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realcube · 3 years

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❥ HOW HE CONFESSES

characters ❥ mikey, draken & baji

tw ❥ the beach, bad driving, mentions of murder and cursing

cr ❥ requested by anon

a/n ❥ i’ve not read the manga yet :’(

MIKEY

♥ his love language is shoplifting for you <33

♥ like okay.. in writing it kinda sounds pathetic compared to all the other shit he does but like.. he goes through the effort of personally picking up your favourite snack from the grocery store —instead of getting his toman underling to do it for him — and hiding them under his shirt

♥ and he thinks about you the whole time he is sprinting away from security

♥ if that isn’t true love idk what is

♥ today wasn’t any ol’ day tho, snacks and sweets were going to cut it

♥ instead, he went for the big shiny rock on a ring he keeps seeing the window of the rock shop on the high street

♥ it was pretty, for a rock, but not pretty enough for anyone in their right mind to think it’s worth £10,000/$14,000/ ¥1,500,000!!!

♥ however, after hearing that price from a salesperson, he knew that stupid rock ring was exactly how he’d win your heart <3

♥ it was a challenge and it had him working overtime, but after pulling some strings, doing a couple favours, and maybe even inadvertently killing some people (you never know 🤷‍♂️), he managed to get his hands on the pristine stone, which he had come to learn was called a diamond, which was why it was so expensive

♥ the guy who did him the favour of stealing it initially asked if mikey was planning on proposing and mikey said yes —since asking you out on a date is technically a proposal — and the dude didn’t even question it, he just said good luck

♥ and that sort of energy was exactly what mikey needed right now as he stood behind a wall near your lunch table as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do

♥ all your friends had left yet you were still sitting there alone since mikey texted you and asked for you to wait behind, and the fact you actually did filled him with hope from the get-go

♥ “(y/n)! there you are!” mikey greeted as if he didn’t know exactly where you were this whole time. why was his heart thumping so harshly in his chest? and why did he suddenly feel overwhelmingly embarrassed? i mean, he’s not done anything worth being awkward about.. yet.

♥ he didn’t understand. he never usually gets this way around people. but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised since he knew you were an exception from the beginning

♥ “hi, mikey.” you hummed, head propped gently on your arm while you slipped your phone away, “why did you want to see me? is something wrong?”

♥ the slight concern he detected in your voice was enough for him to immediately blurt out, “oh, no! nothing like that! everything is great; i am great and i, erm, hope you are too.” he announced, somewhat glad that your only reaction was a blank stare as it meant he doesn’t feel inclined to explain himself

♥ “so, uh, i was just wonder if you..” he started, clenching his jaw as he mentally reassured himself. the fact that he felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed made things infinitely harder from him. he took a deep breath, and spilled

♥ “do you want to go out on a date with me sometime?” he basically screamed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and emptying his left pocket onto the table in front of you so that his special gift would accompany his proposal

♥ he closed his eyes as if that was going to protect him from rejection, but before he was able to silently rebuke himself, he heard faint sobbing from where he dropped his present

♥ upon opening his eyes, the shock from the sight before him was enough to give him whiplash

♥ in an unfortunate turn of events, he must’ve emptied the wrong pocket because sitting on the table in front of you was not a diamond ring, but rather a sherbet dip he bought to share with you if you said ‘yes’ to his proposal

♥ and his suspicions were correct, you were the one crying

♥ ....

♥ waIT WHY ARE YOU CRYING mikey panicked, frantically looking around for someone who might’ve hurt you, or perhaps someone he’d have to send to A&E

♥ “are you okay?”

♥ “yeah.” you whispered, your light chuckle enough to prevent mikey from worrying any more, “i’m just..” you stuttered, smiling fondly at the blonde, “i’m just really happy. i thought you’d never ask.”

♥ it was impossible for mikey to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he slumped down next to you on the bench, “thank god. i thought someone had threatened you or something.”

♥ “threatened me? why would they do that?” you innocently cocked your head to the side, rubbing your eyes as you did so.

♥ oh, yeah. mikey hadn’t been fully transparent with you about his.. current employment. as far as you knew, he was a full-time student at ‘toman academy’ and he had a part-time job babysitting (which was hardly a lie, in his opinion)

♥ so you didn’t really know about how he was the leader of the tokyo manji gang or any of that

♥ originally he thought it was fine to keep it a secret, but now that you were officially his partner it would be immoral to not let you know about his affiliation with the gang

♥ so he decided to tell you over a sherbert <33

♥ “so, are we official?” he cooed, ripping the lollypops out of the bag and popping one in his mouth while offering you the other by tapping it against your lips lightly

♥ “yep.” you smiled, taking the lolly into your mouth with a smile, glad that he didn’t bring up your little waterworks a few second ago

♥ but in all honesty, he was preoccupied wondering what the most appropriate way to phrase ‘i am the leader of a gang of delinquents’ would be

♥ poor little mikey brain working on overdrive

♥ he decided to pull out the ring, since he still had to give that to you, so while you were entranced by the fat gem glistening under the light in mikey’s possession, he began, “so, babe, do you think being a gang leader is hot?”

DRAKEN

♥ he honestly didn’t have a clue how to ask you out

♥ in fact, he didn’t even know that he had a crush on you until mikey pointed out all of his weird behaviours around you

♥ so his first instinct was to go to mikey for advice when thinking of ways to ask you out

♥ but the only idea that mf was to get ‘will you go out with me, (y/n)?’ tattooed onto his ‘thick skull’ and ofc draken wasn’t about to do that

♥ although he did consider it for like.. a minute

♥ (he was like.. hmmmm... well, the tattoo guy does owe me a favour so... maybe i could get it for free?)

♥ (or permanent marker might work???)

♥ anyway, he eventually decided to ask you out the good ol’ fashion way!! by just telling you how he feels

♥ however, once he explained this plan to mikey, he was scoffed and said ‘good luck with that’ in the most condescending tone of voice

♥ draken’s initial instinct was to simply beat up mikey and go ask you out anyway, but this conflict ran deeper than just him and mikey bickering about trivial issues- his whole relationship was on the line!

♥ so after hearing the leader out, he finally decided on the most appropriate way to confess — just like how all the dudes in the animes mikey and him and watched did it

♥ by giving you flowers and chocolates <3

♥ and mikey even offered to come into the store with draken and help him choose the goods since mikey was a self-proclaimed ‘love-expert’

♥ draken obviously denied his offer but he came along anyway

♥ “ooh, ken-chin! look at these ones, they’re on sale.” mikey gasped, happily grabbing a pack of heart-shaped chocolates off the shelf, ripping them open and stuffing his face, “and they are delicious too!”

♥ paying no attention to the fact that mikey had essentially already committed a crime since there was no way he intended to pay for those chocolates, draken mused while eyeing up the rest of the sweets, the bouquet of flowers he had already chosen tucked under his arm, “valentine’s day was a week ago, that’s probably why they are on sale.”

♥ “draken?”

♥ a familiar voice from the end of the aisle caused draken to avert his gaze from the chocolates displayed in front of him and instead search for the source of the voice, which happened to be you standing innocently with your basket in-hand

♥ “ah, (y/n),” draken tensed, immediately shoving the bouquet of flowers behind his back at hopefully out of your sight as he put on a forced smile to distract from them too, “what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

♥ “hm?” mikey chimed in, unable to vocalise his curiosity through the chocolates stuffed in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying, “is that the (y/n) you were talking about? the one you were going to conf--”

♥ “that’s enough outta you.” draken hissed through a fake smile, shoving mikey into the next aisle, which happened to be the snack aisle so, entertained, he decided to stay put

♥ “oh, is that your friend mikey?” you inquired, having only ever heard about mikey through rumours up until now. though none of them exactly matched the image you saw just there

♥ “yep, he’s pain sometimes, but he’s still cool.” draken muttered, awkwardly rolling on the balls of his feet as he waited for a deity to save him from this interaction — not that he didn’t want to talk to you, it’s just that every second you spend with him, the less likely it becomes that his confession will go as planned

♥ and you only confirmed that with your follow-up question

♥ “i see you’ve got flowers, and you’re looking for chocolates. who’s the special someone?” you teased, poking draken’s cheek playfully (which is one of the many things he only finds comfort in when you do it)

♥ “oh, no one.” he hummed, his coy smile doing a number on your heart rate

♥ “how about you? who is that card for?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the classic pink ‘i have something to tell you... <3′ confession card that was only in-stock during valentine’s day season, that was sitting atop the groceries in your basket

♥ a cocky smirk tugged at his lips — as if to say ‘i won’ — while he watched you become increasingly flustered right in front of him. it was adorable

♥ but he thought it would stop there; stop with him winning the teasing battle, you getting all sheepish then leaving but that apparently wasn’t your plan

♥ instead, you lowered your head and outstretched your arms to give him the card (which was still in the wrapping plastic)

♥ “red-handed. i bought these with you in mind, draken.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “but if you don’t accept then that’s fine too, have a nic--”

♥ “who said i don’t accept?” draken grumbled, almost as if he was annoyed, as he took your card and examined the card thoroughly for a couple seconds

♥ then suddenly, he froze. the shock of the realisation leaving him stunned to the point where the only thing he could do was shift his eyes from the card on to you and utter in a terrified tone, “this isn’t, uh, this isn’t a confession, is it?”

♥ you shrugged, “i guess, it is.”

♥ “damn it.” draken cursed, glaring at the snack aisle and hence mikey, for giving him this stupid idea

♥ “is there a problem?”

♥ “no.” draken said through gritted teeth before pulling out the bouquet his had hidden behind his back, “but i was meant to confess first.”

♥ your jaw dropped, leaving draken concerned for a second until you instantly pulled him in for a tight hug; another thing he admired about you was that you gave hugs like you were in the mafia, strong enough to cut off his airflow

♥ “double confession!” you squealed, absolutely delighted that draken not only wanted to confess to you, but he had the same idea to come to the shop and buy stuff beforehand

♥ “i guess so.” draken chuckled, handing you the bouquet of flower as soon as you pulled away, “these are for you.”

♥ you gasped, smiling at how he managed to remember your favourite kind of flower after a single off-handed comment you made ages ago, “thank you!” you hugged them to your chest, “have you already paid for them?”

♥ “no.” draken replied simply. “but they are still yours.”

♥ sometimes it slipped your mind that draken was part of a literal gang since.. he just seemed so normal and humble

♥ but on some other occasions, it was painfully difficult to consider draken anything close to ‘normal’

♥ and one of those moments was when he was trying to convince security he was pregnant with a flower-baby, and when that evidently didn’t work, he just made a run for it with mikey, whose pants pockets were filled with sweets that trailed behind him where ever he ran

BAJI

♥ he didn’t even ponder about how he was supposed to confess to you for over a second

♥ the idea just came to him instantly and he went with it

♥ the only question he asked was ‘how can i show them how badass i am without bragging?’ and he immediately came up with an answer and rolled with it, no questions asked

♥ and there was no planning or anything done beforehand either, he literally just texted you ‘where are you?’ at like 7PM and when you replied ‘the park’, he hopped on his bike and sped over

♥ like he didn’t even ask which park.. he just guessed.. but he guessed correctly

♥ your heart almost stopped as you watched a chunky motorcycle come speeding towards you at such a rate that all you could do was brace for impact and kiss goodbye to your relatively peaceful live

♥ however, at the very last second it swerved around you and came to a halt, allowing the rider to extend his free hand to you, “hop on.”

♥ the voice was all to familiar and you weren’t surprised at all to see baji with his signature ‘i could kill you’ grin plastered on his face

♥ as your heart rate slowly began to return to normal, you cried, “what do you mean ‘hop on’? you almost ran me over!”

♥ he unclipped his helmet and tossed it to you, “safety first.”

♥ “did you even hear what i just said?” you grumbled, putting on the helmet anyway

♥ “i think you said something about how excited you are to finally go out with me.” he mused, shuffling forwards slightly to give you more space to sit on behind him, like a true gentleman /s

♥ “no.” you replied simply.

♥ though you initially had no intention of going anywhere with him, you still found yourself reaching your leg over his bike to take a seat behind him, “where are we going?”

♥ baji shrugged, chuckling slightly as he felt you gently wrap your arms around his hips, “don’t know, but hold on tight.” he warned, revving his engine and taking off without another word

♥ perhaps you were the fool for getting on a motorcycle with baji and letting him take you to an undisclosed location, but you trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try to drive you off a cliff or put you in danger.. or at least, that is what you hoped

♥ however, if it wasn’t a rival gang that kills you, baji’s driving definitely would

♥ he drives like a madman and left you with no other choice but to cling onto him for dear life, since if you didn’t bury yourself into his side, you’d probably fly off with all sharp turns he does around the other cars/bikes

♥ it was like being taped to the top of a vehicle in mario cart

♥ eyes squeezed shut, you yelled over the harsh blaring of the wind, “slow the fuck down! where are you even taking me?”

♥ baji was having fun, but he was getting the feeling you weren’t..

♥ usually he doesn’t care about what other think but this was the first time he was taking you out, he didn’t want you to think of him as a maniac driver, or else you might not want to come with him ever again

♥ “if you open your eyes, you’ll see.” he uttered, slowing down slightly so the noises weren’t as harsh

♥ taking his word for it, you hesitantly pried open one of your eyes and turned your neck so your face was no longer pressed against his shoulder

♥ and honestly, you were glad you did. passed the edge of the road, you had the perfect view of the beach below, the sea gently glistening under the orange sunset

♥ now that your nose was free from only breathing in baji’s sickeningly strong, wild spice body spray, you finally able to enjoy fresh ocean air

♥ “the beach.” you mused, smiling down at the completely deserted sandy shore, which looked so beautifully peaceful in contrast to how busy it was when you usually come

♥ “no shit.” baji chuckled, his eyes remaining glued to road, despite how much he wanted to see your reaction

♥ you let out a defeated sighed, leaning against his back, “but it’s closed.”

♥ baji nodded, “yep, that means we’ve got the whole place to ourselves!”

♥ before you could question what baji meant by that, he steered off the edge of the road and down the steep hillside which led to the beach, though it definitely was not meant to be drove on as there were several warning sign at the side of the road, warning drivers about the hill

♥ “baji, what the fuck?!” you screamed over baji’s amused laughter, similar to the way you’d laugh if you were playing GTA, rather than playing with actual human lives

♥ “isn’t this fun?” he yelled back, enjoying how the wind felt against his skin as he maneuvered his bike down the steep hill

♥ honestly, you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed it or not, but as soon as the bike came to a smooth landing upon the soft sand of the beach, you found yourself silently wanting to do that again

♥ “well, how was that?” baji asked, immediately hopping off the bike on his own only so he could offer you a hand

♥ accepting his hand, you stepped off the cycle only to notice that your legs were shaking, yet you oddly liked it, “that was.. okay.” you murmured, not wanting to feed his ego but also unable to lie to him.

♥ “great.” he uttered, leaning forward to carefully unclip your helmet for you and sling it over the handle of his bike

♥ “so,” he started, looking around the beach for any stray cops or surveyors, “what do you wanna do?”

♥ he felt a light tug on his jacket sleeve, causing him to look down and meet your pleading gaze, “do you think we could go out again? some other time, maybe?”

♥ all baji did was laugh, resulting in you become sheepish for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around you picked you up for a hug, “obviously!”

♥ you smiled, your cheeks heating up slightly, “nice!”

♥ “anyway,” he started, placing you back down and dashing off towards the sea, “loser owes me lunch!”

♥ ignoring how he gets lunch either way, you immediately sprinted off behind him, watching as he dramatically fell over a large shell and face-planted into the the sand

♥ being the kind friend you are, you ignored him and continued running towards the water, only for him to grab your ankle and trip you up too

♥ “ha!” that is how he shows affection <3

#tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjirou sano x reader #mikey x reader #draken x reader #draken x you #mikey x y/n #baji scenarios #baji x y/n #draken x y/n #ryuguji ken x reader #mikey x you #baji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji

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girloikawa · 4 years

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kevin and alcohol:

unfortunately, addictions like to be romanticized or sexualized when they’re an everyday struggle for many (and you best believe it happens in aftg with smoking), so this one’s for kevin. cheers mate

after he gets super drunk and changes his tattoo, he has a shift in his mood because he’s no longer letting riko control him, like he’s gotten something back. however, it doesn’t just get better

now, instead of riko plaguing his fears, it’s normal things. is thea mad at me? am i attracted to neil? why haven’t i learned about this niche part of history yet? he has a constant need to be on top of everything, that eventually it becomes to much

so he drinks. and wymack’s coaching techniques and their adventure’s to columbia aren’t really helping. oh and the fact that he is now seen as #1 and that’s even more pressure that he Did Not Need

he’s like the john mulaney quote. kevin, drunk, one night: “i am very tall. and i have no anxiety pills. so you can imagine the kind of stress i am under.”

the foxes notice, of course, but it’s kevin, he’ll be okay! because kevin is an exy-obsessed guy who will chew your ass off if you’re late to practice, of course he’s okay! spoiler alert: he’s not. he may be free, riko may be dead, and he may be pretty damn good at exy, but that does not mean he doesn’t have any problems (nonetheless a healthy way to cope with said problems).

and then kevin gets really drunk before a game. he knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. he got nervous, he exchanged the water in his non-clear water bottle for vodka, and sat in the back of the bus with headphones. he really didn’t know why he did it, he didn’t exactly have a reason besides pre-game nerves, but everything felt like it was getting out fo control and,, well,, it did

wymack instantly smelt the alcohol, cursed him out, benched him, then payed no attention to the game because he was having an in-depth conversation with kev. they went to the locker room and talked it out. riko’s death kinda fucked him up. riko’s life kinda fucked him up. he was fucked up. he told wymack so

“you’re not...son”—he never really called kevin that—“you’ve been through some fucked up shit, but you are not fucked up. you’re strong, hell, you’re stronger than I would’ve been in your situation. and let’s say, hypothetically, you are fucked up. well, aren’t we all? what you need to focus on now, kevin, is if you’re going to do anything about this,” wymack pointed you kevin’s alcohol stenched clothes, “and try to get out of this dark cloud.”

kevin kept his head between his legs, he had never felt like more of a disappointment. (since he got out of the nest at least.) he was going to fix it. first, once the game was over, he apologized to the foxes. he hasn’t been at his best for awhile and no one noticed because neil’s problems, although bigger than mars, were a lot easier to see than kevin’s and that he was going to work hard to get to a point where he was. no one really said anything until matt got up, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “we know you try way too hard, man. you got this, and we got you.”

andrew doesn’t acknowledge it until a few days later when he says, “you should’ve told me,” out of nowhere. kevin doesn’t say anything back, he doesn’t really need to. but, directly after he told the foxes, andrew took all the alcohol out of the dorm. kevin assumed it was because the one thing andrew couldn’t protect kevin from was himself, so taking the alcohol away solved some piece of the problem

neil doesn’t really do anything. just doesn’t let kevin be alone at all times, and neither do any of the other foxes. renee will see him around campus and strike up a conversation, a quite random one too. “hey, what do you think is the least intelligent animal” “well, technically—” “no, not technically, like in your opinion” “...uh, I don’t know. do I look like I hang out with animals?” “okay, sassy pants, well, I think lightning bugs are stupid”

matt and dan are the only ones who flat out ask him about it. matt would be like, “you doing okay, bud?” (that was another thing, matt would not stop calling him “bud” or “man” or “sunshine” ((which he found funny because kevin was not a Sunshine)) and kevin hated it.)

kevin goes to alcohols anonymous. it’s weird because people are like “wait is he the one who didn’t go skiing or the one who says the most ludicrous stiff on television?” because they are not well-versed in the subject of exy because they are normal humans. eventually someone asks and kevin says, “uh yeah I didn’t go skiing” and they’re like “ooooooh makes sense I thought you were the taller one”

the people there are supportive and nice. they get on his nerves a bit, but who doesn’t. he gets his one month chip, and the foxes throw him a party. no one really understood why they did that, they were not the partying type, but it was for kevin. their kevin. their big monster kevin.

for three months, kevin says, “can we have an extra long practice” and they’re all like “uuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh” (not neil) but they do it anyway

kevin starts to actually feel better. no more alochol, no more forgetting, no more shitty feeling when he remembers. generally, things get better

he almost—almost—slips up on the anniversary of his hand getting broken. but he doesn’t. he goes to wymack’s house instead (he’s done it a couple times during the journey, but this time it was extra serious), and they talk about it instead of going to the bottle

six months, he has a game that day, so he didn’t get the chip right away, but he has them on a keychain and the brought the ones he had to his lips and smiled. really smiled. neil saw him and felt really proud

aaron doesn’t really care, except he does

nine months, there’s more new foxes and they don’t understand it all, but they quickly learn not to bring alcohol around kevin or andrew will probably cut them. they no longer go to columbia, and if they do, it’s not for long. kevin is slowly becoming better with being around alcohol, but he’d rather not risk it

a year, he’s doing better. he’s happier, his quality of life has improved, he’s learned to communicate his feelings instead of doing drills or drinking.

he thinks that it may not be easy, but he’s going to keep trying, because the journey isn’t over yet. it’s worth it, though

#kevin day #did i really just write all that #i did didnt i #im not sure if anyone has done one on this topic before because im bad at paying attention but if they have! cool!#this is just my take idkdnekskal #andrew minyard #neil josten #andriel #wymack #renee walker #matt boyd #dan wilds #LOOK I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT YEAR THEY ARE IN BC I DO NOT HAVE MY COMPUTE TO LOOK AT THE EXTRA CONTENT SO WERE GOING TO PRETEND THEYRE ALL THERE #OKAY? OKAY!#aaron minyard #(me quietly: that bitch)#(in this blog we love aaron in theory and not practice)#nicky hemmick #i didnt mention him butbhe would proabbly make inappropriate joke about it #sorry nicky thats just your personality!#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #kevin x thea #kandriel #riko butthead #tw: alcholism #lightning bugs r stoopid bc they just go into your hand like bro no dont u have a will to live #who are u? neil josten???

