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unhinged-summer-fun · 5 months ago

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common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 2

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 2: the anti-boyfriend

“You what?”

“Keep your voice down!” Osha hissed at her sister. She didn’t like to come into the cafe on her days off, but she’d slept through the opportunity to talk to Mae this morning before she left. And this was a conversation that couldn’t wait. “Listen, who is he? He said he knew you!” Mae’s face couldn’t hide her thoughts, not from the one person who shared it. Osha knew she was about to lie, so she grabbed her wrist. “Don’t even try to wiggle out of this.”

“What happened to your wrist?!” she gasped, shifting the subject to her sister’s annoyance.

“It—blame Huyang.” Osha pointed to the espresso machine in question. “Tell Yord to ease up on pulling shots; it’s not as sturdy as he thinks.”

“Yeah, I saw your note this morning.” Mae sighed. “But… he came in while you were working on it?”

Osha nodded but didn’t offer any other information—not about his little rescue, or how he held her arm so tenderly while he patched her up. “I guess I need to be better about locking the front.”

“Did the cameras catch him coming in?”

It was a complete left turn of a question, putting Osha on high alert. “What? I mean, probably. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Mae didn’t look like she believed that. “Don’t let him in next time.”

“Give me an actual reason, and maybe I will.”

“Can’t you just trust me?” Her voice came out stressed, not scared but also not at ease. Osha sighed, not wanting to concede.

“I do trust you, you know that. But the whole situation was strange, and I’d feel better if you just told me what you know.”

“Okay. I will. But not right now.” Mae’s voice dropped a little. “Not here.”

“I can’t tell if you’ve just been hiding a boyfriend or if I should be actually concerned.”

Mae laughed, but it sounded hollow and unconvincing. “He is not a boyfriend. He’s possibly the anti-boyfriend.”

Mae had none of the flustered attitude Osha remembered suffering from last night. It made her doubt herself for a moment. Was her spark of attraction to the stranger so outlandish? Best not to mention it.

“Okay, then. I’m off today and I know you’re closing, so you had better have a good story for me by dinner.” Osha adjusted the strap of her gym bag, pushing off the counter and toward the gym proper.

“No promises!” Mae called after her.

Temple Gym seemed rather empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. Perhaps the recent conversation with the mysterious stranger drew Osha’s attention, but the low volume of people in classes and the rings seemed more noticeable today. It wasn’t like the gym was at risk of going out of business or anything, but each day, it looked like more teachers than students were in the training rooms.

“Keep your elbows in! Hands up!” The repeated thwack-thwack of gloves smacking training pads was as familiar to Osha’s ears as her sister’s voice. She recognized the trainer holding up the mats, Indara, and kept her head down as she strode past the ring. “Cutting it close, Osha!”

Damn it.

“Overslept, sorry!” She didn’t jog, as that would imply she wanted to run away from something, but she lengthened her strides a bit more to eat up the distance between this conversation and Training Room A.

Several students were there already, mid-warmup stretch. “Look who showed up,” Fillik teased from the floor. Osha resisted the urge to drop her bag on top of his head and got to work, taping her left ankle up as fast as possible.

“Do not let haste spoil your efforts,” a kind, but authoritative voice chided. Osha smiled sheepishly up at Sol and undid the last few passes of her wrap job. “Oftentimes,” he continued, “patience is the difference between injury and otherwise.”

“Yes, coach,” the room intoned. Osha’s face burned. Was she just unable to escape even a moment of chastisement today?

“Today, we will work on keeping your balance. Round one will be fifteen minutes of the following…” Osha fell into the usual routine of class, appreciating the burning in her lungs and thighs but forcing herself not to feel the pain in her ankle through some of the jump exercises. The injury was nearly six years old, but every time the weather was remotely bad, like clockwork, the usual ache would set in and twinge her gait a little.

I really need to get my car out of the shop.

“Mae—I mean Osha! Focus!”

A flash of irritation hit her like a gust of hot air. Sol was her dad and he couldn’t even tell them apart with any consistency.

How’d you know I wasn’t Mae when you walked in?

I just knew.

This random stranger, who knew Mae enough to recognize that Osha was not her, could tell them apart better than their dad.

She fueled that energy into her hips as she beat the heavy bag with laser-like focus. The impacts reverberated through her wrists, stinging the small burn with every hit. She lost herself in the trance of training, and it wasn’t exactly peace she found, but something more like clarity.

That was the difference between her and Mae; Osha could never find the serenity that came from repetition and effort. Whenever she got deep enough in training, she achieved something like a runner’s high that stayed with her most of the rest of the day. She felt as though she never had to cool down from it, or even stop. She’d never been pushed to the limits of her stamina, full of too much energy and determination to quit. It made her restless. The odd jobs Vernestra had her doing around the building were just enough to keep her from going out of her mind.

But she knew she had an example to set as the daughter of one of the best trainers in the gym. It’s why Indara still called her on her lateness even after six years out of competition, and why Sol was still so quick to offer critique in her footwork. Sol had a reputation to uphold, and Osha wouldn’t be the one to besmirch it.

“Are you alright?” Sol asked as she held a deep hamstring stretch in the cooldown. “Your wrist.”

“Oh, yeah. Old Huyang was giving me trouble last night. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sure it didn’t feel very nice striking the bag as hard as you did. May I see it?”

“Sol, c’mon, I’m fine.”

“Humor me.”

She undid the tape, revealing the angry line of shiny, pink skin across her wrist. “It won’t scar,” she assured Sol. He’d fretted so much after surgery on her Achilles, more concerned with the state of the scar than she was. Osha had let him, because it was something to pass her days in traction.

“Letting a burn breathe is important to prevent infection.” There was hardly a conversation with Sol where he didn’t attempt to impart some knowledge or wisdom.

“I’ll get it washed up before I go to lunch.”

On her way out of the gym, Mae stopped her.

“I can tell you more tonight, but really, steer clear of that guy if you see him again. He’s got anger issues a mile wide, and he’s… he’s a real butthead, Oshie. I don’t think he even knows how to make friends if his life depended on it. So… staying away from him is probably for the best. Please.”

“Well, it’s not like I was setting out to find him in the first place, so I think you can rest assured I won’t see him again. Besides, anybody my sister thinks is a real butthead doesn’t deserve my manners anyway.”

That assertion (and the espresso machine) lasted all of ten hours.

The text felt like a direct attack. Every time Yord did something wrong at the bar that needed Osha’s intervention, Jecki would send the same photo: Yord on his first day working at the shop, one hand in a thumbs-up and the other on a portafilter attached to an espresso machine on fire.

O: You’re joking

O: Please tell me you’re joking

J: I wish I were.

O: It’s been LESS THAN A DAY

J: To be fair, he wasn’t on shift for ten whole hours.

O: Nothing about this seems fair

O: I’ll be there at close

J: I owe you BIG! :)

Which led to here.

“YORD FANDAR!” Osha screamed at the espresso machine. It echoed through the empty cafe and the gym beyond. Not even the trainers stuck around after closing when the central heating was turned off for the night.

Giving in to temptation, Osha smacked her head against the espresso machine a few times. She’d been here a while. The fucking left group head had fused to the portafilter basket. Yord had been so violent with attaching the portafilter that the basket was now lodged in there, rendering half the damn machine inoperable since 4 p.m. when he decided to inform his shift manager of his fuckup. The clock on the register glared 21:33 in little red digits.

“These parts don’t—ngh!—actually—fucking—touch!” Osha squealed when she flew to the side, landing on her ass with the filter basket in her hands. The backflushed water from the machine gushed from the group head, left over from earlier that afternoon. She threw her hands in the air, laughing in victory. “Yeah!”

“That’s quite the technique you’ve got there.”

“Shit!” Osha flinched back, slapping her hand against one of the fridges below the counter. “You—?!”

Sure enough, the stranger stood on the other side of the counter. Looking up at him from the floor, he looked even more imposing than he’d been in her memory—that lasting image of the stranger silhouetted in the snow had grown into a certain kind of dark fantasy that she’d been unable to shake.

“Surprise?” he said, lips wrapping into a cocky sort of smirk that incensed her as much as it thrilled her. “Saw the lights were on again!”

She got to her feet, a determined scowl on her face. “Okay, I know for sure that I locked the door tonight, so how did you get in here?”

His hands went up. “Okay, I’ll admit, I heard you scream, saw you fall, and I freaked out a little. The lock isn’t broken, if that’s your concern. Are you alright, Osha?”

Shit, she must have hit her head or something, because her name never sounded better than when he said it.

Wait, no no no. Don’t be polite, remember he’s a butthead.

“I’m fine. Do you want a coffee?”

NO!! That’s worse!

The stranger looked confused for half a moment but shrugged. “If you’re offering. I’ll even pay this time.”

Okay, this she could work with. “Yeah, okay. I just gotta—ugh, Yord.” She looked down and realized the puck of espresso had broken into a million gross wet pieces… all over her. “I will be right back, I need to change.”

“I’ll be here!”

Her bag was right near the door, and the locker room was clear across the gym… It couldn’t hurt. Osha stepped around a dividing wall between the gym and the cafe, stripping off her gross coffee-shirt the moment she could.

She heard rustling around the corner and poked her head back, new shirt clutched to her chest. “What are you doing?”

The stranger was in the cleaning supplies closet. “Paying ahead. I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Please.” His smile was so genuine and patient. “I don’t want you to stay late on my account. It’s a Friday.”

“I’m not missing much,” she said. Mae had sent a text saying she was going to dinner with some school friends across the bay, so her interrogation would have to wait another day.

Osha ducked back behind the wall to keep changing. But when she pressed her shoulders to the cold brick, she found she didn’t want to end this moment too quickly. “Have you worked in a cafe before?”

“Not exactly. I had a lot of part-time jobs in school. Food service was never something I committed to for long, though. Couldn’t stand coming home sticky. I prefer teaching and training.”

“So you’re a teacher?” Maybe Mae met him at one of her night classes…

“Oh, I’d like to be.”

“What do you want to teach?”

“I mean, teach what you know, right? For me that’s mostly fighting, but also sports science. Injury prevention and treatment.”

Osha’s heart plummeted. Once, she toyed with the idea of studying the same—in the blur of devastated angry months following her injury. To learn the why and the what if of her daily pain out of spite. But then her grief had spiraled into numb days of sorrow and half-assed physical therapy until she could force herself back into class workouts.

“That’s a great field for a fighter to be in.”

“I’m glad you agree, Osha.”

No words passed for a while, both of them just still and listening to one another with a wall between them. “Do you still fight?”

He laughs. “Sometimes.”

“Boxing?”

“Absolutely not.” The chill in his voice rivaled the chill in the gym. Osha shrugged on her other shirt and zipped up her jacket for good measure.

The stranger was just putting away the wet broom when she returned, rolling down the mats again after. How the hell had he mopped so fast?

“Oh, wow.” She blinked at the floor in surprise.

“Efficiency is an underutilized talent. Some people only see you rush, not caring that you did it all correctly.” His black hoodie still covered a lot of his body language, but the hunched curl of his shoulders must have been for her benefit. Most women didn’t want men looking over them, even if it was just good posture.

“So how do you fight, if you’re not boxing?”

“However I want,” he shrugged. “Capoeira. Jiu-jitsu. Kendo. Arnis. I’d rather be a jack of all trades than master of one. Traditional boxing is bogged down in a thousand little rules and pieces of etiquette that take the teeth out of what real fighting is. It’s just domesticated violence that forgot its history was built by lions.”

Osha back-flushed the machine a few times while he spoke, idly checking the dirty water. Then, she loaded a double into a new basket while she processed what he said. He didn’t seem bothered by her quiet demeanor. Sometimes silence was as important as its inverse in a conversation.

“And what would you say real fighting is, then?”

He waited until she looked him in the eye to say, “Bloodsong.”

“What?”

“We are animals, with animal instincts that have been honed over thousands of years to make fire, build cities, have families. But there come times for each of us where primal instinct drives us—when your life is threatened; when what you want is at risk of being lost. Then, all the blood in your body comes singing through your ears in a mix of adrenaline and panic, and you know one truth: only the strongest survive—that is the bloodsong.

“To dull that edge with rules, to quiet that song with tradition, is to glaze over the jagged history of how we got here—to cities and families and fire. But respecting the razor’s edge of instinct, and teaching yourself to hear the song, those things are what set lions apart from house-cats.”

Osha couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes, the seriousness in his tone. Tonight, he’d only put on the guise of the bumbling fool for a minute before dropping it in favor of… this. Was this his real self? His philosophies were the very opposite of what Osha had been taught.

“You don’t think it’s a privilege to be able to practice fighting as a sport?” she said, deflecting and putting together a cortado on impulse. The steamed milk would provide a literal smokescreen between them that she could hide behind.

“It’s more theatre than fighting.”

“It’s called a martial art for a reason.”

“A good point,” he allowed, nodding his head. The intensity of his look had softened a little, but the fire in his eyes blazed true. “But those are all just pretty words to soften a blow. I prefer not to pull my punches in any sense.”

SHHHHHHH—

Osha breathed out shakily as she worked through the sudden din of machinery. The stranger accepted his drink without picking up the thread of conversation, leaving her to ponder it. This is what I am, his silence declared. You should not try to change me.

“My sister all but called you an asshole when I asked who you were,” Osha said at long last, once the silence had soured.

He rotated his drink in his hand, considering it and smirking wider. “No she didn’t.”

“She did.”

“Your sister doesn’t swear.”

“Okay, she called you a ‘real butthead.’ That’s basically the same thing.”

He chuckled and took a sip. “Mm. Cortado?”

“Figured you wanted another two-shot deal, Mr. Power of Two.”

“It’s a good choice,” he says, inclining his head to her in thanks.

Osha quickly scrubbed down and reset the machine for the night before shutting it down. Before she rounded the bar, he handed her a ten. “I told you I’d pay.”

Rather than hemming and hawing her way around it, she took the bill and dropped it in the tip jar. He rolled his eyes a bit, but didn’t drop the smile.

“Where do you train?” Osha asked once they approached the door. It’s a familiar pose for them: standing in front of the shop door with nothing but streetlights on their faces.

“Wherever I want.”

“So shifty! What are you, like a vigilante gym rat?”

“I think your trainers would call me a brawler. They like to think there’s no place for NHB fighters.”

“NHB?”

“No Holds Barred.” The term sent a frisson through her skin, that razor sharp thrill of danger he’d been talking about. Just the name was enough to excite.

“Then how did you learn?”

“I had to, in order to survive.”

A few minutes later, he held the door for her and stood a few steps back as she locked up.

“Mae also told me to stay away from you. I wonder why.”

“Mae has her own reasons to dislike me. You should find some on your own.” It sounded like an invitation. She didn’t respond to it, just walking down the street in the direction of her apartment complex.

They crunched through the snow on the quiet street in silence. Several bars they passed had music thumping within, soft yellow glows bleeding out onto the sidewalks. “You’re not following me home, are you?” Osha asked, very aware of the bear spray in her bag.

“I live this way too. Why, are you following me home?” The goofy smile had returned, and Osha saw it for what it was: a mask.

She shook her head and leaned on a pole as they waited for a crossing signal. She gently tried to stretch the pain out of her Achilles, but the cold limited her range of motion.

“Your ankle alright?”

“It’s just tight this time of year.”

“How are you resting it?”

“The usual way,” she sighed.

“How often do you do isometric exercises instead of just working on it in class?” She was startled by the question a little. It must have shown on her face, because he followed it up with, “I’m a sports scientist. If it helps, you can think of it as professional curiosity.”

That’s right. “Oh, um. Well I stopped PT after a year off crutches, and I was told class training, normal training is what’s best for me…”

“I mean no offense, but isn’t boxing how you got your injury in the first place?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That might be as effective as putting steel around a wooden pencil with broken lead inside.” The light turned green.

“Then what do you recommend?” She was expecting him to say something like come train with me, come to my house, let me do it right for you, but she was proved wrong.

“Isometric exercises, building out full range of motion. I’m sure you still have your old PT records, follow those exercises about thirty minutes a day. Don’t worry about muscle tone or whatever. Take a few days off from classes and understand where your pain is. Numbing yourself to it only hides it when you’re trying to get rid of it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But that’s just my advice. Follow it, don’t. You’re not a client, I won’t be disappointed if you ignore it, Osha. I’m going this way, so…” he put a thumb over his shoulder. It gave her a choice: follow him and continue the conversation, whatever path it might lead down, or head home to where she’s safe.

As thrilling as the night would have been to go with him, she didn’t even know his name. And perhaps there was something wrong with her, because she didn’t ask for it. It preserved the mystery, the clandestine kind of air about them. She wanted more of it, to be sure, but breaking the ice too early would be unsatisfying.

“I’ll see you around.”

He looked delighted by her answer. “You can count on it.”

CHAPTER 3

#unhingery #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #osha x qimir #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #common grounds

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yoramkelmer · 1 year ago

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Hogwarts Overexposed Chapter 9: Death Times Two

Wow, it´s already been two years since the last time I sporked this fic. I had hoped that a friend would make some art for the highligt of the Saga - which is in this chapter - but for various reasons she wasnt able to do it.

Anyways, we are now back.

The last time we left off, the Sues were still locked up, and Emma Wrong succeeded in resurrecting Salazar Slytherin - who I picture to look and talk like Tommy Wiseau, because funny.

The voice didn’t seem to come from any particular direction, but instead had the sensation that it was emanating from everywhere in the dungeon at once. Then, as everyone watched tensely, the thick steam that filled the room slowly drew together and began to take form; a human form, but not really human, more ghost-like.

