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#as a result this post is best read aloud in your head with the same cadence an old school football match announcer
bonebrokebuddy · 1 year
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So, my favorite canon explanation for the continued design choice of the brightass yellow bat symbol on Batman’s chest as the suit has gotten darker and darker is that it’s a target.
If a criminal has a gun and a massive black shadow comes at them, in their fright they’re going to probably shoot at the bright yellow target in the center of Batman’s chest, the purposefully most armored piece of his suit rather than blindly shooting at weaker areas of his armor, like the joints. It gives the criminals something to point and shoot at that’s not civilians or weak points in his armor.
But here’s the thing.
The utility belt is also yellow.
So, going with that logic:
He want them to shoot at he dick?!
Is that what he wants?
He dick be shot?
Why he want shot his dick?
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talesofedo · 1 year
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Because he obviously lives in my head rent-free this year, here is a compilation of Okada Izo headcanons I've come up with, mostly while I was supposed to be doing other things (like work).
Just to clarify, these are about the historical Okada Izo, and not based on novel, manga, movie, or TV series canon, although all of those are great interpretations of the historical person in their own way. My headcanons are not historical fact and shouldn't be taken as such, although I suppose there is always a chance some could be accurate.
If you're interested in the actual Okada Izo, I've previously made a "today I learned" post about him, which you can find here.
...
+ As a young child (before the age of 10), Izo was best described as kind and helpful at home, in the neighborhood, and at school (once he started attending), but especially with his little brother, Keikichi, who was 6 years younger. However, nobody would have described him as gentle. Even with the best intentions, little Izo occasionally showed all the gentleness of a wild boar.
+ Even when he was a child, Izo's hair was difficult to manage. It was thick and wavy (though not quite as bad as Ryoma's) and always looked a bit messy, even when properly put together using hair oil or wax. There were many periods in Izo's adult life when he wouldn't (or couldn't) spend money on buying hair oil/wax or having his hair done at the bath house.
+ When Izo was 8 years old, his mother started teaching him how to play Go, which she had learned from her father. Like his mother, Izo excelled at the game because he understood the strategy aspect of the game, but also because he remembered past games and worked hard to avoid repeating mistakes. Unfortunately, because so many of his peers thought of him as stupid, he was rarely given a chance to play. Had Takechi Hanpeita ever challenged him to a game of Go, Izo would have easily beaten him. One person who did ask him to play on occasion was Katsu Kaishu. Izo had about a 50/50 chance of winning against him.
+ When Izo's family moved from Iwamura village to Enokuchi village, he was 10 years old [historical fact] and not looking forward to starting at a new school because he understood that his reading and writing wasn't at the same level as other students'. (My theory about Izo's reading and writing can be found in this previous post.) He was worried about getting bullied and, as a result, came across as shy and standoffish at first.
+ Even though he was bullied for his reading and writing by the teacher and at times by his classmates, the other boys still wanted to be his friends: he was a fast runner (for short distances especially), a great climber, and generally good at any physical activity. Izo was the boy you wanted in your group if you were going to catch fish in the river or play generals and definitely if you were going to get into a "sword" (stick) fight with another group.
+ Izo partially made up for his difficulty with reading and writing by having an excellent memory and being able to recall texts that had been read aloud and stories he'd heard. He had a particularly large repertoire of ghost stories to scare his friends and his little brother. He continued to have a very good memory well into adulthood, including for places, dates, and small details. Unfortunately, this meant that when he did confess to his crimes after torture, and gave evidence about his comrades in the Kinnoto, he was able to provide a lot of detailed information.
+ Izo had a small jagged scar on the right side of his chest, about halfway between his clavicle and his nipple, which he got at age 12 trying to free a friend's kite from a tree. He lost his footing about halfway up and fell, hitting several branches along the way, one of which broke off and stabbed through his skin. Although the wound wasn't very serious (the branch was stopped by a rib), his friends ran off in terror. He made fun of them for this later and they didn't live it down for a long time.
+ Izo was afraid of dogs after a pack of feral dogs attacked him outside of town when he was 14 and returning late in the day. Although he didn't get any serious bites, the dogs tore his hakama and scratched his legs. Luckily, a group of farmers who were passing nearby, were able to chase the dogs away.
+ Izo's favorite food was manju. He did not like any foods that had a strong smell, such as chives [historical fact].
+ The fencing hall was the first place outside his own home where Izo was ever praised by an adult, which caused him to work especially hard to feel worthy of getting praise. He enjoyed being acknowledged for being good at something, particularly because he was never praised at school, only admonished by the teacher for being "stupid".
+ After Takechi Hanpeita opened his own dojo in 1855 [historical fact], Izo spent significantly more time there than anywhere else, including his own home. This was partially due to the fact that Takechi-sensei praised him more than anyone else, but also partially due to the fact that Izo was now teaching younger students who looked up to him. He enjoyed being able to give encouragement to others while also getting it himself for his hard work. He also enjoyed being paid a (very) small amount of money for teaching. Izo had more of a sense of belonging and family here than he had experienced anywhere else before.
+ Even though Takechi's dojo was where Izo felt most at home, he had been aware for some time that Takechi-sensei often referred to him as "that idiot" when he was speaking to other people and that even sensei's wife, Tomie, called him Takechi's "stray puppy." However, because he could not help looking at Takechi-sensei through rose-colored glasses and felt indebted to him, Izo came to think of "idiot" as a term of endearment and never complained.
+ Izo's relationship with Takechi Hanpeita was complicated. According to historical descriptions, Takechi was intelligent, well-educated, well-spoken, charismatic, talented at swordsmanship, cultured, taller than average, and handsome. Izo respected him for all of his skill and knowledge, felt indebted to him for being given a chance to travel and further his swordsmanship, and was incredibly infatuated with Takechi (which he kept to himself).
+ Izo often found it difficult to articulate his thoughts and as a teenager became more quiet and introverted if the subject was anything "complicated", such as political discussion, or required individual thought and introspection. On the other hand, he was outgoing and excitable when talking about swordsmanship, telling stories, or recounting experiences he had (such as seeing an important person in town). Much of the time, the latter was unfortunately mistaken as "bragging" and earned him scoldings from adults and generally negative feedback from his peers.
+ Because he had been accused of "bragging" in the past and because he had spent so many years being called stupid by his teachers, Izo generally tried not drawing attention to himself outside the dojo. He found it embarassing when fellow Kinnoto members made fools of themselves with the entertainers at tea houses and would never willingly join in any dancing or singing in public. He also blushed very easily so there was no way to even hide his embarrassment.
+ Izo never thought of his swordsmanship as being out of the ordinary, but he was better than most, not just because of his continuous hard work but also because of his natural speed and talent. The fact that he only received his Menkyo Chuden (middle license) at Shigakukan was an enormous disappointment to him, especially because the master called his swordsmanship vulgar and without dignity in front of everyone. Even so, he continued to work hard at any of the other dojos where he was allowed to train, thanks to Takechi-sensei helping him have those opportunities.
+ Izo often felt abandoned when Takechi-sensei would leave him behind at one sword school or another to finish his training while he (Takechi) moved on to build his contacts with shishi from across the area in his pursuit of Sonno Joi. Although Izo never complained, and on some level understood being able to continue his studies was doing him a favor, he felt hurt anytime sensei left him behind.
+ When Izo felt nervous or anxious, he often chewed his fingernails.
+ Physical appearance: As an adult, Izo was of average height at 165cm (5'5") and of slightly smaller than average build. He was a little shorter than his teacher Takechi Hanpeita, and quite a bit taller than Katsu Kaishu (who was unusually short). He had a darker skin tone and freckles / spots / sun damage from being outside a lot. He was also described as having crooked teeth [historical fact].
+ The very first person Izo ever killed was Inoue Saichiro, whom he strangled with a tenugui. If he hadn't been with a group of three others from the Kinnoto who were there to help, in addition to having been slightly drunk on the sake their group had during dinner, Izo probably would not have gone through with the murder. As it was, once their group had thrown Inoue's body into the river, Izo threw up and then didn't sleep the following three nights.
+ Izo told himself he would never assassinate anyone again, that this murder was an exception to keep Takechi-sensei safe from being prosecuted, but being so indebted to sensei for all the years of being able to travel and learn swordsmanship, he couldn't say no the next time he was asked. He felt that it would have made him ungrateful and disloyal to someone who'd done so much for him.
+ Izo first started drinking a few days after Inoue's murder because one of his comrades suggested it would help him sleep if he had a few cups of sake before going to bed. However, it didn't take long for him to start drinking regularly. This gave him a reputation for really enjoying women and booze (as much of his drinking was done in the entertainment district) and caused many problems with his comrades because he started borrowing money to cover his bills. If Takechi noticed Izo's drinking, he never brought it up.
+ The only person Izo ever hated was Tanaka Shinbei of Satsuma, a fellow hitokiri who had previously killed Shimada Sakon. Shinbei was introduced to Takechi in August 1862 and became Takechi's sworn brother that same month [historical fact]. Izo was jealous that this random person from Satsuma had immediately made a place for himself by Takechi-sensei's side. When Izo found out that Shinbei had been arrested and subsequently killed himself on 11 July 1863 [historical fact], his only reaction was, "Good."
+ Izo had a fairly long (about 3.5 inches) scar going across his left forearm where he was cut during the assassination of Honma Seiichiro. A group of the Kinnoto had cornered Honma, but as an experienced swordsman their would-be victim put up a desperate fight. In the course of this, Izo was pushed back into a building and the tip of his blade caught on the cross-beam of the overhanging roof, allowing Honma to cut him while he was defenseless. The only reason Izo was not more badly injured was that one of his comrades had managed to stab Honma in the side at almost the same instant he brought down his sword - otherwise, Izo might have lost his arm. He later often wondered whether that might have been for the better.
+ Izo left Kyoto and went to Edo in 1863 because Takechi-sensei had left for Tosa once again. Without sensei in Kyoto, Izo's position among the Kinnoto was on shaky ground and he felt unwelcome: people who had harbored negative feelings about him as a person and about his murders on Takechi's orders were no longer afraid to voice their opinions once Takechi was not there to protect him.
+ Izo's time as Katsu Kaishu's bodyguard may have been the happiest part of his adulthood because Katsu-sensei never treated him any differently than his disciples, never talked down to him, and never called him stupid or an idiot. In fact, sensei went out of his way to explain things and include Izo in conversations. It was the first time someone made an effort to do so without expecting anything in return or being patronizing. Izo stopped drinking almost entirely during his time with Katsu Kaishu.
+ If Izo had to choose between fight or flight, he would have always chosen flight if he was alone and fight if he was with someone else, especially someone he was protecting. If he chose to fight, Izo's adrenaline would be so high that he later could not remember any details, and while he would try to play it off and make light of it, it would take a long time to calm himself after. Because the adrenaline rush made Izo overly excited and giggly, something he couldn't control, the behavior was often mistaken as "enjoying killing."
+ Izo left his position as Katsu Kaishu's bodyguard because of a misunderstanding following one such adrenaline rush: after saving sensei's life when the two of them were attacked late at night, Izo was smiling and Katsu admonished him: "You should not enjoy killing people." Having expected praise for a job well done, and being caught entirely off guard, Izo could only offer: "If I hadn't been there, sensei's head would be rolling in the street." When Katsu-sensei did not respond, Izo's mind was left to fill in the blanks. In the end, he somehow convinced himself that he did not deserve good things to happen to him, and that he needed to leave before he caused bad things to happen to Katsu-sensei. He never knew that Katsu Kaishu regretted not having apologized and prevented him from leaving [historical fact].
+ After Izo left Katsu Kaishu, his life spiraled downhill. Unsure what to do next, he returned to Kyoto where he realized he couldn't actually go to Tosa's residence in the city because he was considered a deserter from his domain.
+ Learning that Takechi-sensei had been arrested in Tosa in September 1863 left him even more despondent. The money he still had (some remaining pay from Katsu Kaishu and some money he had borrowed from Takasugi Shinsaku) did not go all that far for lodging and everyday costs and it wasn't long before Izo found himself on the street, worrying not only about his next meal but also his increasing need for alcohol because he had again started drinking heavily. Eventually, he sold the blade of his long sword, the more valuable of the two, to tide himself over. Even so, there were days he only ate by stealing stale food offerings at shrines or graveyards.
+ Around the end of winter (early February 1864), Izo started living in an abandoned home, a former merchant's residence that had been sealed off by the Kyoto magistracy because the family and their two servants had been killed by thieves. At least here he was able to sleep next to a brazier to stay warm, and selling some of the smaller items left behind in the home gave him a little income to cover food and drink. However, he was caught by the magistrate and charged with burglary after neighbors reported someone suspicious had been going in and out through a loose fence board.
+ Izo's time in the Kyoto jail was absolutely miserable. He wasn't beaten during questioning because he readily admitted to living in the abandoned house and selling items found there, but he spent the entire first week experiencing severe alcohol withdrawal.
+ After two weeks in the jail, due to its current back-log of cases, Izo received his punishment for burglary: 100 strikes and being tattooed as a criminal. After another five days, the period required to let the tattoo heal, he was brought to the edge of town to be banished, where a metsuke from Tosa waited for him to take him into custody and return him to Tosa.
+ Back in Tosa, Izo held out against severe torture for nearly 10 months, refusing to give any information about Takechi and the Kinnoto because he still felt indebted to sensei for all the years of support and giving him ability to travel to further his swordsmanship. However, he readily offered information about his own crimes committed in Kyoto, which he claimed were his own doing and not ordered by anyone else.
+ When Izo found out that Takechi had approached his brother and father asking for their help to poison Izo so he wouldn't give up any information, his world crumbled. For the first time in his life, he had to confront the fact that Takechi, to whom he felt so indebted, had only used him and thought nothing more of him than as disposable tool for his own ends. Heartbroken and angry, Izo gave up any information he had about Takechi and the Kinnoto, and then withdrew into himself waiting for his execution day. He wouldn't even make any effort to eat when he was offered food, or respond if anyone spoke to him, but he would occasionally ask to speak or send a letter to Takechi-sensei [historical fact], some part of him still holding out hope that there was some kind of explanation sensei could give him.
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Welcome to "My Hero Academia: A Path Diverged in the Woods". This is a living choose your own adventure story featuring Uraraka Ochako. The adventure starts when Ochako meets Toga in the forest at Summer Camp. How will this meeting change this time around? Will they be enemies, rivals, friends or more? You decide.
There will be a poll below the cut at the bottom of each main post. Read the section and vote how you see best. When the poll finishes, new fiction will be posted based on the results of the poll. Each poll will be based on a decision Ochako is facing in the moment. The answers may not always be obvious. Further information is available pinned to this blog.
Now enjoy this tale of two girls, a hero and a villain, continuing their chat from inside a jail cell. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 available here.
Chapter 6: Girl Talk
Ochako rested on detective Tsukauchi’s couch with her eyes closed. She tried to calm herself to decide her next move but felt several opposing desires gnawing inside of her. She wanted to help Deku by giving him the address, but she also wanted to be involved in the rescue. Talking to Toga had awoken something inside of her. A desire to be active. To be useful. To be a hero. Toga was the first villain she’d defeated. The first suspect she’d interrogated. The first person she’d convinced to help the heroes against the villains. And the first person she’d rescued. It was intoxicating.
At the same time, she felt like her conversation with Toga had been cut short. They’d been coming to a sort of understanding but had stopped right before the breakthrough. Maybe if they kept talking, she would finally understand the girl whose smiles she couldn’t get out of her thoughts. Ochako had never met anyone with so many different smiles. The variety and meaning behind each confused and fascinated her. When she thought of a villain, she didn’t think of a girl her age. But here was proof in front of her. What had happened to Toga for her to become a villain? Was it an external event or was it something internal to the girl? Something inherent? Was being a villain just in her nature? Ochako realized she needed to know.
Checking the time Ochako saw that she had two hours until her friends planned to meet to rescue Bakugo. Kirishima had told everyone when and where to meet. It was a sign of trust that no one would turn them in, but Ochako also knew no one would take him up on the offer. This was too big for them. At least, that’s how she’d felt a few hours ago. Now, just maybe, she felt like she had to be involved.
New determination filling her, Ochako balanced her desires and stood up. She took a deep breath and headed into the main part of the station. She found a desk being operated by a secretary and approached. “Hello?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
The secretary looked up at her. “Hello. Do you need something?”
“I would like to visit with someone.”
“Is a detective expecting you?”
Ochako shook her head. “Not an officer. Someone in the jail.”
A frown. “In the jail? Who in there could you wish to talk to?”
“Toga Himiko.”
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A look of surprise. “Why would you wish to talk to a villain like that?” asked the secretary. Then, dawning comprehension. “Wait, are you a UA student?” Ochako nodded.
“She’s not just any UA student.” Ochako felt someone clap her on the back as they moved to stand next to her in front of the desk. In between trying to not get bowled over she glanced up at a tall man in uniform. He had red skin, horns growing out of a bald head and a bright smile filled with rows of sharp teeth. On his chest was a name badge, Lieutenant Akumetsu. “This is the little hero who caught Toga Himiko. Didn’t you just have an interrogation with her?”
“I did.”
“What, got a taste for interrogation and want to see what else you can learn?” His tone was friendly, teasing.
Ochako shook her head. “No, I just wanted to talk. Like people.” It sounded stupid when she said it aloud. This was a villain she was talking about after all. A villain who’d attacked her. This desire of hers was absurd.
A strange expression flashed across the lieutenant’s face before the smile returned. Ochako wasn’t sure what she’d just seen, but something about him reminded her of Toga. “I see,” said the lieutenant. He turned to the secretary. “I’ll approve the visit and escort our little hero to meet with Toga Himiko. There should be no issue with just a chat.”
The secretary looked like he wanted to disagree, but after a moment he just nodded. “If you’re both so sure, then I wish you luck.”
“Right this way,” said the lieutenant. He led Ochako through the busy police station, curious glances thrown their way. She ignored them and just focused on following. She was past the point of feeling self-conscious.
Soon enough they exited the main part of the station and got to a hallway where they only passed a single person. The person nodded to the lieutenant, shot Ochako a questioning look that she avoided and went on her way. They made it to a stairway that led down below the station.
“Due to Quirks we need to be a lot more cautious than they were in eras past,” said the lieutenant, leading Ochako down the stairs. “Quirks demand a level of security to prepare for that isn’t very friendly to people in custody. Especially when we don’t know what their Quirk is. I don’t like the idea of keeping a young girl like this locked up under the station. Luckily, she should be out of here soon and I would hope on her way to a rehabilitation facility. Somewhere nicer that she can get the help she needs.”
“I’ve never really thought about all that before,” admitted Ochako.
“Most people don’t. Villains are just the people heroes beat on television and then they’re locked up out of sight. But for police and heroes, I think we need to think about them more complexly than that.”
“Like how?”
“As people who are hurting and need our help too.”
“But they hurt people,” said Ochako. Toga hurt people. Her shoulder stung again.
“Both can be true,” said the Lieutenant. “But if we don’t do it, who will?”
As they approached the bottom of the stairs, Ochako could hear someone talking loudly and passionately. “-believe this? The higher ups are hesitating to send that psycho to Tartarus. She attacked children, shouldn’t that be enough to prove she’s a dangerous villain who should be locked up?”
“Is that gossip I hear?” asked the lieutenant as they got to the bottom of the stairs and could see two officers, a man leaning against the wall, and a woman behind a desk. Past them was a see-through wall with the outline of a door in it. Beyond that was a series of metal doors. Cells, Ochako assumed.
“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth,” said the leaning officer, turning to face the lieutenant. “What’re you doing down here, sir?”
“Just escorting someone who wants to have a nice chat.”
Both officers looked to the lieutenant, then to Ochako, then back to the lieutenant. The one seated started typing away at her computer. “But the only prisoner in jail currently is the League of Villains member Toga Himiko. You want to talk to her?”
Ochako nodded. “I do.” She took a deep breath. “I already interrogated her, but I want to see if I can just have a chat with her.”
Lieutenant Akumetsu clapped her on the back again. “Listen to this little hero. Doesn’t hearing something like that make you feel like the future is secure when us old folks retire?”
The woman at the desk laughed, but the other officer scowled. “That’s stupid and reckless. There’s nothing to be gained by talking to someone like this. You trying to get yourself hurt?”
Ochako became conscious of the bandage on her shoulder. She resisted touching it, clenching her hands by her side instead. “I’m aware how dangerous Toga is. But I just want to talk, and I think she does too. Where’s the harm in that?”
The scowling officer opened his mouth to shout at her, but lieutenant Akumetsu clapped his hands loudly and drew all attention back to his toothy smiling face. “I think that’s enough of that. Toga Himiko is secured, and they’ll be talking through a wall. I’ll also be watching, there should be no danger. And if there’s any kid I’d trust to talk to her, it would be the little hero who caught her. I doubt anyone else is more aware of what Toga is capable of. Even villains get visitor rights. Could you log the visit for me, and I’ll take her right in?”