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years

Text

Stupid Surprises

Summary: Loosely based on this prompt from Anonymous:

Your fics are my favorite 😊 I have a prompt if it inspires you! Maybe Klaus brings home a stray cat or dog that he initially wants to keep, and is going to surprise the siblings with it, until Five "mysteriously" can't stop sneezing, and Klaus realizes Five's allergic to the pet and his surprise is about to backfire.

☆ Read the prompt once and then it got muddled around in my head while I formulated the story. Kind of missed the brief on this one, sorry mate. Hope you like it anyway! ☆

Author’s Note: I chose a cat because I definitely think Klaus is more of a cat person. Also, with Mr Pennycrumb in canon, I doubt that Five would be allergic to dogs.

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Not that they all expected Klaus to walk into the room with his arms flailing to excitedly announce his entrance, but it was certainly suspicious that he stepped in slowly with his arms close to his body. The sight of their brother in his long black coat appearing to be hugging himself would seem like he was cold but the summer night outside didn’t permit that kind of behaviour. Almost at once everyone in the room turned to him as he awkwardly hung by the door.

Seeming to notice all eyes on him he steps forward a little and hesitantly says, “what would you all say if I brought a cat home?”

The reaction was instant, a few scoffs of surprise around the room, a couple of shaken heads, but Allison was the first to speak. “You didn’t!” she crosses her arms in disbelief.

“Oh, but I did” a twinkle of mischief sparks in Klaus’ eyes as he pulls out a black kitten from his coat, not much bigger than his hand.

At the sight of the cat both Allison and Luther’s expressions soften, after all it is undeniably cute. Vanya makes an adoring hum as she sits forward in her chair to get a better look at it.

“How did you catch it?” Diego scoff in wonder, knowing that stray cats tend to run away from strangers. More interested in the story than the cat itself.

“It’s friendly” Klaus chirps as he adjusts the kitten in his hands.

“All right then, why?” Five asks, ever practical.

“Well, we have tons of room and I thought why not?”

“But a stray, Klaus?” Allison asks. “We could just go and buy you one. It’s not like we don’t have the money for it.”

“Where’s the charity in that?” Klaus dismisses.

“Buy you one from a shelter then” Allison corrects.

Klaus hums dismissively and shrugs his shoulders. “Already got this one.”

“How do you know that it’s not diseased?” Luther brings up.

“I’ll get him checked out” Klaus promises, looking down fondly at the kitten in his grasp.

“How do we know it’s a him?” Diego mentions.

“I’ll get that checked out too” Klaus says.

“What are you going to do with it in the meantime?” Vanya asks. “Doubt any vets will be open at this time.

“He can stay in my room but I’m going to show him round first” Klaus says before setting off to do just that.

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From the minute Klaus walked in with that cat Five knew he was allergic to it. He’d never had any experience with cats before, never owned one and never spent time around one, but somehow, he just knew. Though it wasn’t something he would say. His brother seemed so happy when he had pulled it out of his coat the night before and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. The mansion is a huge place, he’d probably never see the thing anyway.

Well, firstly, he was wrong. Immediately when he walked into the kitchen for breakfast, he saw the thing on Klaus’ lap. Not wanting to cause a fuss he picked up a piece of toast and poured himself some coffee before sitting over at the other end of the table.

“Does it have a name yet?” Vanya asks.

“Amity” Klaus looks down as he scratches the cat’s head, it purring faintly.

“I thought you were calling it a him?” Diego recalls after hearing the feminine name.

“Well, we don’t know for sure that it isn’t a girl yet. And besides it’s a cat, does it really matter?”

“Guess not” Diego mumbles as he looks back down to his breakfast.

“How old do you think it is?” Luther asks.

“I don’t know, I’m not a cat scientist” Klaus starts rambling as Diego turns toward Five.

“Hey, you’re weirdly uninterested in this.”

“When am I ever interested in anything you talk about?” Five drones.

“You usually have an opinion on everything one way or another” Diego points out before dropping the topic entirely. He seems to leave Five alone but every now and again Five can feel Diego eyeing him suspiciously.

“When are you taking it to the vet?” Vanya asks Klaus amid another conversation.

“Around lunchtime, I can’t be bothered leaving yet” Klaus reasons.

“In that case should we all head up to the lounge then?” Allison suggests to which they all do, seeing that no one has any complaint.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unfortunately, with the group moving to the lounge in a mass exodus, Five wasn’t able to grab a chair faraway from Klaus. Not that it mattered anyway with his brother allowing the cat to roam around freely. Though he was able to distract himself with a book he’d nabbed from the shelf and was doing his best to ignore the itching in his nose. He wasn’t particularly worried about his cat allergy making an appearance in front of his siblings, he had good self-control.

“Huppt” Five silently stifles a sneeze that he’d been feeling building up for a while now. He’d been trying to hold it in as long as possible but it could no longer be helped.

The quiet noise went mostly unnoticed, just a few glances his way. People sneeze, it’s nothing to worry about. Though overtime the frequency Five’s sneezing increases. No more than two at a time but to his siblings it becomes concerning.

Luther looks over to Five after he stifles another double and sniffs congestedly, his expression worried. “Are you getting sick?”

For a quick second Five considers lying as saying yes. It would be an easy escape to his problem but it would be harder to uphold when further questions would be asked. “No” he shakes his head.

“You sure, you’re sounding like it?” he checks.

“Trust me, it’s nothing to worry about” Five says and before his brother can open his mouth again, he tells him, “I’m going up to my room.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Ah, shit!” Five whispers out a curse as he inspects his blazer, finding a strand of black fur imbedded in it already. “AIKx'schoo!” he doesn’t even have time to contemplate how that’s practically impossible seeing he hadn’t gone near enough to the cat for that to happen, before another sneeze tears out of him.

Nonetheless it was only one fur, easily plucked out of the fabric weave and discarded. No point making a fuss of it. After shouldering the blazer back on Five turns around hearing footsteps stop in his doorway.

“The general consensus downstairs is that you’re sick and aren’t admitting it” Diego says coolly as he leans against the frame.

“I’m not sick” Five upholds.

“I never said I agreed with them” Diego tilts his head knowingly.

“Humour me then, Diego. What is it that you think?” Five says smugly.

“I think that your allergic to the cat.”

Five’s smug expression drops and he says nothing because there really isn’t anything that he has prepared to say against that. Though his change in expression is enough of a confirmation.

“Five, you have to tell him” Diego sighs.

“Don’t make a deal of it” Five dismisses. “I’ll barely ever see it.”

“Think harder” Diego prompts. “He’s going to carry that cat around everywhere. It’ll be attached to his hip.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t tell him” Five snaps before he shrugs his shoulders, “it makes him happy.”

“But we can’t have you wondering around miserable” Diego gestures to him. “Will you not tell him?”

Five’s silence serves to answer the question and he reads Diego’s face as his expression changes. Watching his brother draw in a deep breath before he turns back from the door, Five knows what he plans to do.

In an instant he has Diego pressed against the wall with his forearm against his chest. It’s more the surprise that holds Diego there with his strength outweighing Five’s enough to overpower him if he wanted to.

“You will not tell him!” Five whispers harshly.

Diego stares down at him with a defiant look.

“If you tell him” Five pauses to pull a knife out from Diego’s belt and brings it up against his throat. “I’ll take this knife and cut your neck.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His empty threat didn’t work on Diego as he finds out later when Klaus comes up to his room.

“Knock, knock” he says as he raps on the doorframe, his voice sounding far too gentle for Five to expect a normal conversation.

“What do you want?” Five’s distasteful tone aims to scare him away.

“To talk to you” Klaus says, undeterred by Five’s hostile demeanour. He pauses for a second to get his bearings before he says simply, “Diego told me.”

Instantly a grumble winds up in Five’s throat but before he can speak and curse Diego’s existence, Klaus interrupts him.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed by it” Five maybe lies a little. “I just don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

“I’d feel worse if I didn’t know and you suffered in silence” Klaus tells him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It takes a couple of seconds for Five to answer but when he does, he says, “you seemed so happy.”

Klaus smiles and breathes out a little laugh. “There are other things that make me happy.”

“But it’s not fair to make you give it up and throw it back out on the street” Five reasons.

“Hey, we don’t need to get into all of that” Klaus stops him as he pulls an extra chair up to the desk to sit beside him. “Now, I’ve talked to Vanya” he says with his expression turning more serious. “Her apartment allows them to keep pets, so she’s agreed to take it.”

Five seems to settle a little but he still says, “I don’t want to make you do that, Klaus.”

“It’s no problem” Klaus shakes his head. “Vanya likes Amity and Amity seems to like her.”

“But the cat doesn’t stay with you.”

“No” Klaus shakes his head and Five can see past his smile that there is hurt behind his eyes. “But I can go visit anytime I want.”

Despite Klaus’ expression his words are spoken in a cheerful tone and Five relaxes a little more. Knowing that somehow Klaus will forgive him.

“And this way you can get back to your usual self and Amity doesn’t get thrown back on the street” Klaus continues brightly.

Five purses his lips in half a smile but his hum of recognition is cut short as he suddenly needs to sneeze. “Her’isshh!” he only just manages to lean away from Klaus.

“Ah shit, sorry” Klaus exclaims as he stands out of his chair. “Probably all covered in fur” he identifies before looking down at his clothes, seeing black strands stuck to the fabric.

“It’s all right, Klaus” Five quickly utters before he turns away to sneeze again. “hig’nxxt... nrgtsch!”

“I’ll leave you alone” Klaus hurriedly makes for the door before he turns around once he’d passed through. “Vanya’s about to take the cat back with her, but I doubt you’d want to say goodbye.”

#tua #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #cat #allergies

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leahxx129 · 4 years

Text

Truth or Cut (Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester)

Hello there! This my * very VERY * late submission to @dontshootmespence ‘s Alphabet Angst for 8k Challenge. I am incredibly sorry for this delay but I had to take a break away from Tumblr and social media in general in order to focus on my mental/physical health & other issues in my private life. Now I think I’m ready to return and create content again. As for the story, I hope you like it. This is my first attempt at a love triangle. Important: does not include Wincest so it’s safe to read for anyone who’s not into that. Also, I inserted a ‘Keep reading’ line, I hope it’s visible.

Summary: The British Men of Letters try a new approach to acquire the Winchesters’ cooperation, which leads to heartbreaking revelations.

Warnings: cursing, bloodshed, mentions of sex, character death

Word count: 2.750-ish

* Moodboard is mine, pictures used are not.

You gain consciousness to two male voices calling your name frantically.

“She’s opening her eyes, Sam! She’s alright… Look!” the hoarse baritone belonging to the elder Winchester reassures his brother a second after your eyelashes have started fluttering.

“Well, that’s the overstatement of the year, Dean… Let’s just say I’ll live.” you grumble once you fully come around. “What the hell?!”

Usually you’re more eloquent than that but at the moment it’s the best you can muster, considering that you’ve awakened in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse and all three of you are handcuffed to uncomfortable metal chairs organized in a neat triangle, facing each other. The only source of light are a few flickering candles placed on a table nearby.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, babe.” your long-term boyfriend Sam replies in a soothing tone.

His handsome face seems intact – minus a couple of scars he obtained in previous fights – so being ambushed is crossed off the list of possible explanations on what happened and how you got here. Maybe you were drugged? If yes… by whom? The things that go bump in the night prey upon their enemies and slash their throats open, not abduct them.

A heavy silence falls on the place, only the crackle of the candle flames can be heard.

You have no idea how much time has passed – it could’ve been an eternity as well as ten minutes – when suddenly a consecutive knocking sound fills your auditory canals.

“Are those… are those high heels?” you ask aloud incredulously.

“Louboutin’s to be exact, my dear.”

Every head snaps to the accent’s direction just in time to see an elegantly dressed slender woman step into the candle-lit area.

“But excuse my manners… talking about fashion before introducing myself? How rude of me. I’m Lady Toni Bevell on behalf of the British Men of Letters.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean growls “You know, here in America no means no, Lady! We’ve already told your stupid little boyband to fuck off. We’re not here to do their bidding, we’re here to save lives.”

“So I’ve heard.” She nods in understanding. “But yet, we’d still like to gather some information, one way or another.”

She walks over to the table and unfolds a neatly wrapped package, revealing a knife. Suddenly, Sam’s sarcastic chuckle fills the place.

“And you think you can get us to spill by torturing? Seriously?”

A predatory smile spreads across Toni’s face as she casually picks up the weapon of her choice.

“I was thinking about playing a game that may involve torture. It’s up to you whether it does or does not.”

“What game?” you ask suspiciously.

“I’d like to call it Truth or Cut. Maybe Truth or Stab, depending on the importance of the information you intend to withhold. The rules are the following… I ask something and if you reply, that equals truth, and nothing will happen. If you do not wish to answer, just say cut and I’ll sink my knife into your flesh.”

“You’re crazy!” Sam exhales in disbelief.

“Thank you, Sam! I’m going to take that as a compliment. And since we are already engaged in a conversation, let’s start with you.” She walks to the center of the triangle to face the younger Winchester. “I’d like you to give me the names of American hunters you consider the best.”

Sam leans a bit forward, his face is unreadable.

“Bite me!” he hisses through gritted teeth. “I’m not gonna participate in your psychotic game. You can’t make me.”

Toni flashes a dangerous smile once more.

“Are you sure about that?”

She slowly walks behind your chair and places the blade under your right collar bone.

“If you refuse to pick either truth or cut, your loved ones will pay the price for it, big guy.”

Sam’s eyes search yours for confirmation of the next step and you nod.

“You’re bluffing.” He counters Toni.

The next second you feel the metal pressed against you slash into soft skin and you can’t suppress a loud grunt of pain. Blood starts oozing from the wound and your white tank top soon begins to acquire a shade of crimson.

The brothers yell ‘No!’ in unison, then Dean delivers an impressive selection of curse words – sneaking in some that were new even to you.

Toni strolls over to Sam.

“Now I ask again. Name the best American hunters you know.”

“Cut.” Sam responds in a tone just above whisper. He soundlessly flinches when the woman draws blood by sliding the blade across his left forearm.

“Alright… Who wants to be next? Perhaps Dean? List all the places where we can find extensive knowledge on the supernatural, not counting the Man of Letters safe houses of course.”

Dean’s gaze meets Toni’s and for a second you think you can see her confidence falter because of the deadly rage and utter disdain that radiates from the hunter, but she soon regains composure.

“So? Is it truth or cut, Dean? You know what will happen if you refuse to choose.”

“Cut!” he emphasizes the t at the end.

You’re next and you pick cut as well. Then the cycle starts all over again...

You’ve made three rounds without anyone breaking and giving Toni what she wants, which visibly annoys her.

“Let’s shake things up a bit by changing the topics, shall we?” she announces out of the blue, making all of you knit your brows.

Spinning around on her heels, she turns to Sam.

“Sam! Did you manage to decide where you want to propose to Y/N? In my personal opinion the place where you said your first I love you-s is more romantic than the place where you first met, but that’s just plain old me.”

Sam’s eyes widen in shock, reflecting your own facial expression.

“Sam? What is she talking about?” you question in a thin voice, perplexed.

A shy, boyish smile appears on his face as he looks deep into your eyes, reminding you of the very first time you’ve seen him.

“Uh, yeah. She’s right. Although I have no idea how she knows this, but I did indeed plan on proposing to you at one of those places, probably where we met… up until now. Now I have to come up with something else I guess.”

A mixture of emotions floods your heart, making you undecisive what to say first. You finally open your mouth to speak but before a sound can escape, Toni directs the next question to Dean.

“Alright, that was a truth, so no cuts. Now, Dean! I am certain she will not get offended so you can tell me honestly… Is Y/N a good kisser?”

“How would I know?” he asks back, lacking any hesitation. “I think you’re mistaking me with Sam, her boyfriend. You know, the tall guy whose proposal you’ve just ruined? Next time you play this game with someone, have your facts checked first, Suit pants.”

The confusion on Sam’s face slowly starts to fade away, but Toni presses on relentlessly.

“Oh, Dean... That was a very convincing performance! But, unfortunately for you, I did have my facts checked. And according to these facts, you and Y/N locked lips passionately just two years ago, in 2015. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everybody’s eyes are on you waiting for your reaction, and you can’t help but reminisce about the event in question.

You were having a hard time finding the key for the motel room you were renting - courtesy of the bottle of bourbon you’d consumed earlier. All those keys on the chain looked the same and neither of them seemed to fit into the lock, let alone open the damn door… In addition to that, the world slowly started spinning and you had to prop yourself against the doorframe to prevent an ugly fall.

“Need a hand there, Sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat from the scare but soon calmness washed over you as you identified the person. You could recognize that husky voice anywhere, intoxicated or not.

“Dean Winchester!” you exclaimed, turning around to find him leaning against your car you’d parked near the doorway. “The world’s deadliest hunter and mightiest panty dropper turned hell’s cruelest demon! To what do I owe this pleasure? Considering that you’ve gone out of your way to ignore both me and Sam in the past couple of months.”

He leisurely pushed himself from the car and started walking towards you.

“I needed a breath of fresh air, that’s all. But speaking of whom… where’s Sam?”

He almost left no distance between your bodies when he finally stopped. What was he doing? If he wanted to kill you, he probably would’ve done it already…

“I don’t know. Why don’t you give him a call, huh? Ask him how he’s doing? You could make him the happiest man alive…” you replied with a bitter undertone.

A shit-eating grin formed on Dean’s handsome face.

“Uh-oh. Is there trouble in paradise?”

“Shut it, Dean! It’s really none of your business.” You said, crossing your arms and averting your gaze.

His comment hit a nerve – you both knew that – but the last thing on Earth you wanted to do was discussing your relationship crisis with him. If you still had a relationship, that is.

To much of your surprise, the next second he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him and pressed his lips against yours. It felt terribly wrong but incredibly right at the same time… It took you half a minute to gather all your willpower and push him away.

“Y/N? Is it true?” Sam’s voice brings you back to reality.

Tears start dwelling up in your eyes, providing a wordless answer. He swallows hard.

“Why?”

“It’s all my fault, okay?” Dean speaks up as you’re clearly unable to form a coherent sentence. “I kissed her, man. It happened when I was a demon… I figured if I kissed her, I’d piss you off enough to leave me alone. Besides, she was totally hammered and still pushed me away.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Dean?!”

“I don’t know… a little, maybe?”

Sam scoffs then all of a sudden realization hits him.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“What?”

“Is my girlfriend a good kisser?”

Both you and Dean stare at him in shock.

“C’mon man, you can’t seriously want me to answer that…” Dean attempts to change the subject but doesn’t succeed. Sam’s stare makes it obvious he won’t let this one slide. He won’t let go until he hears the truth no matter how unpleasant it may be.

“Yes.” Dean blurts out. “She’s a good kisser. In fact, she’s one of the best kissers I’ve ever encountered in my entire life. Happy now?”

The only response is a nod.

“Oh wow…” Toni lets out an excited sigh. “Changing the topic was the best idea ever, don’t you agree? Now, let’s move on to Y/N. She’ll get the most interesting question in my repertoire.”

She slowly walks over to you, her Louboutin’s menacingly tap against the concrete every step of the way. She crouches down, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and asks the most ruthless question in the sweetest voice.

“Which one of the Winchester brothers is better in bed?”

The tears you’ve been holding back for quite some time now break free and roll down your cheeks swiftly.

“I mean, it’s not entirely true what Dean said, now is it? You did push him away but then you pulled him back...”

Complete silence ensues and you swear you can hear three hearts break if you listen closely.

You were standing there more confused than ever. What the hell was Dean doing?! Was this a long time coming or was he playing some sort of a game? Either way… If you were sober, you most certainly would’ve punched him in the mouth. But due to your condition – or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself ever since – you pulled him back and kissed him there instead. The part of how you got inside the room was a blur, but soon enough you found yourself tangled up with him in the sheets. Torn clothes peppered the floor, a smell of bourbon lingered in the air and Dean treated you as if you were the single, most important person in the entire universe. You truly thought you’d never been happier – then came the morning and shattered everything to a thousand pieces.

“You know, to encourage picking truth regarding this question, I am going to tell you something you yourself may not even be aware of, Y/N.” Toni breaks the silence. “There is something else that’s not true in what Dean said. He did not spend that night with you just to piss Sam off… He’s been attracted to you ever since you’ve met and being a demon allowed him to shamelessly do something about it.”

