”

“I don’t want to be away from him. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“You wouldn’t be far away. Couple hundred yards from the front entrance. And it’s not like they won’t contact you if they need you. You’d be close, you’d be able to sleep properly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Esme remains adamant. “He’s not going to be alone. He deserves better than that.”

“Tyler wouldn’t want you burning yourself out. He wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick. Not eating or sleeping properly…”

“He’s my husband and I’m not leaving him alone. Maybe you’d make a different decision, but this is mine. Respect it. Please.”

“Fair enough. I’m just concerned about you. That’s all I just want what’s best for you. For BOTH of you.”

“Why are you even here?” Esme asks, and steps out of the way of an orderly pushing an empty bed. Leaning back against the wall next to the sliding doors, arms crossed over her chest and one ankle over the other. “You were supposed to go back to Australia; with Ovi and Kyle and the kids. To make sure there’s no trouble waiting for when they get home. I thought that’s what we agreed on.”

“Flight doesn’t leave for a few hours. I wanted to check on things. On you. On Tyler.”

“He made it through the surgery. Or surgeries, I should say. There were no complications and they were able to remove the bullet. I guess they did some tests to check on his nerves and his reflexes and his legs ARE responding. Not a perfect score by any means, but it’s a lot better than they expected.”

“So he’ll be able to walk?”

“They didn’t come right out and say THAT. But they didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. They’re cautiously optimistic. And I’ll take cautious optimism right about now. He is breathing on his own, though. He needs a bit of supplemental oxygen but no intubation. They’ve given him nerve blocks in the small of his back and his legs and he’s pretty heavily sedated. Doctor said they’d keep him that way for a few days, then slowly bring him out of it.”

“And the leg?”

“They were able to salvage it. He’ll have the ilizarov on for a couple months, at least. But it’s better than the alternative. They’re going to fix his shoulder; torn rotator cuff, shredded labrum, some scar tissue from the last surgery that’s pressing on some nerves. I told them to hold off until he’s able to be sent home and admitted there. I didn’t want to put him through too much all at once. That’s a lot for one person to handle. Even Tyler.”

Nik nods in agreement. “Do they know how long? Before he can be sent to a hospital closer to home?”

“Depends on how well he does here. They said to be prepared to be here for two weeks at least. A month is the worst case scenario. That’s if there’s complications or infections. But they did say he’s strong; his heart rate and oxygen levels stayed stable the whole time in the OR. And he wasn’t conscious when he was brought in or in recovery but he is responding to stimuli.Voices and touch. So that’s a good sign.

“A very good sign. Have you seen him?”

“No. They said they’d call me when he’s brought here But I know it’s bad. He’s in really rough shape. I guess Nathan carved his face up pretty good and he cracked his open; tons of stitches and a skull fracture and a severe concussion. There’s no swelling on the brain though. At least not yet. They’ll keep an eye on him. Fingers crossed, right? Maybe he’ll be spared at least a little bit.”

“And you?” Nik asks. “How are YOU?”

“I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t think the enormity of it has hit me yet. It doesn’t seem real right now. I haven’t even been able to see him; he was already down getting x-rays and a CAT scan when I got here, and then they took him to the OR. It’ll hit me then, I guess. When I finally DO see him.”

“Do you want me to stay? So you won’t be alone? Anil could push the flight back a couple of hours; I could go in and be with you. You shouldn’t be by yourself, Esme. This isn’t seven years ago. A lot has changed since then. Especially between you and Tyler.”

“I appreciate the offer, Nik; I really do. But I WANT to be alone with him. When I first see him. It’s something I need to do by myself. And I just want my kids out of Mumbai. I want them back home. I want them to get back to their lives. Or at least some parts of their lives, at least. And I’d also really appreciate it if you could make sure Ovi and Kyle stick to the story that I’ve told them; that we had to stay behind for a few days but we’ll be home soon. I need some time; to figure out what and how to tell them.”

“I’ll make sure no one says anything. But if the kids ask…?”

“Just tell them something unexpected came up that Tyler needed to take care of and I decided to help out. I honestly don’t know how to tell them anything else right now. I’m still trying to wrap MY head around what’s happened. And how serious it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around for a few hours? I don't want you to be alone.”

“It’s fine, Nik. I’M fine. Honest. I’m not giving you the brush off because of our ‘issues’. I really am okay. And I just need to be alone with my husband the first time I see him. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense to you but it makes sense to me.”

“Do you need anything? Do you need some clothes or a toothbrush, toothpaste, anything at all? Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

“Koen and Rata went to the safe house and got all our things. I’m good. And they got a room across the street and are going to stick around for a few days at least. So I won’t be totally alone; they’re only a text away if I need something.”

“I just wish there was something I could do,” Nik laments, and reaches out to tuck wayward strands of hair behind Esme’s ears, then gently cradles her face in her palms. “Something I say, even. That would make this all better. I’d do it; take it all away. Make him better.”

Esme manages a brave smile, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat and nods. “I know you would. And I appreciate everything you have done; showing up in Mumbai and making sure the kids were safe. And I know Tyler appreciates that too. He doesn’t trust a lot of people with them. Or me. But you’re on the top of the very short list of those he does.”

“I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. For everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done. But I am. Sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I do appreciate what you’re saying, but I just don’t have the time or the heart for this conversation. I just can’t right now, Nik. When all this is over and he’s stable and he’s home, maybe I can do it. But not now. And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. It’s me. All me.”

“Tyler has a friend back home. Andy. You met him at Millie’s party. He’s the aboriginal artist; has a kiddo with special needs.”

“I remember.”