“I asked, who dared to wake me?” bellowed the ghostly representation of Salazar Slytherin.

“I did, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four,” Emma Wrong answered anxiously.

“And who are you, woman, to wake me, the supreme wizard of all time, from death?” Slytherin roared.

“I am Emma Wrong, Minister of Magic,” she answered, her voice quaking, “and future monarch of the magical world. My loyal followers refer to me as the Great One.”

I doubt that calling yourself "The Great One" wouldnt really look good while you present yourself to a powerful, recently resurrected Dark Lord.

“THE GREAT ONE!” Slytherin screamed. “You have the audacity to refer to yourself as such?”

Told you so.

Slytherin glanced around the dungeon; first observing Wrong’s cowering followers and then the variety of torture apparatus. His eyes finally came to rest on Jamie and the young innocents chained to the wall.

“What year is it?” he questioned. “Has the world become so depraved that it is now common practice to torture naked, defenseless children?”

Like I said in previous chapters, it would have been a way more interesting twist if Salazar Slytherin would have been disgusted by Wrongs actions and not wanting to impose terror o the wizarding world etc.

“It is the year two thousand and five,” Emma responded. “These are not just any children, but rather the innocents whose blood was needed to make your return happen as prophesied.”

“Prophecy? Slytherin questioned. “What prophecy?”

Damien hurriedly produced a copy of the foretelling which he handed to The Great One. Emma in turn held the document out toward Slytherin, not even sure if this ghostly being had the ability to grasp objects.

LOL

A chill filtered through Wrong’s body as Slytherin reached out and removed the rolled parchment from her hand. The room was silent as he scrutinized the document.

Anyway, the prophecy is recited once again. Neil really loves to copy and paste things we all already know.

Slytherin seemed to read and reread the Prophecy several times before he again studied his surroundings, his eyes once more coming to rest on the innocents. “Which of you is my heir?” he queried.

Yeah, the sight of Ghost!Slytherin having to pause several times while reading this is actually funny.

His question was answered by silence.

“Which is my heir!?” he shouted irritably, staring at Emma Wrong.

“The toddler,” she responded, gesturing in Timmy’s direction.

“How dare you treat my heir in such a debasing way!?” Slytherin hollered. “Release the child from those confinements at once.”

“But he and the others must be killed by you in order for you to be returned to your body,” Emma protested.

Yeah, I don´t think this is Emma Wrongs day.

“I gave an order,” Slytherin roared. “I expect my instructions to be carried out immediately. Release that child!”

“Perhaps you forgot who is in charge here,” Emma Wrong suggested. “I am the Great One. It is I who has awakened you from the dead. You will be following my orders and helping me to achieve the greatness I so richly deserve.”

“You are a whimpering, weak, foolish bitch!” Slytherin roared. “I follow no one’s orders, but I will, with pleasure, give you what you richly deserve.”

Slytherin raised his right arm and pointed his hand at The Great One. Without even saying the words, a blast of green light blazed from his finger tips and illuminated the entire room. When the light diminished, Emma Wrong was lying on the cold stone floor of the dungeon. She was dead.

Yeah, and this is the end of Emma Wrong, the Minister of Magic who secretly ran a series of terrorism, abductions, nipple eating and torture, all happening while our main characters were busy living out soap opera scenarios.

As Jamie, Emily and Caitlin observed the scene horror-struck, Wrong’s underlings fell to their knees.

Damien was the first to break the silence. “If it pleases you, Lord Slytherin, I will release your heir from his bindings.”

“That would please me,” Slytherin said, nodding his head.

And Slytherin was pleeeeeeeeased

Jamie watched as Damien approached Timmy, but then her eyes were drawn back to the body of Emma Wrong. Wrong was an evil woman; she was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people and yet somehow it just didn’t seem right that anyone’s life should end so abruptly, so coldly with no forewarning. A few minutes ago she was the Minister of Magic, respected by the Wizarding World. In her alter ego she was The Great One, feared and loathed. Now with just the wave of a hand, she was nothing but a dead, soulless shell.

It´s already been called out by other sporkers that Emma Wrong was already a soulless shell while she was still alive, especially considering that WE NEVER GOT A SINGLE DESCRIPTION OF WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE.

We never got that many moments of her as the Minister - it was only for 3 scenes, all of whom were in the first fic - the first time when she arrives at Hogwarts to give a talk about the new Death Eater menace, the second time is her appearing at the Yule Ball after Hermiones abduction, and the third time is her and Damien at the wedding reception, the scene that was supposed to be The Big RevealTM that she was The Great One all along.

Special mention goes to a brief mention in the second fic where she is spotted by Hermione during the custody trial surrounding Timmy.

All the other scenes where she appeared during the second fic and here - until her demise - was just her being the generic moustache twirling villain.

It also doesnt make any sense that Jamie Sue feels sorry for her in the "she was still a human" way because we never actually got to know her beyond that Great One shtik.

Also, one of the reasons why I always pictured her to look like Jeanine Matthews in the Divergent series is because Jeanine Matthews and Emma Wrong both were generic villains with the personality and backstory of a cardboard, and Jeanine Matthews was also quickly forgotten about after being killed and no further explanations or backstories were ever given about her.

Here I should mention that in a few chapters Emma Wrong will be mentioned in a off hand remark where it will be totally forgotten that she was The Great One.

Slytherin gave what almost appeared to be a smile. “Is the baby, the heir of Gryffindor?” he questioned.

Jamie nodded her head apprehensively.

“They shall be returned to their parents,” Slytherin said. “Gryffindor was a noble man. Although we died as enemies, he was once my friend. His lineage deserves to live on.”

How noble.

“Begging your pardon, my Lord,” Hooch interrupted. “She,” Hooch indicated Wrong’s body, LOL “told us that the innocents must all die by your hand for you to return to human form.”

“She was a fool,” Slytherin responded. “She could not even properly interpret a Prophecy.

Oh well. Anyway, Slytherin then explains the rest of the prophecy and then....

“Why would I, the great Lord Slytherin, after being returned from a sleep of over a thousand years, want to walk the earth as a mere mortal man when the Prophecy gives me the occasion to be so much more? I can be immortal and invincible if joined with evil."

Who actually thinks of themselves as evil?

“But you just killed her,” Damien said in a meek voice.

“She was not the personification of evil,” Slytherin said with the hint of a laugh. “She was but a warped and frustrated old hag.” He looked knowingly at Damien. “You, my servant, are the embodiment of pure evil. When you and I are joined, no one will be able to conquer us.”

Damien stared uneasily at the ghostlike figure of Salazar Slytherin. What exactly did he mean by joined? Were they to be some sort of partners in crime, or did he intend to live as a parasite off his body as Voldemort had done with Professor Quirrell?

“Excuse me, your ghostliness,” LOL Emily said. “You said my brother and Timmy would be set free. What about my sisters and I?”

Salazar did not answer, nor did he seem angry at being referred to as his ghostliness. Instead he walked, more floated, over to Emily and placed his hand on her forehead. Emily experienced a pain similar to the brain freeze one gets when eating ice cream too fast.

“You are the Seer,” he said in what gave the impression of being a sad tone. “You’re also in Slytherin house.”

Emily nodded her head.

Then he approached Caitlin and likewise placed his ghostlike hand on her head. “The Healer,” he said. “Not just a healer, but an extremely powerful one, and with telepathic powers no less.” He placed his hand on his chin and shook his head sadly before moving on to Jamie.

Again, why didnt Caitlin use her speshul Sue powers to make any of their captors heads explode?

When he reached her, he paused slightly to glance at Timmy and Ben, and then found himself staring thoughtfully at Jamie. “Forgive me,” he said placing his hand on her forehead. “It has been an extremely long time since I have seen a nude female and you are an extraordinarily beautiful young woman.”

Because even Salazar Slytherin is a perv who needs to gush over the beauty of the Main Sue.

“You’re the Spirit Bright,” he said disappointedly, removing his hand from Jamie’s head and walking away from the girls.

“You are all strong, brilliant, talented witches,” Slytherin declared. “I would prefer to allow you to continue to live and serve me, but unfortunately you are all mentioned as members of the conspiracy that could ultimately cause my defeat.

How inconvenient.

“Therefore, I regret that you must die, but your deaths will not come at my hands,” he said looking at Madame Hooch. “Will you please clean up here?”

Hooch’s eyes lit up as if Christmas had come early. “It will be my pleasure, Great Master.”

I already mentioned this previously, but my G-d, Hogwarts Exposed has truly destroyed Madam Hooch for me - all I ever think about when I read that name is the scene from the first fic where she attacks Hermione an bites off her nipple.

“Now it is time we were joined,” Slytherin’s sprit said as he considered an extremely tense Damien. “I would much prefer my own body, but it is critical that the Prophecy be followed unerringly.”

“Come and stand by me,” he ordered the trembling Damien. “It will be quick and will not hurt. Your spirit and memories will not be destroyed, but rather will be overwhelmed by mine. Through you, I will learn of this new world I have been plunged into. Together your body and my mind will eventually rule this world.”

Damien moved to within touching distance of Slytherin and then waited fearfully for further directions.

“Exhale completely,” Slytherin instructed. “Make every effort to remove all the air from your lungs. Once your lungs are empty, breathe in deeply, through your mouth, trying to admit as much fresh air as possible.”

Crabbe and Goyle watched with foreboding; neither of the bulky followers had the mettle to move or speak. Damien exhaled totally as he had been instructed. It was when he inhaled that it came to pass. The vapor like form of Salazar Slytherin first tapered and then was sucked into Damien’s body as if it were a beverage being drunk through a straw. The final effect was, to a certain extent, the opposite of the Dementor’s kiss. Instead of Damien’s soul being sucked from his body, Slytherin’s spirit was added. What was Damien continued to exist, but was overwhelmed by the spirit of Salazar Slytherin.

Despite all that description and the detail at the end, we never actually see Damien again for the rest of the fic.

From then on, it´s just Salazar Slytherin, no one else.

I guess it´s just Neil forgetting about Damiens existence.

For a short time, there was complete silence, as if Slytherin’s spirit was settling in and becoming adjusted to his new accommodations. Then he spoke, but in his own deep penetrating voice, which was nothing like that of the nerdish Damien. “This body is greatly inferior to my own,” Slytherin muttered disgustedly, “but the mind is beautiful, full of such evil thoughts. The Prophecy was correct. Our union will be unbreakable and our power unmatched.”

Something, however, seemed to be confusing Slytherin as he absorbed all of Damien’s thoughts and memories. “What is a Hermione?” he finally asked to anyone in general. “This mind seems obsessed with the subject.”

Of course.

“She was once a captive here,” Hooch explained. “I believe Damien became rather infatuated with her.”

“Apparently so,” Slytherin said. “I must meet this woman some day, but for now there are more important things to do. Until I establish a loyal following, it is best my return remain a secret. You two,” he indicated Crabbe and Goyle “shall accompany me to my secret chamber. I want you to tell me all you know about the individuals that supported this ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ person. These Death Eaters sound like people who would show me allegiance.”

I love how half of Salazars dialogue so far sounds like a clichee-filled parody.

Salazar moved to the shelf containing many of Damien’s torture devices. He removed the thumbscrews and held them in his hand as he muttered, “Portus.” The device glowed blue and seemed to flutter momentarily in Salazar’s hand, then became still. He flung the gadget to Hooch.

“That is a Portkey. It will bring you, but only you, to my side when you have finished here. Be quick about disposing of the young witches, I sense that a rescue effort is nearing.”

I don´t think this portkey will become relevant later on - especially considering the fact that although Salazar Slytherin now is the Main Villain, more screentime will be given to the other villain of this fic, a very dated caricature of a camp gay.

“What about the boys?” Hooch asked.

“Do not hurt them. They can cause me no harm,” he declared. “Leave them for their parents to find, they will be here soon.” With a wave of his arm, Slytherin along with Crabbe and Goyle disappeared.

* * * * * *

Cut for a scene of Hermione and the others flying, and Hermione has established a weak link of contact with Caitlin.

Caitlin and Emily watched nervously as Hooch hustled about the dungeon making preparations. Neither of the girls had ever seen the witch look so happy, yet so frightening at the same time.

Hooch only paused shortly to twirl her moustache.

Jamie had just finished nursing Ben and was now giving nourishment to Timmy, their captors having not fed any of them since breakfast. This description makes it sounds like theyre not held captive in a setting like this. Because of Timmy, Jamie didn’t speak, but both Emily and Caitlin could read the expression on her face.

“Jamie doesn’t think they’ll get here in time,” Emily said despondently. “Neither do I.”

“We can’t give up hope,” Caitlin said encouragingly. But the words were barely out of her mouth when Hooch approached her.

“The Great Lord Slytherin told me to be swift, but it is difficult to hurriedly extricate revenge that I have waited so long to realize. My only regret is that I won’t be present to actually witness the demise of two of you.

“My lovely Caitlin,” Hooch said nastily. “I imagine you expect me to torture you unmercifully. Admittedly, it would give me great pleasure to turn you into a human shish kebab, but it will give me even more pleasure to know that you have died at the hands of your rescuers.”

And again, I need to ask this:

Why Madam Hooch, of all people? Why did Neil decide to use a canon character for this role, rather than making up his own for this, like a new teacher who started teaching at Hogwarts the same year Hermione started teaching?

Some sporkers and commenters on their blogs have theorised that he simply wanted to use a female canon character, but didnt want to use someone like McGonnagle.

Either way, the use of Madam Hooch as a villain is just so utterly bizarre and so funny at the same time.

“Do you see that crossbow?” Hooch asked sadistically. “It is aimed directly for your heart and the arrow it holds has been soaked in a deadly poison. Can you imagine Hermione’s grief when the opening of the dungeon door sets it off? I can only hope that she will be the one to actually open the door.”

Madam Hooch really seems pissed over the fact that Hermione rejected her and didnt like that she bit off one of her nipples.

“But that is only the beginning,” Hooch cackled, as she twirled her moustache. “In your hand you will be holding the rope that will suspend Jamie Zacherley above the Pyramid of Death. When the arrow pierces your heart, your hand will go limp and Miss Zacherley will become four nicely separated pieces.”

This doesnt make any sense....

“What about me?” Emily inquired, not actually knowing what possessed her to ask such a question.

Neil hasnt given his Authors pet anything to say for a while now.

“You, my dear, are what they refer to as a warm up act,” Hooch laughed. “That is why I haven’t secured your sister in her harness yet, nor suspended her above the pyramid. I want both her and Caitlin to have a good view as I first mutilate and then kill you. Their deaths will come so fast that they won’t get to suffer. Through you they can experience how brutal and horrible death can be. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA Have I already mentioned how eeevul I am?”

“I was hoping you didn’t intend to leave me out of all the fun,” Emily said bravely. Her words sounded plucky, but Emily was scared to death.

“You sound so spirited,” Hooch bellowed as she reached for the breast ripper. “We’ll see how brave you sound after I’ve reduced your tits to a proper size. And that’s only for openers. After that we’ll see how long you can survive the pear.”

Again: Why Madam Hooch?!

“Leave her alone,” Jamie pleaded, lying Timmy on the cold floor next to Ben. “She hasn’t done anything to harm you. If you must torture someone, torture me.”

"I`M SELFLESS, DAMMIT!"

“You don’t understand at all, do you?” Hooch cried. “You’re just like Granger. Torturing you wouldn’t have the desired affects. It hurts you more to have someone you love harmed than it does to be tortured yourself. Watch, you’ll soon understand what I mean.”

I love how overdramatic this sounds.

Emily closed her eyes as Hooch approached. She had never been so frightened or felt so helpless in her entire life.

Caitlin’s brain felt like it was about to explode. Strange, considering she has the power to make other peoples heads explode. Her head ached with agony. Normally when she used her healing or telepathic powers, she drifted into trance. Today she had struggled to maintain a contact with Hermione and at the same time remain focused on what was happening around her. "See? She´s not a Mary Sue, this here is one of her flaws!" She felt that if she tried to mentally stop Hooch from hurting Emily she would cause some sort of overload. What if she not only failed, but also passed out in the process? Then not only would Emily be killed, but she would lose contact with the rescuers. She looked desperately toward Jamie.

The Highlight of the entire Hogwarts Exposed Saga is coming up.

It is something that has been foreshadowed a couple of times since the end of the first fic, and it is one of the times where Neil didn´t suck at foreshadowing.

* * * * * *

“Harry, stop! The connection was strongest as we flew over that manor; it seems to be fading slightly now,” Hermione advised.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked in disbelief. “They can’t be there. That manor belongs to Emma Wrong, the Minister of Magic.”

....yet he had some suspicions about her back when Hermione was abducted.

This should confirm it, yet it isnt brought up again.

“All I know is that I felt the strongest link as we flew over that manor,” Hermione said emphatically. “The children are down there.”

“Wands at the ready,” Harry shouted, as he turned and headed for a landing.

“Potter, are you bloody crazy?” Draco called out. “Do you know who owns that manor?”

“I don’t give a damn who owns it; that’s where they’re being held prisoner.”

This makes it sound like he only suddenly wants to go down there because Draco opposes it.

* * * * * *

IT´S COMING

“Stop, don’t you touch her!” Jamie screamed.

But when Hooch turned to sneer at Jamie, instead of a naked girl, she found herself facing a beautiful pure white unicorn. Caitlin had witnessed the almost instant transformation. Jamie was not only now in her Animagus form, but she was also free, the aged leather on her ankle bindings having burst due to pressure of the transformation.

And now comes the following question:

Why didn´t she do this BEFORE Emma Wrong managed to resurrect Salazar Slytherin?