You whisper ‘Cut’ as a reply and Toni’s face hardens.

“Oh, honey… withholding this information is worth a stab.”

Before you can comprehend her words, she swings the knife and it ends up in your right thigh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this much blood come from a stab wound… Both Winchester men yell in protest, but their voices become distant as you slowly slip into unconsciousness.

Mary and Castiel tracked down your location and arrived just in time. You almost bled to death, but the angel managed to heal the wound. For a while you wished he didn’t.

Three weeks later you’re sitting in your car at an abandoned gas station. About fifteen minutes after your arrival, a black SUV parks near you. You limp to the vehicle and tear its door open, barely containing your fury.

“What the fuck was that, Toni?!” you question while getting in and pointing a gun at her.

She glances at the weapon then looks you in the eye.

“Is that necessary?”

You cock the gun in response.

“Alright. So, as you know, the management decided that you delivering information to us about the Winchesters is not enough anymore.”

“Yes, that’s why you’ve contacted them directly, I know.”

“Correct. But since they refused to cooperate, the management came up with a plan of disrupting their unity. This way it’s just a matter of time and one of them will be knocking on our door. I suspect it will be Sam.”

A bitter laugh escapes you lips.

“So that’s what this was? A disruption of unity? Really?! And why didn’t I know of this, huh?”

“We needed your reactions to be genuine.”

“God, you’re a bunch of psychopaths… You know what, I’m not gonna do this anymore. I quit.”

She lets out a loud scoff.

“Please… what are you going to tell them? Furthermore, how do you think they will react when they learn that the love of their lives is a snitch?”

You let your gun down.

“I’ll make sure they know why I became a snitch... I’ll make sure they know how I made a crossroad’s deal years ago to save them both. I’ll make sure they know how you offered to delay the hellhounds in exchange for some information every now and then. I have no idea how they’ll react, but maybe someday they’ll understand and find it in their hearts to forgive me.”

Toni stares daggers at you.

“I suggest you think this through carefully, Y/N, as we still hold your deal. One bad move and the hellhounds will come and get you. No more delaying.”

You flash her the biggest smile you can summon.

“Well, it’s been a while since the last time I played with puppies from the pit… I think I’m ready.”

Not waiting for her reaction, you get out of the car and start limping back to yours. By the time you get in, Toni is gone.

You’re all alone.

Well, not entirely alone to be fair.

The grumbling hellhounds in your backseat keep you company.

You take your phone out of your pocket avoiding any sudden movements and type a quick message to the Winchesters:

‘My nightstand, second drawer.’

Toni thought she could prevent you from exposing the truth by taking action quickly, but she wasn’t paying attention. You never said you were gonna tell them everything. You said you would make sure they know. And the detailed farewell letters you left for them in your drawer will serve the purpose well.

#nicolesalphabetangstfor8k #dontshootmespence #dean winchster x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural #SPN #spn fanfiction #sam x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader x dean

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suntrastar · 4 years

Text

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.

But you don’t have it.

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

63 notes · View notes

anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya · 4 years

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Pride and prejudice - Vasiliy Alexandrovich Podkolzin

AN: There is way too little content for this Russian boy. Enjoy. (:

Word count: 5 023

A day like any other. Boredom, annoying questions by teachers, who think we have actually studied for their classes. The classes, which are according to my humble opinion, completely useless. Don’t let me forget to mention the stupid jokes during breaks and also classes. Hyperactive freaks, who had way too many cokes or cups of coffee for breakfast are dashing around bored students, who are dragging their feet behind them as if they were useless pylons in the narrow halls. Professors, who strode along the hallways give off the feeling of having all the time in the world. You know, the school classic.

I’ve just changed after my PE class and am currently waiting for my classmate Terka. There are two Tereza’s in our class so she’s Terka and I am Tete. But we both turn around when someone calls Terka, anyway.

I am leaning on the wall with my arms crossed, waiting for her to pick up her belongings. When she’s done we leave the locker room. I tap my pocket and realize that, in fact what I am looking for is not there. “Give me a second, I left my phone in there,” I say and jog back in to the locker room.

“Psh,” she sighs with a smile. At first I was the one waiting and now the tables have turned.

I find it in the same spot where I’ve left it. On a bench in the corner of the locker room. I grasp it a little bit more swiftly than I intended to. I shake my head at myself when I almost drop it. The second I exit the locker room I am met with a not so pleasant sight.

Standing right across from Terka is a tall brown-haired imbecile.

He has clearly said something that made her uncomfortable. I figure that out by her defensive posture and desperate glance in my direction. Her action alerts the idiot and his gaze falls upon me.

“Ah, there she is,” he turns towards me with his smirk and accent, which is much more beautiful than he actually deserves. He’s probably the most egoistic and annoying hockey player I know (and I know quite a few). Vasiliy Podkolzin. Never have I minded his existence. Well, until he decided to annoy me with it. I don’t get what is his deal, but not once in his life did he say a nice word about me. Since the beginning of school he’s had some kind of a problem with me, but to this day I have no idea what it is. To hell with that! But he is not going to jibe at my friend.

“Leave her alone,” I furrow my eyebrows at him and slide my phone in the pocket of my jeans. Exactly where it should’ve been before.

He snorts and slides his hands in the pockets of his grey sweatpants. Wow. Sweatpants in the school. Nice. A hockey player no doubt. I roll my eyes at the choice of his attire. “What exactly have I done?” he raises his eyebrow challengingly and tilts his head.

“I get that you have nothing better to do and are desperately trying to attract some kind of attention,” I start to which he merely raises his eyebrows again. “But leave her,” I gesture towards Terka, “alone.” I cross my arms over my chest. She just keeps switching her look between the two of us. Slight panic growing in her eyes. Poor thing, she is an introvert.

“Or what?” he shrugs and leans on a wall with a smirk I would more than like to wipe of his face with a hard slap.

I roll my eyes again. Seems it is a frequent reaction of mine to his presence. “Because by a conversation with intelligent people you could actually learn something,” I sass him and a smirk finds its way on my lips.

“Lucky me for talking to you then,” his smirk grows even wider and he acts like he’s the absolute winner.

And he is, I have no reply to that. Unless.. “Shouldn’t you be watching the game clips and learning that one does not deke on the blue line?” I smile kindly. I attend the U20 games regularly and unfortunately for him I remember his mistake in the weekend game very well. Which led to the odd man rush and a goal afterwards

I am pretty sure my remark hit a nerve. His smirk falters and he presses his pink lips to a thin line. No one enjoys getting their mistake rubbed in their face. Especially if it’s something you more than care about. “You won,” he rises his hands in surrender.

What? I recoil. I don’t remember this happening before. I look at him dumbfounded, but he just shrugs and seems genuine. I raise my brows and turn towards Terka. She is just as confused as I am. I tip my head in the direction of the classrooms. She nods and heads that direction. I follow her suit. While I am passing him he grabs my wrist and says quietly: “by the way. Nice article.”

I turn to look at him and see the vicious grimace on his face again. I scowl and try to look as disgusted as possible. I free myself from his grip on my wrist and say smugly: “so it actually can read.” How on Earth did he get to that?

His smirk grows even wider, content with my reaction to his comment. “But I am glad you can appreciate my individual puck handling skills marked by Russian school,” he mocks the exact words from my article. I swallow the lump in my throat. How did he know I wrote that? And why the hell could he quote my article!

“Play well or don’t play at all,” I put together a coherent sentence and say it in the most convincing tone I can muster at the moment. “Alexandrovich,” I add with disgust lacing my tone and resist the urge to spit in his face. I bump his shoulder instead. Which I actually fail and hurt myself rather than intimidating him.

“Can’t wait to read another article,” he states from behind me. I just throw him a stern look and flip him off. When we get out of his line of sight I rub my shoulder with a painful grimace and walk eagerly towards my homeroom.

▪

I place my belongings in my homeroom and mumble about using the restroom to Terka. I don’t miss the strange looks sent my way by my classmates, who have probably overheard the bickering with the stupid Russian in the hall. I walk over to the other side of the school, because almost no one uses these bathrooms.

With quick strides I make my way through the almost empty hall with my gaze fixed on the ground. I successfully manage to dodge the little to no students shuffling outside of their homerooms. Just before I reach the staircase I lift my gaze. Mistake. My eyes meet the stupid stare of the narcissist. He looks at me with that cocky smirk of his and continues an undoubtedly life-changing conversation with one of his classmates. I startle and flinch slightly, for not more than a millisecond and then I take off down the stairs.

I burst the bathroom door open and let them close with a loud bang. I lean on a wall and look up at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my mind. That was a cheap shot. I shake my head and push myself of the wall. I walk in one of the stalls and take out my headphones and phone. I start the music and breathe out with my eyes closed.

That was shitty. I know it wasn’t fair throwing at him his Sunday’s mistake. But I didn’t expect that. How the hell did he know? How did he get to the article? No one was supposed to know it was me writing them. I know he’s noticed me at his games, but there’s no way he could’ve gotten to that. No one knows! Well, at least I thought so.

I emerge from the stall and lean on the sink. I wash my hands and splash my face with water. I take a look at my reflection in the mirror. Is seriously some hockey player full of himself going to throw you off? Absolutely not. I dry myself off and head back to the classroom.

„You okay? “ Terka asks.

„Of course, “I reply and take stuff for my next class out of my bag. „Listen, “I grab her attention after a moment of silence. „Does anyone know about my articles? “I ask with a small voice.

„I don’t think so. Why? “

„Just asking. “

▪

One week later.

Pushing your way through a bus in the morning is pretty interesting. Pushing your way through a bus with crutches and a backpack on your back is pretty funny. Please note the sarcasm, thank you. I almost fell flat on my face while exiting the bus. Keyword: almost.

What happened to me? I’ll answer this question with a different question. What is the probability of one falling on the ice and breaking their leg? Big enough to have a cast on mine.

I wait until most of the people pass and at an agonizingly slow pace I make my way to the school entrance. I have a bit of trouble with opening the sturdy door, but with the help of a couple of passing students I make my way inside. The bigger problem is the staircase leading to the second floor, where my classroom is located. I sigh and reach the first step. With one hand I grab the crutches and with the other I grip the railing. I walk three steps and come to a stop.

God this is torment. Well whatever. I hop to the next step. My small fingers barely get a grip on the crutches and I struggle to keep a hold on them. Just don’t drop them. Just don’t drop them. That’s the last thing I need right now.

„Need a hand with that? “A familiar voice tinted with Russian accent asks above me. I mentally curse and reluctantly look up.

Of course there’s standing Vasiliy. So it really can get worse? I ask myself. I look around. The poor amount of people present would rather get the ground to swallow them than help someone. Yes, it can. I sigh and nod.

He descends the stairs and takes the crutches out of my hands and carefully slides the bag of my shoulders. He dashes up, sets my belongings on the landing and comes back. I place my hand on his shoulder and give my things and then him a skeptical look. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to some dirty shit, but one does never know.

He adjusts my hand so it’s around his neck and wraps his big fingers around my slim wrist. He wraps his other hand around my waist and looks at me with the question written all over his (unfortunately handsome) face.

„If you take me up two steps, then walk away and leave my stuff there,“ I tilt my head in the direction of the landing, „I swear I’ll kick your ass.“ Slowly we start to take up the stairs and I am trying to keep my balance so both of us don’t roll down to the entrance.

He laughs and shakes his head: „I am not that big of an asshole. “

„I wouldn’t be too sure about that, “I point out honestly and glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He presses his (for a guy too red) lips in a firm line.

„What even happened to you? “He changes the topic and his grip on my wrist tightens slightly.

„Broken leg, “by a dumb answer I try to avoid the explanation.

„I can see that, “he roll his eyes.

„I fell on the ice, “I answer shortly. „I played hockey, “I add quietly after a while and wait for his witless remark or an insult.

„The shin? “He asks instead of mockery. Surprised I raise my eyebrows, but nod nevertheless.

We reach the upper floor and I lean on a wall by my arm. He jogs down to gather my stuff and hands me the crutches. „Thanks, “I smile weakly. He throws my bag over his shoulder and I look at him confused. „I can possibly manage the couple of meters there. “

„Are you implying that I can’t, “and the smirk is back. I’d rather take that than a kind smile. His friendliness frightens me. I mean, when it’s aimed at me. You get the point.

I roll my eyes, but against my better judgement a small smile finds its way onto my lips. He won’t give me the bag any time soon. Hence I follow him towards, the classroom.

„Where’s your spot? “ He asks when he walks into the classroom. I point at the desk right next to the door and he sets down my backpack on the desk. I don’t miss the weird looks of some of my classmates. The two of us fighting or not talking at all is the general knowledge. To be honest I am just as confused as they are. For the first time in three years we’re not getting at each other’s throat. What a rare moment.

„Bye, “he turns around and walks away.

„Hey Vasya, “he turns around with eyebrows raised in obvious surprise at the nickname. „Спасибо (Spasiba),“ I lift the corner of my lips. He nods and leaves quickly.

„What was that Tete? “One of my classmates asks.

„I have no idea, “I shake my head.

▪

Finally Friday. With my leg propped on a huge couch a game of hockey playing on the TV and a can of beer in my hand. Really an amazing Friday. Would be better without the cast, but I cannot change certain things.

Since I’ve been hobbling with the crutches it is as if I started to exist for the others. It attracts attention and I am not the ghost of our school anymore. People notice me and get out of my way in the halls. I wouldn’t complain if they weren’t looking at me as if I had the plague. But what’s weird is that Vasya is being nice to me. The worst thing is, that I absolutely don’t understand why.

After a while my phone lights up with a new message and I reluctantly reach for it. Right after I take a sip from my beer and criticise the hockey players on the TV for a mistake in the defensive zone. Dumbasses.

Василий(Vasiliy)

>Hi

I furrow my brows surprised, but reply nevertheless.

>Hi?

Василий

>You won’t be writing articles much now huh?

I roll my eyes at the question. Since when do I even have him on snap? Better question. Why do I even have him on snap?

>Eh, well I won’t be going to the games now.. Why are you interested?

Василий

>Aha

>Won’t you lose the readers?

And what is this question supposed to mean now? I frown.

>Vasya what is your point?

Василий

>Come to the game

>Do you even know how many steps are in the arena?

Василий

>I’ll help you

>You are beginning to scare me.

>What is up with you?

>Why am I supposed to go there?

Isn’t he supposed to be happy to get rid of me at least in the arena?

Василий

>I want to talk to you but not on the phone

>Ok?

Although, I have no idea what he wants from me, but the worst case scenario is me going for a walk and punching him in the face tomorrow.

Василий

>Are you coming?

>Yeah.

May I add that in the past three years he has texted me three times, at most? And I am pretty sure I didn’t add him on snapchat. If him helping me with my broken leg in the past week wasn’t weird, then this definitely is. What is going on here? At first he is helping me and now he is texting me to come to his game? If I recall correctly at his latest game he fought with me and tried to embarrass me in front of his teammates. What a douchebag.

▪

When I get to the arena guys are already warming up outside. I sigh and head for the entrance. The moment I get closer they notice me. Vasiliy runs up to me with a surprising smile on his features.

I let my gaze wander over his figure. Muscular tights poking out of dark shorts, a black t-shirt covering a toned chest and abdomen. Can’t miss the – probably – team cap worn backwards. He might be a narcissistic idiot, but he looks good. You have to give him that. When I look him up and down I clear my throat and wait for what he has to say.

“You came,” he says as if I weren’t standing right in front of him.

“Yeah. I said I would,” I shrug.

“Yeah,” he nods and throws his hand in the direction of the entrance. “Um, you can go and take a seat, but won’t you be cold?” he looks at me sceptical.

I am currently wearing black jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt decorated with a huge team logo. “Will you hold this for a second?” I hand him the crutches and he takes them with no hesitation. I lift my brow, but choose to not comment on it. I take the drawstring bag of my shoulders and pull out a dark hoodie. I show it to him with a smirk on my face and he looks at me impressed.

“You are going to be cold anyway if you’re going to sit there for two hours,” he points out.

I roll my eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“Come inside, I’ll get you something,” he takes the hoodie out of my hands and hands me back the crutches, absolutely ignoring my previous question.

“Vasya stop.” He turns back around. “What is going on? Why am I here?” I ask exasperated.

He takes off his cap, runs his fingers over his hair and puts it back. An incredibly inappropriate comment and thought, but that was hot. “Can we talk after the game?”

“No,” I shake my head. You’re not getting out of this that easily. “We have been fighting since the first grade and you’ve never said a nice thing about me. I break my leg and you are a different person. You’re helping me and inviting me to your game. The least I deserve is an explanation,” I breathe out, desperate for an answer. “By the way, guys are missing you,” I tip my head in the direction of a circle of boys kicking a ball. A couple of them is looking in our direction.

He glances at them with a raised middle finger of his hand and trains his attention at me again. “Since the first moment I met you – three years ago – I have hated you,” he starts with a heavy sight.

“That is one way how to start a story,” I point out sarcastically and roll my eyes.

“Shut up,” he says and quickly continues and doesn’t give me the chance to add anything. “But when I saw you helplessly climbing up the stairs,” after his words I furrow my brows, “It was as if something flipped in me.”

“You mean someone flipped you off,” I correct him with a satisfied smirk.

“This is exactly why I hate you,” he looks at me with his characteristic stern look and I roll my eyes once again.

“Then why are you talking to me?”

He ignores my question – again – and continues. “I knew about you only the things I’d heard from someone and I assumed the rest. Call it prejudice if you want to,” he waves his hand, which is holding my hoodie.

I adjust my crutches and tilt my head to the side. I am listening to him with interest and amazement, that his chicken brain can produce so complicated sentences. “The problem is that the more I learned about you the more my illusion about you crumbled,” I look him up and down again and try to process what he is so determinedly explaining. Prejudice and a spoiled illusion? “I am trying to say that I’ve been an asshole and for absolutely no reason, it wasn’t fair. I am sorry Tete.”

Did he just call me Tete? Not once in my life did he call me that. It was whether Tereza or my last name. I look at him intensely for a second and wonder if he is saying the truth. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he nods.

“Okay,” I nod. “Apology accepted,” it is only fair to accept it. I’ve done exactly the same what he did.

“You addressed me as Tete. You’ve never done that before,” I point out after a while and he laughs. I swear his cheeks just got red!

“Yeah. And you called me Vasya,” he rubs the nape of his neck. “Almost no one calls me that here in Slovakia. Well, besides them,” he jabs his thumb in the direction of his teammates. That is probably true. Not many people know nicknames of Russian names. When I realize that my cheeks get pink and I train my gaze on his blue sneakers.

“Go out with me,” he throws in as if he wasn’t talking to a person, he just told that he hates them in their eyes.

“What?” my head snaps up and my eyes go wide.

He sighs and waves his hands dramatically. “Tete I like you if you didn’t get it already.”

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t get out a single sound. I just stare at him dumbfounded. Suddenly I recover and shake my head. “You act like the biggest asshole around and just because you assumed?” I almost yell at him. He flinches and looks unhappy. “Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?”

“I am quite aware,” he nods. He is unbelievable! “Look. I get that you are angry, but give me a chance to fix it,” he looks at me hopeful. “Please.”

“Would you hold this please?” I hand him my crutch. He takes it willingly and I – with now a free hand – slap him with as much strength I can muster. My hand stings from the contact. But it was worth it! A strangled laugh comes from his teammates. I look over at the idiots.

“Shut the fuck up,” one smacks the head of the other one.

“Ouch! Are you fucking nuts? Why did you do that?” with every cell in my body I try not to laugh when the two of them start to bicker.

I look back at the Russian in front of me and furrow my brows. I snatch the crutch out of his hand and lean on it. He turns to look at me and rubs his reddening cheek.

“I admit,” he holds his hand to his cheek. “I deserved that.”

“Damn, you did,” I snarl. I turn around and head to the bus stop.

“Tete wait!” he runs up in front of me and tries to stop me with his raised hands.

I snatch the hoodie out of his hands and side-step him. I hear him sigh and out of the corner of my eye I see his defeated posture. I stop and train my attention at the sky. Please don’t make me regret this. I close my eyes and sigh heavily. “Fine,” I turn to look at him. He looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I also hated you only because of prejudice and stereotypes. To be honest you didn’t help it much,” I admit and he nods. “The stupidest out of all of this mess is that I like you too,” I roll my eyes, but can’t help the slight blush on my cheeks.

“Excuse me?” his eyes go wide.

“And what did you think? I don’t believe a guy with your ego hasn’t taken the notice of his looks. If only for a second you didn’t have your head up your ass, you would notice that we have a lot more in common than I am comfortable with.” He opens his mouth to protest, but he immediately closes them. He is probably thinking over my words.

“Apparently the both of us have made a mistake,” I state loudly. “Let’s try to bury the war axe,” I raise my eyebrows and outstretch my right hand.

He looks at my hand and then at me. Eventually he puts his large hand in mine and shakes it.