“Yes sir,” said the officer at the desk. He typed something into the computer and then the transparent wall buzzed and the door in it swung open. The lieutenant led Ochako past the scowling officer and through the doorway. It was shut behind them, and they walked to the end of the hall. They walked past several open doors revealing empty rooms. Only the final room was closed, a metal door blocking the view inside. “Here we are. Give me a sec to see if she’s up to seeing visitors.”
Ochako nodded, her heartbeat picking up pace. What would she do if Toga said she didn’t want to talk to her? Would it be strange and embarrassing to walk right out of the station if her offer was rejected? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist running out as quickly as possible, head low so no one could see her face. Maybe the lieutenant could sneak her out?
Lieutenant Akumetsu knocked on the door, waited a few seconds then slid open a viewing port in the door. “Evening Toga, you awake?”
“Nope. Sleeping soundly.” Ochako felt chills at the familiar voice.
“Sorry to disturb you then,” said the lieutenant with a laugh. “You decent? You’ve got a little hero who would like to talk to you if you’re up to it.”
A pause. Ochako’s breath caught in her throat. Then, “If the little hero can stomach seeing me just in my panties, then I think I could spare a few minutes from my busy schedule.”
“I’ll let her right in then.” The lieutenant opened the door by putting his hand on a scanner then gesturing her inside. “Enjoy your chat. I’ll be right here. Let me know when you want out.”
“Thank you,” said Ochako. She walked through and the door shut right after her.
Toga’s cell was very basic. There was another transparent wall separating the room in two, the outline of a door visible in it. On Ochako’s side was a couch for a visitor and a small television built into the wall. The news was on, but the TV was muted. On Toga’s side was a bed and toilet. And sitting on the bed was Toga Himiko.
“Disappointed that I’m not in my underwear?” asked Toga, holding her arms out, her orange prison garb completely covering her.
“Not really,” said Ochako, turning away in embarrassment. How could this girl turn being fully clothed into something lewd just through suggestion?
“Oh? I figured since you’d come back to visit me at night in my room that you were expecting something steamy. An illicit rendezvous with a villain while your crush ignores you to go rescue someone else. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
“I just came to talk,” said Ochako, forcing her gaze back to Toga. The villain had moved to lounge on the bed, one leg in the air. She was focusing on her toes instead of Ochako. Something about that annoyed Ochako.
“I really don’t have any more information and talking to me in a more comfortable setting instead of a cold, hard interrogation room isn’t going to change that.”
“Not about hero or villain things.” Toga’s golden eyes casually drifted towards Ochako. “I just wanted to have a…girl…chat….”
That got Toga’s attention. She sat up, put her elbows on her lap and her head in her hands. “I could go for some girl talk. We going to talk about how dreamy Izuku is while covered in blood?”
Ochako shook her head. “No!” She took a deep breath. “Maybe more like things to get to know each other first. Like…introductions?”
“But we already know each other, don’t we O-Cha-Ko?”
“Proper introduction,” said Ochako. She gestured to herself. “I’m Uraraka Ochako, age fifteen and hero in-training at UA Academy. My Quirk is Zero Gravity. I love Japanese food, especially mochi and my blood type is B. What about you?”
Toga smiled. “My name is Toga Himiko, age sixteen and a member of the League of Villains. My quirk is a se-cret.” A wink. Then, her smile widened to show fanged teeth. Ochako was suddenly feeling regrets. “My favorite food is…,” Ochako inhaled sharply, “Pomegranates.” Ochako gave a sigh of relief, then felt embarrassed as Toga laughed. “What did you think I was going to say? Blood?”
“Uh…,” Ochako absently rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. “It did occur to me for a moment that might be your answer. Pomegranate is surprisingly normal.”
“I do enjoy blood though.” Toga stood until she was right up against the wall. “Especially the blood of those I find cute. You’ve got some cute blood. I wish I could get a taste of it.”
“You’ll need to buy me dinner first,” said Ochako, trying to cover up her embarrassment at being studied so intensely.
Another laugh. “I’ll make that the first thing I do when I get out then.”
Toga went back to laying on the bed as Ochako took a seat on the couch. The pair were silent for several minutes. Ochako tried to think of what to say but was coming up blank. She’d never had trouble talking to people before. But there was something about Toga that made it hard for her to speak. Finally, she settled on a topic. “What school is your uniform from?”
“All over,” replied Toga, lounging on her back on her bed.
“All over?”
“Yep. I built it from all the cutest outfits I could find while on the street. It worked really well, didn’t it?”
Ochako thought back to how ill-fitting the sweater had been. Suddenly it made sense. “That skirt was a little short though, don’t ya think?”
Toga sat up and smiled brightly at Ochako. “Were you oogling my legs, Ochako?”
“Of course not!”
“I bet you were,” said Toga in a sing song voice. “More importantly though, was that the hints of a cute accent I heard for a moment there?”
Ochako averted her gaze, blushing. “What if it was?”
“See, this is why I love you, Ochako. We’re both keeping secrets, putting up fronts to seem normal in a world of expectations. To the people born normal, who it all comes naturally to, they’ll never understand us, and we’ll never fit in with them.”
Ochako looked back to Toga. The girl had a neutral expression on her face. “Toga…,”
“Himiko.”
“Huh?”
“I told you to call me Himiko.”
“To-“
“Hi-Mi-Ko. Easy, right?”
Ochako took a deep breath. “Himiko.” Himiko’s smile reappeared, but this one was less predatory, more joyous. Ochako liked it much more. “What do you want?”
“Well, I’d to see some more of your or Izuku’s cute blood. I could do with Tsu’s I guess. Maybe see you crying on the floor. Tears add a lot to the cuteness of a person.”
“I’m trying to be serious here.”
Another predatory smile. “So am I.”
Ochako clenched and unclenched her fists a few times, taking a deep breath, then releasing it. “Please, what do you want?”
“You came to talk to me.”
“And I want to know what you want.”
A shrug. Toga laid back down on the bed. “You’ll need to narrow it down then.”
“Why did you become a villain?” asked Ochako.
Toga didn’t turn to look at her. “I felt like it. Seemed fun.”
��You’re dodging the question.”
“Why do you hide your accent?”
“Huh?”
“Why do you hide your crush for Izuku? Why are you embarrassed about being poor? Why do you act like the good girl all the time?”
“I don’t act like a good girl,” said Ochako.
“You totally do,” said Toga. She was staring at the ceiling and kicking her legs through the air again. “You want to be normal. To be like everyone else. To be accepted. To hide your real face so that others don’t reject you. Doesn’t that get tiring?”
Ochako wanted to protest, to refute Toga’s comments, but she stopped herself. The villain was partially right. She did hide her accent to not stand out as a hick. She didn’t have a crush on Deku, but she was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t describe and wasn’t comfortable talking to people about. They always jumped to conclusions like Toga was. Her closest friends knew that she was poor, but it was still embarrassing to admit. And she kept up a smiling polite face to her parents. She couldn’t worry them, after all.
“Maybe I am embarrassed a bit,” said Ochako. “It’s hard to show parts of myself to some people. I don’t want to worry my parents; they work so hard to care for me after all. And by being normal, by not embarrassing myself and by making friends, I can put their minds at ease. But is that so wrong?”
“It’s pretty stupid,” said Toga, putting her legs down but not looking over at Ochako. “The world has shackled you, forcing you to be who you aren’t. I hate that type of world. It’s not cute at all.”
“Is that why you became a villain?”
“Who knows?”
Ochako took another deep breath, then let it out. She checked her phone. A half hour had passed while they’d been talking. She would need to leave soon. It was a short train ride to the hospital, but she wanted to get there early to not miss Deku and the others. She was sick of sitting around and wanted to help rescue Bakugo. Like a hero would. Right now was probably as good a time as any to leave. But as she stood to excuse herself, she felt unable to turn her gaze away from the girl currently ignoring her. Lieutenant Akumetsu’s comments about how heroes should treat villains rang in her mind. She considered his unspoken conclusion; if we don’t help them or give them a chance, who will? She took another deep breath. “Himiko…”
Himiko glanced over to her, a look of surprise on her face. But only for a second. It was quickly replaced with a toothy smile as Toga hopped to her feet and skipped over to the wall separating them. “You called, O-Cha-Ko?”
“I want to help you.”
A laugh. “Sure you do. Why don’t you start by breaking me out of this cell first?” Himiko continued to giggle at the thought.
Ochako clenched and unclenched her fists. “Sure.”
The giggling stopped.
#     #     #    #
Akumetsu Saito hummed to himself outside Toga’s jail cell. The girls’ chat had been going on for quite a while, which he viewed as a good sign. He’d always admired heroes, even if his Quirk hadn’t been well suited for the profession. There was nothing that gave him more pleasure than assisting heroes. Especially the idealistic ones.
There was a knock on the door behind him and he turned and said loudly, “You done in there?”
“I am,” said the little hero. “May I come out?”
“Sure thing,” he said, opening the door. Uraraka exited the room, her expression bright. “Have a good chat?”
“I did,” she said.
“Here, let me walk you out.” He led the girl down the hall and waved to the guards. They buzzed Uraraka out.
As the little hero was leaving, she turned to him. “Oh right, Toga had a question for you.”
“I’ll go chat with her then. You good leaving the station yourself?”
A nod. “I am. Thank you for everything.” Then the little hero was gone.
“What a strange kid,” said Officer Eizen, a perpetual scowl on his face. “You actually going to give a villain the time of day?”
“There’s no harm in answering a question,” replied Saito. He turned back around. “I’ll be right back.”
Saito made it back to Toga’s cell and knocked. “Hi Toga, I was told you had a question for me?” No response. He knocked again. “Toga?” Still quiet. He unlocked the door. “Sorry, I’m coming right in.”
He opened the door and stepped in. What he saw was not Toga, but a brown-haired girl laying on the floor of Toga’s cell. Unconscious. “Uraraka!”
The girl came to consciousness, groaning. “Uh…” She looked up at Saito and her eyes went wide. “Lieutenant Akumetsu?” She scrambled over to the door of her cell and tried to open it to no avail. “Please help. I’m sorry, Toga tricked me. She knocked me unconscious and snuck out. I think she has a transformation Quirk!”
“I’ll get you right out,” said Saito. He opened the door and the girl practically fell out of her cell. He caught her and helped her stand. “That must’ve been Toga I let out. I’ll go right after her.” He turned around, back to the girl. Then he felt a sharp pain in the back of the neck as he fell to the ground and the world went dark.
#     #    #    #
Himiko hummed to herself as she walked out of the police station. That police officer’s blood had been surprisingly tasty. Not as good as Ochako’s of course, but not unpleasant. Maybe she should send him a thank you gift later? She had his wallet; she could probably buy him something nice.
She took her time walking to the station. It was in a lesser trafficked area that she entered the women’s restroom and found a stall in which to wait. Ochako hadn’t arrived yet. Himiko dropped the lieutenant’s phone into the toilet then stood in the toilet bowl. She balanced herself with her arms on either side of the stall and dropped her transformation. Most of the goo from her Quirk was caught in the bowl. A few dots slopped against the floor though. That was sure to confuse a janitor later. She flushed the remains of her escape down the drain.
“Hello?” asked a timid voice. Ochako. “Anyone in here?”
“Occupied,” said Himiko in a sing song voice. “Why don’t you join me?”
“I’ve got the clothes.”
“Are they cute?”
“I think so?” replied Ochako. “They should be better than that jumpsuit you’re in, I guess.”
Himiko got out of the toilet bowl and unlocked the door. She swung it open with a bright smile on her face. “What ugly jumpsuit?”
Ochako let out a small squeak as her face turned bright red and she averted her gaze. “Why are you naked?!”
“That’s just how my Quirk works,” replied Himiko.
Ochako held out the clothes she’d bought, never looking at Himiko. How cute. She took the clothes. “Thank you very much.” She slapped Akumetsu’s wallet into Ochako’s hand. “Here, take how much it cost from here. You can even return it to him when this is all done.”
Ochako looked at the wallet, then to Himiko, then quickly turned around. “It’s no issue. The clothes are pretty cheap.” The hero in-training pocketed the wallet without opening it. “How is the lieutenant? You didn’t hurt him too badly, right?”
“I played nice like we agreed on,” said Himiko, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Knocked him right out, took his blood then bandaged it up like you told me to. I was a good girl and I deserve a treat.”
“Thank you for doing that. He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve what we did to him.” Himiko caught a cute expression of melancholy for a moment. But then Ochako went right back to business. “Now, please change quickly. I’ll go buy us tickets.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Himiko closing the stall door. She slipped on the clothes Ochako had put thought into buying for her. She slid on the cheap panties and bra and thought about the embarrassed face Ochako probably made when she bought these things for another girl. She admired the shorts Ochako had bought her, sliding them on and finding them able to stay up but slightly loose. And finally, a plain red T-shirt. Simple, but cute enough for the moment. Once she was dressed, she tied up her hair in a single messy bun and slipped on a black face mask Ochako had included. She was good at sneaking around, but it never hurt to mix things up while keeping a low profile. But the most effective cover was going to be traveling with Ochako. One girl was suspect, two were friends.
“I got the tickets,” said Ochako through the door. “Are you done changing?”
Himiko slid the lock open but didn’t touch the door. “Why don’t you open and see for yourself?” There was a moment of hesitation, but Ochako opened the door. Himiko made a cute pose. “Are you disappointed to see me fully clothed?”
“No,” said Ochako, averting her gaze. How cute. “Let’s get going. We’re going to cut it close on meeting with everyone.”
“Eh, worst comes to worst we go ahead,” said Himiko, following after Ochako. “It’s not like we don’t know where we’re going.”
“But we need to be able to offer that help to the others,” said Ochako as they scanned their tickets and passed the turnstile. “And it wouldn’t be good if they were surprised by you being there. They might think you’re an enemy.”
“And who says I’m not?” asked Himiko with a broad smile.
“I do,” said Ochako, boarding the train.
Himiko lagged for a moment, considering staying behind to lose her guide. It would be so easy. If Ochako was doing this properly, she would’ve had Himiko board first. Always keep her slightly ahead and in view. Instead, she naively walked shoulder to shoulder, and boarded the train first. It was laughable.
Ochako turned to see if Himiko was following and found herself nose to nose with Himiko as she invaded the hero’s personal space. “Going to keep moving and give me some space or just stand like this the entire time?”
“Let’sgofindseats!” said Ochako quickly, turning and leading the way as the doors shut behind them.
As the train started to move, Himiko followed her hero and mused about how fun this night was going to be. Corrupting Ochako to be like her would make her blood even tastier. She planned to savor it.
#     #     #      #
Saito sat up in his new cell, rubbing his neck. “Damn, she really knocked me out. I was planning to play dead but guess I didn’t need to.” He held up his hand and saw that a strip of cloth had been ripped off his shirt and wrapped around his finger in a rough bandage. That was a surprise. Toga wasn’t known for kindness like that. He took it as a good sign. That kindness hadn’t extended to not taking his phone or wallet. He bet his money was being used to facilitate her escape and his phone was probably in a fountain or trash can somewhere. She’d left his watch though, and checking it told him that he’d been out for about fifteen minutes. Toga had already been fed dinner, so it would be a while before anyone came to check on him. Most likely the guards wouldn’t bother to walk down and check on the cell until the morning. The chances of anyone finding him soon were low.
So, he grabbed the remote and turned the volume up on the TV and waited for the UA press conference to start. That should be interesting. Bide him over until he found out how the little hero was doing in reforming their wannabe villain. He couldn’t wait to see what the pair managed to do. He had a good feeling about them.
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wheelsup · 3 years
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the taming of the shrew | two
if i be waspish, best beware my sting
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after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?
A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!
category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader
wc: 4.4k
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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.
First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 
Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 
Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 
You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.
That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 
For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 
As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 
“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 
“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 
Your head just about exploded when she said that. 
There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?
“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.
Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 
“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  
Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 
You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 
“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 
She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 
“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.
“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 
She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.
“What isn’t your story?” 
“That his girlfriend died last year.” 
She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 
You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 
“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 
You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.
“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 
She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 
“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”
“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”
How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 
“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”
“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 
“There’s nothing I need from you.” 
That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.
“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 
You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”
You chortled at her idea. 
You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 
“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”
Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 
“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”
She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?
An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 
“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.
*
There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.
There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.
But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.
The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.
Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 
Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.
“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.
“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”
“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 
While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 
“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.
“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”
For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.
“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 
“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 
That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.
The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 
So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.
“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 
“No one said that ––”
“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”
“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”
“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.
“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”
“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”
“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 
He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 
“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 
Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.
“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”
“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”
Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 
But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.
“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”
Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 
As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 
It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 
A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.
You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.
He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”
You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.
“Wait,” he groaned.
You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.
“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.
“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 
Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.
Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.
“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”
“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”
“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”
You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 
“Did you need something?” 
“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 
“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”
He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”
“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.
“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”
You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”
“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 
Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”
“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 
But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.
“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 
Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.
“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 
The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 
Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.
It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 
“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 
Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.
“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”
He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 
“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 
“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”
“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 
You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.
Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 
“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 
“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.
“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”
“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 
“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 
“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 
You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 
“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”
“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 
“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”
He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”
Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.
“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”
You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 
You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 
“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.
“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 
He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.
You shook your head no.
“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.
You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.
“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”
Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 
“Hang out with me sometime.”
“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.
“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 
As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 
You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.
“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 
A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.
-
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agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕
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Text
Me and My Husband
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: The reader warns herself of her relationship with Steve Rogers.
Rating: R
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Infidelity, miscarriage, depression, suicidal thoughts
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No one will tell you what to do when you find out your husband is cheating on you. No one tells you that whether you stay or you leave him, everything you do will be judged ruthlessly. So you just pretend. You will pretend like its not happening, like you haven't seen the text messages on his phone or heard the whispers when you visit the Compound upstate. You'll ignore them the best you can, pray that somehow you got this all wrong. But you can read minds, so you get it straight from him that he's cheating on you.
You'll keep your head held high, ignoring the issue as much as possible. You act like nothing is amiss, even though everyone that you work it-or have worked with-knows the truth. They all know your husband was having an affair and they wonder if you know. You can see their questions as they appear in their heads. You plaster a smile on your face, wishing to be in your bed so you just cry. You'll get bombarded with their thoughts and it'll make you feel like you're drowning.
You'll never bring it up to your husband, but he knows that you know. You've promised that you'd never read his mind, but he knows that you have. You know every gritty little detail of the affair and he knows. He is reminded of it every time he sees you lying in the bed you once shared, your back to him. He's reminded of what he did every time the two of you visit the Compound upstate, when everyone gives her looks of sympathy while he gets glares that bore into his skin. Every time your eyes meet his, he is reminded that he didn't care about the sanctity of marriage and because of that you'll never look at him the same way ever again.
You'll spend moments wondering what you did wrong. Did you not love him enough? Not give him enough attention? Instead of being mad at your husband, you're mad at yourself. Wanting to think about what you could have done instead of thinking that your husband just didn't love you. It'll be easier to blame yourself and you'll live with this bundle of hatred for yourself.
A betrayal by the people closest to you. Your husband and your best friend. Your husband and your maid of honor. The two people you loved most in the world sleeping together and losing your trust, losing you. You wanted it to be anyone but her, anyone else. You prayed and begged that somehow his thoughts betrayed him and he didn't sleep with her, but you know deep down that he did. Her face is all over his memories. She won't meet your eyes and you've stopped taking her calls.  You will want to hurt her, kill her. Want to make her brains spool out from her head because you're so God damned hurt. She isn't friend anymore. Friends don't betray you. Friends don't sleep with your husband. Friends don't make a mockery of your marriage. Friends don't-
Cry.
You'll find yourself crying a lot. It's an endless stream of tears that leave your head pounding and your eyes aching. It's the type of crying that makes your throat and entire chest hurt, the types of crying that leaves you feeling hollow. You must be dehydrated with how much you're crying. Your husband will come home to see your eyes red and watery. He used to be so concerned when he saw you post-crying, but that was before your marriage imploded. He knows he is the reason why you're crying, so he doesn't bother asking anymore. And that only makes you cry even more.
A night of emotions being too high and apologies that he doesn't mean result will in a positive pregnancy test and you're stuck in marriage with three people. You, your husband, and the other woman. It's too cramped and you feel like you can't breathe. It's suffocating.
When you get pregnant, people will whisper it's a save the marriage baby. None of their smiles will meet their eyes and their pity will be written all over their faces. They congratulate you nonetheless, calling you a fool once your back is turned. Having a baby with a man that betrayed her with her best friend.
They'll ask you how he feels about it. Not how you feel because you're not allowed to have feelings anymore. You gave up your feelings when you chose to ignore his infidelity. They'll ask you how he reacted, if he is happy. You don't want to tell them that he just nodded when you told him, his face not giving away way what he felt about the news. You don't to tell them at he left immediately to go see her as soon as you got into the shower.
She will be in the room when you tell the remaining members of your team, both holograms and in person. Hidden in plain sight, she sits among the people you call your friends-at least the ones that remain. His eyes meet hers when the news falls from your lips and you can hear her whisper in her mind "What are we going to do?". As your friends and teammates walk up to congratulate the two of you, she takes her time getting up, takes her time to walk over to you. She looks you in the eye and says that the two of you are going to be great parents. Three of us in this marriage and I can't breathe.