This is just like how Caitlin isnt using her hyperempath powers to save them like the now forgotten about incident in Ford Lauderdale.

Hooch dropped the breast ripper and reached for her wand as the unicorn, Jamie, lowered its head to charge.

“Avada Keda…” Hooch screamed. But before she could complete the curse, the unicorn’s horn had entered her chest and was protruding out of her back.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This is one of the most funny things to ever come out of any non-parody badfic, and it´s so freudian.

It of course now goes further downhill from here.

And this also where I would have put some art depicting the scene - not even AI can do it properly.

* * * * * *

“Please don’t blast off the door,” Severus begged. “Remember who lives here.”

I doubt canon!Severus would have had any trouble doing this.

“It better ruddy well be unlocked then!” Ron hollered, “I’ve no intention of knocking and waiting for the bloody house elf to answer.”

"Look how British I am!"

Fortunately the door was unlocked and Ron held it open, allowing Harry and Hermione to rush inside first, but as soon as Hermione crossed the threshold, she staggered.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked concernedly. “Nothing has gone amiss has it?”

“No, but this is definitely the place,” Hermione panted, trying to catch her composure. “I’ve been here before. This is where I spent my missing week. It’s all coming back. Follow me! I know the way to the dungeon.”

Now I wonder if she´s then going to forget it all again once they leave the place again.

Hermione ran down the hall. The last time she had done so, she was naked and running the opposite direction in order to save her life. “Down those steps and at the end of the corridor,” she shouted to Ron and Draco, who had overtaken her and Harry.

Ron practically flew down the stairs with Draco right behind them. They were almost at the solid dungeon door before Harry and Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs.

Ron reached out to open the door. “No! Don’t open it!” Hermione screamed, feeling as if a part of her were about to die, as Ron’s hand touched the knob and started to turn it.

It´s been a while since we had some Ron-bashing.

In his eagerness to get to the children, Ron hadn’t heard her, but fortunately Draco had. He grasped Ron’s outstretched hand firmly and prevented him from opening the door. “It’s booby trapped,” he said to Ron, only releasing his grip when Ron acknowledged that he understood.

Yes, we get it, the Suethor hates Ron!

“Thank God,” Hermione sighed as she reached the door. “If we open that door, Caitlin is dead. I have to Apparate in.”

“You mean we,” Harry said firmly.

“You don’t know the layout of the dungeon, I do,” she said even more firmly. “I have to go alone. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”

Hermione didn’t wait for an answer; instead, with a soft pop, she was gone.

Just like an Elf.

Had Hooch or any other dark followers been alive in the dungeon, Harry would now be planning a funeral for his beloved wife. Hermione’s only concern upon Apparating was finding the crossbow and transfiguring its deadly arrow to something harmless.

Rather than just freeing Caitlin and the others.

Once Hermione moved the crossbow so that it no longer pointed at anyone, she gave the all clear for the others to open the door. As they entered, the crossbow was triggered and it’s arrow, now made out of feathers, floated harmlessly to the floor.

This is so dumb.

Cut for a heartfelt conversation between Hermione and Harry where she tells him what she went through, with very long copy paste from the first fic so Neil can make it filled.

“It’s good to be home and sleeping in a real bed again,” Caitlin said as she stretched and wiggled her toes in contentment.

“It’s good just to be alive,” Emily sighed. “I thought we were all as good as dead.”

They don´t really sound all that traumatised from being locked away in a dungeon for weeks and almost starving.

“Didn’t I tell you never to give up?” Caitlin queried. “We have something that will always give us an advantage over the supporters of evil. We have love.”

This is so stupid.

“Yeah we do,” Emily said, feeling extremely fortunate to have been adopted by the Potters after tragically losing her own parents. She cuddled closer to her sister. “Speaking of love, where is Jamie? Is she off doing the dirty deed with Alex?”

“She’s with Alex, but I doubt she’s in a shagging mood,” Caitlin said. “I think right now she just wants to be held. Did you get a good look at her after she transfigured back to herself?”

“Yeah! She looked awful. As evil as Hooch was and as much as the bitch deserved to die, I wish someone else could have done the actually killing. Jamie is just too much like her Animagus form, good and pure. I think she’s having an extremely hard time dealing with the reality that she killed someone.”

It would actually have been interesting if we have had the whole "impaling Hooch" moment from Jamies pov, as she was facing a teacher she has known since her first year who suddenly turned evil and had hurt two people she loved, and how hard it would be even to kill her, the lady who taught her to ride a broomstick and Quidditch, even in self defense and to save her sisters.

“That’s why I can never picture Jamie as an Auror,” Caitlin said. “She has all the other abilities to be great, but she lacks hatred. I know being an Auror doesn’t always involve killing, but there are times when there are no other alternatives. Today she almost waited too long before acting.”

Because Jamie Sue is so pure that she can´t hate. Well, aside from being clothed...

“Emily, are you cold?” Caitlin asked out of the blue. “Would you like me to get us another blanket?”

“I’m fine. What makes you think I’m cold?” Emily asked.

Cut for boring, and a mention goes to that Emily told Madam Pomfrey not to make her enlarged boobs too small, as she doesnt want them the size they were before.

NEIL YOU SICKO!

Cut for another scene of sex talk.

“Not to change the subject, but did you get to talk to Jamie at all this morning?” Harry asked.

“No, she spent the entire night with Alex in the Room of Requirement,” Hermione replied.

Harry gave a devilish grin. “Well, in that case, I imagine everything is all right.”

“No, it’s not,” Hermione said, giving Harry an angry look. “Alex contacted me this morning while you were in Severus’ office. Jamie cried all night. He just held her in his arms and tried to comfort her. She’s having a difficult time dealing with what she did.”

For once, we get someone acting accordingly with trauma.

“She had no choice! Hooch would have mutilated and killed Emily!” Harry said.

“She knows that. She also knows that she had no option but to kill her. That doesn’t make it any easier for her to accept. It’s going to take time, love and patience for her to get over this.”

“Perhaps she should reconsider training for a career as an Auror,” Harry suggested.

“That’s a decision Alex and her have to discuss and make together, but I tend to agree with you. She has the mind and physical ability for the job, but I don’t think she has the penchant.”

As Hermione and Harry talked, the owls arrived with the daily mail. As Hermione slipped a coin in the owl’s bag, Harry grabbed the newspaper and began to read the headline.

SELF-PROFESSED GREAT ONE KILLED. HEROIC MINISTER OF MAGIC OF MAGIC DIES DURING RESCUE OF INNOCENT CHILDREN The magical world may never know the full account of what transpired last evening, but we can once again rest at ease knowing that a dark force bent on world domination has been defeated. Sadly this defeat came at the needless loss of our beloved Minister of Magic, Emma Wrong.

This is going to be one of the last mentions of Emma Wrong for the entire series.

What we do know is that on Friday, August 19, 2005 a kidnapping apparently took place at the residence of Ronald and Samantha Weasley, Hogsmeade. Reported as missing were: Timothy Weasley, age four; Benjamin Potter, age two months; Emily Zacherley-Potter, age 12; Caitlin Potter, age 13 and Jamie Zacherley, age 17.

Caitlin should already be 14 now, considering that she´s 15 the next fic.

Though then again, NO ONE EVER HAS A BIRTHDAY HERE.

All Ministry attempts to quickly locate these children were stalled by the lack of cooperation from their parents. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, having evidently allowed their previous success against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named go to their heads; decided that professional assistance was not needed. The experienced staff of Aurors at the Ministry of Magic was informed that their help was not necessary or even desired.

Had the Aurors been fully involved from the onset, this matter would most likely have been solved in days and undoubtedly without the lamentable loss of Minister Wrong’s life.

When the rag tag team of self-proclaimed detectives finally located the missing children last evening, they discovered that our brave Minister had arrived on the scene before them. Aurors conducting an investigation feel that Minister Wrong died while dueling the Great One in order to save the children from certain death. The Great One has been identified as Madam Hooch, a former teacher at Hogwarts who served a brief sentence in Azkaban for a minor offense.

I didnt know sexual abuse was a minor offense....

The Vice Minister, who has assumed the position of Minister of Magic until such time as a special election is held, asks that the magical community not take out its anger over the death of our beloved Minister on Weasley, Granger or Potter. “We all make tragic mistakes at times during our lives,” Minister Percy Weasley said. “We must forgive their blunder, but at the same time resolve that we, as good citizens of the magical world, will not allow ourselves to be misdirected by imprudent people such as these.”

Hermione had been reading the article along with Harry. When finished, they both stared at each other, for a short time speechless.

“What the hell is that all about!?” Harry shouted more loudly than necessary.

The Suethor is trying to recicle the canon-plot with Fudge into this.

“I’ve heard of a newspaper screwing up details of an account, but that story was pure fabrication. Who told them that Hooch was the Great One? And there isn’t a word about Salazar Slytherin,” Hermione declared.

“Talk about losing your appetite,” Harry said, shaking his head in frustration. “I have to contact our new Minister and find out if he’s fallen off his trolley.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Hermione asked.

“No!” Harry said. “My yelling would probably wake Ben. Besides you don’t like when I swear and I anticipate doing a lot of swearing.

* * * * * *

Anyway, Harry then confronts Percy:

“My daughters were not hallucinating,” Harry affirmed. “Jamie isn’t a child. She gave the same account.”

“I’ve been informed that Miss Zacherley was extremely delusional and distraught,” Percy added. “The first Aurors on the scene state that she was wondering around totally nude, covered with blood and mumbling something about committing murder. How can you possibly consider her a steadfast witness?”

“How do you explain the blood on her?” Harry snapped back. “Jamie is a unicorn Animagus. She gorged Hooch on her horn to prevent the bitch from torturing and mutilating Emily.”

“And after that, did the pink elephants do a dance?” Percy asked sarcastically.

This is so ridicculous and contrived, even for Neils standards.

Harry’s face turned red with anger. “I don’t care if you are the Minister of Magic, Percy. You’re still an arse. You always have been and you always will be. Bring your fucking, good for nothing arse here to Hogwarts and Jamie will demonstrate her abilities for you.”

“I don’t care if Zacherley can turn into all seven dwarfs simultaneously,” Percy said arrogantly. “You and your brood are not going to besmirch Emma Wrong’s good name. She was the only one that stood by me after the Fudge debacle. It’s because of her that I’m where I am today.”

“Now the truth comes out,” Harry bellowed. “You don’t care two Knuts about Wrong’s good name. Percy Weasley is all you’re concerned about. If the truth comes out about her being The Great One, her assistant won’t last a week as Minister of Magic.”

This is so stupid.

“She was not the Great One,” Percy screamed.

How am I supposed to take this serious?

“Then explain the dungeon and why the children were being held prisoner in her manor.”

Percy sighed. “It’s possible that Hooch might have had her under the Imperius Curse the last few weeks. We have no way of being sure.”

“Then Hooch must have been one hell of a witch,” Harry declared. “When Hermione entered the manor, the memories of her missing week returned to her. She was held captive in that very dungeon. If my memory is correct, Hooch was in Azkaban at that time. Was she controlling Wrong by owl?”

Percy then accuses Harry of starting a panic regarding Salazar Slytherins resurrection, this is all to show how Neil is retconning new canon from the time into his canon, while simultaneously still holding on to events from the fanfictions he had taken his original canon from.

Ron is ashamed of having Percy as a brother and thinks that the Order of the Phoenix should hold a meeting.

We are now approaching what most of the fic will be about:

When Emily entered the Great Hall for dinner, Kim at her side, she was surprised to find it decorated similar to how it had been at the Leaving Feast. The only difference was that instead of being decorated in just the winning House’s colors, it was decorated with banners of both Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses.

Why?

Emily had barely taken her seat when Professor Snape stood up at the staff table.

“Although we just enjoyed the Welcoming Feast a few days ago,” he said, looking around at them all, “I felt the occasion warranted another celebration.” He paused briefly.

“The occasion I refer to is, of course, the safe return of three of our number,” the Headmaster said. “I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Jamie Zacherley, Emily Zacherley-Potter and Caitlin Potter.”

Ah, thats why.

The benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood. Even Dick Bancroft reluctantly got to his feet; he did so more to avoid attracting attention to himself than to salute the girls.

Funny, considering he has the hots for Jamie.

Once everyone was again seated, Snape continued. “I’m sure many of you have read the account of what took place, printed in the Daily Prophet. Most of that article was a cock-and-bull story. It was laden with lies, misdirection and missing vital information. Sadly, the Ministry of Magic does not want you to know the truth. Possibly some of your parents will be angered by what I am about to tell you.”

Even Dumbledore was may more subtle when it came to him bashing the Ministry.

“I was there. I believe, as did my predecessor, that the truth is generally preferable to lies. The only truth in the Prophet piece of writing was that these three girls along with Benjamin Potter and Timothy Weasley were kidnapped. The help of Ministry Aurors was never refused; I myself contacted the Ministry and gave them every detail of the situation.

“What is truly disturbing is that the Ministry has chosen to alter facts and hide information from our world for political reasons. Minister Wrong did not die trying to save the kidnap victims. In reality it was at her instructions that the abductions took place. Minister Wrong was in fact, The Great One; the authorities were told this by four witnesses, yet the Ministry is trying to save face and claim that Madam Hooch was the mastermind behind all this terrorism.”

Snape looked from table to table before continuing. “But what is worse is that the Ministry has decided to stick its head in the sand like an ostrich and pretend that a most serious threat to our world does not exist. The innocents were kidnapped by Emma Wrong in order to fulfill a prophecy and restore Salazar Slytherin to life. She was successful; it was Salazar Slytherin, himself, who killed her.”

DUN DUNN DUUNNNNNNN

Students looked at their friends. Every face in the Hall appeared stunned and frightened.

“I fear we are all facing dark and difficult times, perhaps even worse than when Lord Voldemort was at his height of power,” This is never shown. Snape proclaimed. Without further word, he clapped his hands. In an instant, the hangings for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw joined those of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“It is at times like these that we must forget our petty House differences and unite against a mutual enemy. As Albus Dumbledore once said, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”

And now we get to the real biscuits:

“It is because of our need to unite and work together, that I have decided to forge ahead with our plans to compete against our American cousins.” Snape paused to take a drink of pumpkin juice. Just like Salazar needed to pause from reading the prophecy. “Teams from America competed against each other this summer to determine which school would represent the States against us. The winning team from The Salem Witches’ Institute will be arriving on Halloween. That evening, we will select our team”

Ah, back when many still thought that The Salem Witches´ Institute was a school until Rowling refuted that.

Also, this means that this fic will get American Sues!

Not to mention...isnt it interesting that Kim got a new love interest on the cruise who just happened to be American?

Randy leaned over and whispered to Matt. “The tournament is as good as won. Hogwarts can easily beat a team composed of only girls.”

Randy is a character who will be more forgotten about as the fic goes on.

“Is that so,” Caitlin flared, defensively. “Are you saying girls aren’t as good in competition as boys?”

“Nothing personal,” Randy said apologetically.

“Besides,” Caitlin added. “SWI has been co-ed since the nineteen fifties. They just keep the name for traditional reasons.”

FORESHADOWING

“This competition will be very different from the Tri-Wizard Tournament held here over ten years ago,” Snape said. “Firstly, it is a team, rather than an individual event. Secondly, the contests will involve mental and physical challenges as well as the use of magical abilities. In some events, the use of magic will actually be strictly forbidden.

....BUT WHY

“The Goblet of Fire will be picking the Hogwarts contenders, but will be following prearranged rules. The team will be composed of six individuals, three boys and three girls. Each house will have at least one representative on the team and for obvious reasons, first years will not be allowed to participate.”

This pronouncement was followed by moans from the first years.

“Now, let’s be reasonable,” Professor Snape said, shaking his head. “As first years, most of you haven’t even learned to do a proper ‘swish and flick’ yet. However, if any of you get the notion to submit your name anyway, you should be warned. Before presenting me with the names of our team members, the Goblet will spit out any names of first years submitted. Mr. Filch will be standing by with a list of detention tasks to be assigned to those individuals. Now, I’ve rambled on way too long. Tuck in.”

So, as you see, the rest of the fic will focus more on this tournament than on the rise of Salazar. And of course, several soap opera scenarios.

End of Chapter Nine

Finally.

I forgot how long this chapter was.

2 notes · View notes

blackbird-brewster · 2 years ago

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Friday Fic Recs

Okay, it's not actually Friday but the holidays really threw off my weekly routine and I'm doing my best. So we'll just pretend it's still Friday, yeah? I haven't read a lot lately due to an eye injury, but luckily that's healing now.

What I've Read:

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 5639+ (Ongoing WIP)

Authur: sunshineandguns (@cargopantsprentiss)

Why I Love It: I don't usually partake in a lot of fluffy Jemily fics, but these little glimpses at soft Jemily moments truly make me happy. The newest update 'fireworks' was so wholesome and was a beautiful fic to read to start off 2023! Perhaps, I will read more soft Jemily this year? We'll see!

What I'm Writing:

I started 2023 with a handful of ongoing projects that I'm hoping to work on/finish up in the coming months.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara, WC: 55,440+ (WIP)

Update: After somehow cranking out a whopping 13k+ chapter on New Year's Eve, this fic has surpassed 50k!? Wild, considering it's five chapters long so far. I know there's at least one more chapter, but depending on what happens in Ch 6, who knows how much will come after that. Either way, this is my main WIP currently and I really love it.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 23,428+ (WIP)

Update: I know I announced back in October that I'd be updating and finishing TCAU (after seven years on hiatus) and I finally had the motivation to rewrite another chapter! So this is now re-written/updated through Ch 8!! Guess I better start planning how to finish this, since I only had 10 chapters originally posted from 2015! I'm really looking forward to giving readers an ending to this fic, I know SO many of you have stayed subscribed over all these years...so please know this is entirely for you!