“So…” he starts and I raise my eyebrows expectantly. “Ah, сука(suka),” he says and grabs my small face in his hands. My eyes go wide and my heart starts to pound as if I just ran a mile. “Actually I’ve liked you for a long time,” he whispers. “I refused to admit it myself. It was easier to keep the hatred rather than try to make you mine,” he shakes his head. “The pride made me hate you,” he snorts at his own words.

I place my hand on his wrist and offer him a weak smile trying to slow down my heartrate again. “I think I know what you are talking about.” His proximity and touch is not helping my nervousness at all.

“Dear Lord, how much longer will I be there for?” comes from behind him.

“Kiss her already!” one of his teammates yells at him.

That finally sets him in motion and he presses his lips to mine. Not before he sends the finger his way. I hear clapping, shouting and wolf-whistling. Hockey players. He places his hand – the one used to respond to his teammate in sign language – on my waist and brings me closer. The action makes my crutch fall and it lands on the ground with a loud bang. He pulls back all smiley like a kid in a candy store.

“I should’ve done that a long time ago,” he moves the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Don’t be so full of yourself and go get ready for the game,” I roll my eyes, but with a smile on my face, which I am not trying to hide – this time.

“I’ll score for you,” he smirks with a wink.

“What if you don’t?” I tease and slip my hand down on his strong forearm.

“Are you doubting me?” he raises his eyebrows.

Instead of a verbal response I just shrug with a not interested purse of my lips.

He leans in and whispers to my ear. “Watch and learn.” I get goose bumps from his voice being so close.

He picks up the crutch from the ground and hands it to me with a quick wink. He takes off towards his teammates, all smiles. They greet him with an applause and couple of slaps on the back. I laugh and shake my head. Hockey players.

▪

In reality, he scored just like he had said he would.

A pass in front of the net and a he tipped it in. Right after the goal he looked at me and pointed in my direction. I couldn’t, but laugh at his childish romance.

“A goal scored by number 11. Vasiliy Podkolzin,” echoed in the almost empty arena. Let’s face it. A ridiculously small amount of people attends the junior games.

Vasya took the puck and set it aside. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t his milestone goal or anything. Or was it?

▪

“I told you,” is the first thing he says, the moment he emerges from the locker room.

I roll my eyes at his words.

“Not even a hug?” he looks at me offended with a pout. Like a kid.

I laugh and motion for him to come closer. My leg didn’t heal magically. I lean the crutches on the wall and wrap my arms around him, when he gets closer.

“It’s hard to believe that I hated you just a couple of hours ago,” I state and wrap my hands around his neck. “But now that I think about it. Shut up, don’t say whatever you wanted to say,” I silence him before he has the chance to doubt my ability to think. He just rolls his eyes, but lets me continue nonetheless. “One would expect, that people like us are best friends or something. We have in common quite a lot,” I shrug.

He laughs and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It was mutual,” he shrugs. I want to scold him, but I don’t have the chance because he kisses me. If we hadn’t been fighting we could’ve spent the past three years kissing. Why are people so stupid? “I’ve got you something,” he mumbles against my lips.

“And what is it?” I raise my brows and pull back.

He pulls a puck out of the pocket of his trademark sweatpants and places it in my hand. I look at him expectantly, but he doesn’t say anything. He just smiles. I examine the black piece of rubber in my small hand and break into the laughter. I look at him and hug him tightly.

“Are you going to write another article about me?” he couldn’t help himself, but chirp me.

“Shut up you idiot,” I mumble against his chest.

“And we are back to the insults,” he shakes his head. “But I am your idiot from now on,” he presses a kiss to my hair and brings me closer, if that is even possible.

On a white tape stuck around the puck is next to today’s date with a black sharpie written – probably by the coach – in a nasty handwriting “1ST GOAL IN RELATIONSHIP”.

#hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #vancouver canucks imagine #vasiliy podkolzin imagine #vasili podkolzin imagine #vasili podkolzin #vasiliy podkolzin #slovakia #hockey #nhl #vanocuver canucks

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i-want-anne-hathaway · 4 years

Text

We Are the Tigers time. Funnnnnnn

Okay, in all seriousness, I still do love this show, but holy shit.

This is going to be an unpopular opinions dump because I can.

Riley is a good character. In fact, she’s a great characters. The fandom just doesn’t know how to pay attention to anybody other than Kate to view Riley as anything but like... demon spawn.

Kate is just as insecure and anxiety ridden as everybody else, and of everybody, probably gives the most shits.

Cairo has more chemistry with everybody than Kate and Eva do

Kate being paranoid in Skype Tomorrow does not mean that Chess would actually leave her. Y’all just project onto Kate a lot.

Kaitlyn Frank and Lauren Zakrin harmonizing to Skype Tomorrow though.

Skype Tomorrow was my favorite song the first time I listened to it, and after that it was nowhere near the top. Because I too am mean, gay, and have trust issues. And then I realized that in comparison to the other songs, I don’t like Skype Tomorrow.

Before The Breakdown is top tier, but I also love Chess, so maybe I’m a bit biased.

Like, the harmonies in BTB are so good, and I play it on loop sometimes because it gets me in the Feels™️

We shouldn’t be erasing any of the characters negative traits. Cairo’s still doesn’t work for much, doesn’t take things seriously, and is really carefree. Write the characters as they are in the show.

If you write about Clark, acknowledge that he has more traits than being a sweetheart. Like, there’s so much you can do with his character because there’s nothing there.

Listening to Forever makes me think of something really stupid that Maya said, and I will now be exposing her. “What if we read the first five books of the Bible together... and we were both girls.... just kidding just kidding.”

Clark 🤝 Adam 🤝 Francis

Outrageous requests from their girlfriend at the worst possible time

The clap that Reese does in Cairo’s face during CotT is iconic.

CotT lowkey sounds like California Gurls by Katy Perry if you listen hard enough. Like, at the pre-chorus or whatever.

WATT has this terrible transition thing down. We will go from addictions to horny teenagers.

Wallflower has potential to be heartbreaking, but the backing track hides how sad it is.

Cairo was in the wrong during the scene starting Wallflower. Did they both cross a line? Yes. It could’ve been avoided if Cairo didn’t start the argument

I replay Wallflower so that I can aggressively and terribly sing both parts.

Defense is so much better when you have the dialogue in between it.

Also, I know the Defense choreo just from watching it so many times. I wasn’t even trying to learn, I just know it.

WONU’S RUNS, UGH, SHE’S SO AMAZING.

Mattie is so precious, and I love her.

With that being said, she’s not five. She literally cursed in the show, and after Juvie she probably curses the most. She doesn’t need protection because she went through a lot

I haven’t watched Over the Moon because one of my friends, who’s Chinese, said that she didn’t like how it was done, and I’ve been putting it off ever since.

Phoenix is an underrated bop. Like, it’s so good, and we should talk about it. I mean it had to grow on me, but it’s really good.

If you can listen to Phoenix without thinking of the Elmo meme, you’re lying.

The ghosts’ part in Move On is sadder than Kate and Annleigh’s part and I stand by that.

I prefer High School Experience to SUAC mainly because I think High School Experience gives Eva more personality.

Speaking of Eva’s personality, she doesn’t fucking have one. Like, she’s not a fleshed out character, and the fandom does do it either so we’re stuck with Eva Sanchez, Kate’s Girlfriend. It’s unfortunate because like Clark, there’s potential in her character.

I also know the SUAC choreo, but I actively tried to learn that.

TIME-OUT, TEAM!

I love that in IDK, Cairo just starts off by roasting Farrah. Iconic.

The Cairo-Annleigh tension is so high all the time. Like, the tension.

Cairo and Kate is a great ship, y’all are just cowards.

And now time for my favorite song, The Breakdown. It’s really just because Riley is my favorite character, but like it’s still good regardless of my bias.

The Breakdown gets me so hype. I’m ready to fight somebody after hearing The Breakdown.

Nobody:

Me, listening to Victory: *crying* IT’S ABOUT THE FOUND FAMILY

One last unpopular opinion before I go. I do genuinely think that Kate and Eva would break up after maybe their Freshmen year of college.

Final Verdict: This musical is really great, and while I’m glad to see it get more recognition, I do think that there are a lot of problems that still need to be addressed in the fandom

Next, we have Waitress, which is a top tier musical.

#long post #brees favorite games #tw addiction mention #chess watt #tw cursing #tw capslock #if i missed any triggers let me know

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demonboidies · 5 years

Text

𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 - 𝓶𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲, 𝓳𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓸𝓴, 𝓴𝓲𝓶 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷

pt. 5

word count: 2,775

tag list: @taezeus @jooniescupcakes @aesthetically-messed-up @okpoke @aysha489 @iwannabeanidol (comment under this post to be added, if you comment anywhere else i won’t see it)

➣min yoongi

producer, song-writer, and lyricist. 25 years old and enjoys his own personal times as much as he enjoys naps. has dark brown hair and pale skin. (similar to his wings era looks but brown hair)

you locked the door after dropping the boys off. on the journey to the college, you discovered how energetic the trio really was. you figured they would've been as tired as you were to be up at 7 am when you were in college.

checking the paper that was still in your hand, you saw the name Min Yoongi next. walking back to your room, you unlocked the cabinet door with your key and saw a pill bottle with the patient's name on it.

you knocked softly on his door and a grunt was the only response you got. entering the room you took note of how much darker the aesthetic was prior to the previous male. his walls were painted gray and his sheets were gray and black. everything matched a minimalist aesthetic and you appreciated the chill music that was playing from the record player in the corner of the room.

"yoongi?" you called out softly, shutting the door as quiet as possible.

"hng..." was the only response and you smiled softly at his relatable tone. no one in your book enjoyed waking up so early.

"i have your medication you have to take." at your words he slowly, very slowly, sat up with his hand sticking out. you placed the capsule in his hand and looked for water for him to take it with. "ah. sorry. please wait as i get you the water."

he dismissed your worry, swallowing the pill right down, a sigh leaving his lips afterward. "what time is it?" he asked quietly in a meek voice.

"its 08:45." you answered, peaking down at the schedule in your hand. it was really short for this individual. simply turn on his desktop and switch his record playing to a hip hop album. then get him a fresh cup of instant

so you did as it said, not noticing the trailing eyes that were on you the whole time. yoongi watched with a small smile as you diligently worked, even if you only had to shake the mouse awake. he loved the smile on your face when it finally turned on. but your expression faltered at the sight of his lock screen.

"uhm. yoongi? who's your lockscreen?"

his one eye peeked open, trying to hide his panic. he had forgotten to change it before you came. "uhm, no one. i got it off of the internet."

he threw the covers aside, softly moving you aside from the desktop. "just-just could you change the record and get me my coffee..." he smiles weakly, trying to hide his nerves, "i can't function without it. especially in the mornings." he explained to try and cover himself up. you nodded, letting it slide. you probably were the one at fault anyway, why did you even question him? ugh, you were being so stupid.

there was no way that it was actually you as the lockscreen...that's impossible considering you only met the lot yesterday. your eyes were probably just playing a game with you.

you delicately switched the music, hearing the crackly, yet relaxing beat of a rapper you didn't know the name of. you went to the kitchen and came back up to his room a few minutes later with a steeping cup of hot coffee. he smiled thankfully to you, taking the mug from you.

"thank you." he said and you turned away, about to leave. but the light pressure around your wrist made you turn around with a confused expression. the expression on his face looked as if he was hurting as he touched you, like your contact of skin on skin was burning him.

"so-sorry if I offended you earlier. i-you just caught me off guard with that question." he retracted his hand and scratched a spot behind his ear, a habit you assumed was formed out of anxiety.

"oh, don't worry about it. I should've watched my own mouth. it's not my business what your lockscreen is anyway." you said with a light chuckle. he shook his head with a small pout, which was the cutest thing in your opinion.

"don't blame yourself. it really is my fault." he retorted with the shake of his head. almost like he was disappointed in himself.

"why don't we meet in the middle and say it wasn't any of our faults?" you proposed, deeming it useless if you continued arguing about whose fault it was.

he chuckles at the proposition and nodded. "fine." a smile graced your lips and you continued to take your leave from his room.

"have a nice morning, yoongi." you said softly and he returned it with a grateful smile. shutting the door behind you, you didn't hear the breath of relief he let out.

"such an oblivious girl~~" was the tiny mutter he let out as he clicked away on his desktop, getting right to work.

➣jung hoseok

choreographer, dancer, and produces and raps occasionally. always working although he does enjoy joking around with the maknae line and being goofy with them. he's a child at heart, beaming with energy and curiosity, although he does get a switch in aura due to his mental disabilities occasionally. has a light tinge of red in his hair although the undertones are true brown color (DNA era). 25 years old.

the giddy dancer was the next to be confronted. upon entering his room, you saw the immediate difference and contrast between the two.

his room was painted a bright, but not obnoxious, yellow. it was dulled down a bit and he had an eccentric colorful poster on his wall, just above the headboard of his bed. reading the color font, you made out the words 'HOPE WORLD.' perhaps it was a movie that you haven't heard of.

as for the male you were supposed to wake up, he was already sitting in front of the large screen of his room.

"good morning hoseok." you said cheerfully, almost like your mood had brightened by the mere sight of his wallpaper.

"ah, good morning!" his eyes didn't leave the screen. "sorry, unfortunately, i can't pause Tetris 99 and i'm ranked pretty high right now..." his voice was fading as he continued to focus on the colorful blocks on his screen.

you maneuvered around him, making sure not to cover his vision from his intense game. you sat at his desk, placing the pills labeled with his name into your hand. you had to wait until he was finished until you could give him his pills.

so you watched and got unreasonably attached to his game as well.

"shit..." he cursed lowly under his breath when it showed he was eliminated. honestly, you were yelling at which directions to put the blocks and how to edit their position, but for the sale of professionalism, you held that urge to yell back.

"better luck next time," you said with an encouraging smile. his annoyed expression was washed away immediately like he had taken off an invisible mask, and a wide smile spread his face.

"yup! thanks for the encouragement. it means a lot!" he took the pills on his desk, swallowing without a problem. "have the others been treating you well? the little ones aren't causing trouble right?"

you chuckled at the reference of the maknae line, shaking your head. "everyone is super sweet and nice~ no one has caused trouble." you pushed away the thought of the minor bump in the road at yoongi's room.

"i'm a good boy too right? i don't act up~~" he put his hand under his chin and pursed his lips cutely. he surely was cute. you held back the urge to pinch his cheeks. so all you could do was laugh with a light blush and nod.

"yes, hoseok. you're a good patient." you ruffled his hair slightly.

"awe, am i only a patient to you?" a cute pout now was on his lips, putting his hand on his sides as an upset child would.

"well, hopefully, we become closer as friends." you said in a sing-song voice stepping towards his door. "would you like me to come back to remind you of your studio opening? or do you think you could manage?"

hoseok thought. he always remembered when his studio opened, he was the owner and couldn't let his students down by being late. usually, he was a good 20 minutes early just to clean up. but that would mean you would come back and see him. so, with the two options, he obviously chose the latter.

"just for safety precaution, please come back around to remind me." you nodded in understanding.

"have a nice morning then, and see you soon hoseok." you were about to shut his door before his voice called out to you.

"wait!" he rushed to the doorway, opening it wider as he smiled, "call me hobi from now on. after all, we are gonna wanna become comfortable if you wanna be close friends! i hear nicknames are good ways of doing so. so call me hobi from now on, okay?"

you couldn't say no, especially when he was beaming with a smile like a little puppy. he was so unreasonably cute, it was unfair.

"alright then, hobi, have a good rest of the morning." you made sure to exaggerate the new nickname, thinking it would make him happy. and it did and it showed through his bright smile.

this time you shut the door without him interrupting, continuing on with your job and going down the hallway a bit more to namjoon's room.

meanwhile, hoseok was on his bed, face down in the pillows. in his arms was one that was suffering from his tight hug that he was enveloping it with. he had to bite back a squeal knowing you were only a few feet away from his room.

'i'm a good boy, she said so herself.' he said with a light blush, kicking his feet in ecstasy. 'i can't let her down now, i'll be good for her and only her.'

➣kim namjoon

online college courses so most of his mornings are spent in his office doing work. very smart and excels in most of his classes. occasionally will accompany jin on his out of country trips, just to be a helping hand if needed. blondish, blonde hair, usually exposing his forehead. he's 25 years old and does also confide in his lyrical book to relieve stress.

you stopped a moment in front of the door, leaning your head against the door. your eyes were widened a bit, seeing how long his list was. you soon realized that is was like that because it contained his school schedule (which was several pages long, he didn't keep out details.)

suddenly, the door was swung open, leaving you to fall out of balance. luckily, namjoon acted fast enough to catch you. he was careful with his hands, not wanting to intrude on your personal space. he kept his arms stiff as he caught you from your underarms.

"oh my go-! i'm so sorry namjoon," you bowed profusely, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice. although, it didn't help much. his familiar chuckle left his lips as he shook his head.

"it's fine," he said with a sweet smile, "i suppose i should apologize too for scaring you. sorry, i had just seen someone's shadow by the door, wanted to see who it was." he explained, keeping the same sweet smile on his face.

you nodded in understanding, digging into your small bag for his dosage. "would you like water?"

"ah, yes. i do need water, unlike the others, i have trouble swallowing these pills down."

rushing to get water, you came back upstairs with a full small glass and a tired smile. "sorry, i should've added that to your notes. i'll be sure to add that on later." he said before swallowing his dose.

"well, i would hate to cut our conversation short but i do need to continue on working. duty does call, unfortunately." he said with a heavy sigh. he didn't want to leave you prescence, but he needed to finish his work before anything else. maybe if he worked hard enough, he would get to spend alone time with you before lunch.

so as you nodded and shut his door, he dashed to his desk and worked as fast. but effectively as possible. without taking a second glance at the click the whole time, he was clicking through pages of pages of articles. at with all this rushing to get finished, he was done at a new record speed of an hour and forty-five minutes.

that was half his time than usual. and he was giddy and excited to have some personal time spent with you. he left his room, shutting the door and bringing his cup of water with him as he walks down the stairs.

however, his rushed feet paused as he heard you laughing. along with a familiar laughter mixed in with yours.

"hobi! stop, i won fair and square!" giu exclaimed as hoseok stomped his feet childishly. he was acting like a child and that was what triggered your laughter. meanwhile, namjoon was scowling at the scene.

of course, he had to ruin the moment. he was supposed to talk to you for some time longer. whatever, he would get his way with you eventually, he told himself.

"what are you two doing?" namjoon voiced, walking closer to you two. in the center of the room there was a giant flat screen TV and it displayed the image of mario kart. "ah, nevermind. i'll let you two have your own time."

hoseok smirked victoriously seeing namjoon's disheartened attitude. "no! come on join us! hoseok had to leave for his studio anyway."

the younger of the two lifted his head hopefully, the cutest smile basking his features.

"really?"

"what-no-!"

"hobi, we can have a rematch mater. you have to go to your studio remember?" you reminded the male, who slouched on defeat. his victorious smile long gone as he stood from his position on the couch.

his bag was already packed for the studio and he hid you two a farewell, not without glaring at namjoon when you weren't paying attention. the other simply smiled innocently, waving bye almost mockingly to hoseok's retreating figure.

"to be honest, i'm kinda scared to go against you. hoseok is second best to jin in this house, so you must be really skilled."

you smiled confidently, "not to toot my own horn, but i've been playing since i was a kid." the newfound fact about yourself made namjoon smile fondly at you.

"well let's hope lady luck is on my side today."

she wasn't. he just all the races you two played, leaving you to pat his shoulder reassuringly even though a prideful smirk was on your lips.

"i demand a rematch, that was not fair!"

tou checked your phone, standing up with a smile. "afraid not at this moment. i've got to get the younger ones from school."

namjoon stood up and followed your walking figure, that was getting closer to the door. "we can send a driver to pick them up, come on just one more."

"sorry, duty calls, like you said earlier." namjoon let out a weak chuckle, not liking how his own words bit him in the butt.

"fine, but i expect a game when you come back."

"we will see namjoon, see you later." you waved and departed, leaving the male to slouch where he stood.

as you drove off to the college, jin sat in his wheelchair as yoongi leaned against the stairwell railing observing Namjoon.

"he's smart, but too selfish." yoongi noted, glaring at namjoon's figure.

"you're one to talk, you maniac."

"oh shut up, poser."

"ah, yoongi, you know I prefer romancer." the eldest winked as the other rolled his eyes at the statement.

| and that's the hyung line! sorry for the long wait =/ maknae line coming up next, apologies for any typos|

#yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere #x reader #imagines #yandere bts imagines #yandere kpop imagines #yandere x readear #yandere imagines #sickly ff #bts ot7 #yandere bts ot7 #ot8 ff #ot7 imagines #sickly ff bts #bts sickly #sickly bts ff

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

Text

Warming Paws and melting Walls (5/8) “Territorial Revenge”

Summary: Nobody responded within a week and so Remy made sure to inform Emile so they could repaint the office. Virgil does not like being alone for long, especially when it is unexpected.

Luckily, the two are quick to make up.

Tags: animal waster, cat litter box, urine, descriptions of urine smell, cleaning, a bit of fighting bc this is an upset kitty, food and eating mention, feeding, late nights, metal clanking sound, vaccine mention, vet mention, slight restrictions of breathing? Pining mention, auditory triggers, migraine mention, somft feelings, more snuggles and cuddles, kitty gone bad boi,

i do not think there is any more to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 (you are here!) / 6 / 7 / 8.