You'll wonder every day as your stomach grows if the man who you married hates you. He's stuck in this house that he had built, with the family he had wanted, in loveless marriage because he messed up and you found out. It doesn't stop him from leaving at night, showering immediately when he comes back. They both know you aren't stupid. You know what they are doing, but your heart can't break anymore. You'll tell yourself that he'll stop when the baby comes, but you know that's a lie, but it's a lie you keep repeating to yourself in hopes of it coming true.
Sometimes, you will dive into his mind when he is asleep next to you. He'll never know that you've snuck inside, but you get to see every moment of their relationship. It's sadistic and all it does is make you more upset, but you can't help yourself. You need to know how far it goes, if they love each other or if it's just a physical thing. She fills up more of his memories than you do. You're being replaced and there isn't a thing you can do about it. You can only watch it happen.
And no one will tell you what to do when you start to bleed. It will seems to pour endlessly from you, staining the cream colored sheets. Your husband won't be beside you, he's off with her. So instead, through the pain, you drive yourself to the hospital, blood covering the seat. Tears streaming down your face as you force yourself to walk into the emergency room, hand on your stomach. You'll lean on the receptionist's desk and calmly tell her "I think I am losing my baby." as blood drips down your legs. No one tells you who to call. Should you interrupt your husband's time with his mistress? Make him hate you more? No. Instead, you call your friend, the one who has always been like a brother to you. The one who lives a few hours away with his wife and their newborn daughter. You'll wait for him, sitting alone in a hospital room as nurses run tests on you.
No one will tellyou how you are supposed to react when they come in and tell you that your baby-a boy, you learn-is gone. Your bump is still there, so how can he be gone? He. A sweet baby boy that you'll never get to meet. When Tony arrives, you can't get the words out. Saying it aloud will mean it's true. But he knows. He knows as soon as he walks through the door that the baby is gone. He doesn't bring it up and instead sits next to you, where your husband should be, and holds your hand. Your hand in his while you other hand cradles your bump. Your husband will return home the next morning to find your car gone with blood smeared everywhere. For the first time in months, he'll call your phone, wondering what was going on.
Tony will be the one who answers the phone when you're in surgery, the doctors wanting to make sure the contents of your womb are completely out. He'll be the one who tells your husband that you lost your baby. Tony will be the one to tell him to stop calling. Before your friend hangs up, Tony will tell your husband that he caused this, that his infidelity direct caused your miscarriage.
In that time, you'll finally lose it. It's like you're finally reacting to everything. You'll be drowning in anger, in sadness, in sorrow. How you managed this far you'll never understand. Tony will bar your husband and his mistress from coming anywhere close to your hospital room. Your life is falling apart at the seams and you're losing control of everything. You're unable to sleep, unable to eat. The last thing you've had was your baby and now that he's gone-Well you don't have anything left. You just want all of the pain to end and you'll tell Tony that. He'll will be worried and he'll ask for you to be put into a seventy-two hour hold. While this is happening, while your brain is being picked in order to see if you're going to harm yourself, Steve will be throwing away the bloody bed and getting rid of the ruined sheets and blankets.
Tony will decide that you can't go back to your home you share with Steve, but you also can't stay with him. He has a baby and you just lost yours. It's not right for you to stay there. So instead he takes you to Asgard's new home. You'll be thousands of miles away from the home you had wanted to raise a family in, away from your husband. Thor and Valkyrie will welcome you with open arms, helping you transition into your new lifestyle as you grieve. Tony will handle the divorce proceedings and Steve will get a new bed. Your things will be packed up and sent to you and you'll be completely removed from your husband.
And when Bruce and Rocket come knocking on your door three years later, begging for your help, you'll be forced to make a choice. And you'll sit there in your tiny cottage next to Thor's, thinking about what to do. And then you'll agree to help because you want to bring back half of the universe. You love saving people and it doesn't matter if you feel uncomfortable, you are going to help bring people back.
So when that beautiful man with the baby blue eyes comes up to you after a mission, a million dollar smile stretched across his nervous face and asks you to go on a date, heed this warning. He'll be amazing at first, but it'll go down hill so fast. Know that you were never his first choice, you were the only available one.
If you don't heed the first warning and you do go on a date with the blonde man, don't marry him. The marriage is a sham, something you'll do a year after half of the universe turns into dust. You'll be excited and it'll seem like he's really happy, but he isn't. He just wants purpose again and he won't get it from the marriage. He'll emotionally leave you and you'll try to stick it out.
Being with Steve Rogers will only end in pain, so save yourself the heartbreak and stay away.
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jjkpls · 3 years
Text
Mean Yoongi 4 - Finale (M)
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> genre : angst (a hell of a lot), smut
> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)
> total words : 11k+
> warnings/content : takes place post rona quarantine, explicit sexual content (bj, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey cum play), bad writing (it’s been a while, i hope you don’t feel the struggle too much)
> summary : You haven’t talked to Yoongi in so long, now that you’re allowed to see him again, you’re not sure how to do it anymore.
> previous
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"Your hair has grown a lot."
I don't say anything. I stare, probably a bit cold, I don't make an effort to answer. There's a lot of things to say but no words seem right. Her attempt sucks anyway. I can tell, from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, eyes shying away, that she thinks the same.
The moment is filled with tension. The bad kind of tension. She's fidgety, feeling awkward. I feel it too but I'm better at hiding it. I've always been. Sitting back in my chair, observing her attentively, I can't help my insides from twisting on themselves, my heart from squeezing painfully in my chest. She's the same, mostly. With a shadow under the eyes she didn't use to have, a pallor I hate on her cheeks -usually painted that lovely shade of crimson, whenever I'm here to watch, as if the colour exists only for me- a slump in her stance. I wonder what I'm like to her. My hair's changed, as she mentioned. It's quite long, it's grown indeed, and enough for my natural colour to take over my whole head. I am tired, both in body and mind. So much so, I don't find the energy to tease her like I would before. And maybe, that's the biggest thing that's changed about me, and this sole thing is turning me into someone else entirely. I may as well be a whole someone else. Not the man who used to, every now and then, sprinkle glimpses of an awkward grin I've never gotten used to wearing but that I know, she loves. Certainly not the one who teased her with a relationship she could graze but not catch, with my fingers deep in her cunt, using crude and harsh words foreign to my lips straight in her ear, because she secretly loves it. Dancing on her feet, playing with her own fingers, gesticulating and waiting, hoping for an easy way out to manifest somehow. Probably for me to grant it to her because no matter how difficult I make myself to be, I've always been good at that. Dictate and guide how things go between us. I am sweet even if I wouldn't ever admit it aloud and it's been convenient, always, for her. I'm sort of curious to see how it'll go, how it can go if for once, I'm not making any effort for the both of us. I raise from my seat, eyes dropping from her. (She's wearing Converse, I note. This probably because she didn't plan on seeing me.) Hands digging deep in my pockets, I'm not sure I can approach her. These weird, implemented reflexes raise in her too. People don't do it so much any more. Getting close. And I can see her flinch in impulse before her eyes grow big and demanding. "I got tested-" She cuts herself short. It sounds weird. To speak in this deafening silence, she can hear it as much as I can. And to say those words too. She doesn't have to finish the sentence, I get the idea and from the shade of her voice, I can tell her results have turned out negative. Maybe I'm a bit irresponsible. Maybe a bit too desperate. In any case, it makes me scoff, roll my eyes. Staring down at my feet, hair hiding most of my face to her, I have to bite back on my tongue the words that almost roll out. Something about not giving a shit about that, and her being ridiculous. I don't really trust my mouth, I have no idea what would come out of it, therefore I don't speak. My hand reaches forward, bony fingers catching the front of her shirt before I'm dragging her to me. Very naturally, as if it hasn't been months since the last time I've touched her, as if even before that we were used to holding unto each other like that, she melts in my arms. "Why didn't you call?" She could, technically, ask me the same thing: I could have done it. I hope she doesn't ask. I wouldn't know what to say to her. How honest to be. I'd probably say that I was waiting for her to do it first. Which sounds ridiculous, childish as hell but couldn't be more true. I'd say, if I had a different tongue, that wouldn't get tied up anytime deep feelings are involved, that I was worried and terrified and sad, like I had not been in a long while. And all this because she wouldn't call, she wouldn't reach out for me and my heart, probably too profound and too serious, couldn't quite comprehend and certainly not accept her silence. Those months drove me crazy. Literally. I came to ask myself if I didn't make it all up. If the special bound between us had ever really existed or if it was just all projection. "You didn't either." She ends up saying. Clearly, she's as speechless as I am when it comes to explaining months, almost half a year, of pure dumbassery. It's not like it's necessary to explain anyway. She should just know how to tell me that she missed me. And I should know to do it too. She's better at that stuff. Not that good but still better than I am, I think. If she can't do it then I'm not sure I can even try. But today I'm different, as I said. And when she accuses me like she just did, I tense but don't let go. I can hear the way her breath catches in her throat, her shoulders rising to her ear. She's probably expecting me to back away and start cursing at her. I only squeeze further though, sliding my chin along her shoulder so to tuck my neck nicely with hers, humming pure appreciation, when it feels as comfortable and warm as it possibly can. She smells wonderful, she's warm and so willing to let me wrap myself around her. "I wasn't at my best so- I thought I'd just wait for you to call when you would-" I found the courage, apparently, to say all the things that's been heavy on my mind. It's easy when she's this tender. Embodiment of warmth, of welcoming, of loving, I can only be serene, voice low and soft. "But you never did." The only reason I allow myself to reproach the things that technically she can also blame me for, is because I know, that pressed that hard and that close against her, she can feel my heart beating insanely, exposing and telling on me. "You should have!" I don't need to say anything for her to gather that I'm not amused. I unwrap from her, deciding she's being too much of a stubborn brat. I sigh, watching her pointedly not watching me. She yelps and finally grants me her pretty eyes when a pinch to the back of her thigh, right under her ass, scalds her. Here's her "Mean Yoongi", as she so calls me, according to the Snapchat conversation she shares with Taehyung. I see her bite back a smile, her pretty lip flushed when she releases it. "What was that for?" She whines as if it's not fair, rubbing the soreness of her thigh with one hand. I smile mostly with my eyes, deciding to ignore the tears that have gathered in her eyes while I wasn't looking. I back away, taking a stand against the top of my desk, arms crossed tight on my chest. "You deserve way more than that. Lucky for you, I feel lazy." Her gaze follows mine, aimed at the leather sofa. The thing presently empty but virtually filled with the substantial memory of that one fateful time I touched her for the first time, her ass made red by my ministrations. I can't do that today. I'm too soft for now. I still enjoy seeing her squirm, blush and shy away while simultaneously loving thinking about it though. "I could tell you the same, Yoongi. You could have-" I'm losing patience. It's not entirely against her. It's more accurately against us. We're playing the same pointless game. The unnecessarily torturing game of denying, of dismissing. I should probably just drop it, even if it hurts and leaves me with too many pressing interrogations. I might look a bit more serious when I start studying her face with great attention. She's beautiful. I missed seeing her. The mental picture I had kept of her, along with the real ones I'd spent months looking at, didn't do her much justice. She looks somewhat surreal. Prettier than I remember, yet printed with the same aura I recognize. "I told you why already." I whisper to her. My own voice surprises me. It's as if my heart, that's been too hurt, has been left tender, exposed and I'm turned weak even in demeanour. I bet it's confusing for her. It is for me. Feels disarming. "But- what's the point then? If when you're down you don't call-" To that, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to admit to her, if she hasn't guessed it yet, the extend of my inability to seek for what I need, for what makes me feel good, for her who I've wanted and craved for. Of course, I needed her. Of course, I wanted her to be here for me -and be needed and wanted by her. I don't know how to say it though therefore I kiss her. A soft press to the corner of her mouth. I smile, probably looking dumb, when I see her wide eyes blinking, sending one lone tiny tear on her cheekbone. Her cheeks turn red because apparently, she's not immune to me and my kisses anymore, her immediate, strong reactions turning out to be the same as the ones she used to have, in the very, very beginning, when she was so putty, so lenient, such a good girl and also, the shyest and most innocent little thing. She needs some time to accommodate, to say the least. She's barely kissing me back. Simply letting me pepper her mouth with kisses, closing her eyes, hands reaching for my sweatshirt yet not so much giving me back.
After too long of not enough, I need to stop. Because what I think I know might not be so right anymore. Maybe I read things wrong, yet again, and she's not in the same place I stand. After looking at her face, and her eyes, who struggle to dry up and look at me, I ask, "What's wrong?", granting her all of my attention. "Wha- you, what's wrong?" I scoff. She looks like she's about to cry while snarking like a brat. "You're really testing my patience." "You're different. You don't have patience normally." I tilt my head to the side, a tiny smile lifting one corner of my lips. I can't say it's not true. "I thought you wanted me sweeter?" She stares, frowning. Confused, embarrassed and almost upset. I know I'm a weird fucking version of myself right now. The one that hasn't come out a lot these past few years and that she'd certainly never met before. I'm scared she doesn't like it. Maybe she hates it. If she liked me before, there's no reason she'd like that one Yoongi, is there? "I'm just messing with you. I'm tired and-" Gentle fingers wrap around her hands, intimating her to walk forward, forward and close enough for me to close my lips on hers again. "It's been a while." I let her look into my eyes, read the longing and probably the sadness. "Sorry if I'm weird. If you don't like me like that just- bear with me for today, hm?" "I bear with you all the time." Well. That's not even the last thing I expected her to say. Pretty mean for a sweet girl like her. "What does that mean?" She shrugs. She knows but she won't say. She has that pout on her mouth. The tilted one she does whenever something's been said loud and clear in that little head of hers but she's not generous enough to indulge in sharing. I stare, disapprovingly, thumb chastising kindly her cheek. "That's rough." "I don't mean it like that-" "Then what do you mean?" My mouth finds her again for an instant. It's a soft gentle kiss that doesn't hint at anything more. She remains silent. "Cats got your tongue? You usually can't shut up but you're so quiet today." Through her cute pout, she mumbles, "I guess I'm weird too today." My phone buzzes where it lays on my desk. With a quick glance, I can tell it's a text from Namjoon. I don't even need to read it. I can guess it. He's probably calling me an idiot while simultaneously demanding me not to be one.
I heard him earlier, I bet she doesn't know, when he held her hostage by telling that I was awake and that she should go say hi. He held her hostage because she was just passing by. From how loud Taehyung and Jimin were when the front door banged opened, half an hour ago, I could tell they were drunk as hell and she had just planned on dropping them off and leave. And Namjoon, being the good man and even better friend that he is, wouldn't let that happen. How could he when he's seen me all those months in states he probably hoped, back when we were young trainees, that he'd never had to see me again in? It hurt and it still does a little, to imagine that for the first time after so long, after finally being freed from the government harsh but necessary restrictions, she would come so close to me yet consider pass by me, without saying hi, without inquiring if I'm here, even. If it were not for the firm, absolutely non-subtle suggestion coming from Namjoon, she would have done it. She would have left ignoring me. Then she knocked gently on my door, I could tell she was terrified when I opened it and faced her, quiet. And maybe it was pure projection but I felt she wanted to be here. She was scared and embarrassed, didn't know what to say, what to do with herself and me, but she wanted to stay and try to untie this shitty intricate ball of knots. The thing is, it's late. It's super fucking late and I'm reminding when the screen of my phone lights up again to remind me to check the text I just received. She arrived too late at the dorms. We wasted, collectively, too much time not saying much and here we are, standing in the dimly lighted studio, facing each other with too much of an ambiguous tension surrounding us. Everything is unclear. The kisses she would allow me to leave on her lips but not give back to me, tasting lovely but with an aftertaste, a bitter taste of confusion, raising questions as far as their meanings – are they greetings or goodbyes. It's past one in the morning but I'm not ready to let her leave, especially when I don't know what she'd be leaving behind. Anxiety is creeping in my bosom. It's pissing me off. Vainly I bend over, to my side, tapping my finger on my phone to have it lit up. Maybe Namjoon is not just insulting me and has left actual practical advice for me to follow and not fuck this up. "Yoongi?" My ears perk up but I don't look up yet. My eyes are messed up from the exhaustion and I struggle to read. I see keywords: idiot (as expected), asshole, chance, upset. I see the word "love" even, that makes me wince. How can he believe he'd help me by sending me this word when she's standing right in front of me? She called yet she still has not talked further. I shut my phone instantly, worried to have been too lowly engaged to her, to have vexed her in any way, to have been an idiot, precisely what Namjoon threatened me into not being. I raise an interested eyebrow, inviting her to talk and she finally does so, fast and barely audible, "Can I spend the night?" She grimaces. I mean to frown but I realise my face is already squished in a scowl. Maybe her grimacing makes sense. "You mean here, at the dorms?" I ask, forcing my expression to quiet down by a tonne because my shock seems wrongly interpreted by her. That seems to help. She looks at me with her big demanding eyes, the ones I know. The ones that beg, unapologetically for my affection. She nods. "With me or- in the spare room...?" She nods again. "That doesn't answer my question, ___." "Yoongi." Here comes the little brat tone half-whining, half-menacing because she doesn't get her way straight away. How lovely to meet her again. I decide to spare her from any torture, for now, shutting the light off and guiding her, with my hands on her waist, through the dark and out my studio. "Why do you even ask? How many times have I invited you to stay?" I whisper in her ear, adoring the way I feel her tremble against me. "It's different now." She huffs, not the least hiding her annoyance. I can admit things are different now. Sort of feels like a whole different fucking life, if you ask me. I wouldn't have imagined that I needed the world to be taken upon such a devastating global catastrophe for my lover to accept spending one full night with me, for the first time. I don't even see the correlation, honestly. I don't even know why she didn't want to before. I forced myself not to dwell on this question too much. Simply accepting that she wouldn't and that's her right to not want to. But that was weird. "Is it?" My arm reaches before her, turn the handle right because she's left lost and awaiting in the dark. There's a gust of her smell coming to me. The sweet, comforting, familiar and magically charming, addicting scent. There's the click of the knob in the dark, and the door opens up on the hallway's bright lightening. No words are exchanged as I lead her, a hand gently pressed to the bottom of her back, so close to her ass the idea that I could just let it slide down can't leave my agitated mind. Most doors are closed shut, there's no much noise being heard in the whole apartment apart from the occasional high pitched giggles from the two drunk kids in the living room. She's too quiet to be entirely at ease with the situation. I don't even think she's ever come inside my and Seokjin's bedroom. Seokjin.
I wonder how aware she is of the fact that I'm sharing my room with someone else. If she does, she didn't seem to mind when she asked, with her battling lashes and irresistible pout, to spend the night with me. If we do end up making him spend the night elsewhere, he might curse at me or give me the cold shoulder for a minute or two tomorrow, but he'll live. "Is it? Different?" I ask again. We've reached the bedroom and I decide to lock the door for good. If Seokjin were to, perhaps, come to our room to head to bed, he'd be met with a locked door.