ICYMI: New Fics and Updates

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara/Emily, (Ongoing Series)

Update: This behind-the-scenes look at [Fooled Around (and Fell in Love)] just got upgraded to explicit with the addition of the non-censored version of a fanart commission drawn by the ever-so-talented @artcake! Check out this new piece of art inspired by the threesome at the end of [Part 2] as well as the rest of the extras in this series.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara, WC: 55,440+

Update: Chapter 5 is posted! Like mentioned above, this was the longest chapter to-date, due to how much needed to happen in it. Like Chapter 4, it's a bit emotional and since it's over 13k, I recommend taking breaks while reading it. Don't say I didn't warn you that it's full of feels!

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 11,830

Update: This holiday AU was SO much fun to write and I was absolutely flabbergasted when @cargopantsprentiss drew this incredible [Movie Poster] for it!! I've added the fanart to the fic (with permission). Please go show Rosie some love on the original post!!

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara, Tara/Rebecca, WC: 4389+ (WIP)

Update: This is a new shorter multi-chap that I started recently! I think it'll be about three chapters and yes, there will be eventual smut. I just really loved the idea of weaving some Jara angst into the reveal that Tara has a gf in CME. Then before chapter one was even done, Rebecca ruined my plans! So I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes!

Other Recommendations:

Past Friday Fic Recs: [Friday Fic Recs - Tumblr] || [CM Fic Recs - AO3 Collection]

Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [CM Femslash]

My Fics: [Jemily] || [Temily] || [All]

#emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily #tara lewis #criminal minds #cm fanfiction #cm fic rec #friday fic rec #rebecca wilson #tebecca #je t'emily #my writing #one gay brain cell #artcake #my wip #Long post

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ideaforfanficsorsomethingidgaf · 1 year ago

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Draft for the first chapter of fanfic that I could finish or not finish like my other fanfics.

Tell me if it's good. Since I can't draw a Spidersona because I'm shit at drawing, why not make a fanfic?

Miguel O’Hara, Spiderman 2099, stood in front of his holographic screens, watching over the videos of how each of the spidermans’ handle their mission with catching anomalies. Everything was running smoothly, especially since the incident with Miles and the Spot. It’s been 2 years since the incident occurred and Miles was somewhat alright with him, Miguel apologized to him and Miles forgave him after some time.

Now, he can crack a joke here and there with ease, even with Miguel in the room. He wasn't friendly close with Miles but he knows that he has his back like Miles does the same to him and that was enough. He kept thinking about the incident as he read another report of one of the recent successful missions in capturing another anomaly when something popped up. It was another notification of an anomaly spotted on another earth, the usual, but this was something a bit different. The notification showcased an unknown earth number, which was rare because Miguel rarely knows any earth that he hadn't heard, seen, or visited before, so this was new.

“Lyla.” Miguel called out as he zoomed in the notification and pressed on the earth’s number; 121205. Lyla appeared, floating above his shoulder, with her usual fashionable white coat and heart shaped glasses. “Yeah, waddup?” She asked him as she looked at the information he was reading. “Send me more files about Earth 121205.” He said as he leaned back. Then a few holographics screens popped in front of him, as he started reading through them, he was a bit suspicious.

“What year is this earth’s timeline currently in?” He asked her, as he kept reading the newspaper clippings displayed on the holographic yellow screens. “2023, the same year you met Miles in his earth’s timeline and a few others..” She looked at her nails when she told him that. “Then, why can I only see newspaper clippings of the year 2016? I can’t search for anything after the date July 30th 2016.” Miguel furrowed his eyebrows as he tried searching for more information about this earth. Because the more information he has about the earth then he’ll know which group of spidermans’ to assign the mission for the anomaly capture. Lyla decided to search more about it as she tried to pull up every possible file that has information for Earth 121205. “Huh, that’s strange.” She commented as she read one of the files. “What? What is it?” He asked her curiously.

“Something strange happened… Almost 8 billion of the world’s population vanished on the night of the 30th of July 2016. Except for one…. You know those random signals we’d randomly get a few years back, before you even created the spider society?” Lyla looked at Miguel with widened eyes. “Yes, and I told you to… find a way to shut them down so it won't bother me again because I initially thought that they were just spam messages.” Miguel slowly told her as he started to realize something.

His eyes got wide and looked at Lyla. “Oh, buddy. They were SOS signaled messages now I realized about it.” Lyla whispered to him in shock. “Shit.” Miguel said to himself as he started to text a message to Jessica Drew. “Miguel, what are you doing?” asked Lyla as she floated above him. “Sending a message to Jess, it's still an anomaly capture but the anomaly can be dealt with easily because it's Kingpin and we know his usual weaknesses, but it will be more of a sightseeing mission as soon as the anomaly has been dealt with.” Miguel explained to Lyla as he sent the message to Jess. “Alright, well, goodluck, Miguel.” Lyla waved before disappearing away.

"Are you sure about this mission being just the two of us?" Jess raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure. Now, like we planned, you haul in the anomaly back here so they can be shipped back to their earth while I'll go check something that I should've done years ago." He told her as they both got ready for the mission. He looked down at his gizmo and typed down the coordinates for Earth 121205. A portal opened up in front of them, they both took a deep breath before walking into uncharted territory, the uncharted territory of Earth 121205. They stepped into the portal, and now they were in a forest with a brick road along.

Jess looked down on her gizmo and did a quick scan of the area. “The anomaly is a few miles from here, this should be a quick mission. Let’s swing from there, yeah?” Jess asked him as she turned her gizmo off. Miguel nodded and the both of them started to swing along the trees. They both stopped as they gasped, they stood on the strong branch of one of the trees. “I thought you said this earth was almost desolate.” Jess commented to Miguel. “Almost.” Miguel repeated before they continued to swing into the place.

The surroundings were buildings, fully intact. Nature has taken over but as decoration, wrapping around the manmade structures. The pathway was made of red bricks or wooden planks. As they searched for the anomaly around, they came across, what they assumed, was one of the farming fields; 4 acres of farming grounds with crops and plants growing. They continued to walk along and Jess immediately pulled Miguel aside, behind a building. “What? What’d you see?” Miguel asked her. “A mountain lioness walking around freely,” Jess whispered to him, she then looked behind and they started to walk along the alleyway instead to avoid the mountain lioness. As Miguel and Jess continued their exploration, they felt an eerie stillness in the air, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. The surroundings were a blend of post-apocalyptic ruins and overgrown flora, creating a surreal and haunting ambiance. But there, amidst the vegetation-covered buildings, they finally spotted the anomaly they sought – Kingpin.

Kingpin stood tall and imposing, his mutant features immediately apparent. His skin was a mix of scales and fur, and his eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity. As they readied themselves for the ambush, they noticed the faint shimmer of energy that surrounded him, a testament to his immense power.

Suddenly, with inhuman speed, Kingpin detected their presence and charged at them like a wild, animalistic monster. His growls reverberated through the air, sending shivers down their spines. Without a moment to spare, Miguel and Jess instinctively separated, each trying to gain an advantage over their formidable opponent.

As Kingpin closed in, his furious shouts unleashed powerful sound waves that hit both Jess and Miguel with staggering force, slamming them against the moss-covered brick wall with bone-jarring impact. The wall cracked slightly under immense pressure, but despite the pain, both heroes mustered their resilience and quickly regained their footing, determination etched on their faces.

Miguel's talons glinted in the faint light as he lunged at Kingpin, aiming to find a vulnerable spot in the creature's defenses. Kingpin's scales provided some protection, but Miguel's precision and agility allowed him to land a few slashing blows, causing thin lines of crimson to trickle down the mutant's side.

Meanwhile, Jess's mind raced as she analyzed the situation. She knew that brute force alone wouldn't be enough to bring down Kingpin. Her training and instincts kicked in as she utilized her acrobatics and martial arts skills to dodge his attacks. With each dodge, she fired bursts of her webbing, trying to entangle Kingpin and restrict his movements. Some strands wrapped around his limbs, but the mutant's strength was extraordinary, and he managed to break free with a roar.

Drawing on her intellect and quick thinking, Jess realized she needed to distract Kingpin to create an opening for her and Miguel to exploit. With a burst of creativity, she used her webbing to create a decoy of herself, projecting it a few yards away from her real position. Kingpin, falling for the ruse, pounced on the illusion, and Jess seized the opportunity.

She darted in, unleashing a barrage of well-placed punches and kicks, targeting Kingpin's vital spots. Her fists felt the impact of hitting tough scales, but she didn't falter, using her agility to dance around him, always staying one step ahead. Each blow weakened Kingpin, and the realization that he wasn't invincible began to take its toll on his once-confident demeanor.

As Kingpin continued to be perplexed and harassed, Miguel pressed on with his attack. He did this by using his speed and agility. He progressively wore down Kingpin's defenses with the help of his razor-sharp claws, which left traces of wounds along his body.

While the two heroes fought the enormous oddity, the surroundings transformed into a battlefield with objects like vines and trash being flung aside. Kingpin's ferocious roars and Jess's resolute grunts were mixed in with the sound of warfare as it reverberated through the empty streets.

Their combined efforts began to bear fruit as Kingpin's movements slowed, his anger giving way to frustration. He struggled to cope with their coordinated assault, and gradually, the tides turned in favor of the heroes. They exploited every opening, working together like a well-oiled machine, each knowing the other's strengths and weaknesses.

As Jess and Miguel focused on webbing Kingpin, they quickly realized the extent of the anomaly's power. His struggles against the cocoon of webs intensified, and with a fierce burst of energy, he tore through the sticky bindings, breaking free with a force that sent shockwaves through the air.

In a split second, Kingpin lunged at Jess, catching her off guard with his sudden burst of strength. With a mighty shove, he sent her hurtling backward, her body colliding with the brick wall. The impact was brutal, and a sharp pain shot through her head as her vision momentarily blurred. Dazed and disoriented, she fought to stay conscious, determined not to let the pain weaken her resolve, but as her breathing slowed down and the adrenaline that rushed through her body started to lower down, she couldn’t keep conscious anymore and fainted.

Meanwhile, Miguel attempted to regain his balance after the unexpected release of Kingpin's power. But before he could steady himself, Kingpin's massive hand slammed into his back, crushing him against the mossy brick wall. The air was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath as pain flared along his spine. The world seemed to spin around him, and he struggled to stay upright.

With both heroes momentarily incapacitated, Kingpin roared triumphantly, savoring the upper hand he had gained. He advanced menacingly, his eyes locked on his vulnerable adversaries. The anomaly was relentless, and he saw this as an opportunity to assert his dominance over these would-be challengers. Miguel started to breathe heavily, taking in deep breaths as he assessed the situation, trying to find a way to subdue the anomaly while still keeping himself conscious. His sight starts to darken and his breathing starts to slow down, pain rushing through his body as the adrenaline soon wears off.

But he remained conscious long enough, with slow blinks to unconsciousness, as he watches and hears another web being shot out, Kingpin getting scratched with another set of talons and being subdued finally in a cocoon of webs. Miguel can barely see as he sees another person standing in front of him, he slowly looks up, seeing a glimpse of a tattered hood with the shadows hiding the eyes of the savior before he finally passes out from exhaustion and pain. His last thought was that he hoped that Jess was okay, because he knows that she’s only laying down just a few steps away from him, also badly hurt like him.

Throbbing pain was all he could feel all over his body and head. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He looked around to see that there was a heart monitor on his left side and an IV bag dripping with the needle connected into his vein on the back of his hand. He looked past the heart monitor to see another monitor but beside that was Jess resting and with bandages wrapped around her head. Whoever helped them had enough strength to carry both of them and place them here in this makeshift infirmary. The door slowly opened and immediately Miguel was on guard but it revealed the same hood he saw before passing out. He can see that when they looked at him, there were hints of recognition in their brown eyes.

“How are you feeling?” The person asked as they walked in, rolling a cart with a bowl of mushroom soup, a plate of 4 slices of soft white bread and a glass of water. “Headache. Pain.” Miguel grumbled in his gruff voice. "That's normal. Here. Eat some soup and drink some water." They whispered to him as they rolled the cart near him, near for him to reach easily. Miguel reached out for the glass of water and drank it, loving the way it relieved his parched and dry throat. "How long was I out?" He asked them. "Only a few hours at best. 3-4 hours to be specific." They shrugged as Miguel placed the glass back to the cart and reached out to bowl of mushroom soup and the spoon. He started to eat the soup, while occasionally taking a bite of the soft bread. "Hm. Good soup." Miguel complimented them. They stayed silent, sitting on a nearby chair while waiting for him to finish the soup and bread.

"So… You know who I am yet I don't know who you are." Miguel looked at them as they gazed at their hands. "I know that you and Jess are spidermen in different earths and that the multiverse was also real but I didn't think that I would see the proof of it in front of my eyes. I also know that you’re Miguel O’Hara from the year 2099… I’m also a spiderman, I guess. I was bitten by a radioactive spider that was from the leftover radioactive waste and coincidentally, most of my abilities are the same as yours with the paralyzing venomous fangs, talons, claws, enhanced senses. I also have the spider sense and the organic web shooters but you don't have that, do you? You’re 50% spider and you don't have the common spider abilities that most civilians are familiar with.” They told him. “What’s your name?” Miguel asked them. They chuckled softly. “It’s been 7 years since someone asked me that question, someone that’s human, that is…” They said with a smile but started to frown. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten my name. A name is useless if there is no one to call you by it. You can give me a name if you’d like.” They asked him as they looked up at him.

Miguel stared at them a bit longer, analyzing them. The person’s skin was brown, marred with scars and scratches. Their hands show calluses that he assumed were from farming. Their hair was a long dark brown but healthy. Their clothes were decent, torn and worn but still good enough to showcase a look. “Ethan.” Miguel finally said. They nodded at him. “The name is Ethan then. Nice to meet you, Spiderman.” They tell him, holding out their hand for a handshake and Miguel shakes it. “Hello, Ethan. It is nice to meet you. Thank you for your help with the anomaly back there and for healing Jess and me.” Miguel said before he realized something, “What happened to the Kingpin anomaly?” He asked them. “Oh, that guy? Well, he’s locked in an asylum cell right now, resting and still subdued. You can get him once the two of you are well rested.” Ethan said as they stood up and rolled the cart out. They opened the door and before they left, they turned to look at Miguel and asked, “May I join the Spider Society?” Miguel looked them in the eyes. “Please?” They added, there was a bit of desperation in their tone. Miguel looked down and closed his eyes before sighing deeply. “We’ll see.” He said to Ethan.

#fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #jessica drew #spidersona #amwriting

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the-kipsabian · 2 years ago

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💫🎀🎉💞💥🍭💎🪄💌

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback? i honestly love everything i get be it just 'good' or a keyboard smash or anything, but ive always been extra fond of feedback that states the commenters favorite part of the fic or picks apart their favorite sentences etc. cause to me that feels like they took the time not only to read, but also to try to invest themselves in the story and understand it and what the words i was putting down were fully trying to convey. they are the very special kinds to me personally <3

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing its the one i can keep repeating to the very end, but i love the way i can convey emotions in scenes. i think im pretty hecking good at that honestly

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!) oh wow i havent. actually rewarded myself for finishing and posting since i started doing it again lol. i do give myself credit when its due cause i think my work is pretty good at the moment so i dont feel like im posting subpar stuff, but i also dont know what to reward myself with. i cant afford anything and little things dont bring me much joy rn honestly lol. stay tuned maybe i figure this out

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language characters (and their relationships) and the overall mood. i usually want to convey a certain feeling through a scene so thats my top priority, and i take pride in my character work a lot so thats also up there, trying to make them feel as real as possible. reading-wise im a plot person tho, or again the mood is really important to me

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it. (unspirisingly) insomnia. i just thought it was really cute. it also helped my anxiety while working on it and reading it afterwards a few times so like. yeah. its also the piece that got me into writing kip so thats very special

🍭why did you start writing? i have always liked stories. i was a lonely child with no friends and talents, writing was the one thing i was maybe good at and ppl complimented me on when i dared to share something with them. currently im doing it as an outlet and cause it just makes me happy and my god nobody else is writing these fics and ships (except you <3) and someone fucking has to LOL

💎why is writing important to you? i mean its pretty much the same answer as above lol. im sad, im lonely, trying to make something that makes me happy since i have almost completely fallen off from the drawing bandwagon and i need a creative outlet. its the one way im most comfortable expressing myself and it keeps me sane rn. its like the One Thing i feel im actually good at i guess

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic? recently i think all ive done after finishing something is either eat or go to bed lol. i also more often than not let the written stuff simmer for a while, depending how im feeling about it if its an hour or a few days before editing and posting so im not constantly overworking myself, but yeah. food and/or sleep is the most common thing rn. as stated above, i cant afford any big things to celebrate with and small things barely give me any sort of happiness rn

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited! i love how this question immediately drew my brain into a blank lol. i dont really have a lot of things actually in works right now, i just have a very long list of ideas and requests, theres only like. actually three things im trying to work on that i have started (and i might have to scrap at least one of them hmm). but immortal fears is always good!! chapter 3 WILL happen eventually, its maybe 2/3 written right now and i just really. REALLY enjoy writing chuck. so im excited to share that and hope that people like him as much as i do!!

fic writer asks ~

#thank you for asking! <3 #midnightpretenders0

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major2501 · 2 years ago

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Living in the Fray: Chapter 13

'RONSON! GET ME A TRACE ON THE LAST MOTHER FUCKER RIGHT NOW!'