Story under the cut: (Wordcount ~3,1k)

Metal clattered together as the key within the lock pressed deeper into it and started turning in order to open the door at last. The light sound filled the cool air. Eventually, the metal keys fell against the dark colour, wooden door and with a particularly loud ‘knack’ of the door, the lock gave way and the way was free.

Remy finally stepped into his home.

It was dark already but that did not stop him from wanting to go home, it encouraged him even further. He was the kind of person to change the night but with Virgil waiting for him, there was an intense urge to just be with the little pet. The darkness outside his apartment was driving him to be faster when the hours passed and passed.

He had cleaned everything with Emile, right after fucking painting it all and reorganising two fucking offices. It was work. It was a lot of work but it was paid extra work on top of that, yet Remy was not exactly a fan of it. The man liked doing his thing, being left alone a bit but also having some non-annoying or intrusive/persistent social interaction. But.. working with Emile all day was as lovely as it could be exhaustive.

That pal did not gossip enough! Remy wanted to talk about chill things, not how he hated or did not hate his parents and whatnot.

Sometimes he wondered whether people moved away and went to other therapists so they would be safe from all their dreadful puns. Maybe it helped in therapy? He did not know but it made him feel fluttered and warm all the same. Still, it would get him to feel nauseous after some time. Maybe Emile played into his auditory triggers - too many words in too little time.

Remy stepped into his home and closed the door.

The sound of shutting it echoed through the vast emptiness in his apartment. Actually, there was so much nothing, it really filled the complete living space.

Strange..

All he could notice was a certain smell.. a pungent, intense smell. It was odd and he could not quite place it.

It sort of reminded him of...

Oh no.

He carefully switched on the light.

Whenever he used his lights, he could not help but be glad about having found proper lamps that did not cause too much eye strain at once. People who developed and invented ideas for dim light bulbs and lamps that were made to be comfortable rather than stinging in illumination were simply saints and he would never back away from this opinion. Those were fucking heroes because they helped the dumb minorities like him that was too Extra (tm) to live with regular things.

When the dim lights, he loved so much, showered the hallway in golden warmth, he noticed.. a weird bit of something on the floor.

Please please no.

“Virgil?”

He called into the void, for the void.

Nothing came back.

Was the cat okay?

Remy carefully made his way over to the weird something on the floor. It looked like spilled liquid, somewhat translucent and odd.

Did... Did Virgil vomit or pee onto the floor? Holy fuck, it smelled awful in the most indescribable ways. He did not want to describe it anyway, let alone sniff it enough to figure out certain components of the smell or any similarities to other scents.

...Oh dear fuck.

The smell - It was cat pee. Virgil had decided to fucking ruin his floor right in front of the little cat toilet he had put up.

Well... that was it, he supposed. It had been a dream that Remy did not really have to “potty train” the kitten since it came with a lot of good manners already. That was so much of an indicator that the cat was from somewhere, that they were civilised and socialised.

Still, after weeks of no answers, Remy had cut the search and was happy to call the cat his own (albeit he never said so but the smiles on his face were more frequent than before and even his migraines seemed more at ease - not to mention how rare they had become).

But it was too nice to have a cat - a first pet - that just was clean and trained and would use the litter box accordingly.

“I swear, you are going to kill me, Queen. I just cleaned it in the morning. It cannot be that bad, can it?”

He already moved to open a few windows and make sure the horrible smell would yield to the fresh air of the evening.

Maybe he should not have been outside for so long without sending anyone over to check on Virgil and catsit after all. Remy admitted he should look into some silly students who needed the money and would be happy about just cuddling a cat and being able to have some WIFI and such.

But really, he had not planned to stay outside for that long. He had wanted to run over and check in on the dust ghost during his lunch break. Sadly, Emile did have that sort of amnesia effect on him. His horny brain went dumb and forgot all the important logic and memory. Therefore, he had been too stupid from love to really think about Virgil needing him at that moment.

Next time, he would discuss this with Emile beforehand. One mistake was alright as long as nobody was hurt and he learned from it.

With black bags under his eyes and shades perched up on the top of his head, he grabbed a few tissues, gloves and a mop and got ready to clean up. Excitement as great as it could have been in such a situation, he got down to clean up and once done, he finished up over there and tended to the litter box.

Nearly empty. There was like, the usual stuff but it was not much because he had cleaned it in the morning - on purpose!

“Are you fucking kidding me? Virgil, why would you do this?”

A deep groan of annoyance split his lips. He got up to remove the bit of waste that was still residing inside. It just took a few moment and it was already done. He disposed of the dirt properly and put his cleaning utensils into the dedicated space.

A tinge of worry hit him as he did so. The cleanness was achieved at last but what about Vi- Just then, a streak of black crossed his view.

“Virgil!”

His tone was low, touching a bit into the territory of a parent. Specifically, when a goody two shoes did something wrong and the parents got all “I am not mad, just disappointed”.

The kitten ducked away and whipped its tail down before slowly swishing it from side to side.

They almost looked ready to fight and as if Remy had provoked it, the void suddenly jumped at his black boot - yes, just one. This was one smol individual and they had yet to be tol enough to attack two Remy feet at once. Soft paws drummed onto the shoe and the ball of charcoal furry was hissing and scratching.

“Hey! Ow-”, Remy hissed back in surprise and slight aggravation, “Virgil, what the fuck!”

The cat jumped back and Remy quickly dropped his jacket, revealing a black sweat shirt he was wearing underneath.

The angry cat hissed at the man and ducked and arched their back. Then, they went in for the fight, now aiming at his knees. A pair of claws jumped at him, so Remy committed himself to the idiocy of catching the cat and picking them up.

Virgil did not get his knees but they did catch some skin of his arms.

“What is wrong with you, gurl? Do you want to play? This is some shit way to tell me about it, queen. You pissed on my floor.”

Virgil hissed again and Remy blinked in incomprehension. He should learn more about cats or something. Like, take a course in cat training because this whole behaviour was too sudden and confusing for him to make sense of it. These acts were so contrary to what they had done before to him. Even at the start of their relationship they had been somewhat loving towards once another.

He did not want to admit it but.. the cat rejecting him kind of stung. Yeah, his attacked shoes were also a point of inconvenience he did not really approve of but they were manageable.

The cat was down on the ground again but definitely not down-to-earth. They were already spitting fireballs at the belated arrival and Remy was cursed with being puzzled forever since they could not communicate and explain what happened.

Remy was unfortunate to think of Virgil as playfully fighting him. By instinct or whatever.

“Hey Queen, if you wanna play, can you just give me a minute or two, so I can eat? I want to exist, too, and you need to eat as well.”

He collected the food and water bowl and made sure to fill everything properly. Virgil had abandoned him again in favour of creepily staring at him from afar. The tail was swishing like a clock’s ticking arms. And they were counting his time until being brought to justice by Black Cat Law, aka The Void Law.

The cat owner emerged from the kitchen, filled bowls filling his hands.

Dry food, just a bit - minimal amounts. Wet food - the main source of sustenance for the kitty cat. Water - because kitty cat got free bowls of water twice a day, thrice when at work with him.

Remy put it back into place and the kitten quickly returned to retrieve the food.

“Yeah, now you are happy, are you not?”

The cat very much ignored him so they could feast upon the bouts of food brought to them. Finally their slave human was working again and feeding them as he was supposed to.

Rude to just take an unannounced break.

“Yeah, I should have expected you to be bitchy without food. You are just like me, are you not, little honey?”

A chuckle could be heard as he took a little moment to relish in the sounds coming from the Void of Darkness and Fire (tm) purring and chewing. The noises were barely audible but Remy has started picking up the most silent ones. It helped him detect the kitten’s feelings or locations when he needed to tend to the cat. Also, it made finding the cat easier for when he wanted to give them a little goodbye-snuggle before going to work.

The urge to cuddle the cat right now was strong but he made sure to not do it.

Cats hated that, as much as sources told him. Sources were the internet and people and also a book he had gotten by now. And the vet he had visited once more after he decided to keep the cat since nobody seemed to care enough. Also, vaccines.

Other than that, Virgil also scratched him once he tried to snuggle them while eating. This was only legal when Virgil was already snuggled up to him due to pure pity they felt for him. Such a Queen.

“You are too good for anyone, kitty. I am sorry for leaving you alone for so long.”

No answer - but the black blob of fur seemed to be at ease with the food and water. This was a start, he thought to himself. Remy still felt guilty for leaving them alone for so long. Then again, he had expected to have the time and get home for a little bit during his lunch break but that did not work out, somehow. And going after his official working hours was not okay.

He should give someone his keys so they could look after the little Queen of Salt for a bit when he had to stay away longer.

What if an emergency ever came up?

His head shook the thoughts of darkness and anxiety away. Instead, he busied his empty hands with the simple task of reheating some food he had made before. Tomorrow he would get some chicken for his kitten to make up for being so neglectful and thoughtless. He needed to be more considerate and accept his responsibilities. After all, he was some kind of caretaker right now - a cat parent, if you will.

Remy leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Virgiiiiil ~”, he cooed softly and took out a little kitty treat.

Just one.

It was not just for his guilty conscience but also for the cat to know he did not mean to. Virgil needed assurance and the stability of life. Giving him some sort of praise for being alone all day - for literally at least 10 hours - was appropriate, he supposed.

The kitten was already done with their bowl of food and was currently drinking when the smell of more food and the sound of Remy’s - their owner’s voice - reached them. They sensed being called over and looked up from their bowl, licking their muzzle and nose with a satisfied look on their face.

“Kitty cat”, he purred again and the void gently let their tail swish just a bit above the floor for a few single strands of their fur to trace over the dark ground.

They purred back in solidarity. Soft paws sunk into the similarly dark floor. The kitty took one step after the other and slowly progressed, body slightly lethargic from the recent intake of food. The ball of fur and mischief made their way over to Remy and sniffed the air.

A determination ruled their fine movements.

Ah, yes. More food.

Good human.

Their eyes sparked at the man, radiating praise and appreciation.

Remy smiled in return and carefully nudged his hand close enough for Virgil to nibble at the treat. Immediately, they welcome it into their mouth. Without realising it, the owner visibly relaxed, the air standing in his lungs was flowing out of his nostrils and allowed him to inhale deeply. His posture eased up and his shoulders were now more straightened and calm compared to before. St a few moments ago, the weight of guilt tore down his body and forced his back to be crooked along with pushing his shoulders into a hunching position.

No more guilt was crushing him anymore, though. The cat had accepted his apology and was carefully pushing their head into Remy’s idle palm. The feeling of warmth, a bit of dampness and furry delight was tickling the receptors in his hand. The warmth travelled up to his chest, spreading throughout all of his body in the process.

“You are too good for me. Aw, Virgil. Little Queen of Salt”, he purred and gently shifted to lean over and started brushing over the smooth and slightly shining fur of his little companion.

His left was holding the curious head of a peculiar kitty cat and he gently started scritching their chin - well, the underside of their chin. It was a bit lighter than the rest of their body. At least, this is what it seemed like to him. It felt warmer and more brownish, yet just as lovely as the rest of them.

Peaceful purring filled the room with soft sounds and calming noise instead of haunting silence

“I love you too”, he chuckled.

Maybe he did not know everything about cats, nor did he understand all his little sass-bean was trying to express with their general body posture, the position of their torso or their tail either - really, he did not know much at all - but he was still trying his best. He certainly was getting better at it and this counted, did it not? Also, it was not like he did not try to educate himself. His workplace naps were replaced by reading in his “cat bible” and literally taking notes.

Hands gently curled around the food-filled body of a satisfied little void. Cradling the coal cat in his arms, he held them close to his heart and walked over to their couch.

“Does my little storm cloud want to cuddle?”

His voice was a low coo and the kitten responded with audible purrs and an enthusiastic bonk when their heads crushed together again.

Ow.

... He would totally never get used to cats showing affection like that.

Well, still worth it.

Apparently, cats did that to show love or some trash. Whatever, Virgil barely ever did it but it got more and more frequent after their first days together. Now it was more often instead of rarely but it certainly was not the most usual and common thing between them.

Still, it could change. At the moment he just wanted to relish in the warmth of their cuddles and the comfort of their intimacy.

Remy flopped onto the couch and left the cat on his chest while he simply laid down flat onto his back like a lazy plank swimming in the water. Just floatin’... simply going with the flow, adapting to any wave.

The cat returned the action by softly pushing their paws into his ribs. Lungs complained due to the compromised volume for more precious and essential oxygen. Not that Remy cared.. nor did Virgil have the cognitive ability to care.

“You having fun there, kitty?”

This cat was royalty and Remy would continue to lay around and simply have them run up and down his body. All he wanted to do was.... just take off his pants and such and put on a more comfortable and flexible pyjama. Falling asleep in tight jeans was not as great (they were great for getting some looks from his boss, though). The idea of moving around right now was just as unpleasant as the idea of falling asleep and waking up in the pants he had worked and sweated in all day.

Unfazed by anything, the void was simply preparing their human bed for a little longer before settling down onto his ribcage...warm and pressing. Just a tad uncomfortable.

“Okay, there you go-”

Yes, this was love.

Remy was too exhausted and comfortable to feel too bothered by his air flow being obstructed. Slowly, he felt himself drift off. The man was soon in a light version of a slumber and gradually become a victim to the sweet relief of a little nap. The discomfort of sweaty and smelly clothes was forgotten when exhaustion took over. The overwhelming state of being physically drained got the best of him.

All good sentiment was forgotten when the comfort of a good cat and a warm home hugged him.

Bye bye meal he had wanted to have. He was already satisfied in other way.

He was home.

This was heaven.

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victorluvsalice · 5 years

Text

AU Thursday: Alice Vs The Questionnaire I Just Made

Because it would be remiss for me to send it out into the world and not answer it myself, right? ;p

1. How many of the sidequests did your characters do? Did they manage to complete all of them?

Alice completed most of the sidequests, mostly because I find them interesting, they're good to advance the plot of my story, and -- in-game -- they're good sources of XP. The only ones I skipped/failed were (Edit: naturally I forgot a few on my first posting; what can I say, there’s a lot of side quests!):

Drug Trip -- The Unofficial Patch Plus only quest where you can get some XP and +1 Finance by stealing some drugs for Trip from the clinic. In-game, I completely forgot this was an option and never did it. In-story, Alice is trying to get drugs by more legitimate means for Mercurio rather than steal morphine, so I don’t think she’d be keen to get the recreational stuff for Trip.

Daydream Believer -- Only marked as an official “quest” by Unofficial Patch Plus, this is where you can sell Copper “unicorn blood,” fang-blunting gum, and a stake to kill the head vampire if you’re feeling maliciously playful. Alice was not -- in fact, she likes the Thin-Bloods and wants to help them. And that includes sympathizing with Copper about his desire to become human again, while also warning him off doing anything stupid.

Replanting A Lily -- The quest where you send Vandal someone to replace Lily in his blood-draining chair once you’ve freed her as part of Thinned Blood. In-game, I simply Demented him into some hysterical laughter to forget the whole thing (in case I needed him for emergency rations). In-story, Alice slammed him up against the wall and informed him the only reason she wasn’t about to kill him was because she needed to stay in the Voerman sisters’ good books. Vandal being Vandal, he immediately found this the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him and tried to give her free blood (like might happen with the Intimidation option), which she told him to stick where the sun don’t shine. Yeaaaaah, Alice doesn’t like Vandal.

Occultish Personality -- The quest where you get occult items for Pisha, and she gives you powerful items in return. Rather than work with Pisha, I had Alice kill her after taking care of the Simon business. This was purely a character choice, as I didn't see Alice ever working with her (she disapproves too strongly of what Pisha does to sate her Hunger -- she understands that the woman is under a pretty nasty curse, but the entire camera crew?!).

Venucide -- Okay, this is an interesting one -- this is the alternate side quest you get if you take Boris up on his offer to kill Venus during And Her Name Was Venus. I didn’t do this in-game -- I’m not doing low Humanity with Alice, and besides you earn a lot more with Venus alive and giving you club profits -- but I mention it because Alice pretends to take the offer, goes back to Venus, and works with her to fake her death before going back to Boris to get the reward, then kill him. Venus is quite tickled by the whole thing. XD

Dirty Dishes -- The quest where you help one of the three Giovanni relatives at the party to gain an advantage over the other two. I attempted this one, with the intent of having maybe Victor or Victoria do something with the info in the story (as they're the ones actually doing the social stuff -- Alice snuck in Obfuscated with them), but as it turned out, I didn't have the Persuasion necessary to get the dark secrets out of all three. I only managed to get Adam Dunsirn to admit he’s broke -- ratted him out to Mira for an experience point. Ah well. . . In-story, Victor will probably learn Adam’s secret while socializing, but not actually tell anybody.

Model Citizen/Cover Girl -- Imalia's quests -- either planting webcams to spy on her rival Tawni, or (if you piss her off/want extra XP after the previous quest), getting her a copy of a magazine with her on the cover back before Nosferatuing. Imalia is one of those characters who reacts very poorly to meeting a Malkavian, and is generally pretty conceited, so I didn't have Alice stick around to actually get the quests. By this point in the story, she's not doing favors for people who treat her like ass unless she has to.

Poster Session -- The quest where you trade various objects you can collect around the world to Gary for posters of the ladies in the game. Okay, in all actuality, I am doing this one in my game, if only because I'm collecting the objects he's asking for anyway while doing other quests and I might as well, but Alice in-story wouldn't be interested, and I'm not sure Gary would make the offer anyway, given their relationship.

2. How long do you think their stay in L.A. lasted, from Embrace to ending?

I'm working on figuring this out right now in my current playthrough! Part of the reason I fired up Bloodlines again was to actually work out a timeline for "Londerland Bloodlines," as the one given on the wiki feels absurdly short (and cuts out all the side quests). The way I've currently got it, it looks like Alice's Adventures In Los Angeles will stretch from October 21st, 2004, to the middle of November that same year (maybe about the 15th or so?), though I think I'm going to be adding in extra time in the story to help develop relationships and build in some extra breathing room for the characters. So, at a rough estimate, about two months.

3. Which ending did they go for? And if they're the rare Kindred who sided with Ming or LaCroix, did they somehow manage to escape their canonical fates (blown up/sunk to the bottom of the ocean)?

Alice is Independent all the way -- by the end of the game, she neither likes nor trusts practically anyone in the Kindred/ghoul community of L.A. (with four key exceptions, and one of those -- Beckett -- has already skedaddled by the end game) and just wants out. Hell, she would have left earlier if she'd gotten the chance -- she would have happily left L.A. the moment LaCroix sent her up against the Sabbat alone if said Sabbat hadn't kidnapped Lizzie and Victoria, and she would have just left straight after rescuing them and killing Andrei if she hadn't had a guilt attack about helping to get a Blood Hunt called on Nines and deciding she had to tell him about what Ming-Xiao told her. And the Cabbie is the one who talks her into taking down LaCroix and Ming-Xiao when she escapes the Blood Hunt, telling her that the only way to truly feel free is to make sure neither of them can come after her again. She is only too happy to leave the city when everything and everyone is done and dusted.

(Also, semi-related I had what I feel is a pretty awesome idea regarding why she gives LaCroix the key -- a post in the vtmb tag mentioned that anyone who had Auspex might be able to scan the sarcophagus and see there's no uber-vampire inside. The way Alice uses Auspex in her story, it functions partially as a real-life "Shrink Sense,” to fit with her madness. Maybe, at the end of the game, Alice finally uses Auspex on the sarcophagus to see what she can glean, and sees that a) there's no vampire and b) the Insane Children have drawn jack-in-the-boxes all over it, along with arrows to leave. Figuring LaCroix can suffer the disappointment of it being empty, she drops the key and heads off, not QUITE realizing WHY the kids told her to leave -- that is, until her Wonderland friends start BOOKING IT out the door when she gets down to the lobby, and she realizes those jack-in-the-boxes look like her own Jackbombs. . .)

4. How do they feel about the major power players in L.A. (LaCroix, Strauss, Smiling Jack, Nines, Isaac, Ming-Xiao, Gary)? Did their opinions of them change at any point thanks to a quest or just more time spent with them?

LaCroix: Hates him from the moment he Dominates her into leaving the Nocturne Theater instead of bothering to answer any of her questions. She's willing to keep her head down when she's around him (for fear of more Domination) up until Grout's mansion -- then she starts demanding she be paid like a proper employee, at least, and getting a lot snarkier in his presence. When the Blood Hunt on Nines was called (which involved him Dominating her AGAIN so she wouldn't warn Nines beforehand), she was about ready to gut him, and sincerely hoped there was something in that damn Sarcophagus so it would eat him. She doesn't particularly mind he got blown up in the end -- she was much more concerned for anyone else who was in the upper levels of the tower.