She doesn't answer, still. I'm pretty sure she allows herself that because of how lenient I am with her today. She knows I'm not going to force the words out of her. I sigh calmly, resolved, black eyes patient as they fix her. "Of course, it is. Isn't it to you?" "What is?" Hands raised to the sky, eyebrows high in bewilderment, her confusion, so big it's almost revolt, couldn't be more explicit. "I'm asking because I don't know, ___. You don't talk to me, how am I supposed to know?" "Sorry." She mumbles. Blushing from embarrassment, as she lowers her hands, looks down and sinks on herself. "It's ok." My hand leads hers to my lips, I kiss its back. "Why didn't you call?" "Yoongi, sometimes I just don't know how you feel. No, always- I mean, never, I never know how you feel-" I'm not sure how much she means to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure she knows, if the way she seeks for words, not to offense me, is any tell. But she sucks at preserving them. Her words sting like hell. "During- I just- I didn't want to force myself into you if that's not what you wanted, that's all." "And that's not what you wanted? Just hearing me, you didn't want that?" I have to ask. It's probably better talking about her feelings than mine, right now. "Course, I did..." She sulks. "Then why not try? At least for yourself, I don't get you." Maybe resentment of a tortured, sensitized heart is unleashing. I don't want to ever harm her but she's done it, a lot. I don't want to believe it but maybe we've parted too long for a cold, unpenetrable wall not to have taken place between us. At least, provisionally. It can't be that unpenetrable. "I'm sorry." She lowers her head, whispering. Looking all saddened. Guilty. Nervous. And of course, I'm too soft. "You used to force yourself into my life all the fucking time, sneaking in my studio like an affection craving puppy, you didn't care back then but now that I like you, you don't want it anymore." Her eyes blink, shift suddenly up. Wide and alarmed. They scrutinize me sitting on the bed, checking my own nails, pretending to be nonchalant about the bitty bomb I've just dropped. "Wouldn't peg you for the heartbreaker type but ok-" "Don't say stuff like that." "Like what? Stuff that I mean?" I roll my eyes because the moron watches me with an emotion in her gaze, anger, she's menacing me. "It's not funny." "It really isn't." I shake my head along. "I talked with a friend and he said the reason you didn't call is probably that I was messing with you too much, not saying anything you wanted to hear. That you got tired of waiting for me." "Namjoon?" I nod. I had to talk to Namjoon. Because I had to talk about her to someone. Taehyung was simply out of the question. He's her best friend. One of the closest of my own friends. He probably knows me too well, knows I'm not that well-off in my personal life, in my heart and mind to be with his non-biological sister. And Namjoon is kind and loves me a lot, even if we wouldn't talk about that. So much so that it makes him genuinely happy to see me excited about someone. "It's not really- that. I'm just a coward, Yoongi. I didn't know how to talk to you and ask you the things I wanted to and-” She's staring down, at her own fingers pkaying with each others. Cute. “Yeah, I don't know, I didn't know how you felt about me." "I thought I was obvious." She shrugs. She shrugs. It should anger me. I'd have the right to be mad. I was obvious. I've been obnoxious. Letting her mess with me and my stuff because she owns me and therefore, by definition, also everything I have. Letting her in. Filling up all the room, all according to her own whims. "Com'here," I demand, rather gently, spreading my legs and leaning back, hands holding me up. She obediently steps forward, takes her seat on my lap, right where I want her. That's perfect. Everything I needed to obliviate the fact that she hasn't confessed liking me back yet. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" She's hovering over me, slightly taller, should feel superior. But her pretty face is turned down, eyes avoiding mines from shame, staring at her hands toying with the strings of my sweatshirt. The bubble, so intimate, is small, very very small and it's hard to live in it. The air she's breathing is mine, the same way the air I'm breathing is hers, and she must be aware of the way all I'm seeing are the tiny, pretty details of her face. "Yoongi. You really like me?" "Course, I do." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. I kind of hate it but I live for the grin she struggles to hide. "Stupid." Totally free and unnecessary but not unjustified, I deem. "Then can you be my boyfriend? Or like would you- would you like to be?" With a hurried press of my lips to the corner of her mouth, I attempt to hide the grin growing on them. "Took you long enough." I fail miserably as I can't help but smile against her mouth, poorly kissing it. "It doesn't answer my question." She points out. I know it doesn't. I hate how happy and rather emotional I felt just having her ask me to be her boyfriend. Who would have thought I would mind this much? Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed it. I never thought it'd move me that much. But I suppose, I should have known by now, that, that's what she does: she moves me. It's a breathtaking kiss, stolen or given while I press her down on her back, body not hovering but laying on hers, every inch of hers pointedly connected to mine, that shuts the conversation down. It does not have to matter. Now that we've found each other back, we believe again we have all the time in the world. Maybe it's a mistake. The state of our world, these days, tend to suggest we don't, we never know how much time we'll have and what exactly it'll be made of. I didn't actually answer but maybe the answer is so fucking evident, she should trust my lips and my hands and my eyes each time they linger on a part of her they seem to have a liking for. And perhaps, she could just accept me and everything else along and assume rightfully that if I wasn't saying it all, it wasn't because I didn't feel it, didn't want to, didn't have anything to say but because I could not. "The gears in that head of yours are killing the mood," I mumble against her cheek, bothered by her loss of commitment, here again, to make me feel lonely when she's just right fucking here. "What is it?" I ask in a gentle whisper.
Here above her, close enough to still share breath but far enough to see her face, it's impossible to act like a dick. Her eyes are shiny, dripping emotions. I can see them clearly without knowing exactly how to read them. She's held back by so many things but as always a timid mouth won't let them slip. I've yet, after all this time, to decide if I love or hate that about her. She can be so open, in appearance, she's animated, she's enthusiastic, she's bright and welcoming. But at the same time, the corridor she lets you in hides a door at the end that she simply cannot allow to let you slide through. I've caught glimpses of this room when she left the door ajar a few times, mostly when I'm balls deep in and maybe a bit too soft when I whisper sweet words in the shell of her ear. She's mostly a mirror of myself, a better version though. When my eyes can look bored, uninterested and sometimes borderline mean, hers are always soft, always kind. It doesn't matter what or who they are set on. Even when she's upset, when I've said something she didn't like to hear, when she's been teased one too many times by Taehyung or her boss has been a fucking asshole all day long, she'll have her eyebrows cutely dropping down, mimicking anger and failing poorly because the eyes, right under it, are still as tender and bright and beautiful. Right now the door is ajar and from what I can see in her eyes, she looks like she's in love with me. It's pure torture because I know, and I can see that too, that even if it were to be the case she wouldn't say, she wouldn't say the words, not to me, not like that anyway, she couldn't. Perhaps I'm seeing things. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or worse, my own reflection I catch in her eyes without recognising it. After a few seconds of her deliberately ignoring my question and me not getting impatient because I get to just watch her, I decide it doesn't really matter if she is or not in love with me if she keeps looking at me like that. The illusion so realistic, shocking my heart with delicious waves of electricity, I could live with that. "Yoongi?" And if she keeps saying my name like that, like a whine, like a shy little girl, I'll be spoiled forever. She says my name a lot today, I realise, as my spine is taken by an umpteenth wave of chill. Maybe she missed saying it. I surely missed hearing it. "Yeah?" I'm even more breathless than she is. Hovering above yet hanging from her mouth. I must look desperate to her. Even if this has the potential to tickle me the wrong way, I decide not to mind. It's pointless to fight back innate facts, isn't it? I am desperate for her, have been for fucking months, before even circumstances distanced us, I thought it could even end up killing me at some point. It was bad after a couple of weeks when I realised she'd still not called me. Not even a text or a word passed through Taehyung. Nothing at all and I had the sickening feeling growing in my stomach that it wouldn't change. After making sure she was ok, wherever she was, with whoever or maybe alone, she was fine and she was simply not reaching out for me, the torture really started. I just didn't get it. How could she, the most annoying little bug, stop doing what I thought her to like best, it is to say, bugging me? The last time we saw each other was fantastic. She had left slamming my door but with the pretty shade of infatuation on her cheeks, I had no doubt, even if things were not entirely cleared out yet -because I thought the cat and mouse game was entertaining to her as much as it was to me, and because at the time, we still felt like we had all the time in the world for this and for everything else- that we were good, better than good actually. I was confused, utterly lost. Too coward and too upset to reach out myself. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have done it, wouldn't she? She used to before. "Can you lie down? On your back, I mean." The request makes me raise an eyebrow. "You're always sorta on top of me, and I-" The sentence is never finished. She's embarrassed if the cute button of a mouth she wears along with the stealthy avoiding eyes are any teller. For some reasons, my heart beats faster in my chest in an uncomfortable thumping. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man. A grumpy control freak of an old man who's terrified by the least changement. Because Change to me, in all honesty, sounds horrifying -which sounds ridiculous given chances were bet on changes that ended up bringing the life that I now live, some rollercoaster, made of the worst up and downs sitting on top of the least trustworthy, stable ground. It's scary, feels ominous even when it's just my now-girlfriend sweetly starting to ask, and demand for things in my bed. Maybe I need to chill. Match better the chaos that's inside with the unbothered, emotionless exteriors. All I can think about is how lame her justification sounds given, "I can recall quite a good amount of times when you were on top.", and therefore, freak out about what's really behind her request. She frowns then glares, right in my eyes, at last, and sighs. She's being the snarky little girl who doesn't want to discuss and that's cute. That's adorable because I'm on top and I decide but she thinks she can control, demand from me. And she'd be right. She can ask anything from me. She always could. Rolling my eyes like I don't care, lazily rolling on my back like I'm not nervous as hell to just lay there for her, I watch carefully and savour the way she bites on her smiling lips, ecstatic as she is to have been granted an upperhand over me. She takes the seat she owns on my thighs, a mischievous glint decorating her gaze. "Do you remember our first time?" It does the trick. Her ephemeral sense of confidence flatters and she sinks down a little on herself -conveniently on my crotch-, flushing darkly. "I'm not senile, 'course I remember." Softly, the pads of my fingers press on her covered thighs. My eyes fixed on her lively face. She can't really bear it, they might burn her a little. She tries to flee, falling over, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. Her lips brush my skin, she sighs there, it's a wonderful, dip into her. "Remember the first time?" "I just said yes." She whispers the same way I do. I pinch very lightly the back of her thigh, not to hurt, just to warn her because she has a little edge to her tone. Of course, she'd be so impatient when I find myself able to be patient. "When we met for the first time." She leans back, curious eyes peeking at me. A lock of hair is brushing her cheek, I drag it behind her ear, kissing her lips with my thumb because I'm too lazy and laid too comfortably to try and raise up to her mouth. She frowns for a second before she shrugs. I can see she doesn't get where I'm going with that. If she can't even remember, she surely won't see. "You were in the kitchen with Tae, being loud as hell until I came in and you just stopped talking altogether." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you hated me." "I was just shy." She's a bit vexed that I'm bringing it up. I know that she hates that, when it's pointed out, that she gets shy and embarrassed and timid. I understand because I'm the same. The difference between us is that I hide pretty well my inner turmoil with a mask made of coldness, of confidence or disinterest. "You were, weren't you? Now, look at you..." Her eyes don't quit mine. She knows damn well what I mean. "Sitting on me like you're sitting on a throne." She actually giggles at that, tilts her head to the side, gaze going up to the skies as if she's considering the thought, a blatant giddy feeling of importance and timid pretension written all over. She knows it's right. I'm not sure to what extent she understands how much she owns me but she knows there's something big that's unsaid if she's allowed to just have me like that just from asking -only mildly politely. "Could have imagined that, princess?" She's too honest, shakes her head no. I smile lightly, amused because now that I've raised the question, I realise I couldn't have imagined that either. I didn't like her too much at the beginning. Or to be more precise, she gave me a bad first impression. I'm never good with new people but this girl, it just went wrong. I'd been chanted so many praises about her and when finally, I got to meet her because she was for once hanging out at the dorms when other people than Taehyung and Jimin were here, she shut off as soon as I walked in, for some reasons I didn't get at the time, decided to be unfair and that I was not deserving of her infamous sweetness. The stark contrast between her bright boisterous peals of laughter before I entered the room and heavy mean silence once I'd sat on one of the bar stools made me livid. I thought it'd be the end of it. I wouldn't get to know the person, the "amazing person", I've been told about because I wasn't meriting somehow. And after months of forced proximity, because she kept being invited over, involved with outings, something clicked within her and she became the annoying little brat I've known her to be and just had to grow fond of -because it was easier than to just stay reluctant to her advances and become mad each time she'd come to me. It didn't take too long, if I'm being totally honest, to go from deeply confused vexation to an out of character giddy fondness. I've never said it. Don't really plan on doing it. Even now that I'm feeling all mellow and sappy as fuck. She doesn't need to be told from my mouth anyway. I'm pretty sure Namjoon, if he hasn't had a word about this yet, will do later. And from her ever insistence, her never flattering determination even when I, from self-admission, had been harsh or mean in the way I could have told her off, I suspect she knows, she's always known. Her dizzying smile tastes the sweetest and her annoying voice is addicting, as if dipped in a thick layer of dopamine. And I'm too weak for pretty smiles matching pretty eyes, and for brats harassing me with their affection. Therefore when she starts peeling my shirt off of me and spreading her kisses everywhere she can reach, I don't say anything even though I half-hate it. I hate feeling exposed like that when she's fully clothed and on top of me. I don't really like in general being too naked especially for her knowing what she has for me compared to what I've got for her. And she's touching me, one of her hand pressing my wrist onto the mattress and I know what it means, she doesn't want me to protest or try and touch her. I don't because I want to be good for her, for once, not be an ass and impose everything because she seems to want peculiar things today and I can do that for her. But I adore the way she's humming against my skin, smiling uncontrollably against it and sprinkling the most tender kisses. For once, I'm letting her have her way, and won't thrash and push her over to get the upper hand I prefer to hold, bear with the flush burning my cheeks and speeding my heart. It is nice to have her being so willing to take her time with me, with loving me, as if she really wants me. She's also very much hot precisely where she presses her centre to my cock and my patience, if exceptionally efficient today, has limits. "You-" I'm cut off by a strong shudder born from her tongue swiping along my jaw and the little suckle on my ear that follows. "Undress." I groan once half of my composure found back. "No." The short but firm answer triggers me, without taking a second to think, my hand, the one she hasn't been holding hostage, raises and seizes the back of her thigh meanly. "What do you mean no?" "Yoongi, listen. I think I'm tired of you bossing me around." My eyes grow wide at that. She has the acutely tiny singing edge to her voice, the one that I know well for it rings louder every time she's embarrassed or doesn't feel the most confidence. But she's standing straight and tall on her throne, pressing steadily on my crotch as she slowly explains how this will go, her way. "Now that I come to think of it-" A hard grind stealing a huff from me. "You couldn't even- you couldn't even ask me out properly! I did it! I do everything all the time and you still get to choose? That's not fair." "If I remember correctly I always make sure you come first, don't I? So how unfair is that, princess?" She pouts. Stops moving altogether. I can picture her in a second raise her arms to her chest and cross them tight there, frowning and sulking. The little girl is upset. She's adorable. I suppose she hopes to intimidate me somehow or to make me swoon enough to give in. It does the opposite though. The more she pouts, the brattier she gets, the more she tickles my fancy. And I always want more. She's all the more fun when she's feisty too. "I have something in mind, Yoongi." I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Hers lower down, condescending, unwilling to give up her position. "I want to take care of you." She says, voice quieter from her prior disdainful approach. The Adam apple seems to double in size in my throat when I try to swallow this time, struggling so much so it's audible. I think I knew. I suspected something the moment she started to stare at me with those eyes. I just thought I could get away somehow, I managed to many times before. She's pretty easy to manipulate, a firm precise press of my fingers, a hot whisper to tease her core and she'd let it go. I'm pretty weak today though and here she is saying words that set me off, reach someplace dusty and far, so far away hidden within me that it feels uncomfortable. The trigger is uncomfortable. It's scary. I don't know what it'll be. I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I ever want to try. Sincerely, the greatest and easiest pleasure I've ever had to indulge in has been hers. In her pleasure and her body. Her orgasms I tasted on my tongue, the ones that hug me tight, have always been the most spectacular. "You don't need to take care of me." I need to take care of you. I'm not sure where it comes from. I've come a long way in my own personal journey, I now know I deserve more than I used to believe I did. Yet I don't, I can't imagine her being the one taking care of me. It needs to be me. I need to spoil her. "You don't like that? When someone... focuses on you?" I think about a lie or a little distractive thing to say. I choose to be frank. If there's a day to be and a moment and a person with whom to be, it must be it. "Not really." "Maybe because you're not used to it. Wouldn't you like that? Because I want to. I thought about it a lot." That's the issue with her. She owns the power. Ultimately she does. Even if she doesn't feel like it, she does. Always. Today it shows in more ways than one. She's so eager, so excited, I don't know how to disappoint her. Reluctant but kindly enough, I ask. "What did you think about?" My mouth is dry as hell. I don't understand how I can be filled with so much anxiety, still. When I feel this old and this wise, and so pleased and spoiled yet, still, terrified. It should just be heaven. I don't get why sometimes the sweetest things have to be so scary to take a bite of. She smiles to herself, satisfied to find me willing to hear her. It's a shadow of promise. I will judge later on if she'll get what she wants or not. For now, I'm just hearing her out. She's sweet and she deserves to express herself. In no time, she meets me centimetres away. She's leaned over, forearms pressing a bit on my chest to keep herself from crashing completely onto me. She's beaming through her eyes, mostly, shining intensely in the dim light as she observes my face from up close. There's the scent of her shampoo, the vanilla coconut mix that I used to be obsessed with, smelling around me even when she wasn't there. It's awfully comforting to have that too sweet smell again, for real this time, teasing my senses and waking up a lovely nostalgia. With the tips of her hair brushing slightly the bare skin of my neck, how am I supposed to refuse anything she asks me. "I realised that we've never- I've never got to- taste you." The last words are not even pronounced out loud. There's the t I read on her teeth biting slightly her pink tongue, the rest of the syllabus she just gives up on and it's for me to read on her lips. Given how obsessed I am with them, the task is not that demanding, her request couldn't be clearer to me. I should be ecstatic, shouldn't I? I'm not. I'm nervous as hell. I don't know what's wrong with me. "That's what you thought about a lot? My dick in your mouth?" She flushes bright pink but doesn't waver. She decided she's a big girl and gets to fantasise about what she wants and she won't be shamed for it, not now that's she's grown the courage to ask aloud. I chuckle humourlessly. "Princess." I can almost see her ears point out at the pet name. She seems to like it. I think I'm keeping it. "You're too pretty to have a dick in your mouth." Her face twists in the loudest mask of indignation and revolt. Straightening her back again to stand tall over me, she looks down on me under her severe set of frown eyebrows. "What does that even-" Her hand falls flat on my chest, meeting the skin hard enough for a sharp slapping sound to resonate in the quiet room. "Yoongi! It doesn't make anyone any less pretty to- what are you even saying? How can you- Why are you diverting? You're always diverting-" She raises her hands to the sky in pure bewilderment. Her face is still contorted in anguish though, I can tell she's not done arguing about this. "I'm telling you I want you in my mouth and you- what do you say to me?" I can't really hold back the cackling laughter erupting straight from my bosom. She's startled by it, upset still but unsure of how serious I am and for some reason, when she stares at me laughing, the tiny shadow of a smile colours the corner of her mouth. The tempting beautiful thing suddenly appears only a few centimetres from my face. She looks down on me with all the seriousness she can gather, eyes squinted tight. "Are you serious, Yoongi? Do you really not like that?" How honest should I be? The ever same existential question. How honest can I be? "Because you- like everything else and I thought you liked going down on me but- do you not like receiving?" Because my own personal question is loud, louder than the soft whisper of her voice, and so much more pressing because finding the answer seems to be more essential, it'd answer her questions and a lot more, the ones she may have but never dare ask. I hope to find the answer or at least a hint of it in her eyes. I don't know any other more evident places where to look for it. My quiet gaze shuts her off a little, I see how she doesn't physically back away but there is something in her eyes wavering and suddenly she looks kind of sad. She might just be disappointed but the effect is immediate, I feel my heart cracks. "I just," I raise for a second just to find some courage on her mouth. "I'm better at giving, it's all. I feel weird just sitting here and taking, it's just weird." It's just hard. "But it's the very principle of Lo-" She cuts herself off before she finishes but too late for me not to make out the last syllable. "Of what?" I ask, a growing crooked grin teasing. I allow myself that because I know that I can't get her there. She might even be more scared than I am. That's funny how I find ease in teasing her in those places yet I know that if we really do get there and start being serious about it, or if she'd dare tease me back, I'd lose my shit. I can hardly handle her calling my name in a whine as if she needs me so much she can't handle me not being a constant part of her. "Do you really not like that? Like not want it?" She asks, eyes boring in mine, looking all serious and grave. I can't disappoint her when she looks at me like that. I don't want to. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't want or like but-" Gently, the pad of my thumb caresses her soft cheek. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her. I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake somewhere, an error in the matrix. While I'm not bad, I'm quite good as a person, I'm persuaded that pretty girls with hearts that gentle can't be for me. I can't even tell her how beautiful she is. "Actually no buts. Just, do you want it or not?" How could I say no? When she asks so nicely, so many times to and of course, she looks the way she does. I might be a huge hypocrite. Turning this into her using her charms to get what she wants rather than me accepting to be selfish because it's easier that way. Nonetheless, it's almost reluctantly, with a fat lump in my throat that I let out a tiny, "'Kay." She leans over, eyebrows high. "Was it a yes?" I hum, rolling my eyes a bit. I'm feeling embarrassed, too embarrassed, and she's bouncing on my cock like it's the most exciting news she's heard all year -which might actually be given the circumstances.
It's nice but confusing.