Krieger was haring her way down the streets of the Port at breakneck speed with an ungodly sound coming out of her. Even the Chase drones were having a hard time trying to keep their cameras trained on her erratic movements, she genuinely looked like an escaped mental institution inmate being chased by a swarm of angry bees; arms flailing and random screaming. At the rate she was shifting, if anybody got in her way they were getting a random smack in the face and shoved aside with the force that only a tiny, steroid strength emulating, capricious cyborg woman could provide. At next years Chase, you could bet that there would be people wearing "I Got Mown Down By Krieger at the Con Chase!" T-Shirts. Krieger had this knack for having memes and weird merchandise made about her. She thought it was ultimately funny. And it brought in money which she thought was even better.

Ronson was trying his best in an attempt to locate the final con, Tobias Clement. He'd listened in on local CB and Police radio chatter which while it was still used; was a bit of a bust as most communications were via neural mod and weren't easy to hack in to. The CCTV cameras he had accessed weren't showing up much either and all on the streets of New Edo was relatively calm.

It wasn't until Ronson heard Erik who was sat at the station beside him, talking to himself in his native Swedish. Thankfully Ronson had upgraded his neural mod before the Chase had begun and his auto translate software was running quite nicely. He heard Erik mention something about the manufacturing district and a derelict building. He also spoke of a potential hostage, which was not good. Ronson then had the idea of bringing up recorded CCTV footage of the outskirts of the manufacturing district. The way Erik was talking made it sound fairly recent, so Ronson brought up the last hours worth of CCTV footage from the five cameras that were available and played them back at five times the normal speed. Nothing happened in the first forty three minutes of the footage but rolling in to the forty fourth minute; Ronson noticed a bit of a scuffle happening on camera number three which was indeed near the derelict Shimizu metal works which had closed down after a huge fire engulfed the building about a year and a half ago.

Ronson rewound the footage all of about ten seconds of it and played it at a slightly slower speed. Sure enough, Clement hurriedly walked in to the cameras view and aggressively yanked a young looking woman behind him by her arm. She had blood running from her nose and was screwing her face up in pain, blinded by tears. Clement soon yanked her arm behind her back and drew what looked to be a large knife to her neck before dragging her in to the loading bay of the derelict building.

'Cas, you need to get your arse down to the Shimizu building right now. Clement's taken a hostage and going by the time stamp it was barely ten minutes ago. I don't know why the Chase directors haven't blown his fucking head off by now.'

Krieger had instantly set off at full speed down the street in the direction of the Shimizu metal works factory, sparing nobody who got in her way after hearing Ronson in her head.

'They won't decapitate Clement, he's the last con you know what they're like. A bit of potential collateral adds to the drama.'

'Yeah well hurry up, it looks like Frank's got the drop on you.'

'AGH FUCK!' Krieger screamed.

The Chase drones were now working over time trying to keep up with Krieger who barely seemed to be hitting the ground with her boots, practically sailing through the air. She made the decision to go down main street unfortunately during the lunch time rush. The street was backed up with cars and people blocking up the pavements which made Krieger frustrated and filled with even more rage. She was now screaming and cursing, yelling at people to "get out of the fucking way." Trying to get past the people who were too busy literally getting in her way and gawping, Krieger launched her self on to the roofs of the cars in the bumper to bumper traffic. It made her journey easier now, jumping from car to car earning herself exasperated shouts from the drivers.

It took Krieger just a few minutes to get to the Shimizu building. Ronson gave her directions on what side to enter but she had already noticed one of the fire exit doors was wide open. She could hear the faint sound of sobbing and a voice talking calmly. Krieger crept quietly along the outside wall, stopping at a large window covered in cobwebs and dust and peeked in through a clear gap. Bionic sight and hearing had their advantages and while the incident in what made Krieger and her brother from another mother Ronson what they are today was disgusting and traumatising; she had to admit it was pretty cool. Like a human getting an upgrade that made you stronger, faster and a lot more indestructible. The only problem was the odd malfunction and the occasional crippling seizures that left you a dribbling, foaming mess.

A quick peek in to the building showed that it was quite empty save a few large, dusty machines, some random old furniture and loads of random stuff that look like it had been dumped there. In amongst all the crap and junk; Krieger could see Frank with his gaudy, heavily customised Beretta up and pointing at Clement who was stood clutching a partially clothed blonde haired woman in front of him. His body position clearly showed he was holding a knife against her neck.

Krieger had figured out what she should do. Frank was obviously trying to talk Clement down and convince him to let the woman go so that would buy her some time. If she went in through the open fire exit door and went in to stealth mode she could probably sneak up behind Clement and kill him quickly enough so he wouldn't harm the girl. She looked again through the cleanish gap in the window. Krieger had noticed that Clement was actually quite a bit taller than Frank and he was aiming his gun up towards Clement's head. And after another look, she saw that the girl was being held in an angle so Clement could hold his knife horizontally across her neck. The girl was also stood shivering in her underwear and had quite a few bloody cuts and grazes across her skin. Clement had probably started stripping and cutting her with his knife in order to do what ever sick thing he was planning before Frank interrupted him. It made Krieger's stomach turn.

'I could probably sneak in and use that machine as cover, creep up behind Clement then blast him right through the head. Frank's a fucking idiot he should've just shot him as soon as, but then again Frank's an idiot and would want to look like the hero so.' Krieger sounded out in her head for Ronson to hear.

'Do it.'

'First things first.'

Krieger sat down on the concrete outside the building and quickly took off her boots revealing her feet donning a pair of odd socks, one black and one purple. She quietly placed them beside the wall then quickly checked both her guns, deciding to swap the magazine in her left holstered gun she called Jake, with some really nasty hollow points. Letting out a bit of a sigh, she kept as low as possible and sneaked her way through the open fire exit door and behind some kind of massive industrial metal work lathe that was caked in dust. There were bits of broken glass and small shards of scrap metal littering the floor which were sharply making their way in to Krieger's feet no matter where she stepped but that didn't bother her in the slightest. She had to be silent and wearing her clumpy boots would not allow that. She could hear the sobs of the girl, the grunting of Clement and Frank's sympathetic toned voice as she shimmied along the lathe, but tuned all that out. At this angle she had a clear shot at Clements head as soon as she stood up and at this angle, Frank wouldn't get hit by any bullet leaving Clement. That was Krieger being considerate.

Krieger had however heard a few of the Chase drones whirring on their way to the building to film what was happening. She had seconds to make her move before anybody else heard them, or if Erik saw footage of Krieger literally yards away from Frank or Clement and warned Frank. One drone hovered and situated itself in one of the higher up side windows of the building that had been knocked out. Frank had noticed it focusing on him but hopefully Krieger wasn't in its field of view.

'Cas that camera can't see you but there's more incoming from your side. Do it no...'

Ronson never even got to finish his sentence. Krieger had already bounced up and fired the gun Jake drawn from her left holster. The single bullet entered the back of Clements head and pretty much took most of his head with it on exit. The hollow point bullet had done its job and shredded Clements head, splattering the now wide eyed and shocked girl with bits of brain and skull but more importantly; splattering the bloody mess all over Frank's designer ensemble and confused looking face. Both the girl and Frank had instantly shut up their sobbing and calm chatter respectively. Krieger just stood there watching them both, smirking as she lit a cigarette.

#cyberpunk #original story #fiction writing #novel writing #writing #cyberpunk aesthetic #scifi #original fiction #post cyberpunk #science fiction #strong female lead #strong female characters

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mediocre-writerr · 2 years ago

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are you real? [wanda maximoff]

summary: it’s been a long time since you were just two kids with an undeniable bound, falling further and further into some uncharted feelings; chapter 3 of ‘tis the damn season

warnings: explicit language, otherwise none?

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

Winter Break - 11 years ago

You and Wanda fell into a simple routine the rest of winter break. You spent mornings on your front porch drinking hot chocolates and reading in a comfortable silence. Some days Pietro and the rest of the boys joined the two of you, but most of the time it was just you and her, and you weren’t complaining.

Wanda and Pietro’s dad, despite being so busy at the Christmas tree farm that they owned, caught on fairly quickly that his children’s friend group earned another member. He showed up on our doorstep, Wanda right behind him, holding a large pot. A pot full of fresh paprikash, you didn’t know what it was, but Wanda quickly reassured you that it was the most delicious food you’d ever taste. As you looked at your parents compared to him, your parents were surprisingly young, not too much younger, but young. Yet, his smile was wide and youthful just like Wanda and Pietro’s.

Your mom poured a glass of wine and the three adults sat out on the kitchen island chatting while the two of you eavesdropped from the couch. It was nothing too exciting, just your classic I’ll keep an eye on them, if she’s ever over. Your parents seemed to take quite a liking to the older man, “Well, maybe now we can get a discount on a fresh Christmas tree,” your mom jokes, causing your dad to chuckle.

When you weren’t taking lessons on how to be a better ice skater, you were traveling not too far out of town to the slopes. Sam’s parents owned the small lodge up there, so some days you and the rest of the gang would hitch a ride with his parents and spend the whole day snowboarding.

“I hope you can snowboard better than you can ice skate, Y/L/N,” Wanda nudged your shoulder as you waited in line for the chairlift. The rest of the boys in their own little world talking about some video game that just came out recently.

You let out a small scoff, “Excuse me, Ms. Maximoff, I for one happen to be actually pretty good at snowboarding. And you were pretty amazed at how better I gotten at ice skating yesterday,”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she commented as the two of you got on the chairlift.

The two of you sit in a soft comfortable silence, before you break it, a random thought appearing in your head, “Hey Wanda?” she hums softly in response, “Why isn’t your mom around a lot?”

You noticed the way her body goes stiff. She clears her throat, “Yeah, well, she’s dead, Y/N.”

“Oh…I uh, I’m so sorry…” you drew out, not sure about what to say. You mentally face palmed yourself because you know that saying sorry is probably the last thing she wants to hear.

“No, It’s okay. It happened a couple years ago, but besides my friends, kids at school still act weird about it. Probably because all of them still have both their parents. So, honestly, I’d rather take your questions than you being all weird about,” she reassures you, “Now are you ready to show me that you can actually snowboard?” she teases with a bright smile.

I threw the goggles onto my face, strapped my feet into the board’s binding, and stared out at the monstrous slope. Your adrenaline was coursing through your veins faster than the speed of lightning, “Prepared to be amazed, Maximoff,”

“I have learned that you’ll probably continue to amaze me, Y/L/N,”

Wanda was fast becoming your favorite person. And you’re pretty sure she felt the same way. You and Wanda spent most of your time on the slopes or on the ice skating rink. On the days where the wind was too blistering, you’d hole up in your basement with the heater on full blast. You and Wanda would flop down on the gray sectional sofa with a mug full of hot chocolate and on occasions leftover paprikash or whatever Sokovian dish Oleg made the night before. Depending on the day, you’d either put on a movie or listen to records off your dad’s old record player.

You’d take turns playing different movies or listening to different albums. But one day, she brought up the guitar that sat in the corner of the room. You took a bite of the paprikash to avoid answering about it, but it only caused her eyebrows to raise and a teasing smile on her lips, “You can play it, can’t you?”

“I dabble,” you responded with a mouth full of food.

“Play me something,”

You’ve never played for anyone else before, always denying anyone’s request for any song whatever the occasion was. But for some reason, you just can’t say no to her. Setting the hot bowl onto the small coffee table in front of you, you grab the acoustic guitar, and bring it over to the couch. The brunette sits in front of you criss-cross applesauce with an excited smile on her face.

The familiar chords flew off your fingertips with such ease and the soft words of you singing filled the room softly. Your heartbeat is racing a mile a minute, faster than it was when you were snowboarding down the hill with the risk of breaking a limb at any time, “Forever the name on my lips, just like our last.”

You finish singing with a breathy chuckle, “I started playing guitar right after Taylor Swift came out with Speak Now last year. I wanted to be just like her and that was the first song I’ve ever learned, but my mom was like you don’t understand the meaning of this song. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it,” All she did was just smile at you, “What?” you ask.

“Are you even real?” she whispered with the brightest smile on her face.

Winter Break - 9 years ago

The rest of eighth grade wasn’t too exciting. You adjusted to your new school with ease with help of your new friends, but especially Wanda. Your routine didn’t stop after winter break, your parents and Oleg would always joke, saying that if you found Wanda, Y/N wouldn’t be too far behind.

Your first year of high school wasn’t anything special either. Except, the boys' voices were growing deeper and you and Wanda’s body were changing. Wanda came to your house crying one day because she went to use the bathroom and found blood staining her underwear. Oleg forgot to mention to her that that happens to girls sometimes, and practically begged your mom to teach her about it. And she did. Ever since that day going forward, your mom thought of Wanda as her second daughter.

It was the first day of winter break. Surprisingly, the winter air wasn’t as cold as the last couple years. The lake still in its liquid form, the boys thought it would be the perfect time to introduce you to Westview’s age old tradition. You all cut through the trail between your guys’ properties, all the way to Steve’s house from school. A small little boat stood tied up to the dock.

Wanda reached her hand out to help you, and a hot current of electricity buzzed from your fingers to your neck.

What the hell was that?

Steve drove us a little north of the docks, passing by all the neighborhood docks and towards the other end of the lake, “This, Y/N, is Westview Point,” Bucky declared, helping Steve tie the boat to the small dock on the shoreline, “High school kids do this every year, if the lake isn’t frozen solid by winter break. Unfortunately, we couldn’t participate in our freshman year since the lake was already rock hard.”

“It’s totally safe to jump. High school kids have been doing it for years,” Scott adds on.

The boys start stripping down their many layers of clothing, but you were only focused on the tall cliff in front of you. The color from your face slowly fading, “You don’t have to,” Wanda reassures, “I’ll stay here with you.”

“No it’s okay, I can do this.” You slowly started to strip out of your hoodie and sweatpants, your body being hit by the crisp winter wind that loomed around the small town. You slowly stopped in your place when you noticed Wanda stripping down to. She was wearing a dark red bikini and you were caught off guard by how stunning she looked. How have you not noticed it before?

With a clear of your throat, you hopped off the boat, and you climbed the large cliff with Wanda right behind you. Each one of the boys, jumping into the freezing cold water down below. A chorus of screams and curses fell from their lips as they resurfaced, “Holy shit! That’s cold!” Sam yelled, “C’mon girls, don’t back out on us now!”

Your stomach twisted, it was a lot higher up here than it actually looks, “You want to go back the way we came down?” she whispers to you softly, “You don’t have to prove anything to these guys. They’re stupid and will probably get pneumonia. But if you really want to do this, we’ll do it together. We’ll hold hands and we’ll jump together.”

“Swear?” you ask, sticking your pinky up.

The brunette chuckled softly, interlocking your pinkies together, “Swear.” She let go of your hand for a split second before threading her fingers through yours, “Together,”

You drop like an anvil falling out of the sky. It was an uncomfortable sensation at first. The freezing cold water felt like it was burning on your skin. You kicked up, breaking through the water, and letting out a chatter of curses. You and Wanda swim back to the boat, using the little ladder to haul yourselves up, while the boys run back towards the cliff to jump again. She wrapped you tightly in a towel, tucking you into it to try and keep you warm, before she even wrapped a towel around herself.

Wanda wrapped the towel around herself before moving to sit next to the bench beside you, your thighs pressed together. The brunette stares at you intently, the green in her eyes suddenly becoming your favorite color, “Hold on, you’ve got an eyelash on your cheek,” Wanda’s freezing cold thumb finds your cheek, as the pads of it gently rub the eyelash off. Your eyes flicker down to her lips and the small little crease on the top lip.

Well, this is a new feeling.

“I got it,” she whispered, her breath warm against her chilly cheeks.

Before you can even stop the words from falling from your mouth, they come out anyway, “Where are your freckles?” you whisper.

“The clouds have been covering the sky recently, so the sun hasn’t gotten a chance to bring them back out,” she shrugged, “Don’t worry though, they’ll be back. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone really paid attention to my freckles,”

“I pay attention to everything about you, Wands,”

Christmas is a big deal in Westview is what you’ve recently learned. So to signify Christmas coming soon, the very first day of winter break they have an impressive firework display for the small town. You and your friends stayed on the north end of the lake, sitting in the boat. Your hoodies snuggled close to your bodies, while eating some random snacks that you guys packed.

Another boat pulled up next to us and you recognized some other kids from school: Valkyrie, Thor, Loki, T’Challa, Shuri, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, and Daisy Johnson. Scott warned that he invited some other kids from school, but you completely forgot after that moment with Wanda. Daisy smiled at you softly as she hopped onto Steve’s boat.

You knew Daisy from your science class, she was your lab partner. She has short brown hair and these piercing brown eyes that you could get lost in. You could get lost in them, if you weren’t addicted to those god damn green eyes. You were always addicted to her, it’s just all becoming clearer now.

Taking advantage of the darkening sky you watch over Wanda. She was listening to Thor rant about something that happened over the football season; a story that you’ve heard a million times. Her hair was naturally wavy and thick, and she kept having to tuck it behind her ear. Her lips were perfect and you caught yourself wondering if your lips would be like two puzzle pieces meeting for the very first time. You sit quietly at your revelation as she just nodded along to his story, the thought of her lips on your causing you to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Daisy asks, breaking you away from your thoughts, and honestly you didn’t even notice her sitting next to you until now.

“A little bit,” you admitted.