Strauss: She found him a little condescending, but helpful, when she first arrived in Downtown and sought him out. (Didn't think much of his poetry skills, though.) He gave her some good information on vampires around the city and the Camarilla in general, and she can't deny he paid well for helping take care of the plaguebearer situation. Her opinion of him plummets the moment she learns about his role in creating the Gargoyle, though. The idea that he kept that living, thinking being as his slave. . .not to mention, his low opinion of ghouls doesn't do much to endear him to her either.

Smiling Jack: Like Strauss, she spends most of the game thinking he's not exactly the best company, but he was helpful and gave her a hand in a very tough spot in her life. And he seems to be the most chill of the older vampires she's come across.

And then the sarcophagus explodes, Alice manages to put together the clues on who's behind it, realize he slaughtered all those people on the Elizabeth Dane and is indirectly responsible for a lot of the shit she's gone through. . .and basically exiles herself from Los Angeles forever by staking him and leaving him for the sunrise on her way out. (She is as shocked as anyone that she managed to pull it off -- she thought it would be a much worse fight!)

Nines: Alice is grateful to him for helping to save her life at her initial trial, and she likes his philosophy just fine. Unfortunately, their relationship was wrecked fairly early on by two factors:

1) Alice making a joke about the Last Round, which Nines took poorly -- Alice attempted to apologize, but Nines refused to hear it

2) Alice not liking Skelter and Damsel, both of whom immediately gave her shit for being LaCroix's "lapdog" and a Malkavian

So yeah, there was definitely some tension there. And the whole Blood Hunt mess happened, and frankly Alice is shocked Nines was willing to talk to her when she went looking for him on her way out of L.A. post-Sabbat. She sometimes wishes they'd had a chance to make up, but given that she doesn't think much of the Anarchs in general anymore. . .she's not losing sleep over their cool relationship.

Isaac: He's one of the main reasons she doesn't think much of the Anarchs in general. She thought it was pretty smart of him to have someone to direct vampires new to Hollywood to him to say hello -- up until he mentioned "tribute." That and his generally imperious attitude toward her at first means she considers him just another Prince under a different title. Learning what happened between him and Ash didn't help either -- she can understand not wanting to let someone you care about just die, more than she would admit, but he doesn't seem to have handled things well post-Embrace, given he didn't do jack shit about the hunters menacing him. (Hoping the threat would drive Ash back into his arms, perhaps?) Add in that he didn't even pay her for taking care of the Gargoyle (never mind Alice didn't actually kill it -- she still convinced it to leave), and -- yeah. She considers him everything wrong with the Anarch movement.

Ming-Xiao: Alice considered her fairly stuck-up when they first met, but really no worse than any of the regular Kindred she'd met -- and it was interesting to quiz her on how Kue-jin are different. Of course, learning that the Mandarin was on her payroll and she's actively trying to kill her lowered her opinion of her a bit. She actively avoids Ming-Xiao after the Fu Syndicate stuff, and nearly just puts her new enchanted katana straight through her when she shows up post-Sabbat. She certainly doesn't shed a tear when she has to destroy her at the end of game.

Gary: Alice thinks he's a bit of an overdramatic jerk, but she kind of enjoys matching wits with him. And at least he's more honest about being a jerk than most vampires, and keeps up his end of the bargain when she frees Barnabus, no problem. Whatever relationship they have is built upon snarking at each other, basically. :p

5. How did they handle the situation with Heather (or, if you're like me, whoever you replaced Heather with in their personal story)?

Obviously, in my world, Victor got hit by the car and got the ghouling treatment. Alice saw him lying all alone in that room and -- couldn't let him just die like that. She's utterly horrified to learn that she created an addict by doing so, and actively has Betram and Knox seek Victor out (using the Cathayan's laptop as payment) and send him her way so she can keep an eye on him and hide any Masquerade violations he may commit. Her original intent was to hold onto him until he stopped being a ghoul, then quietly set him loose, away from prying Kindred eyes. . .

. . .And then she fell in love.

Cue quite a lot of angsting over the fact that she doesn't want to lose him, but she feels so guilty about the Blood Bond and she doesn't know if Victor's feelings are actually real -- which only gets worse when Victoria and Emily join the group, as then she's like "I should let Victor be with one of them -- oh crap I like them too, what the hell Alice, years of not falling in love and now it's two mortals and a zombie." It took Mercurio explaining that his Blood Bond does not actually force him to like LaCroix, just be loyal to him, to convince her that keeping Victor -- and turning Victoria into her ghoul -- might not be as bad as she feared.

And then Victor had his prophetic dream about the Sabbat. He and Emily successfully fled the city (the "letting Heather go" branch of her mini-storyline), but Lizzie and Victoria got captured by the Sabbat and used as bait for a trap for Alice (the "Heather gets captured and killed" branch). Unlike in canon, though, Alice is able to successfully save them (with the help of Bonejangles, VV, and Bertram), and ghouls Victoria to help her heal before sending them away. They all reunite once she's done with the endgame. :)

6. More generally, how closely does their storyline stick to how you have to do things canonically? For example, in quests, did they find third options that weren't offered by the game? Are their stories affected by mods you use while playing the game?

I play with the Unofficial Plus Patch, so there's going to be some stuff from that included in my story, just because that's what I'm used to -- for example, Alice is doing the restored library quest featuring the Lasombra in her storyline. As for the main storyline itself, I'd say that, even with the character replacements and suchlike, it stays pretty much true to the game until about the time Alice hits Hollywood -- namely because I've replaced one-shot character Sam with Victoria, who has a much larger role in "Londerland Bloodlines." After that, it starts to veer off a bit more, in particular during "Italian Dinner," where Emily, Lizzie, and Bonejangles join the party --

But the most major break with canon is in the endgame. Namely, Alice decides to skip fighting her way up Venture Tower and instead climbs up the outside with the help of some climbing equipment she sources from Mercurio. :p Lacroix is more than a little surprised. XD (Though she still has to fight the bat-form of the Sheriff -- can't escape the whole boss fight, Alice!)

7. Do they have an alternate storyline/history of what might have happened had they been Embraced but not ended up the protagonist Fledgling?

I covered that a couple of weeks ago! You can read the "Mistakenly Thinned Blood" AU of the AU in detail here, but the short version is "Alice is Embraced more secretly by her sire Fish, manages to kill him post-Embrace, goes to Santa Monica, and ends up hanging out with the Thin-Bloods because everyone thinks she's one of them. Still saves Victor, meets Victoria, and rescues Lizzie, Emily, and Sam from the Giovannis, though -- and then gets out of town before the freaking-out populace who just learned what she actually is can catch up with her."

8. Is the Cabbie a) Caine, b) another Kindred who believes himself to be Caine for whatever reason, c) another Kindred playing the long con by pretending to be Caine, d) something else entirely?

He's Caine -- I like the headcanon, and the idea of him posing as a random taxi driver in L.A., looking upon all this chaos and wondering "why. why." amuses me. XD

9. How do you handle/explain away obvious "this only works in a video game" mechanics in their storyline (e.g., the inventory system that allows them to carry like seven guns and five melee weapons at once)?

With me, Alice is going to be carrying a lot fewer weapons at once -- she'll generally pick a few favorites to take with her on missions (she always has a knife on her, at least), and uses Obfuscate to truck them around invisibly when she's in crowded areas. She probably also gets a bag or backpack to carry useful things. She also goes through a lot more clothes until she gets some decent leather jackets and such -- her starting outfit is basically wrecked by the tutorial mission, leading to LaCroix's agents having to buy her a new dress before she can pick up her things and go to her new haven in Santa Monica. (I have decided to make it Symbolic by having her wear the modern equivalent of her London outfit from A:MR when she gets Embraced, and the outfit being destroyed representing her change from human to vampire.)

10. How do you explain why the Fledgling is so ridiculously overpowered when compared to most other vampires their age (beyond the fact that they're likely 8th generation, going by their blood pool)?

My personal explanation, which might come up in the final conversation Alice has with Caine in the cab, is that some people in this universe are born with great supernatural potential, for whatever reason, and Alice is one of them. There's just something about her that lends itself well to being a supernatural creature -- and a powerful one at that. If she'd been from a werewolf line, she would have been an amazing werewolf; if she had awakened as a mage, she would have been a super-talented mage. As she was Embraced, she gets to be a terrifyingly strong vampire. Alice personally considers this a pretty shitty "chosen one" status, but she can't deny she liked getting really good at Obfuscate really fast!

#londerland bloodlines #vtmb #questionnaire #this about covers most of what I wanted to talk about with Alice #and I really like that idea for Alice giving LaCroix the key #my original idea was her just going 'you know what #here I hope the vampire inside eats you'#but that felt a little too vicious #not toward LaCroix but toward everyone else in L.A.#Alice may hate most of the Kindred she deals with #but that doesn't mean she wants them all dead from super-vampire #better to have her thinking 'oh there's nothing inside? just a toy?#great all yours LaCroix enjoy disappointment'#she probably should have recognized the explody jackbombs sooner but #she'd had a long night #queued

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Bad Hair Day

Rating: T

Genre: Humour/Mild Fluff

Word Count: 2070

Summary: Baz runs out of hair gel. Simon doesn't know how to deal with it. Based on "Simon has a gay freak out over Baz's messy hair" request.

Read on AO3

AN: This was a very specific request, and I changed a few things, but it follows the spirit of the idea. Enjoy! :)

———————————————

Baz

Snow thinks my morning routine takes too long. But he doesn’t understand how much it takes to look this good. A long shower, good products, attention to detail, it’s all necessary. I have a reputation to maintain after all. Snow doesn’t care at all about his appearance. Unfortunately, he doesn’t need to, he always looks incredible. Beautiful tosser.

I’m currently looking in the mirror, slowly combing back all my hair. It’s still wet so it’s far easier to shape, but I know it will try to puff up later. My hair has a bloody mind of its own. Without product, the top of my head will turn in ball of unruly black fluff. Thank Crowley for my-

I squeeze my gel bottle, and nothing comes out. What the fuck? I squeeze it again and again but still nothing. Merlin and Morgana, fuck it all, I’m out of hair gel. When did that happen? Has Snow been using it? I doubt it. He wouldn’t use something like this. And I don’t think any amount of hair gel could control his wild thatch of bronze curls.

Doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m out of gel, which means...my stupid hair is going to explode later. As if my life wasn’t already a complete nightmare.

———————————————

Simon

“For Crowley’s sake, Simon, slow down,” Agatha sighs, shaking her head.

I don’t listen and continue taking huge bites of my roast beef sandwich. It just tastes so good. Plus I need the energy. The Mage wants me to practice sword work later, and that takes a lot of effort. So the six slices of roast beef on a sandwich makes perfect sense in my opinion.

“Where’s Penelope?” she asks, sipping from her teacup.

I shrug. “I dunno. Something about working on an assignment through lunch. How could anyone work through lunch though?”

“Not everyone needs as much food as you.”

“Shut up,” I grumble through the bread.

“Wipe your cheek, please,” she sighs.

I wipe the bread crumbs away and grin brightly. “Thanks, Agatha.”

She smiles back, and it makes my stomach tug slightly. Not as much as it used to but it’s still there. I did think I was in love with her after all. We tried dating last year, and it just didn’t work out. Friends are better anyways. Friends aren’t as annoyed when you have food on your face.

My eyes drift around the room out of boredom. But they soon settle on a far table to my right. There’s Baz’s friends (minions? I don’t know) sitting, eating and chatting, but there’s no sign of Baz. The hell?

“Hey, where’s Baz?” I ask, and Agatha’s sighing before I’m done the second word.

“I don’t know, Simon,” she says.

“He’s not here.”

“Okay.”

“And he was taking really long in the bathroom this morning. He missed breakfast.”

“Alright.”

My eyes narrows, ideas tumbling around in my brain. Well, one idea, really. Agatha must know what I’m about to say because she puts her head in her hands. “Simon, don’t-”

“He’s plotting something.”

She groans deeply. “For Morgana’s sake, Simon.”

I lean closer to her. “I’m serious, Agatha! Why isn’t he here? Why did he take even longer in the bathroom than he already does? He must’ve been thinking of something at breakfast and now he’s skipping lunch so he can do it.”

Agatha’s eye roll immediately tells me she’s not taking me seriously instantly. “Sure, sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“Maybe he’s cursing my textbooks,” I mumble, sadly to myself because Agatha has stopped listening. “Or he’s doing something to my bed. Maybe pouring some sticky potion on it. Or maybe he’s going to lock me away in a tower again. Or-”

“Oh, there he is.”

I look over my shoulder, where Agatha is looking. My eyes go wide. What...what the fuck? Baz always looks nothing short of perfect. Perfect posture, perfect uniform, and most of all, annoyingly perfect hair. But not today. Today, his hair isn’t pushed back like a movie vampire, or even falling in front of his face like a lazy wave. It’s kind of...fluffy. All puffed up and pointing in lots of directions. It’s more wavy too, and a bit curly. The ends pull in and twist around. Since when does Baz have tiny curls at the end of his hair?!

I’m so distracted by his weird puffy hair that I don’t immediately notice his deep scowl. He looks ready to burn down the building. But that’s kind of offset by the way his curls bounce with his every step.

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

Baz sits with Dev and Niall with a plate of food in front of him. The look he shoots his friends/minions silently says “don’t ask”, and they’re both silent. He drinks his water while still scowling.

“Wow,” Agatha chuckles, “Baz looks a bit messy today.”

“Y-Yeah I guess. Didn’t know his hair could do that...”

I really mean that. In the five years we’ve lived together, I’ve never seen him look like this. Even when we were little he always looked so damn perfect. He was the only eleven year old I’d ever seen use two different kinds of combs. But now there he is now, with fluffy, curly hair.

“Stop staring, Simon,” Agatha says.

I rip from my eyes away from Baz and look back down at my food. “I’m not staring,” I mumble.

“What else would you call it?”

“I’m just, wondering how this is part of his plot.

Agatha sighs again. I look up to see her shaking her head. “It’s not a plot, Simon. He’s obviously just having a bad hair day.”

“But he never has a bad hair day! Why today of all days? Is he trying to distract me so I don’t notice his latest plot?”

“No, I think he’s just out of hair gel or something...”

I shake my head furiously. “No way. He always has way too much hair gel, and those fancy French products, and combs. Baz would never let his hair be mess, he cares way too much about being pretty.”

Agatha’s lip quirks up, that makes me really worried for some reason. She looks like she knows something I don’t. Which she usually does (most people do) but I’m still nervous. “You think Baz is pretty, hm?”

“Well, uh,” I sputter, “well, he is! It’s like, just true. He’s fucking perfect and it’s so annoying.”

She looks back down at her sandwich still smirking. “Mhm, alright.”

I have no idea what she’s implying. And I don’t care. My eyes wander back to Baz, like usual. He’s got some actual food now, eating tiny bites with a hand over his mouth (weird). He leans forward just slightly, and a particularly bouncy curl falls in his face. Baz doesn’t look happy with that. After a few moments, he moves his hand from his mouth and tries to tuck the hair away. It works for a second. But then it falls. Baz tucks it again, but it falls again. I watch him do try to tuck his hair over and over. It’s sort of hypnotising. Eventually he gets so frustrated he starts blowing it furiously. It’s funny, watching him huff and puff at his own unruly hair, but also...adorable? Fuck, do I actually think Basilton fucking Pitch looks adorable?! No way.

“He’s so planning something,” I mumble, once again mostly to myself. “He’s just, trying to throw me off. Like, he has to be doing this on purpose, making his hair all fluffy and shit so I don’t notice what he’s doing. Why else would he make it so, like, distracting? He’s plotting, I know it, Agatha.”

Agatha snorts. Well, that’s rude. I look at her, fully prepared to glare at her, and realise she’s not actually looking at me at all. She’s looking to where Baz is. I follow her gaze, but she’s not looking at Baz, she’s looking at Dev and Niall. They’re both laughing quietly too. Baz seems to be too occupied with his hair to notice.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” I ask.

Agatha turns to me, obviously trying to hold back her laughter. “Nothing, nothing.”

I frown at her. I’m worried it’s too close to a pout. “It’s not nothing if you’re laughing.”

“It’s just,” she sighs, “you’re really adorable, Simon.”

I frown even harder. “How am I adorable? I’m trying to figure out what Baz is plotting!”

She tilts her head slightly to the side, a tiny amused smile on her mouth. “Yes, you are, while you’re blushing so hard your entire face is red.”

I inhale sharply. What the fuck? I instinctively press a hand to my cheek. Fuck, my skin feels really hot. “I-I’m overheated,” I blurt out.

Agatha tilts her head to the other side. “It’s November, Simon.”

“It’s hot in here!”

“Mhm, sure, Si.” She takes a long sip of her tea while maintaining perfect eye contact with me. “Let’s go with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huff.

She shrugs, still smiling. “I think only you can figure that out, Simon.”

I huff again. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Instead of getting more cryptic answers from Agatha, I look back at Baz. He’s stopped blowing his hair and is now running his hand over it, trying to flatten it down. I’m transfixed by the way his long fingers move through the strands. The weird grey of his skin kind of works with his super night black hair. They contrast well. And the movement itself is so graceful. (He’s always graceful.) Even unruly, his hair still looks soft. I wonder if it actually is. I wonder what it would feel like if I ran my fingers thro-

Oh.

Oh shit.

———————————————

Penelope

I like to get some of my readings for next week done before a class. Watford students aren’t too loud so I can do it. I’m calmly reading at my desk when I notice the clock. Huh, there’s about three minutes until class starts, and Simon’s not here. That’s odd. He’s usually late but only by five minutes. Weird. What in Merlin’s name is keeping him? I hope he’s alright. There haven’t been rumblings from the Humdrum or the Old Families for awhile. He should be fine. But where is he?

Two minutes later, my question is answered. Simon stumbles in, completely out of breath and face red. He must’ve ran. But that doesn’t explain why his clothes and hair are such a mess. Well, more of a mess than usual. It looks like he’s been through a hurricane. But he’s still smiling.

“Hey, Pen,” he says breathlessly.

“Hey, Si,” I reply. “Sorry I missed lunch yesterday. Where were you at supper?

"Uh, got caught up in schoolwork..."

I give him a doubtful look over my glasses. "Seriously?"

He nods furiously. "Yeah, yeah, seriously..."

I put a hand on his arm. "Are you alright, Si?"

“I’m good!" He chirps with an even bigger smile. "I’m really good, actually. Super duper good.”

I blink at him. His wide grin doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t elaborate at all. He’s just staring off into space. “Okay...”

I go back to my book, but I only get one paragraph in before the Minotaur comes in and the class starts. But he only gets a few sentences into the lesson before he’s interrupted by the door opening. He turns from the board.

“Mr. Pitch,” he says flatly, “so glad you could join us.”

“Apologies, sir,” a familiar posh voice says as he goes past. Baz walks past me to take his usual seat near the front. My eyes grow wide. Baz looks even worse than Simon. His shirt is rumpled and his tie is slightly loosened. He’s extremely flush for someone so pale. Worst of all is his hair, pointing in every direction and even curling at the ends. It’s like he’s been through two hurricanes.

If that wasn’t weird enough, during the lesson, he’s not being the perfect student like usual. He seems unfocused, staring off into the distance, tugging at his collar, stuff like that. When I look at Simon, he’s unfocused too, which isn’t unusual for him. But he’s got this weird dreamy smile on his face. A few times, I swear his eyes drift to Baz, still smiling. Is...is Simon looking dreamily at Baz?

What the fuck is going on?

———————————————

Thoughts at the end: Simon: Wow, this is weird, but I'm actually really happy. I wonder what Baz is thinking. Baz: CrowleycrowleySnowsnoggedmeandmessedupmyclothesandhairlastnight, holy shit, what the fuck is going on?!

This was a lot of fun to write. I haven't done a lot of canon divergent stuff for awhile so it was a nice change. Hope you guys liked it :) So there's one request fic left that I'm going to start working. And the next chapter of Black Swan will be up soon as possible. See you guys next time :D

#snowbaz #carry on #baz pitch #simon snow #agatha wellbelove #penelope bunce #dev #niall #humour

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chu-ni · 6 years

Text

candy jar -- ldh.

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: enemies to lovers?? yeah?? with some fluff?

warnings: swearing. so if you’re not into that,,,sad times :(

word count: 5.8k

a/n: in case u didn’t know this is based off the netflix film candy jar!! i got real inspired by it!!

also this is my first fic on this blog so like. please be nice sksk

“Look at him. Look at that smug look on his smug face,” you grumble under your breath, eyes shooting daggers at the boy currently sitting across from you. Ever since kindergarten, you and Lee Donghyuck (or Haechan, as he preferred to be called) have had a vendetta, of sorts.

It all started when he upstaged your speech on butterflies (which was very well written, if you said so yourself) back in kindergarten by singing a song about bees, bees, of all things! He even smiled at you as he did it. Since then, it seemed as though he’d made it his life’s mission to beat you at absolutely everything. You’d had a passion for debate as soon as you’d entered high school, and, lo and behold, your lifetime enemy had a passion for debate too. Now juniors, the both of you admittedly put a little less time into arguing with each other,and more into your studies, but after the previous captain of debate club had graduated last year, a kind upperclassman named Mark, the two of you were the top (and only willing) candidates to take his place. Your constant arguments about who should take over had resulted in the two of you currently being forced to spend some time in the counselor’s office.