“His business card is on the fridge. If you could call him and ask him to contact me? He has my cell number. Just tell him that Tyler’s hurt and in the hospital and I’d like him to call me. Please?”

“I’ll do it as soon as we get to your place.”

Esme sighs, then combs her fingers through her hair and crosses her over her chest; hands running up and down her biceps. “What’s going on down there?” she asks, and nods down the hallway to where Anil is huddled in quiet conversation with Koen, Rata, and Yaz.

“Anil is praying. He’s quite spiritual. Apparently Saju was too.”

“Always amazes me what people in our line of work can actually be into. It’s fascinating, really. How we can lie so easily and hurt people and take lives yet still believe and have so much faith in something. How long has something been going on between the two of you?”

“What?” Nik gives a small laugh “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You and Anil. Don’t deny it; he’s been watching you the entire time we’ve been talking. And I know that look on his face. In his eyes. That’s ‘the look’. I have someone that looks at me pretty much the same way.”

“Trust me, no one can look at anyone the way Tyler looks at you. And Anil’s probably just worried about you and how you’re holding up. He feels responsible; for how things ended up.”

“It’s no one’s fault. No one had a reason to think Nathan was off the rails and working for Mahajan.”

“Tyler did,” Nik points out. “He thought Nathan was the mole the entire time. And he tried telling me. He even had the evidence and I just wouldn’t listen. I just thought he was being paranoid. He gets that way sometimes; ever since the PTSD was diagnosed.”

Esme nods in agreement. “I’ve accused him of it a few times. Always turns out he DID have something to worry about. I won’t do THAT again; laugh it off or tell him he’s crazy and needs to stop reading too much into things.”

“I just thought getting attacked rattled him and he was looking for someone to blame. And punish. I should have taken him more seriously. And I regret that. You have no idea how much.”

“Believe me, I’ve said some things to him over the past few months that I regret. And nothing is more painful than that. Regret. I just hope I get the chance to tell him that. That I was wrong. That I’m sorry. I really hope I get that chance.”

“You will. He’s tough. Toughest person I know. Present company not included.”

“I don’t feel so tough right about now,” she admits. “I feel empty and broken and I’m scared and I’m just…” she sighs once more, shaking her head slowly as she stares down at her feet; toe of one runner rubbing across the tiles. .”...well mostly I’m just scared. And you know, this Nathan thing. This whole ‘you and him’? Sometimes we get so caught up in the idea of someone that we refuse to see the bad stuff or we just ignore it entirely; we hope we can fix them. I’ve made that mistake before. Why do you think I’m on my second marriage?”

“Ask me, you definitely traded up the second time around.”

“I did,” she smiles. “I really did. He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. My knight in slightly tarnished armour. And Anil seems like a keeper, too. He’s a good guy. Definitely doesn’t pull any punches or play games. What you see is what you get. And if you ask me, the view is good. He’s pretty nice to look at, isn’t he.”

Nik grins.

“I’m married, not dead. I do notice and appreciate attractive people. And he definitely fits the bill. I think he’s a perfect match for you. You’re a lot alike, personality wise. He reminds me of you, actually In all good ways. I hope it works out for you, Nik. You deserve someone great.”

“Even after everything I did? The pain I caused you?”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that. To be happy. And maybe this is it. Maybe HE’S it. It happens when you least expect it, that’s for sure. I’m kind of an expert on that subject. I think I’ve written the damn book when it comes to meeting someone under the weirdest and most fucked up situation. And somehow still making it work.”

“I think you and Tyler are the co-authors of THAT book. I was just thinking about you guys the other day; how it doesn’t seem like seven years.”

“Oh believe me, there’s times it feels like seventy. This would be one of those times. And then there’s those amazing days where it seems like no one time has passed. Like we’re still brand new in everything and still enjoying every moment together and just loving each other as much as we can. Some mornings I’ll walk into the kitchen and he’s in there and he kisses me like it’s the first time all over again. And it’s...I don’t know…beautiful.”

“You’ll get more of those times. More of those kisses.”

“I hope so. Because I’d miss those kisses. I’d miss all of his kisses, actually. Even when he’s grumpy or pouty and I force him to kiss me. Don’t tell him I said that; that he gets pouty. He swears he doesn’t, but he does. You know Tanner’s pout? Picture that on a grown man. On a mercenary covered in tattoos in scars. Trust me, Tyler pouts. And it’s adorable. Don’t tell him I said THAT either.”

Nik gives a small laugh, then runs a hand over Esme’s hair and settles it at the nape of her neck. “Do you want a change of scenery? They’ll call you, right? When they’ve moved him here.”

“Yeah, they said they’d text my cell. They said it would be awhile. They need to keep an eye on him in recovery for a bit. Oxygen, heart rate, that kind of thing.”

“Do you want to grab a tea? Some fresh air?”

“I could use a bit of both, actually. And a phone charger. Koen couldn’t find mine at the house. I swear those things just vanish into thin air or grow legs and walk away. And I should call Tyler’s dad. I’m sure that’s the last person he wants me to call but it is his father. I know the guy’s a dick, but that is his son and…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a deep, quivering breath. “....and how sad is it that the old man probably won’t even care? That he’ll probably say some shit like ‘call back when he’s dead’. Or ‘don’t expect me to show up at his funeral’. Because that fucker would; say those things. And I couldn’t handle that; hearing those things about my husband.”

“I’ll do it for you. Make a list; names and numbers. I’ll call whoever you want me to, okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“You know what I think would really be good for you right now? Something to eat. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t. Some time yesterday. I was too nervous this morning and then things went to shit and I ended up here.”