Does she like me that much or is she just really into giving heads? Suddenly I have flashbacks of all those times she got on her knees to fetch something from a low hanging shelf, or under the coffee table. I just thought, innocently, that she had no sense of adulthood and she didn't realise, that once adults are grown they don't get on their knees like children, looking up to you talking like it's not weird at all. Like it's not suggestive at all. Like if I were just to ask nicely she'd probably say yes and I'd be the opening of a pants' fly away from sitting comfortably on her tongue. I can't lie and say that I've never thought about it. Evidently. I have. Probably each and every time she's done that little supposedly innocent thing, and then, a few other times in between. She's giddy when she leans even further, sliding off to the side of my lips when she tries to smooch them. She's even giddier when she crawls down my body, hoping to the side so that she can start unfastening my belt and jeans. She's giddy but quiet when she starts pulling my pants off of me. She's feeling timid, I can read it on her cheeks, but she can't possibly be as much as I am. I don't think I've ever had her undress me like that, in the open, when the light is too bright for comfort and her eyes so focused on me. Now that I come to think of it, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been naked with her. And it's never been like that. With her not fucked out enough to not pay so much attention. With her eyes roaming over me, and every now and then glimpses to my face, gaze smiling and tender. The gaze doesn't leave me as her tiny hand tentatively reaches for my covered shaft. It still remains there, attached, for the longest time, while her fingers pressingly roam over it. I twitch under the touch, heart pounding harder, full of anticipation and anxiety. "Don't drag this shit forever." Maybe I could be nicer. Maybe I could show more patience -if I hadn't been so challenged all evening, I'd probably have some left but clearly, I don't. Maybe I could be less of an ass, I could precisely be the sweet, lovely boyfriend she deserves when she's moments and centimetres away from swallowing me down her throat. Probably I should make more efforts. Or learn how and when to make them. I'm probably not the most practical right now. Being rough when I should be sweet and sweet when she needs me to push her a bit. "But I wanna take my time." She says that with a smile on her pink lips, not vexed at all. And here she proves once again that maybe I don't know shit about her and women in general. Because when I feel like she should get offended or at least aggravated, she just takes me in and finds something that she likes in my insufferable self. I simply bite on my lip, pensive. Doesn't say much to her but she sees it and translates it a way that fits me well. A lazy blink later, I have the ghost of a new kiss on the corner of my mouth and then her lips tightly wrapped around my tip, concealing the fresh breeze of air that her undressing me completely brought. It's undefinable, the sensation of her hot wetness wrapped around me. She doesn't waste a second, visibly having changed her mind about taking her time, trying to have me as far as she can. Bobbing her head and sucking me in with so much enthusiasm, I have red flushing my cheeks when I hear the sounds that she makes, wondering if I seem as desperate, as voluntary, as messy when I do eat her cunt - and the rash comes directly from the blatant, easy answer: a big fat yes. Of course, it would feel that good. When her pussy feels like some Heaven, naturally her mouth would have me like that. In no time, my cock is rock hard and balls tight and ready to blow. It's been months since I've felt this good and even then, I didn't have that treatment. Having someone and her, at that, giving so much of herself, I see the way she tries to catch back some air, frowning because I'm pretty sure her jaw is hurting a bit, jerking me off fast to compensate the lack of warmth and her pretty, pretty eyes, smiling at me, doing the most. My thighs are tensing, my right leg keeps jerking upward uncontrollably, fists holding tight onto the sheets, overwhelmed. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this. And maybe I'm going to doubt the universe placing this stupid princess on my way even more now that I've had her been so good to me, by just being herself, especially given that she's turned out to be an expert and a passionate at sucking my cock. "Fuck" Here goes my tip hitting the back of her throat again. And her hands, soft and encouraging, playing with my balls, pad of her thumb pressing sometimes between my perineum. "S-stop, I need to-" "You'll fuck me later, come in my mouth." She demands, breathlessly, diving back in before I even get to protest. "You can't say shit like that." I whiningly stutter, she's brought fucking tears to my eyes. I see blurry as I stare at the ceiling, vainly trying to hold back my climax. It makes her chuckle a bit, hum something I can't possibly understand with her mouth full and bells ringing in my ears, all I capture is the vibration it sends to my whole shaft, tickling along my spine, making me bent it embarrassingly. "Really wan'you to come-" She mumbles, lips making out with my tip in the process. "Then swallow me down." It comes out before I plan on it, before I mean to say it, through gritted teeth. She slides down my length, taking me in, like my every word is her command. The unexpected rush of pleasure, like an electric shock, seizes my hand which jumps to her head and decides to stay there, fingers fighting against the very weak remain of my brain cells to grab and clench and tear the head of hair they laid on. It's when I meet the back one more time and she decides to swallow down just then that I reach it, spilling down her throat, growling aloud without meaning too, spurring few words I probably wouldn't say to her if my mind wasn't so cloudy. I'm somewhere else. Body empty of any tension and I realize that a blowjob is exactly all I needed all those months. I haven't felt this relaxed and satiated and satisfied in so long, I feel dizzy and a bit lost. Even my own bed feels foreign, maybe it's just because she's on it. Smiling down on me with her small fingers painting shape on my skin and her pretty smile kissing my chest. She kisses her way up, leaving a path of warm sprouts, takes her time right on my drumming heart, smooches my cheeks with a tiny giggle that blooms probably from the red dots I assume are on them. She looks down on me, eyes sparkly and lips stuck in an upward curve. I see her hesitating. She's unsure of something I don't get because she just blew my mind off. My fingers knead gently the flesh of her thighs, inviting her to speak if there's something she needs to say. Her soft finger presses on my lips and she raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can kiss you..." "Why?" I ask, probably a bit too abruptly because I'm stupid right now and I don't understand under what circumstances she couldn't press her mouth to mine. She rolls her eyes evidently, scoffs and finally points at my crotch then her mouth, flushed all over her cheeks, when she sees me still struggling to understand. "Course you can. You always can." She shrugs, eyes fleeing away. I kiss her hard on the mouth, the hand buried in her hair pressing her further onto me. I consider vaguely how gross she might believe me to be when really, I'm just a bit too whipped for her and cum, no matter if it's mine or hers and shockingly enough I realise anyone else's too, I don't fucking care, any of her kisses are kisses that I want to consume. I roll her over on the bed and kiss her harder, licking and sucking her tongue until she's just wide eyes glinting up to me. "You can always kiss me." She nods, swollen lips tilting up. She doesn't find me too gross, it seems. Good. "And thanks." One kiss. "Was really nice." She tries to bite back her grin but fails, tittering even as I pinch lightly the side of her waist. "Was it nice for you?" I kiss the side of her jaw, smiling against her as I continue, purring close to her ear, "Just like you imagined?" I can feel her frustration before she even expresses it by raising a fist ready to punch me. It makes me chuckle. That's what she deserves for putting me in this situation anyway. I can't be the only one embarrassed, especially when I made an effort to content her -even if to content her was to content me but it doesn't matter. When my hand slides so naturally down her stomach, fingers strumming teasingly along the hem of her pants, the nagging and the arguing should be postponed for now. "You're an-" I slide easily under her clothes, palm cupping perfectly her cunt, it cuts her off. She gasps, eyes growing wide as they stare off at the ceiling, biting on her lip. "I'm what?" "Nothing." She grunts between tight jaws, both mad and horny and that's just too funny. I'm enjoying this immensely, torturing her kindly, while my fingers dip in her soaked heat, with her lips centimetres away so that I can kiss them as much as I want. She responds to all of my kisses. Tense her neck every time I part away for a second to take a look at what I'm doing, at her overall form, her laying in my bed with her twitching legs parting to give me more access. "I'm nothing? That's mean." "Yoongi, not now." I catch the curse she doesn't spit in my face before she gets to swallow it back down. The prospect that things should be cleared out now and that this will happen again, and again, and again until the day she decides she's tired of me drives me wild with excitement. It means I'll get to push her buttons and piss her off enough she'll curse at me the way she rarely ever does Taehyung when he's reaching her very limits of patience. Maybe I'm a bit gross, at least a bit freaky, if the idea of her mad beyond herself, calling me names yet simultaneously letting me play with her body like that turns me on so much. "When if not now, princess?" She pulsates around my fingers at that. It has to be the name. How lovely. How adorable. So adorable I can't help but grin giddily, effectively hiding my face in the crook of her neck so she doesn't catch me when I do. "You're so close already." "Shut up." "All worked up just from having my cock in your mouth." She groans, closes her eyes tight as if she's trying to focus all her attention on my fingers fucking her. "So easy to please, I'm a lucky bastard, am I not?" I keep mumbling next to her ear because I don't care what she pretends, I know she loves hearing me and I can bet with great confidence on what she loves to hear me say. "Having a girlfriend like you-" "Oh my Go- Yoongi-" "Come for your man." So easy to please. I know I'm not reaching the spot she likes best because her fucking pants are in the way. I've learned that the stretching is something she enjoys thoroughly and from how tense and on edge she got herself, my three fingers are doing wonders, dragging the ring along with every thrust. But I'm sure, I know, what's triggering her. She's too much like me. Probably worse than me. So desperate to feel the love, and here she is, coming around my fingers but mainly around my words when I'm just calling her mine. It takes her ages to come back to her senses, to stop desperately drinking my love straight from my mouth, and for her sweet cunt to stop kissing the tip of my fingers and let me slip them out. She's fucked out when she's back. Hair I barely touched all over the fucking place, eyelids heavy, mouth red and swollen, eyebrows low and eyes wet the way they get when the pleasure is so good she becomes a bit too soft and sensible and sometimes a tear or two escape. I get to clean her up a bit, rearranged her clothes and then realise that she's actually spending the night with me so I might as well get her pants off, throw my own pants away and put some shorts on, turn off the lights, and catch her in the most comfortable spooning session I've personally ever had before I feel her alert and with me entirely. "You okay?" She nods her head, blinking a few times more than necessary when she watches me raise my fingers to my mouth and mechanically lick them clean. In a whisper, after too long of laying quietly in the dark -apart from the angry stomping going on in the hallway along with mumbled curses that can only come from Seokjin and that we both decide to ignore- she timidly asks, "So we're dating, Min Yoongi?" "We've always been dating, dumbass." Which is not exactly true, not exactly false. To me, anyway, if she'd ever come to decide that the whole thing was just a fling then, it would have been just that. But I'm pretty sure she's always liked me as much as I have and even if I never expressed it clearly, I don't just fuck around like that. Especially with girls as sweet as her. And I don't really get that words define what we are anyway. Nothing changes now that I've said that. Maybe she's happier with the situation and that's all I want therefore I can give them to her, but honestly, yeah, to me we've always been each other's. "You're an asshole." "I'm your asshole." I don't know if she can hear my grin but the exasperated sigh suggests she does. "That's- gross." She still kisses my cheek and then my chest, huddling to my side, humming to herself when my arms wrapped around her squeeze a little harder. She's warm and soft and all mine, and when the realisation hits, that just a few hours ago she was infinitely far away from me, and now she's here in my arms, in my bed, (kind of) officially just mine to please and enjoy, my heart swells. That's all I've needed.
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A/N: Guess what, it’s one of my new year resolutions to STOP taking a break from writing and this blog. *clown*
I hope it wasn’t too bad, too stiff. I meant to give this couple a nice ending because I got attached to them as quite a lot of you have. Hopefully, you’re not disappointed and sorry if it was so angsty but I guess, my heart felt a bit heavy writing it. SOZ
I'm already working on another story I’m really excited about and inspired for. I’ll try to have it release very soon. 
If you’ve come this far, THANK YOU immensely. I LOVE you.
I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing fine. My best wishes for this new year. Let’s meet here more often.
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tooweirdforyou · 3 years
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hello ! I just discovered your blog and i mightve binged all your writing in one sitting 👉👈 I just absolutely love all your works ! 💕 anyway i saw the writing prompts you posted and would it be alright to make a request? if u could, pls do #8 + luffy and his s/o~ need more luffy fics in my life lol thank you sm ! 💖
Prompt #8 With Luffy
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A/N : another requester! thank you so much for liking my writings 🥺, and yes, Luffy deserves so much love. I’d give him meat the size of Earth if I could. 😩💖
Prompt #8 : “please, just do it with me, just once!”
Summary : Luffy with his significant other, pleading to do a little something for their amusement.
note : I actually didn’t have a really good / cute idea for this, this was harder than I thought, because it’s Luffy lol. Hopefully you’ll still enjoy this. :) + this idea is KIND OF based off a little drawing comic I read here on tumblr by a creator. If anyone knows the user since I forgot ;-;, so I can credit them, let me know!!
Warning : there’s very slight implied 14+ but it’s literally nothing. lol
-
“No.”
Your flat out refusal made Luffy frown and pout at you. “Whyyy?” He dragged out the end, whining at how quickly you rejected him.
“Luffy, I already said no, stop whining.”
“Why nottt? It’ll be funnn! I used to do it with Ace and Sabo all the time when we were kids!” Luffy furrows his brows at you as he sat up and crossed his arms, tilting his head.
“That’s different! I can’t just do it with you!” Your cheeks flushed as you stared at him incredulously. “Don’t you have any common sense?!”
“You’re thinking too much. You sometimes bathe with Robin and Nami, right? It’s the same thing!”
You choke on your spit at his argument and scoff in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.” You huff, turning away and going to finish what you were doing.
“You’re a guy, I’m a girl, you do understand the problem here, right?” You exhale, rubbing your temples at your captain and significant other.
Sure, you two were dating, but you haven’t even gotten to that kind of level yet. You were pretty far from it.
“What are you afraid of? It’s not going to kill you to just take a bath with me together! I can scrub your hair and you can scrub mine! It’ll be funnnn!”
Luffy continued to whine and complain to you, following after you into the kitchen, your annoyance level slowly rising.
Luffy, noticing your silence, pouts once more before bowing 90° and pressed his hands together in a prayer motion.
“Please, do it with me! Just once!”
You’d glare daggers at him, your cheeks still warm before you exhale heavily after him.
“..fine. I’m wearing a swimsuit though, and YOU BETTER TOO!” You shout at him, Luffy looking up with wide eyes, excitement running through them.
He’d grin widely before nodding eagerly. “Sure! Let’s go!” He stretches his arm to grab your hand and began dragging you out.
“Wait, right now?!”
“Of course!”
-
“Luffy, stop moving, you’re shifting all the bubbles in the water and you’re going to make it— LUFFY!”
The rubber male would only laugh heartily at you as he pulls back his arms and sits still for you, so you can finish scrubbing his hair.
“Shishishi~ sorry [Name]. Look at all the bubbles though!” He says, pointing at the moving bubbles in the water.
You’d only sigh and soften your expression slightly, nodding at him. “Yeah.”
As much as you didn’t like the idea of bathing with Luffy, being significant others or not, you actually didn’t mind it that bad.
Admittedly, you were enjoying yourself.
Luffy, fortunately listened to you, and wore swim trunks before he came in. You were in your bathing suit, both sitting in the warm bath together now.
Making sure it was fully scrubbed up with soap, you pull your hands away from Luffy’s head of hair and smile slightly. “I’m done, Luffy.”
Luffy pulls away and smiles at you, nodding. “Let me do you now!” About to protest, Luffy already inserted some shampoo onto his hand and waited patiently for you, making you sigh once more in defeat before turning around so your backed faced him.
“Thanks for joining me in my bath, [Name]!” Luffy grins, started to soap up your hair and scrub it. It was a bit of a sloppy mess, but he did his best.
“Sure, Luffy. I’m actually enjoying myself... maybe we can do this again.” You say softly, smiling a bit to yourself as you close your eyes.
Luffy’s smile softens itself as he continued to wash your hair, his mind reminiscing in memories of Ace and Sabo a bit.
“I hope we do this more often... Ace, Sabo and I used to do it all the time.” Luffy mumbles quietly to himself, his smile becoming sadder as he thought about his brothers.
Hearing the sadness in his voice, you slowly pull away and turn, confusing Luffy. “E-Eh, I’m not done, [Name].”
You don’t say anything, just turning to face him before smiling brightly and reach up to his still shampooed and soapy hair, messing with it and bringing the bubbles up.
Luffy would be confused before finally seeing what you did to his hair, it being a completely different style thanks to the soap used as gel.
He’d laugh aloud immediately, the sight being hilarious to himself as he’s also equally amazed. “Woah, look [Name]!” He’d change it up and give himself devil horns, laughing more at it.
You’ll smile at his laughter, glad he was already feeling better and even laugh a bit yourself as Luffy goes to mess with your hair as well.
Soon, it’ll turn into a contest of who could give the other the wackiest hairstyle with soap, which results in no winner, due to Luffy becoming exhausted in the water.
“Come on, let’s get you dried up.”
After washing off all the soap on your bodies, you’d step out and wrap a towel around your shoulders, before helping Luffy out and let him dry himself.
You’ll turn to him and smile warmly before heading off to get changed in your room.
“This was actually kind of fun, Luffy. Let’s do it again next time.”
-
A/N : Hope you liked it!! No lie, I really couldn’t think of anything else—
Sorry this took so long too, I’m literally only free at like 1-2 AM ;-;
Also, as much as I love Zoro—, ( he’s so freaking handsome, hot, sexy and amazingly adorably cute ), I have SO MANY requests for him lol. I gotta get working!
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woogyu · 3 years
Text
A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two
Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep
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streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu
notes; werewolf au
word count; 1749
previous | next | masterlist
summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.
“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.
“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.
“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.
Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.
“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.
“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.
“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.
Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.
Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.
“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.
“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.
“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.
“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.
“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.
“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.
“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.
“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.
Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.
After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.
After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.
The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.
A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.
It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.
The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.
49 notes · View notes
emsylcatac · 4 years
Text
Compatible
Summary:
When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.
There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.
Read it on AO3
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* * * * *
Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.
They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.
She loved that.
She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.
Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.
“What are you looking at?”
He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”
Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”
Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.
“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.
After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.
It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.
Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.
Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.
While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.
Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.
“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.
She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.
“Which one did you get?”
“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”
“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”
“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.
Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—
“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”
As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.
If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.
He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”
Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.
Not that she would admit that to him.
“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”
Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.
“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.
She would know. She had tried.
He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”
She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.
“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”
“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.
She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”
That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”
She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.
She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).
(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).
“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”
“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.
Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”
“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”
“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”
Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.
“Can’t we pick all of them?”
“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”
“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.
He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.
“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”
“They have very good sources.”
“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”
“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.
She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.
“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”
“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”
“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”
“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.
She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.
They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”.  Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.
“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”
“Hey!”
“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”
“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.
“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.
“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.
There was no way, indeed.
And yet.
Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.
No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.
And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.
She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.
And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.
Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.
“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”
“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”
Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”
“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”
He blinked. “Everything?!”
“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”
He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”
She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.
“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”
He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”
Better.
Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.
“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”
He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”
Yes.
“No.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”
She groaned. “Please can we not?”
“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”
She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.
“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”
She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.
“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”
She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”
He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.
“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”
She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”
“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”
Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.
“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.
She didn’t reply.
“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.
She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.
“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”
“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”
Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.
A warm hand settled on her arm.
(She still had great tastes).
“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.
She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.
And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
He was rubbing small circles on her arm.
“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”
She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”
He chuckled with her.
She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s…  there’s...”
“There’s what?”
You.
“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”
She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.
She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.
And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.
He knew.
And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.
Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.
Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.
“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”
Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—
“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.
He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.
Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.
His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.
An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.
As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.
It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.
But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.
She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.
That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.
“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.
He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Then, he did as she told—and gasped.
“You—you’re Marinette!”
She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”
“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.
“And now you know!”
“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”
“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.
Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.
“When will it not?” he breathed.
She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.
“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”
He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.
She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.
Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.
When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.
“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.
“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”
“We still are,” she added.
“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”
“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”
She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.
Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”
Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”
“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”
“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”
She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”
Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”
She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”
“A hundred percent, uh?”
Their foreheads were touching now.
“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.
403 notes · View notes
cheri-translates · 4 years
Text
[CN] Victor’s Patio Date (Eng Translation)
🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒
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MC: It’s finally over!
I stretch, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight. 
MC: The air-conditioning in the meeting room was so strong. I almost sneezed...
Victor: That’s why you held your breath till your face turned red?
MC: I did not...
I want to retort, but both our phones vibrate at the same time. 
Curious, I tap and open the message. The sender is Ronan. The beginning of the message reads: “Inviting Mr Victor and Miss MC...”
[Note: If you don't know who Ronan is, check out Victor’s Understanding the Human World date before continuing]
Victor: To attend an appointment on the sky garden of the CR Building, a subsidiary company of LFG, after three days, at 7pm.
Victor softly reads the bottom half of the message aloud - he has received the same message.
MC: I remember that Ronan invited internationally renowned architects to build the film sets for his new movie. It should be this sky garden then? Since he has invited us, could it have something to do with the new movie? 
Victor: We’ll know when we get there.
He looks at the phone in his hand indifferently. Despite his expression, it seems he already has an answer. 
-
Three days later.
Victor and I reach the CR Building punctually. 
Ronan: The two of you are here. Come, the movie preview is on the top floor. 
Without much idle chat, we exchange greetings, and he enthusiastically leads us to the elevator. 
MC: The shoot has already been completed? That’s pretty fast. 
Ronan: Mm, the shoot this time went really smoothly. Whether in the capacity of a friend, or the biggest investor, I want the both of you to be the first few to see my movie. 
MC: Why did I receive an invitation too...
Hearing my soft confusion, Ronan laughs loudly while he responds.
Ronan: When we were shooting Dévotion, it was only because of your cooperation that I could shoot a romantic and poetic Chinese wedding. Also, the movie this time was largely inspired by the two of you, so inviting you is definitely reasonable. For example, Victor revealed that, to him, you are actually...
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Victor: Often impudent, and require improvement in time management. But once you slow down, your work capabilities have indeed improved quite a bit.
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MC: ...why do I feel like what you told Ronan had nothing to do with my work capabilities. 
I arch my eyebrows, not wanting to show signs of weakness. I toss a grimace towards Victor.
Before phrases in my mind such as “a woman’s instincts are very accurate” leave my mouth, Ronan starts laughing as he watches us from the side.
Ding--
Along with a soft ring, the elevator halts steadily at the highest level of the building. The exquisite sky garden greets my vision as the elevator doors open slowly. 
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Green trees display their leaves on mid-air platforms, and flowers of differing colours are scattered around, decorating the area.
The course of a river is guided by steel, flowing into a waterfall, gathering into a river,  and slowly flowing around the trees and flowers.
Victor: The movie preview will start in ten minutes. How much longer do you plan to dillydally? 
As though he isn’t drawn to the view at all, Victor simply holds his hand out in front of me. 
MC: Yes, yes. As expected of the Mr CEO who has seen the big world - displaying an unchanging expression even after seeing such a view.