“I don’t think you understand, Miss Johnson. I’m clearly more level headed and responsible than him, so I deserve the title of captain, obviously-”

“Obviously? Obviously a four time state qualifier like me deserves the title, and, when you consider the numerous contributions my parents have made to the debate club-”

“Here we go again, Donghyuck, always using your precious rich kid privilege to get what you want. Can’t you ever work for something you want like the rest of us?”

“If by ‘the rest of us’ you mean the likes of peasants, like you, then the answer is most definitely a solid no-”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying!” You say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“See? This is why I can’t work with her. How do you expect us to co-captain when she’s like this?”

Eyes narrowed, glaring at him, you snarl. “When I’m like what, Donghyuck?”

Pinching her nose bridge, the counsellor interrupts you two.

“Quiet, the both of you!”

You sink into your seat, cowed.

“Honestly. I asked the two of you to jointly run a group because I thought you’d be mature enough to set aside your differences– however silly they were– and work effectively. But clearly, my expectations were too high. The both of you can leave my office and return when you can speak to each other with some kind of civility.”

“But-” Haechan interjects.

“Out!” She snaps. “I wonder if the two of you are even human sometimes,” she mutters.

And with that, the two of you leave, shoving each other on your way out.

If it wasn’t bad enough that the two of you were forced to share a club together, it was even worse that the two of you were forced into sharing every class together, as well. As the bell rings, signifying an hour of sheer boredom with the one person you’d be happy to go the rest of your life without, you begin dragging yourself to your lesson when his voice pipes up.

“You know, that meeting would’ve gone a lot better if you’d just admitted the truth.”

Sighing, you look at him, already done with the conversation. “And what truth is that, Haechan? Please do enlighten me,”

“That I should be captain of the debate club. You can be my deputy, of course, that’s something you’re better suited to. But I would suit the position of captain a lot better than you. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be.”

Your eyes narrow once more, and you honestly don’t know whether to be angry or just plain shocked that people– no– Donghyuck, can come up with such bullshit on a daily basis.

“And why would I suit the position of deputy more than being a captain, Haechan? Are you saying that because you’re a man, you’re better suited to positions of leadership? Or that I’m just supposed to sit down and accept all the bullshit you spew in an inferior position because that pea-brain of yours can’t wrap itself around the fact that a girl may be better qualified to lead than you?” He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, having had enough. “The amount of stupidity that you allow to leave your mouth astounds me, Lee Haechan, and unfortunately for you, I’m tired of listening to it.” With that, you stomp away from him, unbelievably irritated.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, and honestly, in between studying for upcoming tests and finishing off projects for various classes, so does the rest of the week, thankfully, with no further interaction with Donghyuck….which is what would’ve happened had it not been for the absolute bombshell dropped on you on Friday.

“The two of you are going to represent us in the state qualifiers for the youth debate prize!” Your principal, a portly man with a receding hairline and a suit that was way too tight on him squeals in joy.

You, in comparison are far from excited. In all honesty, you’d rather fling yourself from the nearest rooftop than work with him after your last full conversation with him, which, still makes your blood boil. However, luckily, your soon to be partner, the one and only Lee Donghyuck, feels the same way you do, judging from his thunderous expression. You watch as he inhales deeply, most likely preparing a long winded speech as to why he just cannot possibly work with you, but to your surprise, you hear a simple, concise,

“Fine.”

In a daze, you nod along, and are rushed out of the principal’s office. He doesn’t say a word to you after that, choosing to run ahead to his car, making his way home. Shaking your head, you also rush home, preparing some ideas on what points to make for the set topic the next time you see him. Hopefully, you think to yourself, the next time would be a lot more bearable.

The next time you see him is completely unbearable.

He refuses to listen, tries to one-up you at every turn, which is impossible considering you’re in a team, and his non stop snide remarks have you /this close/ to punching him in the balls.

“Donghyuck,” you hiss.

He stops whatever it is he’s doing with his cue cards for all of one, blissful second, and then promptly returns to being overall annoying.

“Donghyuck,” you snarl.

He turns to look at you this time, as though you were stopping him from doing something incredibly important. “Listen,” you start, “we aren’t getting anywhere like this.” at that, he scoffs. “You’re damn right about that.” Anger rises within you, but you push it down just so you can finish this conversation and go home already. “I think we should take a break and try again tomorrow, don’t you?” He’s silent for a few beats, and you think you’ve gotten through to him, that maybe you’ve found something to mutually agree on.

“How about we just do the work separately? I’ll plan the whole thing, and you can debate it on the day.” Of all the things you would’ve expected him to say (something more along the lines of “Thank God, I can’t wait to be as far away from you as possible!” or maybe a “Yes!”), you never thought he’d be the kind of person to say something like that. But, considering his opinion on being captain of the debate club, it begins to make sense.

“How about we actually try and work together? You agreed to us being a pair, so why don’t we at least try and share the work evenly, yeah?” You were surprising yourself with your suggestions, but you didn’t like the idea of leaving him to his own devices. “I know this may be hard for you to believe, Y/N,” he starts, “But newsflash! I don’t trust leaving you alone with something like this.” Breathing a heavy sigh, you try to get through to him, “Do I have to spell this out for you or something? We have accomplished nothing in the 2 hours we’ve been in this empty ass library, because you seem to have made it your daily mission to get under my skin. So could you be 10% less dickish for 5 minutes? Please?”

He looks deep in thought, before speaking, his blasé drawl already setting you on edge. “Hmm, maybe not.”

“Why? Why is listening to me so unbelievably hard for you?” You explode, exasperated.

“Let me spell things out for you, Y/N. Listening to you does absolutely nothing for me. I reap no rewards whatsoever, and I know your brain isn’t,” he pauses to double tap your forehead, “all there, but I thought you would’ve realised throughout this whole enemy thing that I am entirely self-serving. To put it bluntly, I don’t care.”

Maybe Donghyuck felt a little bit bad when he saw your eyes flash with something that was less anger and more hurt, but for some odd reason whenever it came to speaking with you, his mouth tended to have a mind of its own. Maybe it was rooted in the fact that he wanted his revenge from the last time the two of you said more than 2 words to each other, or maybe he took joy in seeing you angry around him. Actually, scratch that last one. Donghyuck was many things, but a sadist was not one of them.

“Do this whole thing by yourself then. As if I could ever work with an arrogant jerk like you,” you growl, voice ice cold, before leaving the library, trying (and failing) to slam the door behind you.

Walking, and then gradually running, out of school grounds, you cursed as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You’d never let anything he’d said get to you before, so why had it gotten to you now? And over a stupid joint project, of all things. Your heart knew why, obviously- you cared about his opinion of you, even if it was generally mutually pretty shit. Your mind, on the other hand– while still trying to figure out how to stop crying, as well as the root cause of Donghyuck’s extra dose of dickishness– was coming up blank.

For the next couple of weeks, you don’t speak to him. You don’t work on your upcoming debate for the state qualifiers, you don’t look at him in debate club, and you refuse to even acknowledge his existence, both in and out of school.

That is, until homecoming rolls around.

For most of your high school career, you’d been focused on your studies. After all, you were the first generation in your family to become a college student, so why not do even better and get into a good one–no, a great one. Why not try for Harvard? That had been your philosophy since you’d graduated middle school and so you’d thrown yourself into constant studying, extracurriculars, (90% of which you’d dropped during your first month) anything to boost your college application. It was never too early to be prepared, in your eyes. As a side effect of this, you were kind of, hopeless in the friendship department. To put it nicely, you were a loner. To put it bluntly, you had no friends.

You weren’t planning on going to the homecoming dance anyway, but your mom seemed hell-bent on giving you a life that didn’t revolve around studying and bickering with a certain arrogant 18 year old asshole, and so you ended up donning a modest red dress with some heels and saying goodbye to your mom the night of.

“You’re staying over at a friends house after the party, right?”

“Yes, mom. I’ll probably come home, anyway.”

“No! I want you to have some fun, for once! Live a little, huh?”

Looking her in the eyes, you whisper your assent, and turn to go, waving at her until you’re sure she’s gone inside. Once she is, you change your direction to your local movie theatre, ready for a nice night of movies and popcorn. It wasn’t like you hated homecoming, or dances in general, you just didn’t see the point of being a sweaty gym hall surrounded by hormonal teenagers and shitty music from the top 40.

You buy your first round of snacks and settle in to watch some throwaway rom-com with an mildly interesting plot. It’s okay, but you definitely could’ve chosen a better film to waste your time with, as you found your eyes fluttering shut at some parts. You head back out into the lobby and choose a more action packed film to watch, and as you finish paying for your second round of snacks, this time consisting of more chocolates and candy than popcorn, you come face to face with the one person you’d been avoiding so well for the past couple of weeks. The two of you make awkward eye contact, which you instantly break, by the way, upon discovery that he cleans up kind of.….nice.

Really nice, actually. Could it be that Donghyuck was actually kind of…hot?

You erase that thought the second it pops into your head. You absolutely refuse to see this boy, the bane of your existence for the past decade, as anything other than the arrogant ass he is. And yet, he really does look good in the plain white suit that seems to accentuate his lean figure. You’re brought out of your thoughts by him, currently looking a strange mix of shocked and confused.

“Uh…theatre two?”

You blink, before realising.

“Oh. oh! right, I’m gonna…go..now.”

You turn and run into the theatre, but this film seems to be even worse than the last one, the shitty CGI and cardboard acting sending you halfway to sleep in the first 30 minutes. You want to get up and leave, but you don’t want to go home too early and you don’t like the idea of having wasted all that money on a film you couldn’t even finish. So you force yourself to sit through the rest of it, focusing on finishing your snacks and trying to get interested in the film.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the film ends, and you leave the cinema, ready to go home and prepare a few lines about how fun homecoming was for your mom to hear when you bump into him.

Again.

You awkwardly smile at him before beginning to walk in your house’s direction, when he breaks the silence, speaking up. “You know, I never pegged you for the lonely type.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and seeing it makes you get a special kind of angry.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Donghyuck. Least of all with you.” you reply, already feeling irritation boil in your chest.

You begin to walk away once more, when the heel on your shoe just so happens to break, and you curse to yourself, wondering why this had to happen now of all times as you attempt (horribly) to fix your shoe.

“Uh, do you need- do you need a ride home?”

You freeze.

He’d never sounded so shy, so quiet, so, not him in the 15 years you’d known him. “Why would you wanna give me a ride?” you ask, apprehensive.

“I may not like you all that much, but even i was raised better than to leave a girl to walk home alone, y/n.” Gone was the timid tone from a few seconds ago – the caustic, teasing lilt you’d become accustomed to had returned. And somehow, that comforted you. Made you feel a lot more at ease than the almost nice version of Donghyuck you’d heard a few seconds earlier. You thought about his proposition for a little longer. Could you really trust him, of all people?

Yes. Yes you could.

“…..You’ll take me straight home?”

You swore you saw his eyes light up a little, but you put it to the back of your mind.

“This isn’t home, Hyuck.”

His heart speeds up a little at the nickname you’d used, and he hopes you don’t notice the surprise in his eyes as he turns away from the collection point at the drive-thru to face you.

“Your observational skills continue to amaze me, Y/N. Tell me, how do you do it?” you can feel the sarcasm dripping from his words, but refuse to deign him with a reply. “Besides, milkshakes and fries are a great combination. And you look like you need it.” You curl your lip in disgust as he hands you your meal. “This kind of stuff ruins your organs! It’s a recipe for type 2 diabetes, Hyuck, I’m telling you,” “I’m here for a good time, not a long time, babe!” he laughs as he starts the engine and begins to drive. “Where are we going now?” You ask, groaning in annoyance. “You’d be so much better looking if you didn’t talk so much, you know that? Just relax for once, yeah?” You stiffen at the first part of his sentence, but put it to the back of your mind as you stare out the car window, aloof. The rest of the ride thankfully passes by in silence, allowing you to get lost in your own thoughts. As much as you disliked Donghyuck, you had to appreciate the (albeit unexpected) gesture that he was making for you. the experience at the cinema earlier had kind of cemented the fact that you were kind of a loner, and hyuck had made you feel…not alone. You definitely wouldn’t call him a friend, but he was most definitely less of an enemy. You slide your eyes over to look at him, bored with the view from the window. You’d never noticed it before, but his profile was actually really beautiful. The moles dotted across his cheek and neck, the slope of his nose and his even, warm skin tone that seemed to radiate the sun, and the way his full lips settled into a natural pout…

Donghyuck was not a bad looking guy.

And for all his very many faults, being ugly was very much not one of them. So why had it taken you this long to notice?

“We’re here, dumbass.” You jump, shaken and you inwardly hope he hadn’t caught you staring-

“And stop staring at me. it’s creepy.”

With that, you clearly realised why it had taken that long to notice anything about Donghyuck aside from his annoyingly big stupid mouth that never seemed to shut up.

“I wasn’t staring at you, dumbass.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure.”

Following him to the peak of the hill he’d taken you to, you gasp. In front of you both laid the rest of the city in all of its glory. The lights dotted all over, showing a kaleidoscope of colour, the lake in the far distance, the trees within the various neighborhoods and green spaces….it was basic, but it took your breath away. Because you were so separate from it all, it gave you space to breathe, away from the hustle and bustle of your town.

“Woah,” you breathe.

“I know. Woah,” he replies, grinning. You didn’t know it, but taking you up here had been his way of apologising for how he’d treated you the last time you’d met. Hyuck was never the kind of person to apologize outright though, so this was the best you were going to get.

“This is…something else,”

As you got lost in the view below, it became Donghyuck’s turn to stare at you. Unlike you, he could actually get past the fact that you never stopped talking.

The first time he’d noticed you were somewhat beautiful was the beginning of sophomore year. You were both in the same classes for everything, but it was during a creative writing segment in English class that he’d realised you weren’t that bad. You were reading out a poem you’d written, shyly laughing to yourself when you’d made a small mistake and he’d thought you were actually kind of….cute. Of course, Hyuck would rather die than ever say that to your face, seeing as you’d never let him live it down, but it was nice to admire, wasn’t it?

“….Stop staring at me, it’s creepy!” you say, mocking his earlier tone. He should’ve been annoyed at that, but to his own surprise, he found it somewhat endearing.

“Why would I want to stare at someone like you?” He scoffed, looking away.

“If thats what helps you sleep at night, sure, Donghyuck. Sure.” You crooned, patting his head, to which he flinched away from in mock disgust.

“Ew.”

Dipping his now somewhat cold fry into his milkshake, he held it towards you. “Anyway, try this.” You looked back and forth between the fry and him for a few seconds, noticing his impatience, and snatched the fry out of his hand, taking a tentative bite. Chewing slowly, you smiled a little in acknowledgment. It actually wasn’t that bad. Doing the same thing with your own fries and milkshake, you found it was better than not bad. It was addicting, as you made a little noise of pleasure upon your third fry.

Watching you eat was probably the greatest thing Hyuck had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and the warm feeling he got when you smiled was something he was just going to have to address another day. Maybe he liked you, he thought. Maybe. But he’d sooner die than say that out loud, so for now he just enjoyed the food with you.

“I told you it was amazing,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow and you knew he was right, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Eh. they were okay, I guess.”

Jaw dropped and eyebrows raised, he gaped at you in confusion.

“Okay!? This is the best combination known to man, I’ll have you know!”

You shrugged. “Maybe to you. The real best combination is and always will be, fries with ice cream of course,”

“You literally said that was a recipe for type 3 diabetes.”

“I said it was a recipe for type 2 diabetes, dimwit. Type 3 doesn’t even exist!”

The two of you continue to bicker like that for a couple of hours, before you both notice the time and rush to head home, stomachs full and a newfound understanding between you. As the both of you arrive outside your house, the air is clearly thick with unsaid words.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“I…I really enjoyed it.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue,

“This whole thing, I mean. So… thanks, I guess.”

Hyuck nods, saying a few words of his own.

“I'm….happy I bumped into you tonight.”

Stuttering, he continues,

“And-and I wouldn’t mind if you’d want- if you’d want to do this again, sometime?” He sounded unsure and shy, and of all things, Donghyuck hated sounding unsure, and he hated sounding anything less than confident, but you understood him all the same.

You whisper, “I think I’d like that too.”

You stare at each other a little while longer, before you break the trance by shaking your head. Clearing your throat, you make your way out of the car and move to go inside, turning around one last time.

The two of you make brief eye contact, to which you both smile, and only when you’ve finally gone inside do you hear the rumble of his car driving off.

Monday arrives, and the other members of your debate club, which consist of two loud sophomores named Jisung and Chenle, another stuck-up senior named Nancy, and a quiet freshman named Herin, are surprised to see that you and Donghyuck aren’t arguing with each other today. The dirty looks and snide comments are gone, instead replaced with a quiet respect for each other. You’re surprised as well, to see that you can actually hold a conversation with the guy without wanting to rip your hair out for the first time in, well, ever.

He stops you after debate club ends, and for once you don’t automatically feel angry.

“Do you wanna…maybe….try again with the whole project thing?” He’s quiet, and you had to strain to hear him a little, but you found his sudden shyness charming, to say the least. You were beginning to see Haechan as less of an arrogant jerk and more of a…tolerable acquaintance. Who was also kinda cute, and kinda nice. At times.

“Do you promise to listen to me this time?” You look at him expectantly.

“Yes, I promise. I’ll even tone down the dickishness!” He grins for good measure, and you’d be lying if you said his smile didn’t make your heart do flips.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll stop the dickishness,” he grumbles, looking up at you through his eyelashes, which, you realised, were actually pretty long, and pretty adorable, and pretty… pretty.

Hold up.

Since when had you begun using the same adjectives to describe something? You were going to have to do something about this sudden onslaught of feelings, but it felt nice to like someone, even if that someone was Lee Donghyuck.

“So shall we start planning at mine tomorrow?” You snap out of your blatant staring (to which Donghyuck notices, but doesn’t bring up to spare you the embarrassment) in time to catch that final question, and you hum in agreement. He smiles at you again, before waving goodbye and heading off.

You make your own way home as well, a skip in your step and a grin on your face. You spend the rest of your day organising files and the like and preparing things to bring for tomorrow, which you are more than excited about, for some reason. School passes by fairly quickly the next day. You have a pop quiz you think you did okay on, you turn in homework you know you did great on, and you try your best to focus in class, but your mind keeps wandering to him. And a small part of you is kicking, screaming, and outright yelling at you to stop liking him, that you aren’t supposed to like him, that he’s just an arrogant jerk– but the larger part of you is just going with the flow and enjoying the moment while it lasts. You don’t want to like him, but you don’t have the energy to fight against your own feelings when, for once, you don’t have anything to despise him for.

The bell rings at the end of your final lesson, and you find him waiting outside for you, something that already makes your heart flutter. He grabs your hand and almost drags you to his car, a light blue convertible, and you try not to stutter at the feeling of his warm hand and how perfectly it fits into yours.

“Of course you’d have a car like this, Hyuck.” He smiles softly at the nickname, before processing the rest of what you just said. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He splutters, indignant. “Whatever you want it to mean, I guess,” you sigh, relaxed. Donghyuck’s eyes widen. He wasn’t used to not arguing over anything and everything with you, but the silence between you two becomes a comfortable one for the rest of the ride.

You pull up by his house, and you gasp upon entering. A chandelier hangs in the entry lobby, the walls are decorated with modern art, and a white and gold colour scheme occurs throughout the house. After removing your shoes, Haechan signals you to follow him up the stairs, and you go into his room, which looks as average as any other teenage boy’s room. The colour scheme in here is different to the rest of the house, the walls painted a warm orange. There are a few t-shirts strewn across the floor, a desk in one corner with a laptop and various folders, books and stationery piled onto it. Posters of famous films like pulp fiction, kill bill, and the like decorate the walls, and by his bed you notice a stack of records with music from artists like Michael Jackson and Prince that’s dangerously close to toppling over. The room’s kind of messy, but it’s distinctly Donghyuck, so it doesn’t bother you.

You watch as he flings himself onto his bed, huffing a sigh of tranquility. “Do you wanna get started? I can go downstairs and get us some snacks, if you want,” he says, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I’d like that,” you smile, and begin to set up your various point cards and cue cards in preparation for your upcoming debate. You’re going over a positive of your proposed argument (which discusses how beneficial a college education is, by the way) when Haechan returns with cookies that smell absolutely heavenly. He offers you one, and you bite into it, moaning in contentment. “These are great,” you giggle. “Who made them?” You ask. “I did, actually.” He mumbles. You pause your happy chewing to look at him. A light dust of pink had settled on his cheeks, and he’d begun fiddling with the edge of one of his cue cards, clearly a little embarrassed. “You- You’re a great baker, Haechan.” You whisper, lightly breaking the silence. He looks up at you, still a little red in the face, then looks off to one side once he notices your sincerity. “Th-thanks,” he mutters. “You know,” he begins, substantially louder and more confident than before, “that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” a knowing grin settles onto his face as he looks at you, and as you meet his stare, you suddenly take note of how close he’s gotten. “Could it be,” he murmurs, voice having dropped an octave, “that you like me?” Your eyes flit back and forth from his lips to his eyes, and you don’t even have time to reply before his lips are on yours.