“You have to take care of yourself, Esme. He’d want everyone to make sure of that; that you’re taken care of. Especially now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yaz told you, didn’t he.”

“He did.”

“We weren’t going to say anything until we got home. Until I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound and found out how far along I am. And now? Now I don’t even know when THAT’S going to happen. When I will get home and have any of that done.”

“Anil knows people. He’ll find someone here that will look after you. That would be good, right? Get some peace of mind? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“I would definitely take some worry off me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll make it happen. For now, let’s get you something to eat and some fresh air. A little sunshine would do you some good.”

“I could use a little of that right about now.”

“Come here,” Nik draws her into her arms, tucking her tightly against her.

Esme hesitates; years of hurt and torment and anger holding her back. The woman attempting to connect with her...trying to so desperately to make amends...had caused so much damage. Or at least tried to. The attempts -albeit failed- at becoming the ‘other woman’ and destroying a marriage and a family, the lies she told and the times she’d tried to convince Tyler that Millie wasn’t his and that getting married would be ‘the biggest mistake you ever made’. It is still painful; that kind of betrayal. And she doesn’t know if it will ever heal; if she’ll ever trust Nik again or even see her as a friend. But right now she IS trying; it’s genuine and heartfelt and there was remorse and guilt in her eyes. And that hug feels so good; the warmth coming off of Nik’s body, the strength and conviction in those arms, the hand that runs up and down her hair. It’s real; the first real embrace and source of comfort that she’s had all day. And she finally gives into it; both arms circling Nik’s waist and her forehead coming to rest against Nik’s shoulder.

Still the tears don’t come.

****

The main nurse in charge of his care is an older woman; born, raised, and educated in Minnesota. Julie. “But you can call me, Jules”. Shortly after graduation from nursing school, fate...and love...had intervened; sending her on a humanitarian trip into the slums of Dhaka where she met a local doctor. She never moved back to the States; choosing to reside in Bangladesh; bringing three children into the world -all medical professionals themselves- who in turn have made her a ‘nana’ seven times over. She has that quality; a caring, gentle, and adoring grandmother. A kind, round face and dark, sympathetic eyes; hands that are warm and soft when she shakes yours or touches your shoulder or taps your cheek.

The small talk and the ‘getting to know you’s’ had been a change; her day filled with conversations filled with surgeons and would care specialists and a ‘slightly concerned’ specialist who was troubled by ‘irregular eye movements’ during a neurological exam. Nothing but medical jargon she didn’t fully understand and no one seemed interested in explaining; depressing news and worst case scenarios and warnings not to ‘get her hopes up’. Talking with Julie had been an escape. Being able to share her own story about meeting the love of her life and never going home again. Showing the nurse pictures of her children; bragging about how beautiful and smart they are; how blessed they are to have such an amazing, hands on father who they adored. And vice versa.

But it hadn’t taken long for reality to set in. And despite the comforting hand -and surprisingly strong- hand resting on her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to handle it. The hours of preparing herself for the moment had done nothing in the end; spending less than half a minute at his bedside before she had to flee. She had imagined what he would look like; the shape he’d be in. Putting together all the information she’d been given from the doctors and creating a vivid image in her mind. Her brain had been overly optimistic; painting a brighter and more positive image than what she’d come face to face with. She hadn’t prepared for THAT. The bruising and swelling; the rows of stitches above his right eye, across the top of his forehead, and under his right eye. That one is the worst; stretching all the way from the middle of the orbital bone to his temple. And she certainly hadn’t been ready to see the central line -for fluids and medications- placed in his chest. Or the severity of the cage like apparatus encasing his thigh.

Now she stands in the room’s private bathroom. Hunkered over the sink with her palms against the ledge; struggling not to vomit. It’s all too much; the reality of the situation. The direness of his condition hitting with such force that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her lungs tightening and her stomach clenching; the ache in her chest -her heart- unbearable. And she feels ashamed. That seeing him that way affected her so badly. That the love of her life...the man she’d fallen so easily for seven years ago- is at his weakness and more vulnerable and he can’t even count on her to keep her shit together.

A soft knock comes to the door, and before she can respond, the nurse steps inside. A sympathetic smile curving her lips; a tiny plastic cup of meds in one hand, a styrofoam one filled with ice water in the other.

“Are you okay?” Julie asks.

“No,” Esme admits. “I am so far from okay.”

“Here,” the nurse offers the med. “For your stomach. The nausea.”

“Is it safe?”

Julie arches an eyebrow.

“Baby safe,” she clarifies. “I need it to be safe. I can’t take anything that isn’t. I can’t take any chances. Especially with this one.”

“You’re…”

“We just found out. Two weeks ago. I don’t even know how far along I am. I just know I can’t take any chances. We lost one. A few years ago. I need this baby to be okay. HE needs it to be okay. He wouldn’t be able to take it if something happened. He wouldn’t be able to handle another loss.”

“It’s safe,” Julie assures her, and Esme gives a grateful, appreciative smile and takes the meds offered; dumping them into her mouth and washing them down with a sip of water.

“I hate myself,” she says. “For having to leave like that. For having that reaction to him. Of all people. He’s my husband. The father of my children. And that’s how I react? What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. This is a lot for anyone to go through. It's hard seeing the people we love when they’re sick or injured. And seeing them at THAT extent? It’s a shock; no matter how much we try to prepare ourselves.”

“I’ve seen him in bad shape. Seven years ago. I held him when he was dying; I stuck my fingers in his neck to try and keep him alive. But he didn’t look like that. He was in really rough shape but he wasn’t THAT bad. God, I sound horrible. I’m a piece of shit for a wife. I’m sorry. Language.”