Wanda eyes trailed over to where you were sitting, and she watched as Daisy pulled her black hoodie off her body and passed it to you. It felt like a blade had stabbed through her heart, as she saw you throw it on. It struck her hard and out of nowhere, like the bust that hit Regina George, but she had no idea why the sight of you putting on Daisy’s sweatshirt made her want to puke.

“You okay, Wanda?” Bucky asked, catching her staring wide at you and Daisy.

Your eyes flew to Wanda's, staring at her curiously, “Oh yeah I’m fine!”

“Can we please do something that does not involve Thor ranting about a story for the millionth time?” Valkyrie asks.

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asked.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” There was a chorus of yes’s and sure’s running around the boat, “Alright perfect! Bucky, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said with a smug smile on his face.

Valkyrie’s eyes glistened with mischief, “I dare you to kiss Steve,”

“Ha, jokes on you, we do this every day.” Bucky quipped, as he took Steve’s face in his hands and gave him a big peck on the lips.

The game went on just like that. A bunch of crazy dares and spilled truths. Until it was Wanda’s turn again. Loki had a smug smirk on his face as she answered with dare, “Wanda, I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You feel your whole body stiffen and from right next to you, you could feel Daisy’s body stiffen slightly. Wanda’s piercing green eyes were staring daggers into Loki. There were a few tense moments where neither of them were backing down, “C’mon Wanda, it’s a game, it doesn’t have to mean anything more than what it is.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” she muttered, a rush of red rising past her neck and up her cheeks.

You look down at your hands, your stomach lurching at the thought of her not wanting to kiss you, “Nice job guys, you embarrassed her.” Daisy pointed out, causing everyone’s eyes to snap to yours, “I’ll kiss her because Wanda won’t,”

Daisy leaned forward, taking my face into her soft hands, and moved her face closer to hers, “Is this okay?” she whispered, her lips inches away from yours. You didn’t know what to say, you wanted to kiss Wanda, but she flat out rejected you, so you nod because it’ll be a good distraction to take your mind off of her. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted of vanilla. Then it was over. She pulled back her lips still inches away from your face, “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted to do that.”

“You snooze, you lose Wanda,” Loki shrugged, when Daisy finally pulled away far enough. Wanda watched you silently, her face still red, and you looked away, turning your head to the next person’s truth or dare.

That was your first kiss, but your mind was still haunted by the fact that it wasn’t from Wanda, and she didn’t even want to kiss you, not even with a dare.

Bucky’s gaze flew back and forth on the two of you, like a spectator at a tennis match. The fireworks started, booms echoing around the lake, and he watched as Wanda shot daggers into Daisy’s arm that was now wrapped around your shoulder to ‘keep you warm’. Bucky fell onto the bench next to Wanda, “Little Wanda has a crush,” he teased, only to get an elbow to the stomach to which he let out a small groan, “Yep, okay, I deserved that. But Wanda, if you want to be with her, you need to act fast, or someone else will.”

The first few days of winter break flew by in a flash. The kiss that didn’t happen wasn’t long forgotten from your mind, but neither of you brought it up, and you fell silent back into your easy routine.

The truth was, you went on a couple dates with Daisy. A couple dinner dates to the local diner, but that was it. You mentioned it to Wanda once, but she never seemed keen about talking about it.

You and Wanda sat in your basement, your dad’s vinyls playing softly around the room. You were fiddling with the strings of your guitar on the floor, as Wanda just laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “How are your dates with Daisy going?”

You froze, clearing your throat and finally coming to your senses, you started fiddling with the strings once more, “They’re okay, there’s not much to really say.”

“Do you like her?” she asked.

You shrugged, even though she was still staring up at the ceiling, “She’s okay. We’ve only been on two dates, so I wouldn’t say we’re itching to get hitched.”

“You didn’t tell me about the second one.”

“I didn’t think you would care and besides I like someone else more, so-” you trailed off. She never told you about her crushes, so why did it matter if you told her yours?

Wanda tapped your shoulder with her foot, “I do care.”

There were a few soft knocks on your bedroom window, awaking you from your peaceful slumber. Snow piled onto the ground and fluffy piles, as Wanda stood outside bundled up in clothing, and a small wrapped gift in her hands. She gestured towards the front door and you quickly ran to the front door, your bare feet pattering softly against the cold wood floor, careful not to wake up your parents.

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” she replied with a bright smile on her face. She places the present down on the small little coffee table outside, before wrapping her arms snuggly around you, just like she always would. You closed your eyes briefly, taking in her scent of vanilla, cinnamon,m and a slight smell of fresh Christmas trees.

You step out of the way, quickly letting her inside, when you notice how cold she actually was. The two of you settle onto the couch and she hands you two presents wrapped in this white wrapping paper with Christmas trees, and it was tied with a red ribbon. You opened the first one carefully, inside was a small wooden frame holding a photo of you two. The two of you were sitting on the ski lift, your snowboards attached to your feet, both squinting at the sun that was somehow brighter with the white snow, there was a shy smile on Wanda’s face and a toothy grin on yours.

“I love this photo,” you whisper.

“I’m glad you think so,” she replied, before handing you the other present. It was slightly larger than the other one, but you don’t think anything can compare to the first one she gave you. You unwrapped the gift to find a record in it. Taylor Swift’s big flowy purple dress flashed in front of your eyes, “I know your dad’s collection of vinyls are lacking some Taylor Swift, so I found this at a thrift store a little closer to the city, and practically begged Dad to get it,” she shrugged.

“Wanda, I love it. Thank you,” you said, hugging the two presents close to your chest, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

You race upstairs to find your brown paper wrapped gift for Wanda, sitting on your desk. A dark green bow placed on top of the thick gift. You bit your lip as you watched her remove the bow, placing it on top of your head, causing the both of you to giggle. She tore off the paper and revealed the piles of HGTV magazines.

She looked up at you with those green eyes and a soft smile sprayed across her face, “Definitely the best gift I got this year. I don’t have to open any of my other gifts because I know this one is the best.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Swear?” She took your extended pinky and intertwined it between the two of you.

“Swear. You know, sometimes I think no one gets me the way you do,” she says, the pink on her cheeks deepening to maroon. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth and you leaned a tiny bit closer, “Do you ever get that feeling?”

Your mouth felt dry and you subconsciously ran your tongue over your top lip. Her gaze followed its path, and you could see her swallow thickly, “Yeah,” you whisper, intertwining your already linked hands together, hoping that she would just get the message and kiss you already.

But she didn’t. It was as if someone snapped and her hypnosis wore off, “I don’t want to mess that up. Ever.” she whispered.

The phone started ringing, “Do you mind getting that? I have to pee.” you tell her and she just nods, the both of you putting distance back between yourselves. When you came back from the bathroom, Wanda held the phone towards you, an unreadable look on her face, “Hello?”

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” Daisy’s voice rings through your ear and your eyes flash towards Wanda’s. She busied herself with the kitchen, finding ingredients to make for you and your family for breakfast, “I just wanted to say hi and tomorrow night, a few of my friends are coming over as this late Christmas thing. I was wondering if you wanted to stop by and hang out with us?”

Your eyes found Wanda’s who wasn’t making eye contact with you anymore, “Sure yeah,”

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a great day!”

“Thanks, you too. Merry Christmas.”

Wanda found your guys’ mixing bowl and started whisking together some pancakes, which you gladly took over, so she could focus on the eggs and bacon, “Was that star volleyball player Daisy Johnson?” she teased, a smirk on her face, and you gave her a look.

“Haha, very funny,” you tell her.

“You don’t seem very thrilled that she called or invited you out tomorrow.” She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, like I told you before, I like some else more,” you continued whisking away at the pancake mix.

“The same person?” she asked quietly and you just nodded in response, “Do they know?”

You looked up at Wanda who was looking at you expectantly, and for a split second, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope flash in her eyes before her look became unreadable again, “I’m not sure,”

Before Wanda could respond, heavy footsteps came down the stairs and towards the kitchen, “Your mom owes me ten bucks,” your dad comments.

“Why?”

“I bet that Wanda would already be here. She thought I was wrong because it was Christmas morning, and I said ‘No one can separate those two, not even a family holiday,” He commented, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

He weaved his way through the kitchen towards Wanda, pressing a kiss on top of her head as well. A sight that made your heart flutter by how much your parents take a liking to her, “And Merry Christmas Wanda.”

Wanda’s face brightens with a wide smile, “Merry Christmas Mr. Y/L/N.”

The next night you arrive at Daisy’s house and find her and her friends sitting in her basement. It was odd to say the least, you don’t usually hang out with other people besides your friend group. The rest of the seats were taken when you arrived, so you sat perched on the armrest of Daisy’s chair, but she pulled you onto her lap, wrapping an arm around your waist. Her thumb circled softly on her hips.

Loki passed each of us a glass of whiskey and ice. It smelt strong, and you’ve never really drank before, only having a glass of wine with dinner when your mom and dad allow you too, “It’s okay, you don’t have to drank any, if you don’t want to,” Daisy reassured you, and you smiled gratefully at her. Her thumb continued to circle on your hips while the group just talked about random things. It was pretty tame considering it was a group of unsupervised teenagers and a bottle full of whisky.

It was getting closer towards midnight, and you started to bid everyone their goodbyes, as you were cutting it close to curfew, “Wait, before you leave, there’s something I want to give you,” Daisy said, leading you towards her bedroom. She closed the door behind you and grabbed a small wrapped gift that sat on her desk, “It’s a late Christmas gift,”

You unwrapped the lid to find a small velvet box inside. You lifted off the lid and inside was a silver necklace with her volleyball number clamped on it, “I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend,” she smiled, “And I thought what better way to make it official, than this,”

“Wow…Daisy, I uh, I don’t want to say,” you stammered.

“You can think about it, but I want you to know that I really do like you.” She put her hand on your hips and gently pulled you towards her, bringing her lips down onto yours. They were soft as she moved them gently over her mouth. She pulled back just enough to look softly into your eyes, “I really really like you.” She whispered, kissing you once more, and you closed your eyes with the images of Wanda flashing through your mind.

It's New Year’s Eve Eve and you still haven’t given Daisy an answer and you avoided talking to Wanda about it. Your parents left for the holiday, your mother having this big professor’s gala back in New York City, so you decided to stay back, your parents only approving when Oleg reassured that he’d be over to check by every so often.

You heated up some leftover food that Oleg dropped off for you and threw on a horror film. Wanda was out helping her dad close up the Christmas tree lot, while Pietro and the rest of the boys were stuck up in Sam’s cabin due to the too icy roads to get back down the mountain. It was a terrible decision to watch a horror film alone, you could barely watch Coraline without getting frightened. Even reruns of Friends couldn’t shake the fear in your bones. A knock at your door startled you as you slowly crept towards it, you saw Wanda standing out there, “Oh thank God you’re here!” you exclaimed when you opened the door, “Can you stay with me tonight? I watched a scary movie by myself which was a terrible idea,”

“Woah, slow down, I was already planning on staying with you. There’s no need to fear,” she reassured you.

The two of you started getting ready for bed. Wanda folded back your gray plaid comforter and climbed in. You and Wanda had plenty of sleepovers before, but somehow this felt different. You didn’t know if you should face toward her, away from her, lie face up staring at the ceiling you weren’t sure. But you just opted for the safe choice of lying flat on your back. There were soft moments of silence before she broke it.

“Y/N?” she asked, and you rolled onto your side. You could barely make out the shape of her body, “Do you have a thing with Daisy?”

“Um, I don’t know. We’ve kissed a few times and she asked me to be her girlfriend, but there’s no label on it,”

“Do you want there to be?” she asked.

You paused for a second, “No,”

“Why not?” she pushed and you could feel her green eyes bore into you, but you didn’t reply, you just stayed silent, staring into the pitch black darkness, “Why aren’t you making it official with her?”

“Because I’d rather be with someone else,” you blurted, immediately wanting the world to swallow you whole.

“Who?” She asked as adrenaline filled your veins like some type of drug. She placed her hand along your waist, squeezing it softly, and you wondered if she could hear how fast your heart was racing, “Who, Y/N?”

You let out a soft huff, “Don’t make me tell you,” you said softly, and you could feel Wanda turn to face you. Her nose pressed against yours.

“Please tell me,” she pleaded.

You swallowed thickly, “I think you know,”

She stayed silent, but you could feel her inch closer, like a moth drawn to a flame. Her mouth was now inches away from yours, as her thumb rubbed small circles along your hip. Daisy did this, but this time it felt right, “I just want to be sure, that this, us, what we’re feeling is real. I want to be sure that I didn’t make this up.”

You closed your eyes, letting the words fall softly from your mouth, “I’d rather be with you,”

As soon as the phrase left your mouth, her lips were instantly on yours. It felt like honey and tasted like cinnamon. Just as quickly as her lips were on yours, she pulled back and pressed her forehead against yours, “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that,”

“Why didn’t you kiss me that night of truth or dare?” you whispered.

She let out a soft sigh, “Because I was just realizing my feelings for you and I wanted to do this right. I didn’t want our first kiss to become of some dare. I want to do this right.” She closed the gap between us, kissing you deeply, which caused you to whimper, “Thank God this is real,”

#wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #'tis the damn season

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eternalglitch · 2 years ago

Note

Have you ever felt pressured to change small parts of the plot so it matches what people think will happen? I'm not sure if you ever said that Leo would use a scarf to hide his scars, but people kind of just assumed that would happen (i did too jsjs). I'm not asking for spoilers but, for example, have you felt the need to add a scarf so you won't "disappoint" your readers? (Also you won't disappoint no one! Your writing is amazing and disappointment is basically impossible with your work).

Haha! A very valid question.

Fanfiction is often written in live time, unless you are one of those writers that prewrites the whole thing before posting (my major respect but I could NEVER.) And often it is still just you and your work and a few nice comments and that is it. I would say that smaller fic will still inevitably be influenced by the fandom and what the author consumes in that fandom, but it's usually not very direct.

And then once in a while you have a fic such as Like Father Like Son, which is an entirely different monster. I have people writing theories and essays about it. (One I saw recently where ohhhh they are on to me. I won't tip my hand at all as to who or what it was, but I sent it very excited to a few beta readers like look!! My foreshadowing is working! Not even anyone in my server guessed this one yet!)

The short answer is yes. It has changed thanks to the readers. Some of the more major changes came to be because one of my friends (all met through writing this fic) hopped into my dms with art, or a thought, or a theory. And I liked it so much I asked to use it. April alone in Draxum's lab was thanks to @aoshimaonwards and a future Mikey line of dialogue is thanks to @jinbugs. I slipped in the phrase "all eyes on him" as a nod towards @soldrawss and her animatic in another chapter, and yeah, the scarves didn't even occur to me until all the fanart suddenly had it and I went "wait, yeah, that IS a great idea. How can I expand on that in a way that works?" If I don't like it, I just ignore it. Simple as that.

Having readers influence you is not something to be afraid of in your own work, so long as you don't steal ideas and ensure everyone participating is having fun (including yourself!). My friends tend to be the most influential, of course, but sometimes a comment or something will lead my brain down a rabbit hole and allows me to improve lfls in a way I wouldn't have spotted on my own.

It's not sad that this fic would be different if I had written it in isolation or before anyone knew about it and had a chance to influence me. It just has the fingerprints of people that also love this fic just as much as I do added next to mine.

THAT BEING SAID. The worst thing an author can do is 100% listen to their audience when they know it doesn't make sense for their own thing. I know and trust my calls on how things should go, and I stick with them, because that is what drew so many people to my work in the first place. I very clearly remember after the Battle Nexus arc a few people wrote me essays about how I was wrong, Leo should have been saved there, I was dragging the story out and ruining everything. Considering the arcs I had for Raph and Donnie that required the Weapon arc, plus all of the other aspects of it I had planned, I could clearly see how it was an important part of Like Father Like Son and just kept on going.

As the author, I already have hindsight of how the arcs and character development will go; the readers do not. That's where you do need the strength to trust yourself, and your writing, because if people are reading it and talking about it you are doing something right already.

You won't ever be able to please everyone. Some people might be disappointed with what I do down the line in Like Father Like Son. At this point, it's almost inevitable because I have so many of you reading it that there are a hundred different opinions on how it should go and only a single route I can choose. But I showed the people whose opinions I trust as highly as my own my plans and they were all so excited so if I'm wrong, and they're wrong, then I guess I'll just be wrong on my story's ending. This was a fanfic started for just me, and at the end of the day that's who I want to reread it and love every second of it (plus now all of my friends that helped support my silly little endeavors).

#glitch answers #lfls

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Yoongi left a bunch of painkillers for you. He said you can take up to three per day.” Jin said calmly , carefully slipping the sleeves of my t shirt over my wrist as i held my arms out for him. He slipped the shirt over my head gently but his arms hit my shoulders, jostling me. I swallowed the whimper of pain that shot through me at the movement. Mina was now awake, happily wiggling around on her rocker.

It was a little past seven in the evening and Jungkook wasn’t due to arrive for another hour .

“I could sleep on a bed of rusty nails right now. I’m so tired and i don’t know why. “ I whispered, staying still as he carefully drew the fabric down over my ribs, before stepping back.

“I’ll sleep in the nursery with her. You should take the bed. You’re in no shape to be up and taking care of her when she wakes up. Jungkook’s asked me to stay here during the day because I’m not going to be performing for a couple months anyway and I’ve been losing my mind, rattling around that huge ass mansion all by myself. ”

The phone rang, startling both of us.

I groaned before moving to get up but Jin oppa held a hand up.

“Stay in bed. I’ll go see who it is.”

I watched him disappear out of the room, settling back against the pillows and reaching for the ice pack in the small cooler by the bed. I had to ice my ribs every hour or so and while it didn’t seem to be helping much, I definitely appreciated the temporary numbness it offered.