I hold onto his hand readily, and subtly lean against his side a little more.
The corners of Victor’s lips seem to curl upwards slightly. He accommodates to my footsteps, and we head to the venue together. 
-
The movie preview is extremely successful. 
Summarising the legend of the sky garden, Ronan illustrated a story of the male lead’s struggle at the end of the world, looking for an oasis. 
And the climax of the story occurred at this very sky garden--
Lights and shadows merged with drifting flower petals, the last green leaf, and the last water source at the very end of the world...
Apart from the excellent narrative, the visual effects from the film alone gives one unparalleled enjoyment. 
After the movie ends, I can’t help but give a standing ovation. 
A few members of the audience, who were immersed in the movie like I was, send their cheers to the directors and actors. 
MC: As expected of Ronan’s movie - it’s really brilliant.
Victor: Mm. It’s his usual standard. 
Although Victor says this, he isn’t stingy with his applause. 
MC: There’s a really immersive feeling knowing that we’re in the most beautiful scene of the movie...
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Victor: Let’s go then.
Right after the words land, my palm is already encased in warmth. 
Victor: To look at the garden you’ve been thinking about in your heart since just now. 
MC: Okay! It’s a rare opportunity to walk into the beautiful scenery crafted by world-class directors and architects. If we don’t take a proper look, it’d be such a pity.
Victor: In that case, follow me and don’t let go of my hand again. 
MC: Anyway, no matter where I am, you’ll always find me in the end. I won’t get lost. 
We stand up, and I smile while holding onto his hand tightly. 
He lets out a soft laugh. Maybe it’s my misperception, but the night seems to become gentler along with him.
I hear the sound of gurgling water in my ears, and red corn poppies bloom among the shadows of trees.
My fingers brush against the tips of bushes, and I feel the branches carrying the coolness of night. 
MC: Sigh... it’s a shame that this place would be torn down after a while. And it’s such a beautiful set-up designed by a famous architect...
The more we stroll in the garden, the more I feel sorry for its impending disappearance.
Victor: You really can’t bear to see it gone? 
MC: In the bustling city, such a garden is just too precious. 
The corners of Victor’s lips lift in response to my words. He responds calmly. 
Victor: The garden will be retained, and will become a cafe open to the public in the long-term. 
MC: So in the future... it will also be LFG’s property?!
Victor doesn’t comment. 
Victor: Once the movie preview is over, there will be a gradual adjustment of the layout and decor. 
MC: ...it’s really nice to have money.
Victor: That’s your biggest takeaway after watching the preview? 
MC: Of course not. I have very deep thoughts regarding this movie!
Victor arches his brows, as though waiting for my “deep thoughts” and review. 
I clear my throat, temporarily tossing aside my feelings towards capitalism. In my mind, I start recalling the images from the movie. 
MC: In Ronan’s movie, the lead keeps searching for an “oasis” in order to settle down and have sustenance. Every person needs his own “oasis”. It’s only when one has a foothold and a place to rest can he continually move forward. 
Victor: Looks like you really watched it seriously. 
MC: Which is why I’m very surprised by your decision to retain this garden. Perhaps it can become an oasis for busy people in this bustling city. 
Victor: If it’s possible, that would be best. 
MC: You don't think such an idea is overly vague or idealistic? 
Victor: You can only move forward with some resources. This is the same for everyone. Moreover, it’s only when you have a goal in mind and know where you’re heading towards, can you walk far, and walk steadily. 
I run a few steps in front, then turn around to stick out my tongue at him.
MC: Are we here to participate in the movie preview, or to do an inspection with you? 
Victor: Watch where you’re going.
Slightly resigned, Victor pushes aside some branches sticking out along the path. He reaches out and pulls me back to his side. 
Suddenly, a different view from the slender and delicate poppies enters my vision.
MC: Roses!
I blink. In one corner of the garden, in replacement of poppies, crimson roses bloom warmly under the moonlight. 
At the side, there are even a few bean bags and a small coffee table. 
In the luxurious and majestic garden, the roses, while sharing the same colour as poppies, add a different style to the courtyard. 
My thoughts drift to the rose-scented town I had once taken a slow walk with him in.
[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Magnificent Date] 
I can’t help but smile and ask Victor a question.
MC: Is this one of the methods to attract visitors and raise property value? 
Victor: Yes.
Victor admits it matter-of-factly, but there’s a smile in his eyes. 
Victor: Ronan’s team insisted on adding different understandings of this theme in order to portray a richer definition of an “oasis”. Since they asked for my opinion, I naturally gave them my view.
Standing under the warm yellow street lamp, Victor’s expression looks exceptionally tender. 
Victor: From what I see, the result isn’t bad. 
-
There is a subtle sweet aroma of roses in the air. I sit comfortably on a bean bag, asking Victor with a grin:
MC: What other adjustments will be made?
Dressed in a well-ironed suit, Victor is also half-lying on the bean bag, looking somewhat languid. The aura surrounding him has become much more gentle. 
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It’s as though we aren’t at a bustling movie preview, or a sky garden on the top floor of a building.
It’s just a normal weekend evening, in a small courtyard belonging to us, as we shed off the week’s worth of fatigue.
I can’t help but think of the afternoon he slept in front of me, and remember the day he had revealed an almost imperceptible state of relaxation to me. 
[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Return Home Date]
Victor: You look like you have a lot of thoughts? 
MC: Of course I do! I’ve been to various shooting locations, and have met mature producers with differing styles. Apart from that, I’m also a contemporary member of society with a delicate mind and good aesthetic sense. Which is why I’m clearer than anyone else about what a stressed worker needs most in terms of external care. Just look - even my house is very warm, right?
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Victor: If you can change your habit of leaving things lying around, it might be considered a “warm” house. 
MC: This is called “integrating with the masses” - it’s a small beauty in life.
Recalling the earlier topic, I stand up, pulling Victor as we head to the inner area of the park.
MC: For example, I think this place could have a few more elegant seats.
I point at the hanging rattan chair underneath the flower stand. 
MC: That way, visitors would be more comfortable when sitting down. Also, this path we walked on - although it looks very pretty in the movie, it’s easy to get hooked by bushes at the side. If it weren’t for your words just now, I would have definitely bumped into it. Also...
I look towards the trail lined with trees on both sides, leading towards the centre of the park.
MC: Maybe this is just my selfish thought, and has nothing to do with increasing practicality or comfort. However, if I had a choice, I would change these trees to Platanus trees. 
Several strands of shock flash across Victor’s dark eyes. Then, he opens his mouth to ask in slight amusement:
Victor: Why is that so? 
MC: Legend says that the Hanging Gardens was created by the king of Babylon for his wife who was suffering from homesickness. 
[Note: Platanus trees were part of the Hanging Gardens. Platanus trees, also known as Oriental Plane Trees, are a frequent motif featured in Classical Chinese poetry as an embodiment of sorrowful sentiments due to its autumnal shedding of leaves]
I walk along the small trail, staring at the poppies swaying in the wind. 
I wonder if that king, all those thousands of years ago, carried such a heart - wanting to give such a luxurious gift to the person he loved. 
MC: No matter what others may say, I also wish to leave the best things to the person most important to me. To build an oasis within his sight and touch where he can have a peace of mind. You’ve left a corner of the camellia garden for me, so I also wish to give you a small trail lined with Platanus trees. 
[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Maze date, which is available in EN]
I raise my head with a smile, not caring that my cheeks have already heated up. I observe Victor’s dark coloured eyes carefully, and tell him what’s in my heart calmly and sincerely.
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Victor pauses for a moment. Apart from surprise, his eyes also contain an undercurrent of a deeper and heavier emotion. 
Victor: With so many ideas, not letting you write a proposal to collaborate with the design team would be a waste of talent. When exactly did you learn to say such things? 
In the end, all his emotions culminate into his usual ridicule, which is more tender than usual.
Curling his fingers, he taps me on the forehead with some affection. 
MC: If you feel happy, you can just say it directly, really. 
Victor: And when did you hear me say that? 
MC: I felt it!
While laughing, I step onto the stairs, looking at the blooming poppy flowerbed. 
The flowerbed, which is suspended in mid-air, is the highest point of the garden. It is held up firmly by chains above the pool.
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MC: Do you feel like I’m especially thoughtful and especially cute right now? 
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Victor: I only feel that you’re especially childish.
While Victor says this, he walks up to the stairs and holds onto my hand. 
Victor: And that you’re truly a dummy. 
It is only when he draws nearer that I can clearly see the upward curve of his lips. 
Apart from the faraway lights and the water under us, his eyes also reflect my brilliantly smiling face. 
The flowerbed sways back and forth in small motions. 
Sitting here, I not only have a panoramic view of the garden, but can also overlook the entirety of Loveland City.
In the distance, the city lights are scattered around, artificial light sources forming another galaxy on earth.
MC: Victor, you once said that you would look at Loveland City from a height whenever you’re in a bad mood. I think I can understand something I didn’t think of before!
Victor: What do you understand this time? 
MC: This garden on the top level of the building, where you can overlook Loveland City, is perhaps your oasis. Now that I think about it, everything I said just now was unnecessary, right? 
Recalling my eloquent suggestions to Victor earlier, I start feeling slightly embarrassed.
Victor: Looks like you still don’t know anything.
MC: Tell me - what should I know then?
Supporting myself on the flowerbed with one hand, I grin, turning around to ask him.
The suspended flowerbed sways violently from my sudden movement. Only then do I remember that there are only a few fulcrums holding up the flower bed. 
With an unstable footing, I subconsciously reach out to clutch onto Victor, trying to maintain my balance. However, I still fall against the flower bed, hurting my shoulder blade.
Victor: You’re being impatient again.
[Note: There isn’t a direct translation of the phrase used here, 毛毛躁躁 (”mao mao zao zao”), but it conveys the idea of doing things hurriedly and inattentively]
His voice resounds very close to me. I open my eyes, and directly meet his line of sight.
Because of my sudden movement, Victor has also been pulled towards me. 
One of his hands is wrapped around the back of my head, preventing me from hitting it. Another hand is at my ear, holding me steady. 
Right now, this action seems to be imprisoning me between the fresh flowers and himself. 
MC: S...sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time...
I stammer, my heart rate speeding up. 
Victor: You said this the last time as well. 
The heat from summer has not fully dissipated. Humidity lingers in the air. 
The poppies in the garden bloom quietly, and the night is warm. It’s as though everything I see and feel have become gentle. 
Even Victor’s eyes and outline grow blurry from the light and shadows, encasing him in a layer of tenderness. 
Our sudden proximity causes my heart rate to accelerate, and it feels like my thoughts have been stuck in place. 
I avert my gaze, slightly guilty. I raise my palm to put some distance between us. 
MC: We’re about done with the viewing. The dinner is about to begin, so we should head down... I remember it’s one level below? 
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Victor: ...do you know that your ability to change the topic is very poor. 
Victor sighs softly, then gently shifts his hand away from the back of my head. 
When the warmth belonging to him vanishes, a sense of longing floods my heart. 
It’s as though I have awakened from a charming dream surrounded by warm currents, returning to reality once again.
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But in the next second, the warmth I’m most familiar with envelops my wrist.
Looking into his dark eyes, I think I must have truly misunderstood. 
Whether it’s the Babylonian king from thousands of years ago, or any other ordinary person, the thing people truly want isn’t the view from their memory. It’s the person they want to share the view with. 
Victor: I’m going to answer your question from just now. Listen carefully. 
Victor: The words you said are not unnecessary. 
Victor: And I am indeed very happy.
Victor shifts upwards, encircling me in front of him again. 
He is so close that the entire world seems to be condensed into his pair of eyes. 
The fountain spurts at regular intervals, shattering the calm of the water. Water vapour floating in the air refracts light, caging us in a colourful curtain of light. 
Victor: Just now, someone eloquently mentioned wanting to build an oasis within my sight and touch. And now you’re so anxious - where do you want to run off to? 
Perhaps the temperature of the evening is overly gentle, and the light from the water is too fine. I’m unable to see what emotions lie in Victor’s eyes. 
As the distance between us closes, I can clearly see every gentle quiver of his eyelashes, and can feel the heat from every lingering breath from our noses. 
His lips move slightly, as though wanting to say something to me. 
Before he can speak, the fountain spurts again. This time, the cool water happens to spray onto us. 
MC: Ah...
I want to hurriedly straighten up and dry Victor, but a gentle yet irresistible pressure pushes me back down. 
The water columns from the fountain change, forming into different heights and shapes. Scattered droplets of water patter on us like light rain.
Victor’s hair, which has always been tidied meticulously, droops slightly because of the water droplets. 
The slender poppies beside us sway slightly. Water vapour condenses on the flower petals, dripping down along the body of the flower. 
Victor: No need to care about that. Having you here is enough. 
His slightly hoarse voice brushes against my ear along with his breath. It circles past the nape of my neck, evoking a certain numbness. 
Victor’s body temperature continuously travels to my wrist, entering my heart. 
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Victor: My “oasis”... has already belonged to me since a very long time ago.
🌹 
Phone Call: here 
287 notes · View notes
waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years
Text
Under My Skin: Chapter 2
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Series Masterlist
Words = 4.3k
Chapter warnings = swearing, bad words, let me know if I missed anything!
Summary = Despite the explosive argument that resulted on your last mission with Poe, Leia decides another is in order
A/N = I made up the planet that they go to, as far as I’m aware it doesn’t exist in the Star Wars canon, but when I wrote the first draft I had no wifi to research a planet and then I couldn’t be bothered to change it. Also I know nothing about flying, nor about physics, I have based this on my (limited) experience of driving and therefore taken a lot of artistic license - I am sure what I have made these characters do is not actually possible. 
Edit = Cross posted to AO3
Chapter 1
***
Poe Dameron was irritating on a normal day. A grounded Poe Dameron was worse. Like a caged fathier with no outlet for his excessive levels of energy it felt like he was pacing the length of the base multiple times a day, making it almost impossible to avoid him.
Not that that stopped you from trying. To complicate matters, you were doing your best to not think about him at all. So far, it was going well. You hadn’t even talked to him since the debrief, making a special effort to not even look at him when he was in the same room as you.
The debrief had taken place a couple of days after you’d shouted at Dameron, and had been unbelievably awkward. Leia and General Holden had been polite, running through any spare details of information gathered in the compound, what type of books there were, what they were about, what languages they’d been in.
After you’d talked, it was Dameron’s turn, answering questions about the objects in their cases, what planets they were from, how old they were, if they formed a collection. It felt like it went on forever, finally making it onto questions about your shooter, was it the suspected owner, how many droids appeared, was the security system as expected?
You were sure Dameron would be sneering at you, so you avoided looking at him, and didn’t dare directly address him. Keeping your hands clasped in your lap had helped prevent visible shaking.
Saying as little as possible, you’d escaped at the first opportunity, ignoring how Poe stood up, and desperately pretending that you couldn’t hear how he immediately started to talk, more animated than he’d been the entire time you’d been there.  
Both of you had been in trouble; Dameron for hiding his injuries, and you for shouting at him. And while he’d been the one officially grounded, it was of little comfort, knowing that it was no doubt due to him failing his physical. And now Dameron had been able to defend himself and probably slag you off in the same sentence while you had left, feeling like a child sent to their room.  
But unable to fly it felt like he was all over base, just where and when you didn’t want him to be.
Like now. You were working on a mission report with a bar of chocolate to keep you going, lying nearly horizontal on a couch. Background music was playing in your headphones and your datapad was open with a number of tabs and the mission report was there, right in front of you, half written - and yet your eyes kept flicking over to Dameron sat by the center table.
You weren’t sure he’d seen you when he walked in, hidden as you were behind the shelves in the corner. You liked this nook, it always made you feel protected and the idea of Dameron finding this corner and no doubt ruining your sense of security vaguely irritated you. Looking through the gaps you could see his legs resting on the chair opposite him, and if you sat up a bit, you saw that his back was to you, facing the door, his shoulders tight.
Ignoring him, you tried to get back to work, and you would never have admitted it, but the noises as he worked was...nice enough, in it’s own way. Little growls of frustration that you could barely hear over your music, the occasional sentence read aloud, BB-8’s reassuring little beeps. They made you feel less alone.
Finally, finally, you finished. Dameron didn’t look like he was any closer to getting up and leaving, and you took your time shutting down your pad. You’d have to pass him. It had to be done, you wanted to have a shower and go to bed, but...still.
You intended on ignoring him, but it felt excessive to leave without even a - “Goodnight, Dameron.” It was short as you passed and you resisted the weird urges inside of you that wanted to insult him and make sure he was ok at the same time.
He didn’t say anything at first, and you exhaled heavily in relief, and...something else which you didn’t want to unpack.
Until he said your name. Your first name.
You stopped walking, jaw clicking in annoyance as your back tensed. “I’m sorry.” His voice floated from out behind you, strong but quiet. You looked at the door in front of you. It was probably about 4 steps away - you couldn’t have walked a little faster?
“In the medbay, what I said… it was out of order. It was too harsh and I’m sorry.” He paused and you still didn’t move, frozen to the spot. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it, sweetheart. I-” he paused again and changed his mind. “I’m sorry.”
Finally you turned around, a strange trembling rising from your stomach to your chest. Your eyes narrowed, mouth turning up in distaste.
“You’re sorry?” you spat, taking care not to look at his face. “You were only too happy to badmouth me to Leia and General Holden afterwards though!” You took a step backwards, conscious of how far the door was. Your eyes rose from the floor to his face, ignoring the slight signs of tiredness around his eyes, the first time you’d looked directly at him since the medbay.
Shaking your head, you glanced away, the reminder sending hot embarrassment through you, still.
Dameron’s head has dropped into his hands and he’s pulling slightly at his curls. Your breath quickens in annoyance as you start talking again. “Whatever, I-” The slamming of his hands on the table interrupts what you’d been about to say. His hands are clenched into fists, knuckles white, and the look on his face scares you.
“You don’t have a clue! You’re determined to think badly of me aren’t you?”
For the first time, words escape you. Dameron walks towards you, quick paced and you back away until you reach the wall. There’s something poking into the small of your back, but the physical discomfort is less than the discomfort you feel radiating off Dameron.
He’s close to you now, close enough that you can smell him, a deep rich smell, one that smells like a man, and why do you like it? His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he wants to reach forwards and shake you.
You match his glare, finally finding your words, “I’m determined to think of you based on your actions, Commander.” He stiffens at the use of his title, but you continue. “I know you’re a better pilot than I am, but you need to learn not to look down on people who are a lower rank than you!”
Dameron’s mouth opens...and then shuts without comment. As you continue glaring at him, you realise this is the first time he’s been speechless around you. And it’s now, his body so close he’s nearly pressing you into the wall and what the hell is poking you? You can feel your heart beating quickly and you hope he doesn’t notice it in your neck.
“Well, maybe I do, but you need to learn not to judge others. Not everything’s as simple as it seems!” He’s not shouting anymore, but his voice still feels dangerous.
Whatever. You don’t want to be a part of this anymore. You push roughly past him, hitting his shoulder as you do and mumbling a “Fuck off” under your breath as you finally make your escape.
***
No sooner had you rejected Poe’s apology than you wished you had accepted. It had been an automatic reaction, snapping back at him in your hurt. You’d never been close to Poe, the snub he’d given you when you met preventing you from ever seeing him in a favourable light.
And Poe’s apology was causing an annoying thought to run through your mind. One you had absolutely no business thinking about, and you didn’t know what had brought it about.
But still. What had you missed out on by not being Poe’s friend?
The answer was, of course, absolutely nothing.
Especially now.
It would no longer be enough to bicker like siblings with a rivalry. Regret made you clench your jaw and your heart around Poe Dameron, a physical remainder of the damage you’d done.
This was a new feeling. This was proper anger, real hurt. It was unfamiliar and you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.
You didn’t walk around the base unless you had too now, preferring the isolation of your room to the fear that would shoot through you every time you saw someone with curly hair.
Instead, you found people came to you. Rose was a frequent visitor and you were always happy to see her, even if she didn’t quite understand your reluctance to leave. Members of your squadron came to catch you up on what you missed and after a couple of days you began to think maybe you were being ridiculous. Would it really be so bad if you saw him again?
The decision was taken out of your hands when Kare knocked on your door. She was holding her helmet, with her orange flight suit zipped up. She had a pretty bad case of helmet hair, blonde strands flopping into her face contrasting brilliantly with her brown skin. Dameron stood behind her, determinedly not looking into your room, looking slightly at odds in a normal shirt.  
Great. You couldn’t even avoid him by not going anywhere.
“Hi!” she started, pausing, “Are you alright?”
You hum gently at her, tiredness scratching at your eyes, despite the amount of sleeping you’ve been doing. “What’s going on? Where are you off to?”
“I just got back from a recon mission,” she tells you, and sleep is still pulling at you. “General Organa asked me to tell both of you that she wants to see you for a briefing tomorrow.”
You look again at Poe, as he nods stiffly.
“Is that everything?” He’s not even looking at Kare, and you shoot her a questioning glance.
“It’s at 8 in her office,” Kare says, shaking her head, silently telling you not now. You bit back an irrational laugh as Dameron nods again, leaving as fast as he can. “You’ve pissed him off!”