“Oh honey, I’ve heard AND said worse. You don’t have to hold your tongue around me. And it’s him that you’re having trouble seeing. It’s the situation. The loss of control. Feeling helpless because you can’t fix things. Fix HIM. That’s what you can’t handle.”

Esme nods in agreement. “It scares me. Seeing him like that. Because he’s usually the one that takes care of everyone else. He’s the strong one. The one that holds everything together when it feels like it’s falling apart. I mean, I had a labour so fast, that I had to give birth in my own home. He delivered his son. And he was so calm and so strong and to see him like this? It’s hard. Accepting it. Seeing what was done to him. And I’m angry. I am so fucking angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I just thought I could handle it. And now I can’t. I’m terrified. Of seeing him like and not knowing if he’ll make it. Do you know if he will? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s doing very well so far.”

“I need someone to tell me he’s going to be okay. That he’s going to get past this. Because all I’ve heard so far is negative and I need something possible to hold onto. To keep me going. Because I’m scared and I’m lost and I don’t know how to help him. And I’ve always been able to help him.”

“All you can do is be with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him. Tell him you love him.”

“I remember seven years ago, when he came out of the coma, he could recite things I said to him while he was out. Almost word for word. Do you think it will be the same this time?”

“He can hear you. And he’s reacting to voices and touch. It’s just very heavy sedation; you might not get a response every time. But he CAN hear you. His brain is working. We’ve seen signs of that already. Let that be the positive you carry. That he can hear you.”

“I don’t want him to hear me get upset. I don’t want to cry around him. Because he worries about me. All the time. And if he knows I’m having a hard time, it will stress him out. And he doesn’t need to be stressed. I need a few more minutes to get myself together.”

“Take your time, love. I’m going to do rounds; I’ll come back and check on you both. Hang in there,” she gently pats Esme on the cheeks. “You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

****

“Tyler?” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she stands at the side of his bed. A hand tightly gripping one of his, the other resting on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing across his forehead.

She refuses to let the tears fall, or let fear and sadness creep into her voice. Instead she presses soft, feathery kisses across his brow and down the bridge of his nose; each eye and cheek, then his lips.

“I know you can hear me. Remember last time? When you woke up you were able to tell me a lot of things that I said to you. Even when I called you a massive dick for stressing me out. And I know that right this second that brain of yours? It’s coming up with some rude comment about YOUR dick. Do I know you or what? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. Maybe even more than half. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Esme gently combs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re doing so well,” she praises. “Better than anyone thought you would. No breathing tube this time. You’re handling that all on your own. And you’re so strong and so brave and if anyone can get through this, it’s you. If you can survive seven years ago, you can survive this, right? I know you can. And I’m not going to let any asshole doctor tell me otherwise. They don’t know you. Not like I do. They don’t know how hard you’ll fight to get back to your family. But I do.”

She hooks a foot around the leg of a nearby chair and pulls it to the side of the bed; pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before gathering the sides of the hoodie -HIS hoodie- around her body and sitting down.

“This is a lot nicer than the last ICU we were in,” she says, reaching through the safety railing and taking one of his hands in both of hers. “There’s a shower room and a kitchen for families and a TV room they can sit in when they need a bit of a break. Your nurse is nice. But she’s old enough to be your mother, so don’t get any funny ideas or your hopes up about sponge baths. And your room is pretty big; the little out bed thing is actually a small couch. Quite a step up from the chair thing I had to sleep in last time. And remember your least favorite thing from seven years ago? Having to have a catheter? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there was no other choice. At least you got to miss the part where they put it in.. Always a bright side, right? You always say that. About everything. You always make sure I know what the bright side of every shitty situation is. And you’re always right, too. They always do turn out to be the bright sides. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that. That you’re always right. Because of all the things I’m saying, that will be the one you remember. And you will hold that over my head for the next fifty years. That’s now much longer you’re stuck with me for. Sorry if you thought you were bailing on me. You’ve got a lot more years left of putting up with my shit.”

She releases his hand, gently turning it over and grazing her nails along his fingers and palm. Smiling when the heart rate monitor beeps, recording a slight change. “I forgot; that’s the ticklish hand. Weird how all the boys are the same; left hand and the inner thighs. I sent them back; to Australia. The kids. I haven’t told them anything yet. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that you’d tell me to get them out of Mumbai and send them home. So that’s what I did. Kyle and Ovi went with them and Anil and Nik will stay with them for a bit; just to make sure trouble didn’t follow. And speaking of Anil and Nik, do I ever have some gossip to tell you. But I’ll make you wait until you wake up for that. It should be a few days; until you come out of it completely.”

She traces slow, soft circular patterns on his palm and the inside of his wrist. “I want you to know that we’re okay. The kids and I. No one showed to hurt me OR them. And I don’t know exactly what happened or what went wrong, or what you remember, but you got Neysa and Aarev out and they’re on their way home. They’re going to be okay. It’ll take a while; to get over everything. But they’ll be fine. Thanks to you. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I’m always proud of you. I know I bitch about the job a lot; how you’re away from home so much. But it’s just because I worry about you. It doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you, though. And speaking of being proud…you being the proud daddy to be and all...Anil’s going to set up an appointment for me. So we can find out how far along I am. And get an ultrasound done. That way you’ll have your very first picture to put on the fridge.”