Jungkook’s guilt had driven a new wedge between us and he hadn’t so much as looked at me in three days.

I wasn’t sure entirely if this was a good or bad thing. The fact that he seemed to be considering that he had to get his emotions under control to stop hurting the people around him was a welcome change. But the idea of going back to being ignored and treated like furniture , wasn’t really all that appealing.

“Jungkook’s parents are on the way.” Jin’s voice broke through my reverie and i jumped.

I resisted the urge to sob out loud .

Mr and Mrs. Jeon were on the opposite side of the grief spectrum and just as annoying.

Where Sooah’s parents were intent on making Jungkook remember their daughter as often as possible, Jungkook’s parents were intent on making him forget her.

The only thing the two of them had in common was a burning hatred for me.

Jungkook’s parents had wanted him to quit the company and sell it when it went into loss but Jungkook had categorically refused because that would result in all of his employees getting laid off, and back then Jungkook had been nothing if not ridiculously compassionate. Jungkook’s parents firmly believed that if it hadn’t been for me, their son would be back in Busan, letting them raise their granddaughter.

“Great, that’s great. Did you tell them their son is not around?” I grimaced. I’d only met them three times in total and the last time was in the hospital two months ago when Jungkook had crashed in the middle of a board meeting, weeks of starving and dehydration catching up to him. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting cursed out in front of the doctors and nurses and it probably won’t be any fun in the privacy of my home either.

Jin gave me a sympathetic smile.

“He’s already told them he’s on the way. I’m going to take Mina out on a walk. Give you guys some privacy. Shoot me a text when they leave.” he said gently.

“Can’t I come with?” I begged and he laughed.

“That would be a bad idea, even if it weren’t for the cracked rib. Just relax. Smile and nod and let them spew whatever nonsense they want and then they’ll leave. ”

I opened my mouth to tell him how many flaws there were in his plan when the doorbell rang.

“And that’s my cue. Text me, yeah?” Jin moved to pick Mina up from the rocker before reaching for the baby carrier on the table.

I debated the pros and cons of staying in bed and finally decided against it, gently throwing my legs off the edge and raising myself up to a sitting position. I heard vague voices by the front door, Jin’s sweet tones mingling with Jungkook’s slightly gruffer ones.

I heard the door close and the stillness of the apartment was as oppressing as ever. I could hear him quite clearly though. The clink of the keys as they hit the bowl, the small click of the door as he locked it.

i could imagine him, exhausted from the day’s work, briefcase held in one hand while the other tugged on the knot of his tie.

I imagined for a second, what it must have been like for him with Sooah. She was a bright , incredibly cheerful person. Everyone kind of faded into the background when she was around. Sooah had always been the first to smile at a stranger, the first to laugh even if the joke wasn’t funny. The first one to stand up to help someone in need.

I swallowed, clutching the sheets to ground myself.

I guessed that she must’ve always rushed to greet him at the door. I could imagine him wrapping both arms around her waist, drawing her into a hug or even a kiss.

How was your day, Kookie? (I’d heard her call him that, once when they had been at my father’s house for a charity dinner. )

I wondered if perhaps the very sight of her would have taken away all of the day’s exhaustion from him. Perhaps, he would forget all the ways his company had been failing back then at the sight of her beautiful laughing face. Perhaps losing his company hadn’t been as terrifying as losing his job.

And perhaps once he lost her, he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his life’s work too. And so he’d agreed to meet my father’s demands.

My fingers began trembling a bit .

I could imagine her moving around the house, pregnant and glowing, laughing as he nuzzled into the curve of her belly. Had he perhaps pressed his lips to her skin, whispered sweet endearments to his daughter through the fabric of his wife’s clothes? Had he perhaps loved Mina, deeply? WAs it just his grief that made it hard to be near his wife. Or was it perhaps me? Me holding the baby that should have been in his beautiful wife’s arms.

The wife he had been so madly, deeply in love with.

Love, I thought vacantly.

It wasn’t something I had ever felt, for anyone until I’d began caring for Mina.

But what Jungkook had with his wife was something different wasn’t it?

The love a man had for a woman. Laced with desire, longing and passion. A love that made you put their happiness over your own.

Love like that had never been in the cards for me.

Ever

I was an Omega. Rare and hated and known for being selfish and greedy. People didn’t love my kind. They avoided me. They always assumed I would take advantage of them. My peers growing up had treated me with so much contempt.

The girls would whisper how I was trying to seduce their boyfriends. The boys would call me a tease, even when I stayed far away and did nothing to attract their attention. I’d gotten used to it. It didn’t bother me. it was the way of the world for me. Ad it wasn’t like I could honestly deny some of it.

I looked at handsome alphas and wanted them. I wanted to be held and cherished. To be bought pretty things and cared for. It had taken decades for me to beat that part of mine into submission. To remind myself that if I ever let that part of me out, it would destroy me.

But love? Being in love with someone?

I didn’t know what that could have been like for Jungkook.

Or maybe I had but I couldn’t recognize it because I’d never received it myself. Whatever the cause, it was for me, a fairytale. It was hard to imagine people loving each other so much, to the extent that they would die for each other. ( Jungkook’s words still hung in the back of my mind : that he had wanted to follow her even in death )

Jungkook was right.

I could never know what his loss was like.

Because I would never know what he had lost.

It felt a little like being dipped in an ice cold lake in the middle of winter. My skin broke out in shivers, hair standing on end and I felt my throat go dry so swiftly. I’d never wanted to run away so much. I wrapped a hand sound myself, scooting back on the bed again. I reached for the blanket, wanting to pull it over my head and curl into a ball.

Shut out the world and all the things that didn’t make sense.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze in my head and I swallowed. He had an alpha’s voice and my body responded even if my mind resisted. It didn’t happen all the time. Jungkook couldn’t control me. But sometimes when I was feeling vulnerable, instincts took over . I was already dropping the blanket and smiling softly.

“Mina’s out for a walk.” I croaked out, surprised at how awful my voice sounded.

I felt the press of something against my fingers and I blinked, staring at the glass of water Jungkook was pressing into my hand.

“Don’t worry, I called them and told them not to come over.” He said quietly , watching me drink with still trembling fingers.

I swallowed and stared at him.

“I... Thank you. “ I said fervently, feeling a few knots come undone in my gut. I couldn’t really stand up to Jungkook’s parents the way I did with Sooah’s parents. Because Jungkook loved them deeply and hurting them would be the same as hurting him.

“There’s a party in a couple of days. It’s my birthday. I’m turning 34. Yugyeom’s organizing the whole thing, so I’m going to hire a babysitter for Mina, because Jin hyung will be there too and you need help caring for her anyway. You can stay home and rest. ” he said .

I scoffed.

“I’m going to come with you.” I said firmly.

Jungkook frowned.

“What?”

I glared at him.

“I’m not letting you go to a party organized by your shit for brains friend, Jungkook. You’ll probably end up getting drunk out of your mind and killing someone and I’m not going to hang around to clean that up. I’m coming to that party and I’m making sure you don’t have more than one drink. “

Jungkook’s frown deepened into a scowl.

Did you ever look at your wife , like this? With so much loathing? I thought stupidly. Or did she only ever get to see the sweet and wonderful side of you? Did she ever annoy you the way i seem to every second of the damn day ? Did you hate certain things about her too? Or was she so perfect that you could only feel love ?

“ I can take care of myself. Its my birthday , I can do whatever the fuck I want.“ He snapped.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Not unless you’re a five year old kid in the sandpit, which you’re not. You’re an adult and when you make stupid decisions as an adult, very real people end up paying for it. You’re old enough to know this Jungkook and for once, just listen to me. You can drink, fine. But I’m going to be there and if I see that you’re getting drunk, I’m going to bring you home. You either agree or I’m going to call Yoongi oppa .”

That made him pause.

“Fine. Fuck you.” He snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. A few seconds later I heard the door to the shower slam shut.

I wanted to follow him and shake some sense into him but before I could decide if it was worth jostling my body, when another sharp pain lanced through my ribs.

Oh great.

I took deep breaths the way Yoongi had taught me. Apparently, pneumonia was a thing that could happen, so i had to breath carefully to reduce the risk of that happening.

The birthday party organized by Yugyeom was going to be a whole entire migraine inducing disaster. I could already feel the headache come on. It still amazed me that Jungkook was friends with him and his cronies.

Yugyeom and his friends were the typical; brain dead alphas who thought themselves superior to all other ranks. Even worse, they viewed omegas as objects: fucktoys to be more precise and I bristled when i remembered the way he had always stared at me.

Well, if he stepped anywhere near me, I would kick him in the teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jungkook’s mother turned up at home the next day, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wasn’t surprised but it didn’t make things any more pleasant.

“We’re willing to take Mina for a couple of days if you would both need time to prepare for the party. This is the first big event Jungkook’s holding after Sooah’s passing and we want it to be perfect. As his wife, i hope you’ll do your part.”

Mrs Jeon’s pinched face did nothing for my already frayed temper.

“There’s not much i can do with a cracked rib, mother.” I said politely. It stung, having to call this bitter, cruel woman mother but then, such was life. It was late afternoon and Jungkook was probably sitting in the comfort of his air conditioned office, being flattered and doted on by his smitten secretary while I sat here entertaining his vicious mother.

“Nonsense, you’ve probably just scratched it. I know how you omegas like to exaggerate. “ she waved off my injury easily. “ There are so many details that need to be decided on and its unfair to drop all of those responsibilities on poor yugyeom’s head. Why don’t you go with him and help out a bit?”

The idea of going anywhere with Kim Yugeom was easily the most repugnant thing to me.

“I’m sure he knows Jungkook much better than I do. If i interfered, I’d only be getting in his way.” I said politely.

Mrs. Jeon hummed.

“Well, its good that he’s agreed to the party at least. That woman never let him meet with Yugyeom or his friends when she was around.”

That woman being Jungkook’s late wife.

I felt a sudden fondness for her. Clearly she had also recognized Yugyeom for the absolute pig that he was and kept her husband away from his rotten influence . But unlike with her, Jungkook didn’t actually care about me. So I had no way of stopping him from meeting the idiots. Yugyeom’s family was rich and reputed and it was clear that the Jeons wanted the friendship and the connection. Why else would they keep pushing for it so much?

“Is there any particular reason you’re here, mother?” I said finally, after hearing her babble on and on about caterers and invitations and what not.

“I was hoping to meet Mina...why isn’t she here?”

“I’m not able to care for her well, what with the rib. The doctor has advised me to rest so Jin oppa takes care of her during the day. Jungkook picks her back up on his way back from office. I can send her over to your place with him this weekend.”

“That would be fine i suppose. Have you spoken to the decorators about changing the portraits put up in the house?”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The penthouse, we’ve got it back now right? why don’t you move there. We have a cook and a housekeeper .”]

“this is closer to Jungkook’s office.” I had no idea where the penthouse was and could only hope it was farther way.

Mrs. Jeon frowned.

“This apartment is too small. Not to mention, you still have Sooah’s photos everywhere in this place. Surely that’s not healthy. Get rid of them and put up pictures of you and Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s parents didn’t know that our marriage had an expiry date. i wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. But they saw me as nothing more than a way to get rid of Sooah from the deepest recesses of Jungkook’s mind.

“I’m sure, with time...Jungkook can make that decision by himself. When he’s ready for it.” I said gently, beginning the fresh throb of pain near my temple.

“Nonsense, Heejin. Men won’t ever move on until you force them. Have you considered getting pregnant?”

I jumped about a foot into the air.

“I...what.” I croaked out.

“You need a child too. He mated you. He owes you that. I’m going to tell him that he better do his duty by you.” She said firmly.

“Please don’t.” I shouted, stunned out of my mind. Was this woman even sane?

“Why not?” She frowned looking at me like i was the one being unreasonable.

Why not? Because its barely been four months since he lost his wife of seven years to childbirth. Surely, you don’t think the remedy to that is to have him go through it all over again.

“ Mina is still small, mother. I’m sure we can wait a while. Maybe after she’s one or two.”

Jungkook would probably move on by then. Of course he would. Grief was overwhelming but it was also finite. It did get smaller over time. Easier to cope with. Jungkook would eventually be able to navigate his life around his grief. He would learn to make new connections and who was to say one of those wouldn’t be a compatible match?

So two years from now, there was no reason Jungkook shouldn’t meet another lovely woman, a beta maybe and eventually expand his family. Of course i would be nowhere in the picture at the time. But that was fine.

I remembered something I’d read somewhere, a while back.

If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet by chance for a short time , then do not see each other ever again.

Like ships passing by each other in the night, I reminded myself. That's what Jungkook and I were.

“Well, if you think that’s wise.... fine. But now that Jungkook’s doing well, why don’t you entertain people more often? You haven’t had a dinner party here yet, have you?”

And so it went on, over an over for a whole two hours until I was wrung out from sheer exhaustion, my head throbbing and nails having dug half moon indents into my palms from fisting my hands too hard.

By the time i finally closed the door on her face, I couldn’t help but sag against the door, sinking to the floor in a heap, cracked rib be damned.

I glanced up at the solo portrait on the wall. The one my mother in law had wanted gone.

“She must’ve really hated you, huh?” I said casually pulling myself up to my feet and moving to the dining space to stare at her face more closely.

She was dressed in her wedding gown, a fitted mermaid dress with lace and satin detailing. She had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand, elbows bent and the blooms resting on her shoulder while her other hand curved around her slender waist.

Beautiful was an understatement, I thought vacantly.

“ You look like you didn’t put up with people’s bullshit. That’s cool I guess.” I smiled a little. “ You know in another world, we may have been friends.”

I bit my lips.

“Yugyeom was shitty to you too huh? He seems the type. i’m glad you kept Jungkook away from him. I wish you’d somehow help get him away again. He doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I’m trying to control him or something. ”

It was ridiculous. What was i doing.. Why was i talking to a framed picture on the wall. God.

But now that I’d started, I couldn’t quite stop.

“About what happened with Jungkook... I don’t want you to think i was seducing him or anything. And when i said that I hated him calling your name when we... well you know why i said it right? It wasn’t anything personal...i was just pissed. I don’t enjoy the sex by the way... I don’t think he does either but he’s an alpha and you know how it is…they need that release or they kind of lose their mind .. So trust me we both hate the principle of it.... but at least he cums and well I don’t. He’s never made me cum. That should say something about how we feel about each other.......”

“Uh.. Should I come back later?” The voice near the doorway was so unexpected my heart jumped right to my throat and I screamed, stumbling a bit to the side.

Min Yoongi stood framed by the door, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers and the other clutching his bag and stethoscope. He still had his white coat on over his shirt and slacks, hair mussed like he’d run his finger through it.

It took me a second to remember that Yoongi had a key to the house.

Another second to remember exactly what I’d been doing when he came inside.

Good God.

Had he heard the part where I’d talked about Jungkook not making me cum? Surely not? Oh Please no.

“Jungkook told me to check on you. That you couldn’t sleep last night? Are you in a lot of pain?”

Jungkook and I had shared the bed in his room last night and I had apparently, tossed and turned and whimpered through the night in pain. Or so Jungkook claimed.

“Uh... I’m not sure. He said so... so..”

“you guys sleep together right?” Yoongi asked casually, taking his coat off. I stared at the way the material of the shirt strained over his shoulders, my throat just a little dry.

Yoongi smelled so ridiculously good. He was a doctor and he was so handsome and kind to me. The attraction would have been there even if i had been a beta but as an omega, the urge to just fling myself at him and beg him to make me his, it was kind of horrifying.

Tamping down that part of me, I gave him a casual shrug, heart still pounding.

“Yeah. There’s just two bedrooms here and one is Mina’s nursery. So ...” I finished awkwardly, watching him move around and place his bag on the table before unwinding the stethoscope, placing it around his collar.

He gave me a small smile.

“I’ll just take a quick look and check how your breathing sounds. that okay?” He asked gently.

“Oh... sure. You need me to take my shirt off?” I asked curiously.

He gave me a quick little smirk.

“Not for medical reasons no.” He winked.

I felt blood rush to my face along with guilt. What was I doing? This was Jungkook’s best friend!! His hyung. Someone he trusted and I was his....

His what?

Nothing. I was Jungkook’s nothing. When was the last time someone had flirted with me . Someone who wasn’t a grade A creep.

Yoongi moved closer, sitting down on the kitchen stool and beckoned me to come stand between his thighs. i moved, achingly aware of how much more potent his scent was up close. He looked up at me through sooty black lashes, a small smirk on his lips, feline eyes warm and open .

“Put your hands on my shoulders, yeah?” He prompted.

I hesitated, fingers shaking just a little before reaching out to rest on this shirt. I kept the touch feather light , the softness of his shirt the only thing I could feel.

He hummed and bending down to lightly tug the hem of my shirt out of the waistline of my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from squirming.

He glanced up , eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze.

“You good?”

“Uhuhbuh.” I stuttered and he grinned wider, pulling the fabric up to the curve of my breasts. He lightly ran his finger tips over the bruised skin , humming thoughtfully .

“You’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hang on.” He pulled back, plugging the steth in his hear before holding the other end up to my chest. He pressed it against my skin, just before the underwire of my bra and it was unexpectedly cold .

I jumped, fingers curling on his shoulder and squeezing down.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Yoongi whispered, hands reaching for my waist, gently holding me steady and I flushed. He looked genuinely worried , lips turned down and brows furrowed and i felt absolutely stupid.

“Sorry. Sorry.... It’s nothing.. i just.. it’s a little cold.” I laughed nervously and his gaze softened.