You freeze, unsure of what to do.

At your lack of response, he begins to pull away, but you pull him back into you, moving your lips against his. He feels soft, billowy, and like everything you’ve ever wanted. If your heart went any faster than it already was you’d probably get some kind of heart problem, but you’d happily suffer cardiac arrest if it meant always being able to kiss him like this. Your eyes are shut, meaning you can’t see anything, obviously, but somehow there’s still an explosion of colour behind them. You tingle, from your head to your toes and you wonder why the hell it took you two this long to do anything like this. You sigh when his hands pull you closer by your waist, and it’s then when he pulls away. Subconsciously, you follow his lips, your eyes opening at the sound of his laugh.

“Was I that amazing?” He giggles, lips slightly reddened.

“Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”, You grumble, “It makes it sound weird.”

“Just admit it, Y/N. You like me,” he croons in a sing-song voice. Part of you wants to punch him, but you roll your eyes and look him dead in the eye instead.

“Maybe I do. What about it, Donghyuck?”

He feels a shudder down his spine at your use of his first name, but he likes it. All throughout middle and high school, he’d made everybody call him by his middle name, Haechan, because he thought it sounded better. But he found himself thoroughly enjoying the fact that you were the one who said his first name to him. Why he suddenly enjoyed it moreso in this situation than all the other times you’d called him by his first name, he did’nt know. Probably because all the other times you were growling, snarling and hissing it at him, and this time you sounded kind of..normal.

“Nothing. Just say my name again, please?”

“Don’t tell me that’s your kink.” You deadpan.

“Only when you say it, babe,”

“God, I hate you,” You growl, trying to get away from him, but he holds you in place, grinning at you.

“You know, you were a lot more bearable when you were kissing me,” you pout.

“Then make me bearable,” he says, staring directly at your lips.

And you do, leaning into him again, feeling content, happy, and just right.

The two of you begin a thing, after that day. Not quite dating, but not quite single either. For now, you’re both content just hanging out in his car and making out at various intervals and going on study dates that always end with no work done, but you don’t mind it. You aren’t really sure you mind anything, when he’s around.

The day of the debate qualifiers comes and goes without a hitch. As a pair, the both of you do well enough to make it to the finals, but you lose to a pair who seemed a lot more emotionally invested in the argument, and although you lost, you didn’t feel all that disappointed, because you won in a different way. You won an okay looking, nice enough, somewhat-boyfriend-who-wasn’t-a-boyfriend-yet, and you were happy with that. As the two of you leave the competition hall, ready to hop in Donghyuck’s car and go home, you ask him a question.

“When did you realise you liked me?”

He hums in thought, “Hmm….I liked you since sophomore year, but I think I only realised it when I took you on our first date.”

“You mean when you stopped me from going home and forcibly kept me with you as you fed me milkshakes and fries? That date?”

“Yes, that date.” He sighed in exhaustion. He liked you, a lot. Maybe even loved you. But absolutely nobody knew how to get on his nerves the way you did. And that would’ve angered him, if not for the fact that he could do the exact same thing to you.

You arrive at his car, and as you both strap yourselves in, you decide to ask another question.

“I- I am your girlfriend, right?”

Donghyuck slowly turned to look at you, face blank.

“Of course not,” he begins, “I just make out with you and take you on dates and bake you food for all of no reason, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms and looked out the window, just for an excuse to look away from him.

“You’re so mean,”

“But you love me anyway!” He beamed, and maybe, maybe just maybe, you did.

“Just kiss me, idiot,”

“My pleasure, dumbass.”

#haechan x reader #nct dream imagines #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct #lee donghyuck #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #enemies to lovers #lee haechan #lee haechan x reader

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rxneism · 5 years

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hi, hey, hello ! here am i clocking in many hours late thanks to having to pick up a double shift today ( sad reacts only ). i go by ari, 20+ and living in the est timezone, she/her pronouns. let me introduce you to the definition of a living nightmare, my lil babey rune. to sum it up, he’s literally always down for anything, a true adrenaline junkie to the core. he lives by his horoscope, would die for his car, and has probably flirted with your muse before 10000%. i’ll be organizing his pages tonight, but below the cut is a few points on his background and some possible connections ! i’m more of a brainstroming gal myself, so i’m all for that too ! tldr; give this a good ol’ like and i’ll slip on into your ims, yeehaaaaaaw

﹄ CHITTAPHON LEECHAIYAPORNKUL, CISMALE, HE/HIM, TWENTY THREE ﹃ a new car has been dispatched in search of RUNDET “RUNE” NOPPACHURN. he is known for being a RACER for the VIPERS, for about eight months now. he has proven to be bewitching and individualistic, but also insatiable and crude, please proceed with caution.

BACKGROUND:

-- rune was born in thailand, to an upbeat, frantic and endlessly loving mother and a father rune would have called his hero as a child. they had just enough to live without pressing worries, rune spent his first years of life running around and babbling and being the cutest little bundle of light ever. once his little sister was born when he was six, though, that’s when money got a little tight.

-- they had just enough to live without pressing worries, rune spent his first years of life running around and babbling and being the cutest little bundle of light ever. once his little sister was born when he was six, though, that’s when money got a little tight.

-- he began having to use his cute face and wit to con anybody he ran into, neighbors, tourists, family friends. if rune wasn’t coming home with pockets full of petty change, then he was never satisfied.

-- money was stretched so thin and he remembers his father leaving when he was sixteen, shattering whatever stability his family hoped to have.

-- his mom, a simple artist, had to break her back with so many waitressing gigs to provide for her two children and rune had to watch her cry herself to sleep night after night. it’s safe to say he’s grown to Loathe his father with every fiber in his being.

-- the desire to just understand why his father left grew and festered to pure animosity, he has this hunger to watch his father suffer slowly haha xD

-- with that, he left home as soon as he could and has been hopping from gang to gang ever since with hopes of tracking down his father for revenge, with driving being his number one skill. lil homie can skrrt like nobody’s business and steal ur heart while doin it.

-- keeps in contact with his family but only through letters since he is Terrified of them ever getting hurt because of him. sends them $$$$ as much as he can manage, never wants them to struggle Again

ABOUT RUNE:

-- god...rune... he’s horrible. an absolute performative narcissist, carries himself like he’s a fucking royal yet is his number one critic at the end of the day. it’s just so much easier for him to lead as a bad bitch, in his opinion, insecurities should never be shown

-- HE LOVES being so close to death aka he gets into many fights he could never win, loves flirting with enemy, driving abnormally fast, robbing corner stores, pick pocketing, gambling his life away, etc. he’ll do it all. sad truth: he only ever feels anything if his adrenaline is through the Roof

-- he’s so foul mouthed, he curses like no tomorrow and speaks whatever is on his mind. you only live once, right??? might as well say whatever the fuck you want to say, that’s his life motto

-- rune only speaks sarcasm and his biggest turn on, romantically and friendship-ly, is witty banter #confirmed

-- he’s a big slut highkey fhcakjvfbfv loves flirting, loves sex and has no problem making that known. feelings are for Losers and rune is so over romance it hurts. he hates labels and genuinely is open to everything/everyoneee

-- he lives by his hososcope, if it says to not leave the house, u bet ur ass he is staying i n. will ask u for ur sign and judge u on the spot

-- he loves lingerie, makeup, piercings and everything pretty !!! hes a high maintenance babey, loves spoiling himself and looking Great. considers his style to be v androgynous, he wears whatever the hell he wants, whenever he wants

-- he !! loves !! pop !! music !! and all music but put on some carly rae and he is Set. has a thing for making mixtapes for the very few people he cares about in his life

-- has realized in the past few years that he enjoys sketching, while he isn’t the best by any means, he finds so much pleasure in expressing himself through the same form his mother does

-- don’t touch his car. don’t do it. rune is so obnoxiously petty and will personally terrorize ur muse forever.

CONNECTIONS GALORE:

-- one of rune’s life goals is to be hooking up with every single sign at once. he’s an idiot, he’s never happy and he keeps hookin up to fill the ~ void ~, he’s all for fwb without the friends part, rune considers that a waste of time??? stupid????

-- with that being said, give him a fwb that is absolutely, somewhat friend first and foremost and rune Hates it. he makes every attempt to stay away from your muse, but they somehow always end up in the same bed, talking like pals

-- a best friend !! someone rune would drop fucking everything for, someone who knows him inside and out, your muse is the one person rune would sacrifice himself for. he can always be found either passed out in your bathroom or up 2 no good and ur muse is ready to help clean the mess

-- partners in crime...,, pls,,, fuck up some randos together, drive thru the city screaming lyrics and high off the night,,, your muse has rune’s respect And trust. an iconic duo

-- racer rivals oof. enemies who love to rile each other up before races, maybe vandalizing each other’s rides, taunting, a pure Rivalry that rune loves to hate

-- rune can’t fight for shit. he has great hand eye coordination but that’s when it ends. pls teach him how to not get fucked up in fights he picks

-- rune doesn’t get along w most people. your muse is most people. u guys fight and fight and Fight and swear there’s nothing more to it. ya’ll just hate each other, but why exactly?? who knows at this point

-- your muse is unfortunately rune’s neighbor. u hear his sexcapades thru the door and you always march over, give him a good yell. it never works. cue the cycle repeating over n over

-- rune saw your muse from across and rune and simply needed to sketch their face. ever since then, it’s been this gray area between you two, rune can’t stop wanting to draw every detail and now he kinda wants to know about your muse too?? wild

-- a past flame that got too close to the sun, rune began to feel So much and had to end it, probably in terrible terms. he doesn’t feel bad, not at all, but maybe if u squint there’s some regret

this is literally too long and it’s just me rambling if u got this far u have my heart and soul. okay lets start anarchy bye

#＊ＮＩＮＥ ; 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕥 ㅡ ｏｏｃ #( im a mess #( this is so long for no reason #( fuck #( lets get it #pyramidsintro.

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miraculouskpop · 6 years

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MKP Series | Ladybug and Wolf

Chapter III: This isn't a Story.

Oh Sehun was quite the interesting character for a teenager. Quiet, calculating the objectives laid before him and taking haste action. Perhaps his actions are a little too immediate for understanding, but his intelligent excuses makes up for irrational decisions. His thoughts aren't too immature, at least he thinks so himself, and new talents keeps appearing whenever he learns a new subject. He’s smart, naturally attractive (although he could improve his skin tone…) and carry silent charm that woos both students and teachers.

Yeah, he’s everything losers want to be. So what? Like he gives a shit. Girls love him, boys want to be his posers and teachers ready to place him in honors class. It’s the sweet life, right? Perhaps. He doesn't consider it as sweet, but it’s a hell lot better than dealing with this shit.

This was an incredible case of stupidity.

Yes, he admit that he made a terrible decision. It’s burning his ass every single day whenever snobs laughs at his failures. People assume he’s some quiet moron sulking through humiliation, hah! They don't know a genius when they see one…

“We meet again tomorrow at four. In the meantime, maintain the training and we’ll overview your new diet plan.” Diet plan. Cut this, remove that, reduce this amount and add more repulsive garbage to his digestive system. Four months in and Sehun is ready to succumb to his bubble tea cravings. It's horrible having sugar withdrawals and being restricted from eating bungeoppang, it’s living hell. Wanna know what else is horrible? Everyone treating him like some stranger.

He’s not a stranger.

Sehun left the studio with no one to accompany him. Oddly, this pang sat within his chest for days now. This feeling of deep loneliness, although it’s something he’ll never speak of publicly. Unfortunate to say, but he missed those ugly boys fawning over him, the girls constantly annoying him with cellphone requests. Sehun had to transfer to another school in order to reach distance between the dormitory and that cursed entertainment building.

Those bastards.

But it was him alone who signed the final line. Your fault. His mind whispers, and Sehun realized that he probably deserved it. He didn't know anyone, and it seems that nobody's interested in knowing him either. Maybe they all joined for one purpose, and that’s attaining SM’s official status as celebrity.

Sehun walked briskly into the midnight hour. He didn’t want to be bothered with anyone, let alone deal with the summer heat radiating against his skin. He knew signing the contract would lead to rigorous training and mental stability, but he vowed he could do it. He can do anything if he just believed, right? If only his current actions would reflect the hopeful notion that he’ll succeed. But it really doesn’t matter, anyway.

The teen stood at the stop light waiting for the electric sign to flash green. Sehun preoccupied himself by scrolling naver on mobile ((slow internet due to pissy coverage)) and played some hip hop music. The moment the light flashed green, Sehun pushed past the crowd. However, what Sehun didn’t realize he legitimately pushed someone, particularly an old man, onto the ground. Sehun froze in surprise, “I’m sorry sir. Are you okay?” He felt embarrassed and somewhat guilty to for not paying attention. Sehun bend his knees to help the old man, and then notice how short the elder was. The old man simply chuckled as he carefully grabbed his cane. “I’m quite fine,” he said, “Getting rather old for these late travels... Thank you young man for helping me. What’s your name, child?”

“Uh, Sehun. Oh Sehun.” It felt strange talking to an old man in the middle of the street. “Well then, Oh Sehun, would you like to attain a gift far superior than physical needs?”

Uh…

Sehun stared blankly at the old man. What the hell is this guy talking about? “Um, not really-“

“I understand your hurting deeply. Your depression outweighs your confidence, and sometimes it is hard concealing sorrowful emotions.” Sehun immediately lunged on defense. How dare this ignorant old goon tell him that he’s depressed! He is not depressed! In fact, he’s doing a hell lot better than normal! This ridiculous pruned nutbag. “Excuse me, but I need to leave-“

“If you had the opportunity to become a hero, would you accept?”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I gotta go now. Bye.” Ugh, this man is giving him the creeps. Sehun raced across the street before the light turned red. He couldn't help but to shudder at the strange circumstance. What was that all about? Talk about weird. When he finally made it to the moderately fair dormitory, Sehun could feel his insides churn in distress. After abandoning his friends for his current lifestyle, he haven't met anyone rather interesting. No one bothers to talk to him, and his previous friends are too preoccupied with school clubs and other friends.

Okay, it hurts. It’s nobody's fault but his own. Sehun released a dreary sigh before punching in the codes to the entrance. Better take a shower and go to sleep…

He made it up the stairs and unlocked the door. It’s considered a small officetel to some, and thankfully he doesn’t have to deal with crooks stealing his stuff. Darkness swallowed Sehun whole, yet he felt emptier than ever before. He trekked through the living room and into the bathroom, took a hot shower, changed into his pajamas and returned to the tiny space for a kitchen. He then ate a small bowl of whole wheat cereal and slices of an apple. Oh, how he missed sugar cereal…

Sehun walked to his bed and prepared to sleep when he found a box resting idly against his pillow. Huh? He doesn't recall a box. The teenager snatched it, opened the box and found an intricate metal watch inside. Hm, looks very nice. He pulled the watch out the box and inspected it. Tiny white paw marks trailed the edges of watch. In the center there was a symbolic white wolf with the hand formed as a silver paw. Behind the wolf was a full moon, and Sehun found it rather unusual for a watch, but nonetheless liked the design.

Looks cool. Sehun slipped his wrist between the hooks and grinned. Wondered who would give him this? It fits his wrists perfectly…

There was a small click, and then a flash of bright light.

Sehun winced when the light began to fade. Like, what the heck just happened? The teen shook his head, and noticed something rather… Different. Different in what way? Well, there’s something floating in front of him.

. . .

… What the absolute fuc-

“Excuse me, but if you’re planning to swear, please reconsider it.” That thing said. Holy hell, did it just spoke? What the hell is this? Sehun immediately back away in horror. He blinked, and blinked again. Hell, he even rubbed his eyes to ensure he wasn't seeing things. However, that floating thing was still there! “What the hell are you?!” Fear drowned out his senses as he continued moving away from the thing. Hair stood above Sehun’s neck when the thing flew towards him.

“Don’t hurt me!" Sehun covered himself in case the thing decided to possess him.

Nothing.

Sehun peeked to find the thing directly facing him. By its expression it seemed unamused, and its arms folded in a rather irritable fashion. “Cut the hogwash. You are the new miraculous holder, and I’m your guardian. The name is Apollo, by the way.” H-huh? Sehun looked at the thing in confusion. Wait. Thing isn't the correct word, but rather wolf.

Is he, Oh Sehun, listening to a floating bobbleheaded wolf? “I must be crazy.” He whispered.

“Crazy? Hm, perhaps. But this situation is nowhere near insane. I am very much real, and your conscious is simply denying my presence, but don't worry, it’ll become accustomed very quickly.” “Apollo” said.

No, no, this not real… It can't be! “Oh child, don't you know it’ll only make the circumstances more difficult? Just accept things as they are.”

“I… But…- you’re not real!”

Apollo tilted its (his?) head, “Oh?” Its voice was deep for a tiny creature. “You are responding to me, so this only proves my statement. This is reality now, and your brain can easily process the situation if you only accept it.”

“What the hell are you?” Sehun sneered at the creature. Grey fur covered its entire body, leaving silver tufts by the edge of his jagged ears. Bright topaz for eyes, Apollo gazed at him, “I am a kwami. Specifically speaking, I am a seven thousand year old god inhibiting the body of a Eurasian canis lupis. Or wolf, if that would be simpler for you.”

“Why-“

“I’m assuming you're inquiring why I am here? Well, I honestly have no opinion. Fate destined us, and since I’m your new guardian I must teach you the ways of being an efficient miraculous holder. I am the god of protection, mobility and wisdom. I am the Alpha and the Omega, and I will guide you for where you need to be.”

Sehun grew confused, “What?” He didn’t understand any of this. A wolf god mention about destiny and guardian junk, none of it makes sense! “Miraculous holders are people inheriting a magical jewelry piece. We kwamis fuel the jewelry piece with our powers which gives the miraculous holders their own special abilities.” Abilities you say? A spark of interest captured Sehun. He didn’t understand the process whatsoever, but having special powers brought out the inner fantasy child within him. “So, if I accept you, then you’ll train me to become a skilled superhero?” Just imagine not only being a professional dancer, but an attractive badass superhero fighting crime with girls wetting their underwear every damn second.

… Omit the underwear part.

“Hm, exactly.”

“Okay, deal.” This is so… So freaking amazing. “So, uh, what now?” He already accepted this errm, kwami wolf, so it does it mean he already have magical powers? “If possible, may we properly discuss this over some tea?”

… Tea? “You drink tea?” Sehun asked in bewilderment.

“Oh yes, and I would gladly consume a bowl of tofu.” Tofu? When did a carnivorous mammal ever desire tea and tofu? “Okay… I don't have any tofu, but I do have tea. Is green tea fine?”

Apollo smiled, “Perfectly.”

And so, here Sehun sat at the table with a tiny wolf creature sipping away at some tea. “This watch is considered a miraculous, right?”

“Exactly. It represents the abilities of wolves, and might alter your own perception. You see, previous miraculous holders happened to release their inner “wolf” when paired with me. Not only does your physical appearance change, but your mental state as well.”

Sehun narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What do you by mental state?” He doesn’t want to become a literal werewolf pissing and shitting all over people. Apollo held up a paw, “No need to worry, it’s nothing of what you would perceive. Your regular human senses would be heightened by the third cubed. I suggest when transforming to practice managing the senses before anything else, afterwards I'll train how to conduct yourself when fighting.”

“Do I defeat bad guys?”

“With this brewing evil I detect, you'll be battling more than akumas alone...” Apollo then lapped up some more green tea. Sehun had many questions to ask the kwami starting with these quote, “akumas”. What where they exactly? “To simplify your questions, an evil human decided to manipulate and abuse one of the kwamis. Keeping this in mind, the miraculous holder is abusing the butterfly kwami who can bestow any human being supernatural abilities. Since it’s manipulated into negative energy, these powered beings are titled akumas.” Akuma, huh? Sounds interesting to fight. “What powers do I get? Do I become awesome with badass weapons? Or like, I have psychic abilities and-“

“Relax yourself Sehun,”

Wait.

How do this wolf know his name? He doesn't recall giving out personal information. “Yes Sehun, when I awoke from my slumber I already knew my wielder’s name. It’s the first step to creating an intimate bond.”

… Oh.

Sehun slumped in the chair. Thousands of thoughts attacked his mind relentlessly, and it begged the question. Why him? What does he have to offer? Looks? “Why am I chosen? I mean, like, it’s not like I wanted to deliberately help people. I’m not exactly superhero material…” More likely anti-hero because it’s sound way more cooler. Apollo looked at Sehun with a sarcastic, “are you serious?” Look. “I honestly have no conclusion. But you’re selected to become a miraculous wielder. Regardless, would you like to try out your abilities for testing?”

“Hell yeah! " Sehun shouted, then he quickly resolved himself. “I mean, sure, I’ll try.” Guess he can miss a night of sleep for this. “You have to state my name, then the term, “howl shift,” and-“

“Apollo, howl shift!”

“Wait! I’m not finished-!“ Apollo couldn’t complete his sentence for he was sucked into the watch.

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kpop #miraculers #au #fanfiction #kpop #exo #f(x)#blackpick #bts #fiction #fanart #tikki the kwami #apollo the wolf #chapter three

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