She draws his hand through the railing, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist before carefully setting his arm down on the mattress and standing up. “I need you to listen to me Tyler James. And you know it’s serious when I use BOTH your names.” She rests a hand on his stomach, the other brushing his bangs off his forehead and then settling on the top of his head. “I need you to know that I’m okay. Because I know right now…even with everything that’s going on with you...that you’re worried about me. And you don’t have to be. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’ve got people watching out for me and taking care of me. So you don’t need to worry about any of that, okay? Because you always put me first no matter what you’re going through. Right now, I need you to put yourself first. For once. I really need you to do that, alright? I promise I’m fine. And the baby’s fine and the kids are fine. We’re all fine. But we need YOU to be fine, too. So you have to put yourself first for a change. I know that’s hard for you. But it’s what I need you to do. It’s important you do it. And I love you…” she presses a kiss to his lips and then rests her forehead against his. “...I love you so much. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I told you I’d get to you. Somehow. It’s what we do, right? Bust our asses to take care of each other.”

She nuzzles the tip of her nose against the bridge of his.

“I love you,” she says again. “You need to rest, okay? You’re finally pain free. At least for now. You’re finally at peace.”

She kisses him a final time, then sits back down in the chair and tucks her knees into her chest. Drawing the hoodie around her body once more as she settles in for a long night.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Best Part of Me

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datheetjoella · 4 years ago

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Fantober 2020, Day 12: Enchanted Forest

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 12/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,799 Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Human!Makoto, Elf!Haru, First Meeting, Magic, Fluff Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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Tired and worn-out from his travels, Makoto weaved through the dark woods in search of a place to camp out for the night. Preferably at a river or a creek, somewhere he could refill his flasks and wash his face. His horse was starting to lose speed, so hopefully, he would find a good spot before she had to give in to exhaustion.

Then, the sound of running water drowned out the symphony of owls and crickets. He followed it and to his delight, he stumbled upon a glade at the bottom of a cliff. A pristine waterfall cascaded down the rocks, flowing down into a moderately-sized lake.

Relief engulfed Makoto from within and he leapt off his horse, guiding her over to the edge of the lake so she could drink from it. He kneeled and peered into the water. Moonlight shimmered on the surface, illuminating every droplet. Never before had Makoto seen such clean water; there were no fish or algae in the lake, not as much as a leaf or a branch floating down the stream or caught on the sides. It seemed almost divine and the mere sight of it made his scratchy throat even drier.

He cupped his hands and let the water flood his palms, gratefully drinking as much as he could get. The water tasted even better than it looked, fresh and crisp like it rejuvenated him from the inside.

Once he'd quenched his thirst, Makoto checked the trees to see if anyone was around. When he was sure the coast was clear, he disrobed himself and dove into the water headfirst.

When he broke through the surface, he felt reborn. The fatigue and strain of his travels slipped off him, leaving nothing but contentment and serenity in his heart. Although he was miles removed from home, Makoto had never felt quite as comfortable as he did within this lake.

Alas, this feeling did not last.

A shadow moved behind the waterfall and Makoto let out a strangled screech, hastily covering his nude chest. Through the stream emerged a man, someone whose presence he hadn't noticed before.

Fear spread through Makoto's body like he'd been hit with a poison-tipped arrow; he was alone in the dark forest in a rather compromising position. Even if he hadn't been, he was not exactly the type suited for combat anyway and he saw no opportunity to make a quick escape.

But when the man stepped forward and the moonlight showered over his face, Makoto's fear evaporated.

Long, dark robes that reached down to the ground were wrapped around his slender body. Pointed ears poked through a curtain of dark hair, framing his small face. His features were soft and elegant and his pale skin contrasted the darkness of the night. But the most mesmerising parts of him were his eyes, blue and piercing. Like he could peer straight into the past, present and future.

Elves were rumoured to be gorgeous and although Makoto had never seen one in person, he was certain this man was among the most beautiful in their entire species. His appearance made him forget about the world around him, enchanted by a single glance.

But then, the elf's expression shifted, from neutral to confused. Or rather, shocked.

"Who are you?" he said, and despite the vibrant distress in his tone, his voice had a calming effect on Makoto. "How did you find this place?"

"Oh, um I," Makoto stuttered, unsure which question to answer first. "I was looking for a place to rest for the night. I heard the waterfall, so I followed the sound and it brought me here."

"Impossible."

"Sorry, am I not supposed to be here?" Perhaps he was trespassing on elven territory without his awareness. "If that's the case, I'll leave immediately. I don't mean to cause any trouble."

The elf seemed to be at a loss for words and the uncomfortable, misplaced feeling in Makoto's stomach grew.

"The water…" the elf said after a brief pause, "did you drink from it?"

"Yeah," Makoto said, cowering into himself like he was being scolded by his mother. "My horse did, too. Is that bad?"

A loud groan left the elf's lips and before Makoto could blink, his robes were flying through the air and water splashed upwards, sending ripples of waves throughout the lake. He emerged right in front of Makoto's nose, shaking the beads from his hair.

It startled Makoto and heat warmed his cheeks when he realised how clear the water was and how he was still very much naked. The look inside the elf's eyes was fierce and sharp and Makoto wasn't quite sure whether he should be embarrassed or scared.

"Listen, if I did something that I shouldn't have, then I sincerely apologise," Makoto said, frantically waving his hands as if to prove his innocence. "Please believe me when I say that I had no ill intentions. I just wanted to wash up and fill my flasks, I meant no harm."

After another second of staring in scrutiny, the elf relented. "I believe you. What's your name?"

"Makoto. And yours?"

"I'm Haruka. Haru," the elf said. "Say, Makoto, you have no idea where you are, do you?"

"Not a clue." Makoto sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck.

"This is the Sacred Moon Spring. Every droplet of this spring has been infused with ancient magic and every full moon, its magical properties are replenished and the water is at its most powerful." Haruka looked up at the sky and Makoto followed his line of vision; the moon was large and round, standing out brightly between the trees.