You’ve not managed to shut the door as she says this, and you shush her desperately as the two of you dissolve into giggles. “So it’s true?” Kare’s taken Rose’s usual seat at your desk, spinning round with the soles of her feet scraping on the floor. “You shouted at him?”
You sigh. That.
“I - yes. He did something stupid,” you tell her and she lets out a chuckle.
“When doesn’t he?” And maybe it’s something about her expression, and the contrast with her dry tone, but it makes you laugh again as she continues, “Don’t worry, everyone thinks he deserved it.”
“Really?” you ask, surprised. “They do?”
She nods, “Yeah. You’ll have to work with him on this mission though.” She’s picking up objects on your desk, and haphazardly returning them to the wrong place. You huff a little at the idea but change the topic.
***
Walking into Leia’s office the next day, you immediately rolled your eyes when you saw Dameron pulling a face as he made eye contact with you.
“Ok this stops right now.” Leia’s voice is sharp and to the point as she glares at the two of you. “This is ridiculous. The two of you are on the same side, fighting the same fight and you can’t even be in the same room?”
“With all due respect General, the enemy of my enemy is not my friend,” you say, not looking away from Dameron. He looks better than usual, wearing a black t-shirt that somehow makes his hair look darker, his arms stronger, his face fresher.
Leia huffs, and gestures to the seat next to Dameron which you take ungraciously, as she continues. “Perhaps not, but you are on the same side. I would like to ask for at least civility towards each other.” Dameron’s wearing tac gear, you realise, scanning up and down his body. Knee pads blend into the black of his trousers, which are tucked into a hefty pair of boots. Your eyes keep catching on the smoothness of his jaw and throat, he must have just had a shave. “Shake hands.”
Your mouth drops open, finally looking away. “What?!” Both of you speak at the same time. You look back at him to see him smiling gently at you. You frown, but stick your hand out, breaching the gap.
“Truce?”
You’re acting annoyed, but there’s a thrumming excitement rising again in you. A mission is a mission, even if it means working with someone you don’t really want to.
You ignore the very small part of you that does want to be friends with him.
Dameron’s hand is warm when it grasps yours, strong in his conviction, and there’s something unreadable in face as he replies. “Truce.”
Leia smiles at you when you turn back to face her, and you have to squash down your own, wanting to remain annoyed at Dameron. Clicking a button on her desk, she starts playing a hologram. It’s a video replay of a number of ships - 2 distinctly First Order TIE fighters, and 3 Resistance X-wings. The TIE fighters are moving in a way you’ve never seen before, unprecedented skill allowing them to miss Resistance shots that should have been hits.
Leia allows the video to play a number of times before waving her hand to freeze the image. You can only gape at her, not quite sure what she wants you and Poe to do about it. Dameron’s hands are already twitching in your peripheral vision, like he’s imagining how he would manipulate the controls to achieve the same effect.
“This was supposed to be a simple recon mission, which was not supposed to have any engagement,” Leia starts, “but the First Order showed up, and our pilots decided to shoot first, but couldn’t make a hit. I want the two of you to work out how they managed to do this. And I’ve arranged for the two of you to practice on Greplimin, which is a largely empty planet two parsecs from here.” Sighing, she leaned on the desk, giving Dameron the holo stick. “Can I trust you not to kill each other?”
Dameron leaves as fast as he can, muttering something about finding BB-8, but you hang back, waiting by the door to ask Leia something.
“Why have you asked me?” You still feel too vulnerable when you look at her, and in the back of your mind you wonder if you’ll ever get over this.
Leia only raises an eyebrow, asking you to elaborate.
“I’m not the best pilot.” You start desperately. “I know I’m not. I would never tell him-,” you throw your arm at the door, “-that, but it’s true. I’m not the best person to ask and if you want someone who gets on with Dameron, I don’t - why, why did you choose me?”
Leia sits down and you stand there, feeling weirdly lanky.
“You’re right.” How is she so confident? “You’re not the best pilot. But you have an unconventional way of flying and the First Order didn’t manage to pull that stunt by being conventional.”
“Figure it out, Lieutenant,” she dismisses you, attention already on some papers on her desk.
***
Dameron had begun to make dinner by the time you’d finished setting up the tent. You’d grumbled under your breath as you worked to construct the two camp beds, sure that the Resistance could afford two tents. Outside, Dameron’s quiet conversation with BB-8 was muffled, indistinct words floating to you under the chirping sounds of the birds and insects.
Even in your grumpy mood as you’d flown out, you could appreciate the beauty of Greplimin. Green had stretched out as far as you could see, circling until you’d found a good place to make camp. A large clearing surrounded by trees, a lake not too far of a walk for water, which was now set alight with the glow of the three suns as they began to set.
The food, cooked by Dameron over an open fire, was nice enough, but something had risen to the back of your throat, making it hard to swallow. You don’t talk much, saying the bare minimum in order to resist snapping at Dameron unnecessarily. As much as you don’t want to admit it, Leia is right - you are on the same side of the war. Conversation is stilted and unnatural, so you take the cowards way out, feigning tiredness to escape.
But that doesn’t mean Dameron has any business being as attractive as he is on this mission. It’s as though ever since your argument in the common room, his attractiveness has increased dramatically and you hate it.  
By the next morning, a slight stubble had started to grow, darkening his jaw and making your heart beat a little faster as the two of you eat in silence, lit by the glow of the sun rise. Out of annoyance, you told yourself, after all, it’s unprofessional to have stubble. And anyway, who can grow facial hair that fast? From the look of him yesterday, he’d freshly shaved.
And he’d started to look at you differently too. You’re just not sure what the difference is.
The next day is spent flying. Both you and Dameron are a little rusty, having both been grounded for a month now. You have to focus on breathing calmly when you first sit back in the cockpit, the image of Poe near to collapse in the seat behind you sending you back to your last mission. You have to turn around to convince yourself that he’s sat in the other X-wing.
Turning on your comm link, the two of you run through pre-flight checks together, methodical and reassuring, before running through the normal exercises, switching between who is acting as First Order and who is Resistance.
It’s nice. Comforting, even, the familiar routines you could do in your sleep, muscle memory taking over when your brain stumbles.
And even though neither you or Poe say a whole lot, it’s a nice safety net, knowing that there’s someone on the other end of the line. It’s the odd little phrases that he uses, praising you or himself, with the occasional swear word or whoop of delight thrown in. He’s playing music, because of course he is, but you can only catch the odd bar, not enough to recognise any songs.  
Not for the first time, you recognise the intimacy of comm’s, how talking directly to the other’s ears feels...more personal, somehow. So you bite back any quick replies you think of, pushing down any breathless laughter at his comments.
You love flying too. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of floating in the sky, taking turns at a ridiculous pace, and feeling adrenaline burn you up on the inside.
The usual exercises end up taking over the whole day, you and Dameron blasting them until they’re perfect. Briefly you wonder if this is what it would be like to be in Black Squadron, perfection expected rather than a nice added bonus. He doesn’t seem surprised though, when you manage them. You frown, you’d expected some kind of taunt about how you’d done better than he’d thought...but the comms were silent to your expectations, just the odd, respectful, “Well done.”
On the third day, you give the First Order’s new moves a go. Neither you nor Dameron are quite brave enough to fully twist the way they did, and you’re not sure what his worry is, but the idea of overheating your engine mid-flight is enough to stop you.
Lunch is spent with the two of you eating together and poring over the video, stopping and starting it at different moments to talk over the best ways to fall out of the spin. Having a goal, a problem to solve makes conversation flow much easier and you’re grateful for it. It’s something else to concentrate on and you can ignore sparks of irritation as he scratches his stubble, the noise swooping low in your chest.
After lunch, Dameron acts as First Order, and it’s a surprise when his voice crackles through the comm links.
“I’m going for it.”
He’s determined, and you know there’s not much you can say to stop him, especially because you’re out here to solve this, but you still yelp out a “What!”
“If I can get enough height I reckon I could do it.” Comes the reply and you can only sigh and watch as Dameron’s ship starts to climb. Switching gears, you start to follow, circling round to imitate how the Resistance would catch up.
Poe starts to twirl as he descends, copying the way the First Order pilots had gained speed and unpredictability, and you struggle to hold your ship steady in his airstream.
He starts to spin faster and faster, cutting his engine and throwing the X-wing to the left. You’re miles behind now, having been unable to reach the same speed and you can only listen to his steady swearing as he struggles to start the engines back up again.
As he reaches closer to the tree line you start shouting. “Deploy! Deploy now!” Desperation laces your voice, “Poe deploy your parachute NOW!”
And he does.
A plume of fabric billows out from the back of his X-wing, slowing him down enough that you can see the exact moment when Poe restarts the engines. It doesn’t last for long though, and all Poe can do is control his landing, skidding through the trees.
You careen after him, bruising your landing and scrambling to get out of the cockpit to go and help clear the door to get Poe out. “Are you alright?” You ask, looking into his eyes to check for signs of a concussion. He was wearing his helmet, but that was a rough landing.
And his eyes are a really pretty shade of brown, swoons a voice inside of you, which you try and squash with a few choice swear words. Now is definitely not the time. There is never a good time for noticing Dameron’s eyes.
Poe seems alright though, accepting your hand of help to jump out. “I never knew you cared, sweetheart” he grins, and then groans. “Could do with some water though.”
So you help him back to your campsite, giving him a glass and sitting next to him in silence. Except, for the second time that day, it’s comfortable.
“The spinning was good,” you offer after a moment.
You’re not looking at him, the water glimmering as a distraction. He only hmphs in return.
“It was!” And are you trying to convince Poe Dameron of all people that he did a good job? You take a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye.
He’s looking in the same direction as you and you note that the colour has returned to his cheeks again.
“You got good speed up,” you continue, “faster than I could and we just need to figure out how to cool our engines down - especially when we’re in hyperspace.”
“I want to know how they didn’t crash into each other.” You look at him again, his voice thoughtful. “There’s just so little control, once you cut the engine after spinning like that, you’re subject to airflow but they knew where the other would be.”
“Do you think it’s possible they’re better than us?” If you hadn’t watched Poe talk, you’d have thought you hallucinated.
Grinning, you shove your shoulder against his. “Better than you and me? You’re having a laugh.”
“Yeah that’s not it.”
There’s not much to say after that, the occasional huff of laughter bubbling out.
***
You do eventually have to go back to the X-wings, both of which need patching up. The hull of yours is damaged where you hit some trees when landing, while Poe has to start with packing up his chute before even thinking about the wiring and his engines.
Once you’ve done all you can for yours, you clamber into Poe’s cockpit. Thankfully he doesn't notice at first, allowing you a moment to compose yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms as he grips together some wiring. BB-8 is sat in the pilot's chair, beeping some instructions at him.
Meanwhile there’s a tool sticking out of his mouth, and something about that is insanely sexy, but you clear your throat before your mind can go anywhere. Poe looks up and oh maker this man is going to destroy me.
You scowl at him as you speak, as though scowling can undo your traitorous thoughts. “Do you need a hand?” Poe looks like he’s going to say no, but then something sparks out, hitting his hand, and he drops the wires, mouthing a swear in pain, although he keeps his teeth clenched around the screwdriver.
Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shitshitshitshit.
You can’t look away from his mouth and you need to reset, to go back to square one, base level, because your heart has stopped in your chest and you know what this means. Instead you whack Poe over the head as you push your way into his space, stepping over the wires on the floor.
“Do you want my help or not?” you ask again, and maker you’re rude. Your parents would be disappointed. But Poe looks surprised that you’re offering again.
His eyes meet yours when he replies, steady and unwavering. “Yeah that would be nice.” The tension gradually dissipates as the two of you work together, rewiring and melding your way through the underneath of the control panel.
You do your best to ignore the touches, telling yourself that it’s inevitable in such a small space as your hands brush together as you lean over him, or how close he is when he peers over your shoulder to instruct you which piece to hold while he adjusts them back to their proper place.
***
Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰
Chapter 1<----->Chapter 3
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thebmatt · 3 years
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FFXIV Write Day 2
Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.
CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language
"Master? A letter arrived for you."
Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair.  "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"
The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."
Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"
The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.
"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home.  Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."
Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."
The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf!  Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"
Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.
"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,
I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her
First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.
I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.
From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.
We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.
It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.
We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.
We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.
Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers
We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.
You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.
Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.
The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.
We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity
Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders  
Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"
Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."
"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"
Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."
Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."
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Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.
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Text
Glitched [Change Your Passwords]
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Hacker AU
TW: Implied Stalking, Language
Pairing: (NCT) Unknown x Reader
Genre: Choose Your Story, Thriller, Suspense, Mystery
(3/?) [Previous] | [Next]
[Main Masterlist] | [Glitched Masterlist]
Word Count: 3.9K
Notes: Sorry for the wait on this one! I’ve been studying for my classes, but don’t worry I won’t leave you all hanging haha. Also I’ve updated the video links to go to a video archive blog of mine because the private posts were just not working out for me so I hope this will be easier! I ask that you don’t follow that blog only for spoilers as I’ll upload videos/other medias there first prior to posting the actual fics so you might either get spoiled or just really confused lol. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!!
Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idol(s) mentioned/written/implied would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to anyone mentioned in the writings of this story, nor do I wish any harm on them. The idols mentions in this work are meant to be acknowledged as no more than face claims and are not meant to represent the idols in any way.
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You sat down first with Jaemin and Yangyang still in line for whatever it was they had decided to eat for lunch, you, meanwhile, decided on changing your passwords. Figure, you have since decided on calling him that since that’s what he told you to tell Instagram, seemed very adamant on it, and thus here you were, changing literally all of your passcodes and writing them down on the side of the paper bag you requested.
But as you did this the creeping feeling of being watched never left you. The security cameras were pointed the other way and no one, to your knowledge, was making an active effort to stare at you. It had to be related to that scare from earlier, you had nearly forgotten about it while in your lab. You finished changing the last passcode and looked down at your phone, the last passcode being the one to your Tumblr account, and you opened your messages, secretly hoping that maybe you’d receive another message from Figure, but none were presented to you. No doubt changing your passcodes might have disconnected you from the person as a whole. But, of course, right when you least expect it, things always turn around. Then in came a message from user011719.
https://videoarchivesatzml.tumblr.com/post/644877251145515008/glitched-change-your-passwords-video
You played the video again. Why did it just stop mid-sentence? You tried to play it again but the message, much like the one you received earlier, disappeared. Like it was never there in the first place. You wondered what could have happened, if you didn’t know what you did already you would’ve assumed that he cut the recording too soon or that he ran out of WiFi, but this couldn’t have been the case, it was too easy, too simple.
But you were more concerned about another thing Figure had mentioned. To your knowledge, no one had used your phone. The only person that it could’ve been was… Jaehyun. But why would he have done that? There was no purpose as to why he would do that.
“(Y/N)!” Seonghwa called out to you and you waved.
“Oh, hello!”
“Oh, thank god, you have your phone,” he sighs. “Did Jaehyun give it to you?”
“Yeah, he did,” you were surprised by how convenient Seonghwa’s timing was, but you had to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Why?”
“Bambam was looking through it.”
“He was what?!”
“Yeah, that’s why Somi isn’t around right now, she’s probably beating his ass. He’s been here the longest but Somi doesn’t really give a fuck,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Don’t worry, he didn’t open anything, he was just being a bitch.”
“How did he know my password?”
“You really should change your password from 0000, (Y/N), it’s too simple,” Seonghwa laughs.
“Oh god, don’t worry I already changed it. What did he want anyway?”
“I’m pretty sure he was just being stupid, Bambam acts like that but he’s not a dick, he looked surprised himself when he got your password, I figured I’d tell you because that was just out of line.”
“It was, yeah, thanks for telling me,” you nodded your head.
“It was the right thing to do, I’m gonna go head out now, I have to make sure Somi didn’t go too far, I’ll see you back in lab.”
“See you,” he waved at you again and walked out of the food court. You pulled out your phone and stared at it, people seriously have no boundaries. Bambam had already rubbed you the wrong way but this was honestly such a dick move, you shook your head.
You hoped that he didn’t see your Instagram, Seonghwa said that he didn’t see or open anything but still. You’d have to thank Somi later, but you still couldn’t believe that he was so shameless with it. The nerve of some people, if this were a cartoon you’d be certain that steam would be blowing out of your ears, you would definitely give him a piece of your mind back in lab later. You looked at the DMs, if anyone else saw this they would be more than just suspicious, no doubt, or they would think that you were crazy and laugh at you.
But looking at these DMs, you thought back to the video. Figure mentioned that there was someone keeping him captive, and with this knowledge, you felt your heart rate rise slightly, and you could only think of the worse. But, despite this, you were at least able to screenshot that one part that he asked you to send to not.here127, something that you were glad that you did because you hardly remembered what else he sent.
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You left the app and opened your notes app, then you tried to type out the screenshot. You got pretty far until about the second sentence, at that point the keyboard started lagging until it stopped working altogether.
“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself and restarted the app, trying to type out the message again, but still came the same result. You even tried restarting your phone altogether, but still, the same result. Until your keypad started moving itself, and you gasped loudly enough for some people to turn their heads. You dropped your phone on the table. “Uh, sorry, just family news,” you said aloud. Many of the people seemingly understood this and turned back around. But when you looked down at your phone, the lone sentence on your notes app read:
“Don’t. - Figure”
It was like you could feel your blood circulating through you. You had no idea how to feel right now, nor did you want to take the time to figure it out. Then it started typing again.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hacked into your phone but… something came up, and it would just be safer for you if I did this. I’d tell you what it was but it would be better if I didn’t. Just… tell him in person, okay?”
You nodded your head slowly and picked your phone back up, reopening Instagram. Part of you felt more awkward now knowing that this Figure was in your phone, probably watching you as you typed, but you wanted to give what limited trust you could. Then another foreign feeling came over you, one you’ve felt since entering this facility, actually, and when you looked to the corner of the room, you saw the camera focused right on you, then you continued the conversation.
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You stared at the camera that was still trained on you, then at your phone’s camera. You wanted to cover the camera, to be honest, but two things stopped you. One being how you would make fun of your friends when they did so, and two being how Figure had mentioned that the whole reason why he hacked into your phone was because “something came up.” Now, you aren't stupid. You could put two and two together and no doubt this “something” was related to this new person that not.here127 mentioned, Connect.
“So how’s your first day so far?” Jaemin asks once he sits down. You locked your phone and placed it back into your pocket.
“It’s great, it’s everything I could’ve hoped for, I just can’t believe that I’m finally here, you know?” You answered. Jaemin had his usual lopsided smile on while Yangyang sat down, he looked between both of you and a sly smirk crawled on his face. You knew that look, you knew what he was planning and you stomped on his foot before he could think about it.
“You okay, Yangyang?” Jaemin asks.
“Just fine,” he winces. “But how’s the hell lab, (Y/N)?”
“Actually not that bad… so far. But I shouldn’t jinx it,” you shook your head. “How about you, Lab V, right?”
“I think my mentor has it out for me. He’s always pointing out the little mistakes I make, it’s so nerve-racking…”
“Who’s your mentor?” Jaemin asks.
“Sicheng…” Yangyang frowns.
“Oh, you’re fine. He’s like that with everyone.”
“What does your lab work on?”
“Uh, it’s kind of weird,” Yangyang hums. “Some biomatter stuff.”
“You don’t know what you’re studying?!”
“I mean I do! But like, it’s weird,” Yangyang shook his head. “Technically, it’s called Biomatter Space Compression. But like, it’s weird because like… I think there’s more to it,” Yangyang frowns.
“So like what space does to the body?”
“Yeah, but like… you know what, forget it, I have no idea how to explain it,” Yangyang shakes his head. “Give me like a week to make sense of it,” he laughs.
“I used to be in that lab, and that’s probably the best way to explain it,” Jaemin sighs. A loud beeping noise goes off and Yangyang groans.
“Shut up,” your jaw drops while you fought back a smile. Yangyang reluctantly pulls out a device probably twice his age. “Is that a pager?!” You started to laugh.
“Yeah,” he holds it in his hand and shows you. “As soon as my supervisor busted this out I almost laughed out loud,” Yangyang chuckles.
“Oh god, that’s old…”
“I know, looks like he’s calling us all back in early, so I’ll see you after then,” Yangyang waves goodbye and leaves the cafeteria, leaving you and Jaemin behind.
“Ah, I guess lunch is almost over,” Jaemin stretches his arms back and yawns. “I’ll walk you back to the labs,” Jaemin tosses the paper bag into the trash bin and stands up, waiting for you to catch up to him. You quickly followed suit and walked next to him. You both exited the bustling lunch hall and walked back into the outdoor walkway, the grand structure never failing to amaze you but to be fair it is still your first day. You were both making a beeline for the labs, and you, of course, noticed the cameras discreetly following you the entire time. You soon approached your lab building and you both stopped in front of it.
“Thanks…” you didn’t really have much to say, what do you say in this situation? You both had only known each other briefly and never on the level to easily make small talk. You were about to go back inside when he said something rather peculiar.