One hand still curved around my waist, he brought the diaphragm up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he gently breathed warm air all over it.

My throat went instantly dry and i had to swallow. He pressed it against my chest again and this time it was so much warmer. .

“Better?” He prompted and i nodded, guilt and discomfort churning in my stomach. What was i doing? I had no business indulging him. i had no business indulging any man. Ever.

I looked away, pulling my hands up off his shoulder, pushing his hand off my hip as well . He didn’t say anything his shoulders stiffened at the subtle rejection.

A mantle of awkward tension settled over us, a small thundercloud of regret and that threatened to rain misery all over us. I wanted to kick myself. He was older than Jungkook by four years. Thirty eight years old.

Did he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he was martried?

Nausea threatened.

“Your breathing sounds fine. Are you practicing those breathing exercises , I taught you?” He asked casually and I nodded . I couldn’t trust myself to speak.

“Hey...” He said gently and I flinched.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out. “ I didn’t mean to lead you on or tease you in any way and I’m sorry if i came on to you ...”

“What?! Heejin, stop. That’s bullshit. You never did any such thing. This was all me.” He said firmly.

I stared at him.

“I know you’re married but... your marriage, its going to end right? Eventually.”

I made to step back but he grabbed my waist again, this time a few inches over my jean and his fingers on the bare skin of my midriff made me want to melt. He had long slender fingers, a surgeons hands, and the press of it on my skin felt so foreign and gentle and different and good.

“We don’t have to do anything. I just... I thought we could get to know each other. Over coffee or dinner.”

I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

Because Yoongi was beautiful and handsome and so good and so much more than I could ever even dream of, but he was and would always be so intricately woven with Jungkook and with Jungkook’s life. And I couldn’t imagine anything more messy than sticking around and watching Jungkook and his daughter forget me and move on.

“It’s.... probably a terrible idea. “ I said roughly, shaking my head. “ Its the kind of idea that would never end well.”

“Are you sure? Because unlike Jungkook, i could probably make you cum.” He winked and I felt my face flame red.

“Oh God...” I hissed, stumbling back. This time he let me move away, merely chuckling and reaching for his coat and bag .

“I won’t bother you again. But the offer’s always open, yeah?” He smiled again. “ You need me to send over more pain meds?”

I shook my head mutely, begging him to just leave already.

He nodded and held his hand up in a casual wave before walking out of the door. I collapsed on the stool and dropped my head into my arms , groaning.

What had i gotten myself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t actually see Jungkook for a couple of days. The meds knocked me out and he worked overtime, only arriving after I’d slept off and leaving before i woke up. Jin brought Mina around everyday and there was something absolutely exhilarating about watching her clutch at her little teething toys and rattles, gummy smile peeking out every few minutes.

On a whim, i told Jin what had happened with Yoongi and much to my surprise he actually laughed.

“About time . He’s been pining for what three years now?”

I gaped at him, completely thrown.

“I..he.. what.” I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had heard.

“He saw you at that art exhibition you put up in the Hyatt . By the way, don’t you paint anymore?”

I flushed.

I had no proper response to that. What could i say? That my painting had just been yet another way to control me, only appreciated by father when he could use it to make more money. And that part of my marriage contract included that I wouldn’t paint or make any money off my art for the duration that I stayed with Jungkook.

It was just yet another way my father reminded me that he controlled him. I didn’t fight him because he would win anyway. And the only thing he loved more than controlling people was winning battles that were always rigged in his favor. i wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would soldier through this awful marriage and at the end of it , i would disappear without a trace.

I shook my head vaguely and Jin hummed.

“Yoongi doesn’t understand art but he hung around the entire nine hours , morning to night . Three whole days of him just pretending to look at the artwork while secretly making moon eyes at you.”

I could only stare in sheer disbelief.

“i... i never knew.”

“How could you? Yoongi’s idea of courting is pretending he doesn’t exist and fading into the background. “ Jin rolled his eyes. “ He tried approaching your father to officially court you but your old man shut that down rather brutally.”

I swallowed .

“I... I’m sorry.” i said feeling foolish. Three years...what? I couldn’t think beyond the shock of the information.

“Does Jungkook know?” I asked , scared.

Jin shook his head.

“Like I said Yoongi never made it known . He was afraid it would make life difficult for you. He didn’t want any rumors around because everyone knew your father was looking to offer you to someone rich and young. Yoongi was what , fifteen years older? That’s quite a difference.”

“Thirty eight isn’t old.” I said sharply and Jin’s brow went up.

“Oh?” He questioned teasingly and I flushed.

“Jungkook is eleven years older. What’s another four more years?” I shrugged.

“You’re interested then.” Jin said thoughtfully. I recoiled, shaking my head quickly.

“I...what? No. No I’m not. “

“Why not? If it isn’t the age, then there’s no reason to say no. Yoongi is handsome , settled and a great guy all around and besides, your time with Jungkook is finite right?”

“I... I won’t cheat on him.” I said firmly. “ i can’t... I... besides, Jungkook and I... we��re... we have sex.” My ears turned red, “ I can’t do that with two guys... I’m not like that. “

Jin nodded.

“Its alright.. Heejinah ...I’m sorry if i pressured you or anything. You don’t have to do anything. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Yoongi probably got carried away . More than likely he’s going to panic and avoid you for a year just to recover.” He laughed and I smiled reluctantly.

“He’s nice I don’t want to hurt him. “ I said softly.

“ Sometimes that’s just inevitable . People get hurt no matter what we choose.” Jin gave me a sad little smile. “ Jungkook is just as nice a gy as Yoongi. If not better. He’s just...not in the right headspace to show that side of himself to you. I wish you’d known him before Sooah. He used to be this...playful and funny kid. We all went out of our way to keep him safe. Sooah was just as amazing. Usually , we try to find flaws in people our friends date right? Well trust me Sooah was hard to dislike .” He laughed, eyes misting over as his gaze landed on her portrait over the mantle.

I followed his gaze and swallowed.

“Do you think Jungkook will ever get over her?” I asked simply.

Jin hesitated.

“Someday? Probably yes. But it won’t be easy. He’s ... He feels things deeply. He always has. He loved her deeply, he cared for her deeply and so its only obvious that he’s going to feel the loss of her presence very deeply too.”

I nodded.

“Its his birthday tomorrow.” I said softly. “ I have a gift for him. Well its not a gift from me, but a gift nonetheless. But I’m not sure if I should give it to him.”

Jin gave me a surprised look.

“What do you mean?”

I smiled bitterly.

“Just that sometimes fate can be very cruel when it chooses its players. I’m forever wondering if he would be better off or worse without me in the picture and I just can’t decide.”

“Different. He would just be different.” Jin said calmly.

There was nothing else i could say to that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yugyeom had rented out the rooftop restaurant in one of the poshest Hotels in Seoul and although the party was a pool party, I hadn’t bothered dressing for it. I wore a plain sequined top and burgundy skirt that fanned out around me knees.

The place was teeming with people his age , friends acquaintances and business partners. The women had changed into bright , skimpy bikinis and lounged about in the brightly lit pool tossing a ball around .

The older people were being hosted by the Jeons on the lower level of the restaurant in a posh ballroom. Jungkook and i would have to visit them later but for now I was content sipping a mocktail, leaning against the bar while Hoseok and Lisa flanked me on either side, pointing out who was sleeping with who.

Jungkook was in the pool with Yugyeom and Jimin and it was impossible to tear my eyes away from him. He looked happy almost, laughing and shaking water out of his hair as he moved around with the strength and agility of an Olympic athlete. Yoongi was in the pool as well and on the opposite team with Jin and Namjoon....and it was increasingly obvious that the half a dozen bikini clad women were there simply for an excuse to touch the handsome alphas as they worked up a sweat.

“Jungkook is such a competitive bastard.” Hoseok laughed. “But I don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi today. i can’t believe he’s in the pool. “

“Of his own volition. “ Lisa added. “ usually someone has to strip him and toss him in.

Yoongi kept glancing at me every few minutes. It was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to miss that at least three of the six women in the pool were trying to get into his pants.

I sighed and turned back to the bartender asking for a refill. when i turned back around, Jungkook and Yugyeom were climbing out of the pool and Jin was moving to the opposite side to take their place with Jimin.

“Jungkook and i are going to go get a drink. Anything for you , beautiful?” Yugyeom reached out to touch me and I almost fell in my haste to get away from him.

“Keep your hands off me.” I snapped . Jungkook frowned.

“No need to be rude, Heejin , he was just being polite.” He said softly and i smelt the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t drink too much Jungkook.”

“Oh come on, beautiful., Its his birthday let him live a little...” Yugyeom laughed and I glared at him.

“I’d rather have him live longer “ I snapped. “ And that can’t happen if you keep trying to give him alcohol poisoning.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes.

“Is she always this dramatic, Jungkook-ah.” Yugyeom laughed. Jungkook didn’t laugh but he gave me a look that said, ‘ please don’t make a scene’ and I bit my lips.

I didn’t want to ruin his night. He looked ....so close to a normal person tonight and whether I liked it or not Yugyeom had contributed to that. The music was apparently Jungkook’s favorites only, the pool because he loved volleyball in the water and the buffet had all his favorite foods. Yugyeom had gone out of his way to make the party perfect and i suddenly felt like the troll stomping on Jungkook’s happiness.

Swallowing my own instinct to drag my husband away from the alpha who had his arms around him, I turned away and walked off to the pool. Yoongi’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey there, angel. Here to watch me kick some ass? “ He cupped his hands in the water, before tossing a handful of water at me. I blinked in surprise, laughing a little.

“I’m just here to cheer Jin oppa. “ I said impishly, moving over to the lounge chair near his side of the pool. Yoongi’s pout was adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Maybe I could stop worrying about Jungkook for a while. Yugyeom wasn’t dangerous. Even if he got a little drunk, I was still here. So were all of our friends.

It would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it wasn’t fine.

An hour later, I found Jungkook in a room filled with cigarette smoke and light music, yugeyom and his friends scattered around the place with a few beautiful women lounging about on their laps.

“You said one drink Yugyeom...he’s completely out of his mind.” I said shrilly staring at where Jungkook sat on the couch , shirtless and laughing as some girl in a bikini ran her fingers up and down his arm. She had one leg draped over his thigh. I felt sick at the very sight of it.

its because he’s drunk , I told myself. He’s drunk and can’t consent, that’s why you feel sick, nothing else.

Yugyeom gave me an easy smile.

“Guy just wants to have some fun. Reina’s a friend of mine. She’ll take good care of him don’t worry. She’s the birthday gift i got him. “ He leered.

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

Glaring at him,

“Jungkook, we’re leaving. Come on.” I made to move towards him but a hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a vice.

“Not so fast baby.... I already paid for her. You can’t just waltz in here and take away her livelihood.” He sneered. “ Unless you want to take her place. This is a special bar you know. All these lovelies, they have something in common with you.”

I stared at him frowning.

“What does that mean?”

“I hired them from an omega escort agency...you know because that’s all you omegas are useful for anyway.”

I rolled my eyes, yanking on my wrist.

“You and your medieval ideals can go to hell. I’m going home. Jungkook!!” I yelled again and this time Jungkook turned eyes landing on me.

“Heejin?” He slurred.

“We need to go home, Jungkook.” I said firmly.

“Now?” He blinked. I nodded.

“Yes now.” I made to move away but this time Yugyeom wrapped both arms around my waist, pinning me to his body. Pain , sharp and unbearable shot up my ribs and I whimpered. He was squeezing too hard and God what if the cracked rib just snapped?

Panic began setting in and I yelped.

“Let me go you bastard.” I struggled to get away, staring in disbelief at my husband .

Jungkook was standing but he swayed dangerously. There was no clarity there and his eyes were hooded. He was drunk. Really, really drunk.

“Jungkook tell him to let me go!!” I yelled , trying to tamp down the panic that was rising up my throat.

“Don’t worry Kook. Just gonna ask her to wait outside for a while. Why don’t you finish your conversation with Reina.. i’ll entertain your wife for a while.” He drawled and i felt my entire body go ice cold at that.

Jungkook was blinking rapidly, the words clearly not registering and genuine terror began to bleed into my veins. Jungkook couldn’t even fathom that i was in genuine danger here, let alone help me. Oh God, why had i come alone? Where were the others??

Yugyeom held me tighter and i swallowed a groan . My ribs felt like they were on fire.

“Let’s take this somewhere private, Heejin?” He whispered into my neck and i couldn’t believe it. Yugyeom was drunk yes, but was this idiot also insane?

“Wait...no.. Yugeyom don’t be a fucking idiot. If you touch me, that’s fucking rape...You can go to prison for that .” I shouted, trying to drill some sense into his head. He wasn’t going to risk prison to make a point was he??

“Not if you seduce me angel...and you’re going to... Or I’ll just tell people you did...same difference , right?” he whispered.

And then he began dragging me off to the corner and my eyes fell on a side door leading out of the room .

If you let him take you there this is going to become frighteningly real, a voice screamed in my head and I inhale deeply, ready to scream loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the damned building.

The door opened just as I opened my mouth and I froze, watching Mrs Jeon walk into the lounge, looking lost.

“What is this place?” She muttered out loud looking around and the arms around me fell away so fast, I crashed to the floor.

“Heejin-ah!” Yoongi’s voice came from right behind her and I flinched, willing my shaking legs to stop trembling.

“Mrs. Jeon...” I muttered, voice strained and ribs throbbing.

“Heejin? What is going on here? Where’s my son?”

“Fuck... Jungkook-ah...” Yoongi moved to get him and I took a deep steadying breath.

Years ago , I’d taken a self defence class and one thing i’d definitely enjoyed learning was how to throw a punch. And It wasn’t something i’d forgotten.

Planting my feet firmly , i lightly rotated my hips, a subtle shift, before engaging my core , drawing all the fury and helpless rage inside me into my fist. I pulled my shoulders in and took a deep breath. Punch past your target , i told myself. You’re not just going to break his jaw you’re going to put him in the hospital tonight.

“Mrs. Jeon, Jungkook had a great time toni-” His voice was all i needed to hear to know exactly where his mouth was behind me.

i relaxed my muscles as i threw the punch, contracting them just as my fist landed on Kim Yugyeom’s face.

The satisfying sound of flesh on bone felt like music to my ears and Yugyeom’s sharp cry of sheer agonizing pain even sweeter.

He crashed to the floor in a heap and I could feel my fist throb like hell. I was going to bruise so badly. But it was worth it.

“That was for telling me that you were going to rape me and tell everyone that i seduced you.” I said calmly.

Yoongi let out a noise of disbelief.

“What the actual fuck.....” He shouted.

“Yugyeom what the fuck man? Are you out of your damned mind?” One of his friends yelled. Yugyeom merely groaned.

He couldn’t answer, blood trickling down his chin and hands cradling his jaw, whimpers falling out of his mouth. My own fist throbbed like hell so the damage had to be significant.

Mrs Jeon looked horrified and when she opened her mouth i quickly held a hand up.

“I’m not doing this. Not tonight. “ I said calmly. Jungkook was quiet, the way he always got when he was drunk and I groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to talk.” I said calmly and Jungkook swallowed.

“Heejin, I’m -”

“Hear me out first Jungkook.” I said sharply. “ I don’t need your apology, it means nothing to me because it means nothing to you. You’re not sorry that you didn’t help me last night. You’re just angry that you had to help at all. You don’t give a fuck about me. I know that and I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you getting drunk to the point that you don’t even recognize that someone’s in need of help. “

I took a deep breath.

“If you did it to me, you’ll do it to your daughter too. Yugyeom is going to get you drunk someday when you’re taking care of Mina by yourself and then when she needs you, what are you going to do?”

“You’re right... I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk -”

“I’m only here , talking to you , because of your daughter. If it was just you, I wouldn’t give a damn because you’re an adult and if you make your bed , you can just lie on it. It wouldn’t bother me. But Mina...she’s not capable of making the right choices. She need a father who can make the right choices, because whatever shitty choice you make, your daughter is going to be there along for the ride whether she wants to or not. You drive your car off a cliff tomorrow , she’s going to be there in the car seat laughing because she doesn’t know the consequences of your choices. “

I clenched my fists to keep my voice even. To stop myself from yelling.

“I have something for you. “

I grabbed the brown paper wrapped canvas from under the table.

“It’s a painting . Your wife commissioned me to make this a year ago when she got pregnant.”

He froze so eerily still that it made me nervous.

“At first , i wasn’t sure if i should be giving it to you because well... because i was marrying you ... I wasn’t sure that it would be right, coming from me ...because I was taking your wife’s place after all...”

i laughed.

“Now I know that's just bullshit. I don’t have a place in your life. I’m a nobody. This isn’t about me. This is about you. She told me back then that you were nervous about being a father. That was all she said. And she wanted me to pain this. “ I held the canvas out to him.

“You can see it. I’m going to go stay with Jin oppa for a few days. I want you to see it. It shows how your wife saw you. The kind of father she hoped you would be. I want you to see it and make a choice. You can either get the help you need. “ i took a deep breath, “ Or I’m going to tell Yoongi that you’re incompetent to be a father. He’ll file charges , “ I had to close my eyes to get the next words out, “ and you will lose custody of your daughter.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists on his knees.

“i hope you make the right choice.”

I wrapped both my arms around myself and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note. :

I’m so exhausted I’ll tag people tomorrow!

.@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay@squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie

@just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla

.@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki--life @somewhereinthestarss @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

#jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts fanfics #bts smut fic #bts smut #bts fics #bts #jungkook #bts scenarios

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly, “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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