This was not good. No wonder he felt so refreshed. "We drank from the sacred, magic water…" Makoto stated the obvious. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know. My clan has been guarding this spring for centuries, but no human has ever come near here, let alone drank from the water," Haruka said, "To be honest, I'm not sure how you even found this place. There's a protective spell around this area, a barrier that's supposed to keep all non-elven creatures out. Not even birds or deer can pass through."

"Oh," Makoto said, drawing circles on the surface with his fingers, "Well, there's this story in my family that my mother's great-great-grandmother was a Woodland Elf, but I always thought that was just a tale. Do you think it could be true?"

Haruka shrugged. "I guess it is. I don't have any other explanation why you would be allowed to pass through. The barrier must've detected elven blood in you."

"But there's so much more human blood in me, and I don't look like an elf at all."

"You don't," Haruka said as he took a step closer. "But your eyes do."

Makoto frowned. "My eyes?"

"Hm. They're… vibrant." When Haruka noticed how close he'd gotten and how breathy his voice had been, he blushed all the way up to his ears and increased the distance between their bodies. The pink hue looked immensely cute against his pearly skin. He coughed and tried to regain his aloof demeanour. "So, I suppose you are a descendent of a Woodland Elf."

"But what about my horse? I don't think she had a great-great-grandmother who was an elf."

"Were you riding her when you arrived here?" When Makoto nodded, Haruka said, "Then that's why. You lead her here, and your authority granted her permission to pass through, too."

That did make sense, as much as any of this magical spring situation could. Maybe there was an off chance he had bumped his head against a low hanging branch and was hallucinating, or maybe he fell asleep beneath a willow and this was all a dream. But was his simple mind truly capable of conjuring up something so fantastical, or someone as beautiful as Haruka?

Ashamed of his thoughts, Makoto said, "If I'm not supposed to be here, then I shall leave. I wouldn't want to disturb the balance of this place."

"You can stay, if you'd like," Haruka said, brushing his fringe back to appear nonchalant, "if the barrier let you through, then I see no reason to reject your presence."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on this sacred place. If there's a barrier to keep humans out, then I can't imagine it's okay for a human to bathe himself in this water."

"As the guardian of this sacred place, I'm sure," Haruka said, "To be honest with you, no one is allowed to touch this water with their bare hands, not even I. It's used in important rituals in my clan."

"Then I should get out! I'm so sorry," Makoto said in a combination of disbelief and panic; Haruka didn't seem to care, but the last thing he wanted was to be struck with an elven curse if anyone else found out.

A hand on his shoulder held him back. It was small and felt cold, yet it also emitted a strange sort of heat.

"You already touched it and drank from it, so I don't see why I would send you away now. The water is already contaminated, and truthfully, it was long before you even got here."

"What do you mean?"

"How could I guard such a beautiful spring without going for a swim every night? There truly is no water like it." For a second, a hint of an adorable smile was visible on Haruka's face before he let himself fall backwards underwater and Makoto couldn't help but laugh. Haruka was the first elf he'd ever met and a rather odd one at that, but Makoto had an inkling they were going to get along very well.

All throughout the night, Makoto stayed inside the spring and talked with Haruka while floating beside him. They discussed their everyday lives, Makoto's family and his apprenticeship at a blacksmith a couple of towns away from his home, Haruka's clan and their traditions - and Haruka's disinterest in adhering to them -, how Haruka became the guardian of the spring and what effects the water could possibly have on Makoto and his horse.

The hours flew by and Makoto completely lost himself in their conversations and in Haruka. He didn't sleep a wink, but the water energised him like no amount of rest could and there was nothing that could whisk him away from this place. That wasn't because of elven magic, though, but because of Haruka. Makoto's suspicions were confirmed; Haruka turned out to be just as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside.

Many things about his future were uncertain now, but there was one thing Makoto knew for sure: this would not be the last night Haruka and he spent together.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you #this is an idea i've had for so long now #i'm glad i finally got the chance to write something in this universe

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calenheniel · 5 years ago

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Disappearing Act, a frozen fanfic | ii.

Frozen | Hans, Elsa | Alternate Universe, Drama | G+

She wanted to disappear. He wanted a purpose. Together, they would pull off an impossible feat before the final curtain call.

Read the first part here | Updates: #DisappearingActFrozen

Author’s Note: Thanks all for your very kind and prompt feedback on the first part! Please enjoy the second. The third act (of four total) will be released soon.

»»————-　❈　————-««

ii.

She flinched when she caught sight of him in the curtains’ shadow at the end of her act, taking a short, sharp inhale.

“Hans? I… wasn’t expecting to find you here,” she said, and pulled back the curtains a little. The light from backstage shined across his face, illuminating his olive eyes. “Usually, you’re—”

“In my dressing room, yes,” he finished, catching the wrist of her gloved hand in his. She stiffened in his grasp, and the air around them pulsated with cold, their exhalations visible in the dark. She relaxed only when he’d lowered both of their hands and stepped further into the light, his face red from the drop in temperature. “But I wanted to see you sooner tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I see.” After a moment, she withdrew her hand from his, and stepped back. “We may as well go to my room, then. It’s nearer to here, and it’s… well, it’s more private.”

“Of course,” he said, and followed her out.

When they reached her room and she closed the door, she finally looked at him again, swallowing. Her normal pallor had yet to return as she lit a lamp. “So—what was it that brought you here early?”

Hans remained standing as he spoke. “Something that one of the men said last night about you was rather curious, and I thought I’d better ask you about it, instead of wondering on my own to no end.”

“Oh?” Elsa asked.

He moseyed over to her table and mirror, picking up one of the props she used sometimes during her act. It was a blue folding fan with silver snowflakes stenciled along the creases, and it glittered even under the dim light of the lamp. He opened and examined the fan at length before meeting her wary gaze.

“It matches your dress,” he said, gesturing at the blue and silver garment she wore during her performances, and which she was wearing then. “Where did you get it?”

She blinked. “Get what? The fan, or the dress?”

He shrugged. “Either. Both?”

“The fan I bought from a peddler some years ago and decorated myself, and the dress is—” She stopped and shook her head. “Why are you asking me these things, all of a sudden? I thought you were going to ask me about… whatever it is that one of the men told you about me.”

He feigned an apologetic expression. “Oh, yes, of course! I can be so forgetful sometimes, forgive me.” He placed the fan back on the table, leaning against it as he continued: “I’m sure you know Leif, the stage manager?”

She frowned. “Yes, of course. What about him?”

He glanced back at the fan, and then at the small rack upon which a number of other snow-themed props hung, including hats, feather boas, garments, and decorations. “Well, you see, Leif is rather convinced that your magic is not just some trick.” He fingered her fabric snowflake pin that rested against the mirror with interest. “He believes that your snow, and ice, and all the rest of it is actually… quite real.”

She stared at his hand on the pin. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he replied, catching her stare. “He claims he’s seen it at work in… ‘mysterious ways,’ as he put it.”

Her stare narrowed. “Such as?”

“Oh, you know,” Hans said, “making the air go cold around you, making it snow in the middle of July over the entire fairgrounds, turning a live tiger into an ice sculpture—things like that.”

Elsa paled. “Those are just… just rumors,” she stammered. “Utter nonsense.”

“Are they?” he asked, standing tall as he drew closer to her. “I’ve certainly noticed a few odd things about you, myself.” He stopped just a few inches short from her nose and sighed, looking down at her hands clasped together in front of her ribcage. “For instance, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your gloves on when you’re not performing, Elsa. Why is that?”

“I could say the same about you, Hans,” she rejoined, “except that you also wear yours during your act.”

He held up his hands, still gloved, and nodded. “Indeed,” he agreed, and took each glove off, never breaking eye contact as he tossed them to the side, one after the other. Once bare, he held them up to her eye level. “But now you have, and you can see I have nothing to hide.”

She glared at him. “Your bare hands mean nothing,” she retorted, “let alone that you are honest and true, and that I am not by keeping mine covered.”

“Fine,” he said, “but at least I am willing to show you them. You’ve still not done the same.”

“And why should I?” she snapped. “I don’t have to prove anything to you, or to Leif, or to anyone else around here. All I have to do is keep bringing in the audiences and their cash, right? The rest is immaterial.” Her hands came to ball into fists at her sides. “You don’t understand me any better by seeing my damn hands, nor do I get anything from seeing yours.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they reopened, there were tears welling at their corners. “You said being here was about ‘starting over,’ didn’t you? Well, I’ve just as much a right to that as anyone else, without being accused of creating snowstorms and freezing tigers and God knows what else.”

She covered her face with one of her palms, and began to shake. “But I know that’s asking too much—it’s always been asking too much. And that’s why—”

Elsa stopped, and Hans continued: “And that’s why you want to disappear.”

She shuddered.

“Yes.”

»» —— ««

“You never did say much about how you ended up here.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t ask me to share my secrets. Remember?”

“Of course I do. But… you do seem rather desperate to share them with me.”

“Desperate? By what measure?”

“Your vague and dramatic outlines of your life before you came here, for a start. I’m sure you didn’t simply appear one day as you are; I imagine you had a family as well, at some point.”

“Yes, well, that’s true. I had parents, like anyone else. And a sister. Her name was… Anna.”

“And are they still living? Anna, and your parents?”

“No. I’m the only one left.”

“But… if you really disappear, then—”

“Then we will all be gone.”

“Doesn’t that frighten you? Going into the unknown?”

“It did, once. Now, I long to go.”

»» —— ««

He stared at his hand of cards as if he could see straight through them into the dirt below, his lips set in an immovable line.

“Lovers’ spat?”

The question rose him from his daze. “What?”

The man who asked sat next to Leif in the poker circle, and tutted at Hans’s answer. “Don’t see you here for a week, and now you’re here every night the last three nights,” he expanded. “We figured you and the princess got into some sort of disagreement.”

Another man on Leif’s other side chimed in: “Yeah, didn’t seem like you had much else going on, Andersen. Haven’t seen you with the other girls in a long time. They must be boring compared to the Snow Queen, huh?”

Hans frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’ve had no disagreements, agreements, or any sort of thing at all happen between us,” he said. “Clearly, I have other activities with which I can keep myself occupied—like beating you all at this game.”

He laid down a flush hand at this declaration, and the other men grumbled as they shoved over their loose change and bills. Leif was the last to comply, and then sat with a stiff back and crossed arms, puffing on a pipe and eyeing the younger man through a narrow gaze. “Better off here wasting your money, than hanging around that one,” he said.

“I don’t know about that, sir,” one of the younger stagehands cracked, grinning. “He’s been pulling in some pretty big crowds the last few nights. Maybe there’s something to her after all, if she’s managed to turn him into a decent magician.” His brow rose as his grin widened. “Or maybe that’s why you’ve come back here, eh, Andersen? The missus is probably put out with you for stealing her audience.”

“It’s true—I’ve been watching his act lately, and it’s been damn near impossible to try to figure out how he’s pulled off some of those tricks,” said another man, scratching his stubbled chin. “I haven’t seen people so excited about a missing rabbit since the one my Ma tried to cook for supper ran off.”

The men laughed at this, and Hans’s frown deepened. “While I find your faith in my abilities truly touching, gentlemen,” he drawled, “I think I’ve had enough praise for one night. So if you all don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

“Fine by me,” said the first man. “I’m tired of losing money, anyway.”

The others nodded and grunted in assent, drawing another eyeroll from Hans. Leif observed the exchange with an ever-present glower, and finally said: “Don’t press your luck, boy.”

The younger man returned the remark with a thin smile. “Too late—I’ve already done that. That’s how I ended up here in the first place.”

In the silence following his reply, he walked away—but not before Leif’s heavy hand had fallen on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks just by the entryway.

Hans frowned. “What do you want now, old man?”

“Now listen,” the older man began; then, he grew quiet, and his glower softened for a brief moment. He continued in a brusque, but quieter way. “Whatever’s happened between the two of you, it’s best to continue not seeing her.”

“Yes, she’s ‘bad luck’ and can suffocate me with snowflakes—you’ve already told me that,” Hans snapped, rolling his eyes.

Leif glared at him. “It’s no laughing matter. Whatever she told you – that we’re all liars, that none of the rumors are true – you must know that one with such magic as hers cannot be trusted. She will keep your company until she’s tired of you, and then she will hurt you.”

Hans brushed Leif’s hand off his shoulder. “Big words coming from a man who probably hasn’t spoken more than two words to her in all the time she’s been here,” he said. “Don’t pretend that your old wives’ tales and carnie superstitions can substitute for actually knowing someone. The truth is this: you don’t know why she’s here, what she’s capable of, what she’s afraid of, or who she even is.”

Leif’s chin lifted at this assertion, and then he stuck his hands back in his pants pockets as he grunted, shaking his head. He shot the younger man one last, meaningful look, and asked:

“Do you?”

»» —— ««

Hans didn’t reply, and returned to his dressing room with a fierce scowl. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, sat on a worn armchair, and took off his gloves. After a moment of rest, he reached inside the pocket of his waistcoat, exhaling once he retrieved its contents.

In the palm of his hand laid her snowflake pin.

»» —— ««

She saw a light under his door late in the evening and paused, raising a hand to knock on it… only for it to open of its own accord. She lowered her hand and stepped in, giving him a slight nod as she did.

“You don’t usually come by so late, Elsa.”

She didn’t sit. “No. But it’s been some time since I last visited, and…” she trailed off. “I wouldn’t usually come by when I know you’re out playing cards. But I overheard some of the boys saying backstage that you’d missed the last few games, and I thought—well, I guessed I’d see you here.”

“You guessed right,” Hans said, turning the knob on the lamp so it burned brighter. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here so late.”

She reddened. “I saw your act tonight. It was… very impressive.”

“Oh?” he asked, and set himself down on the chair closest to his small table of props and other knick knacks. He rolled up his sleeves, and when a card popped out of one, he flicked it to the side. “And what was your favorite part?”

Elsa glanced at the discarded card, and then back at him. “The doves,” she answered. “The way you transformed them from handkerchiefs, and flames, and paper cranes into real birds—that was something else.” Her gaze was pointed. “I think there was even a snowflake that turned into a dove, if I remember correctly.”

He met her look without surprise. “Ah, yes. A snowflake,” he said, and pulled the fabric pin from his pant pocket. “Was it this one?”

Her lips were thin. “Why, yes. I think it was.” She walked closer towards him, craning over his seated figure. After a moment, she sighed and crossed her arms, leaning against the table. “You know, if you wanted to borrow one of my things for your performance, you could’ve just asked me for it.” She frowned. “I know we had something of a… disagreement the last time we spoke, but I didn’t think it was bad enough that you would shut me out for a week—”

“‘Shut you out’? Hardly,” Hans interrupted, his fingers curling around the pin. “As you’ve seen for yourself, I’ve been hard at work improving my craft.” He let it fall from his hand in the next moment, tapping the tabletop. “I don’t have the time, nor the desire, to be so petty as to ignore you on purpose.”

“Were you upset by what I said?”

He froze at the question, then waved it away. “I don’t even remember what we talked about.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said. “I remember it all very well, and I know you do, too.”

“Then what is it you said that you think upset me so much that I’ve been avoiding you?” he asked, matching her crossed arms with his own. “Please jog my memory, since I clearly can’t remember what you want me to.”

She glared at him. “You asked me about my past—about my family,” she said. “You asked if I was frightened by the thought of disappearing from this world, as they did.” She leaned in close until she could see his cheeks flush with color. “I told you I wasn’t.”

He cleared his throat and clicked his tongue. “And why do you think I was upset by that?”

She drew back, shrugging. “I don’t know for sure. It’s just an educated guess.” Her brow lifted. “After all, I don’t know enough about you to understand why it might be upsetting.”

“… is that your way of asking me to tell you more about myself?” Hans replied at length.

Elsa answered with a half-nod. “More or less. But only if you want to.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“Then you don’t,” she said, “and I wouldn’t force you to. But even if you don’t want to, I would just ask you… not to shut me out again.” She looked away for a moment. “I can’t stand it.”

He was quiet for a while, and then sighed.

“What is it that you want to know?”

She raised her gaze to meet his. “The one thing you’ve never told me: why you’re here.”

He rested his forehead on his palm, and closed his eyes. “That’s a long story, Elsa.”

She pulled up another chair from a corner of the room until she sat opposite him, and cocked her head to the side.

“I’d like to hear it.”

#DisappearingActFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfiction #helsa #iceburns

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