“No problem… You must be pretty smart if you got this internship, you know. If you feel like something’s off, then it probably is,” he says. Then he walks off without giving you a chance to answer. You walked into the locker room with a heavy mind, putting your equipment back on and begrudgingly placing your phone back into the UV chamber, feeling at least a little more secure with your now changed passwords, then you walked back into the lab.
“(Y/N)!”
“Bambam,” the name came out harshly from your mouth and he shoots an awkward smile.
“You guys told (Y/N)?”
“Of course we did!” Seonghwa glares at him.
“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), he grabbed it because it’s the same model as his phone and he ended up opening it since you both coincidentally had the same password,” Somi sighs. “0000, really?! You have important lab information on your phone and your password is 0000?!”
“I know okay? I changed it,” Bambam rolls his eyes.
“To what? 1234?” Jaehyun laughs.
“Well, when we’re done here, I’m gonna change it again,” Bambam crosses his arms. “Sorry about that, (Y/N), it was a genuine mistake, I didn’t open anything, promise,” he says. Your shoulders relaxed, you couldn’t help mistakes, and though this was an eerie coincidence there wasn’t much you could say anyway.
“It’s fine,” you shook your head. Somi’s explanation made enough sense, you think. “Just be more careful next time, I’d rather not have a complete stranger going through my phone, mistakenly or not,” you said sternly. The other members of the lab group looked at you with a strange expression, maybe you said it a bit too harshly, and truthfully normally you’d shrug it off but with the whole thing going on with Figure, or Connect, or whoever the hell you were DMing on Instagram is just getting to you. Then there were those damn cameras, both around the facility and on your own phone.
“Sorry about that, I’m just a little stressed,” you shook your head and tried to play it off. Bambam starts laughing out loud and you flinched at the sudden outburst.
“Oh, don’t worry, we get it! Seonghwa was worse when he first started,” Bambam’s worried look is immediately replaced with a happier one while he clapped the other one’s shoulder. “You should’ve seen him, he snapped at all of us.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, you did,” Jaehyun chuckles and moves to the lab table. “But now, with all of that out of the way, we have to work,” Jaehyun says. Everyone moved to their stations quickly, picking up where you each left off prior to lunch. You were put on data recording, something not precisely fun but also the only thing you could currently be trusted with. You were amazed by how easily they all worked together, you couldn’t help but feel like you were just stepping on their toes really, but every time they’d call you over they’d be nice about it at the very least. You each moved around the clock nonstop, you walking around the rather large lab table with the rather large laptop to each station as the main researchers called you over to record something, and them occasionally overlapping in their stations as each of the trials were carried out and analyzed.
“Alright then,” Bambam stands up and stretches his back. “I’m going home.”
“Already?” You asked while you looked at the wall clock, it read 7:48 pm, about an hour away from clock out time. You then looked at the laptop in your hands and saw about 3/4s of the spreadsheet filled. “Don’t we need to finish the rest of this today?”
“Nah, the rest of the trials take about a day to develop, so we’re good on waiting, or at least I am,” Bambam says. “You did good, rookie, don’t worry about it,” he says.
“Oh, thanks,” you cleared your throat.
“Be safe on your way home then, Bambam,” Jaehyun says without looking up from his microscope. “Don’t worry, (Y/N), we don’t have strict clock-out times,” he says while turning the bulb off on the microscope.
“Heading out too?” Somi asks.
“Yup, you all stay safe,” Jaehyun waves at them and walks out of the lab, following close behind Bambam.
“I’m almost done here,” Somi twists open the pipette drip and watches the chemical drop into the solution. “Just have to finish developing these samples and recording color changes, if you want I can take it from here, (Y/N),” she offers.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, (Y/N), you’ve been walking around all day, I’m surprised you’re not lightheaded from all the times you walked around here,” she says. “I’m serious! Jaehyun left so he won’t know,” she says.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Seonghwa shrugs while he closes the mice cage.
“You’re cleared!” Somi smiles.
“Thanks, Somi,” you had on a tired smile, it was true, your feet were killing you with all the walking you’ve been doing and you haven’t had a chance to sit down.
“Get home safe,” she says.
“Do you need a ride home?” Seonghwa asks.
“No thank you, I’ll just take the bus,” you said, hoping that Yangyang was still here.
“Okay, see you tomorrow then,” Somi waved at you while you left. You entered the empty locker room and shrugged your lab coat off and hung it in your locker, placing your goggles on the top shelf and grabbing your bag. Then you turned around and, with your breath held, opened the UV chest. You saw your phone resting undisturbed in the same spot you left it and you felt a wave of relief while you picked it up. Everything was still in order and you spotted the text from Yangyang simply stating that his team messed up an experiment and they had to redo the whole thing and told you to just head home without him.
“Well, great,” you shook your head and walked out into the darkened facility. “West wing…” you mumbled to yourself, following the signs quickly. You pushed open the double doors and walked out into the nighttime, the moon already in the sky. You opened Instagram and quickly read through the conversation again while you descended the steps, and you soon noticed the car parked in front of you, and as you walked over to it, someone stopped you.
“Oh, (Y/N)!” Jaehyun called out to you, he looked like he was just about to re-enter the building. “Perfect timing,” he says while holding up his phone.
“Oh, hello,” you said. He was the first person who came up to you out here.
“I forgot that you weren’t in our work group chat, we were planning on getting dinner together,” he shows you the conversation. You spotted Somi’s text saying that she forgot to tell you about it and asked if anyone had your number. “Want to come?” He asks. You quickly glanced at the car behind him, it hadn’t moved since you walked out and the windows were tinted.
[[Follow Jaehyun or Go to the Car]]
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General Tag List: @vickylamore @hangsxng @mizzdivagirl7-blog @sehunnies-hunnie96 @roses09020617 @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @awesomei @raeincitizen @here-aeth
Glitched: @red-moon-dream​ @vinmylife @tyuningkai @fortrest @leesalts @tvehyungs-gf @gaiyofanfiction @lvvcky 
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veejihad · 3 years
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omg hello friends !! tysm for joining our lovely lil group we have going on here. my heart: full !!! i’m pris, here and queer from socal; you can read more about vee under the cut as well as some of my wanted connections. feel free to like this post and i’ll hit you up for a plotting sesh !
『 medalion rahimi. twenty-six. nonbinary. they/them. 』did you see VEE JIHAD in APARTMENT #18 in spectrum house? yeah, they’re pretty +INTUITIVE, right? they’re very +DEPENDABLE, too. some say that they can be -DISTANT and -STUBBORN, but i don’t see it. they work as an HERBALIST around san francisco. you know, they remind me of MUGWORT TEA. i’m glad they’ve been at spectrum house for SEVEN YEARS. without them, this place just wouldn’t be the same.『 pris. 24. pst. she/they. 』
BIO
vee is the child of a neurosurgeon and lawyer and has older twin siblings that went off to ivy leagues and pursued careers in it and marketing. this essentially meant that from the moment they were born, they were already expected to live up to unrealistic expectations and standards 
it also didn’t help that they were a child who loved horror movies and all the gore included, occult mysteries, and conspiracy theories. their overactive imagination and penchant for escapism naturally had them walking a different path as well, with their talents and passion circling more around visual media and art than any other hard science
vee was essentially the black sheep of the family, the person who wasn’t really bragged about to family relatives so they were usually left alone (fine by them!) but this also meant vee was one confused and dysphoric teenager by the time they started high school
this became just another thing that broke the mold of what their parents expected. if their parents were over-the-top and too much before, then at this point they were constantly nagging on them, butting heads over petty fights and larger scale arguments that had vee spending time outside of the house
it all worked out in the end then, as vee partook in many escapist activities. for one, that interest in horror, occult, and conspiracy theories grew exponentially over time. from creepypastas to cryptozoology, they were all about it. eventually, vee discovered witchcraft and instantly connected with it too
the other piece of the escapism puzzle was, well, weed. what came out of their heavy stoner days as a youth surprised even vee themselves: an interest in the health benefits of all kinds of herbs - and thus a new passion had begun for herbalism
once vee turned 18, they moved out and cut ties. after couch surfing for about a year and joining various herbalist retreats and workshops, they ended up in san francisco and planted their first roots at spectrum house
flash forward 7 years later and now vee has made an entrepreneur out of themselves. through their herbalism education, they were able to establish multiple streams of income. they run an online apothecary where they sell herbal blends for tea and smoking, essential oils, and incense
vee also provides herbal consultations, tarot reading, and sound healing - readily offering these services for free to those at spectrum house. it’s their way of saying thank you, i’m here for you, and i love you to the family they never had
in hindsight, all good things come with time and over the years vee has become comfortable in their queer, nonbinary identity. actions speak louder than words where vee is concerned (and they’d never be caught dead actually saying these words aloud anyway)
personality-wise, vee has mellowed out a ton since their high school days so let’s just say we should be glad we have a more evolved version of vee now. they are still somewhat reserved but they are not as cold and more likely to give your muse more “affection” / conversation
you’ll likely find them in the community garden and vee could probably tell you about anything there if you ask
STATS
sexuality: queer
sun sign: scorpio
ascendant: capricorn
moon: leo
MBTI: infp
moral alignment: chaotic good
enneagram: 5w4
vibes: frankie bergstein, jess mariano, nell crain 
+ read more details about vee’s bio and stats here
WANTED CONNECTIONS
platonic
CLOSE FRIEND: sad as it is, vee wouldn’t say they’re genuinely close with many people but this person is who vee would call a close friend… maybe even… best friend? 
PSEUDO-PARENT: bobby. your muse was one of the first people to welcome vee at spectrum and decided to adopt vee under their wing for whatever reason
MENTEE: aimée. your muse is curious about herbalism and as a result they’ve ended up becoming an unofficial student of vee’s
BAD HORROR MOVIE SQUAD: a group of people, any gender, who messes around with vee visiting haunted locations around sf for fun and watch horror movies together 
VICES NO VIRTUES/STONER BUDDIES: avi.
EX-ROOMIE: vee has been at spectrum house for a while and has been through a couple roommate/living situations
conflicts
MINIMIZER: this person constantly underestimates and undermines vee, could be hostility or even a cynic
TRUE ENEMIES: they just don’t connect on any level and have a hatred toward each other. they try to avoid each other if they can help it bc keeping it “civil” during resident events is like pulling teeth
romantic ( open to any gender )
FLIRTATIONSHIP: friends who flirt with each other like all the time stop 
BOOTY CALL: self explanatory
POLYCULE PARTICIPANT: this is just my running wish of having vee participate in a polycule in some way,,, gimme some sweet poly plots
+ see the full connections page here
if u made it all the way down here, ily ty! again, feel free to dm me or like this post and i will come bother u <333 you can also reach me on d*scord ( fullhomo#9769 ). i will also be starting work in about 2 hours so apologies in advance for any delayed responses! 
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Date Started: 06/21/2020 3:12pm (15:12)
Date Finished: 06/21/2020 4:42pm (16:42)
Summary: This is the months after your threesome. You are pregnant and have twins. The father is determined at the end.
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader x Sebastian Stan
A/n: little story based off Henry's post about Father's Day. Also a continuation of my smut story. I would also like to say that none of these pictures are mine and some will not be Henry and Sebastian since I have yet to see any of them together. I would like you to imagine their faces in place of the ones that are not them. Thank you.
Two months after your three some with Henry and Sebastian, you three have been going on dates and spending time together. Now, at three months after, you discover something that will change your lives forever- you're pregnant.
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You were sat on the toilet, bawling your eyes out as you made the discovery. The main thing running through your head was: "what are they going to think?" You hugged yourself while holding the tests.
You were both glad and upset that you were home alone with this discovery. Henry was doing a press tour for his new movie, currently in Boston, Massachusetts. Sebastian was filming The Falcon and The Winter Soldier which meant being far away from you. So in the house was only you and this unborn baby.
"What am I gonna do? They'll wanna know but I'm scared..." You thought aloud. "It's gotta be two to three months at this point. Perhaps a doctor's appointment would be best." You say and put a hand on your belly.
You take a deep breath and go to the room you share with Sebastian and Henry. You all moved in a month ago so you would be closer. You put the tests in one of your clothes drawers to hide it. You grabbed your phone and dialed your OBGYNs number to make an appointment. Tomorrow, at 13:30. You put the phone aside and decide to take a nap.
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Tomorrow came sooner than you would've liked. You forced yourself to get up and eat some breakfast while you scrolled through your phone. You saw a text from Henry pop up and decided to ignore it. You put your phone down after eating your breakfast and went to take a shower. You washed your h/l h/c hair and beautiful body before getting out and wrapping a towel around yourself. You went to the shared bedroom and got dressed in something suitable for a doctor's appointment especially when it came to being an actress.
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You left the comfort of your home at 13:00 and drove twenty minutes to your doctor's office. Once inside you checked in and went to sit down. They called you in at 13:40, you went to a room and were told to wait.
After about twenty minutes, a nurse came in and took your vitals before handing you a urine cup. You went to the bathroom and did your best to fill it before wiping it down and bring it back putting it on the counter. The same nurse came back and took it to the lab where it was to be tested. After about an hour, your OBGYN came in and talked to you like a friend before she got the results.
"Would you like to read it or shall I?" She asks you
"You, please." You answer
"You're pregnant, Y/N." She says softly and looks at you. "Would you like to do the ultrasound today?" She asks and looks at you.
You nod as you try to hold back tears. You lay down on the bed and wait for someone to come in. You took deep and shaky breaths. Your OBGYN had someone come in with a moveable machine and did the ultrasound. You smiled at the screen before jumping and bursting into tears. You pulled down your shirt and rushed out with your stuff. Everyone looked stunned and they didn't understand why until they looked at one of the pictures it took right before you ran off.
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It was two months after the ultrasound incident before you finally went back. You laid there and tried not to cry as you watched. You had a heart monitor for the babies and heard two, strong heart beats.
"would you like to know the gender?" Your OBGYN asks you
You shake your head "no, thank you."
You leave after getting some pictures and when you arrive home, you see two extra cars in the driveway. You didn't know who it was until you saw the license plates- Henry and Sebastian were home. You parked your car and let yourself cry for a while before hiding the pictures in the glove compartment then running inside after locking the car.
You looked at the boys who had made you lunch and brought your presents. They saw your tear stained face and rushed over showering you in love and affection.
You three ate while you avoided telling them.
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A month later and you couldn't avoid telling them as Henry had found the pregnancy tests when getting you a new shirt. You had vomited all over the one you were previously wearing. He walked down holding the shirt and tests in his hands.
"Love, what is this?" He asks you softly and holds the pregnancy tests up.
You look up and gasp, deciding there's no way out you respond: "Henry, I should've have to explain to you what w pregnancy test is."
"No, No. I'm asking because there's- are you...?" He motions to your belly which had grown a little bit.
You had tears in your eyes and you bite your lip. You get up and go to find Sebastian who was currently working on some lines. You told him to come into the kitchen and take the seat you had gotten up from.
Henry showed Sebastian the tests and he asked the same as Henry: "are you...?"
You take a deep breath "With twins."
Henry and Sebastian looked upset but also very happy.
"Yes!" Henry says and rushes over picking you up and twirling you gently. He knew there was a possibility that he wasn't the father but he would be there no matter what. He already made that promise to himself.
Sebastian stood there for a moment before it registered, you were pregnant with twins that could or could not be his. He rushes over and gave both you and Henry a big hug.
You were so happy and relieved to see how excited they were. You hugged them back and kissed both their cheeks.
"Do you know the genders?" Henry asks looking down at you.
You shake your head "No, I don't. I wanted to wait for you guys. I have pictures from the ultrasounds in the car."
Henry nearly ripped the keys from the hanger and ran outside rummaging through your car to find them. He was like an excited puppy. He ran back in and showed them to Sebastian. "Our kids!" He shouts excitedly.
"Our babies." Sebastian agrees and smiles at the pictures as tears welled up in his eyes.
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You, Henry, and Sebastian decided to announce your pregnancy at Henry's birthday party you threw at home. You also made a cake for when the genders would be announced. The only person who knew the genders were your sister and the baker.
All through the party Henry and Sebastian would not stop asking your sister when they could cut open the cake. Finally your sister had enough and decided to let you three cut the cake when Henry cut his.
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You found out that the babies were a girl and a boy when you cut the cake open. Henry and Sebastian were hugging you and kissing all over your face.
Soon the party was coming to a close so only the immediate family was around.
Henry's mom walks over to you and smiles at you. "Congratulations, Y/N. Have you thought of any names?"
You smile and nod "thank you Mrs. Cavill. We have in fact. The girl is to be named g/n Cavill-Stan. And the boy is to be named b/n Cavill-Stan." You answer with a smile.
Henry's mother nods and smiles at you giving you a hug. "Thank you for including my boy despite the circumstances." She says and lets go of you.
You nod and smile "He's as much as a father to them as Sebastian is. They're both the father even if only one is biologically." You respond in a soft voice.
Henry's mom gives you another hug and rubs your back. She lets go and goes to find her sons.
After the party is done, you three go to bed with big smiles on your faces.
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After another three months, making you a full nine. You give birth to two bouncing babies. They were swabbed for DNA as we're Henry and Sebastian.
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It was another month later that you got the results. You were nervous to open it with them as Henry held g/n and Sebastian held b/n. You slowly tore the envelope open and pulled out the paper. You opened it just as slowly and took a deep breath before reading it in your head.
After reading it twice, you smiled widely.
"What? What does it say?" Sebastian asks trying to look at it but you wouldn't let him.
"Come on, Y/N.... Please show us... Tell us..." Henry looked nervous ready to hear he was the father of neither.
"DNA shows that Henry Cavill is the father of g/n and b/n." You said pausing and looking at Henry who was smiling widely before his face drops and looks at Sebastian who had tears in his eyes.
"w-what about me?" Sebastian asks ready to hear he wasn't the father of either.
"DNA shows that Sebastian Stan is the father of b/n and g/n." You looked at him with a big smile. "it goes on to say that it's rare and the babies may have problems when they grow up but, yes, you both are the father." You add after looking between them both.
Henry and Sebastian hug each other with the babies then hug you. Tears streaming down all your faces.
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A/n: I hope y'all enjoyed.
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tooweirdforyou · 3 years
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Mihawk Having A Strained Relationship With His Masculine! Daughter
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Request : sorry if this is VERY specific but can i request a scenario or headcanons where mihawk has a daughter who is very masculine and dresses very princely that people often mistake her for a boy. (bonus if she has a pet raven🥺) and she acts like mihawk but she hates being compared to him because their relationship is strained because mihawk was always busy with other things when she was growing up. but mihawk tries his best to get back on his daughter's good side and so they can be close again ??
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A/N : tried something different- do you prefer me posting fics this way or the way I had prior? - thanks for requesting, I hope I did this right. ;-;
I deeply apologize if this seems offensive somehow. It isn’t my intention at all.
Summary : Mihawk attempting to fix his relationship with his masculine! daughter.
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“So strong-looking and stoic. As expected of Hawkeye Mihawk’s son.”
“Son? I recall him having a daughter.”
“Is it a daughter? He doesn’t look like a female..”
Hearing the many whispers among the crows, you tilt your head to the left to eye them, your sharp, empty and intimidating eyes startling them.
Immediately the two strangers kept their mouths shut and strolled off before you could do anything to them.
Exhaling out in annoyance, you turn back to your teacup, handle gripped between your fingers.
Karasu, your raven, sat on the edge of the table in front of you, standing still and waiting for you, whilst basking in the shade given by the umbrella hung up.
You sat outside alone, hoping to be given the peace of quietness on this island you passed by,
but of course, being the only child of the strongest swordsman in the world and a Warlord, you definitely weren’t going to be allowed that.
Dracule Mihawk..
Dracule [Name]..
You despised the name.
You absolutely hated everything that made you related to the infamous swordsman.
It seemed obvious to you as well, that Mihawk despised being related to you. Being your father.
There was never a time where Mihawk would venture away from his castle and not be questioned about you. About his thoughts on your growing strength and fame in the New World.
Same with you. You weren’t sure how news even came out that you were related to him, considering the amount of effort you put to cut ties with him.
Yet people knew, and people asked questions. Lots and lots of questions. Irritation grew easily with you when Mihawk’s name was heard at all.
Even Marines were getting involved with you, even if you weren’t a pirate.
Just merely a traveler, attacking both pirates and marines that stood in your way and to cure boredom.
You never were and never will be given a normal life.
“... Let’s get going, Karasu. Before we get kicked out for scaring customers away.”
The caw of your raven was heard and you smile slightly, the corner of your lip twitching upward as you let him rest on your shoulder before standing up.
Glancing down at your reflection in the small teacup, your lips curl back down into a slight frown, seeing the resemblance indeed, to your father.
“Tch.”
You poured the tea onto the ground and slammed the cup on the table, sucessfully shattering it.
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The mutterings didn’t stop. Not that you expected them to. But it was irritating.
Didn’t these people have anything better to do then constantly talk and gossip about you, right in front of you no less?
“Should we get going to our next trip?” You mumble, walking around the coast of the island you were on, needing some peace from the citizens in town.
Mindlessly wandering, your thoughts were interrupting by a messenger bird.
( I forgot what it’s called— it’s not a news coo right? )
Karasu cawed at it, the messenger bird cawing back as it flew down towards you, and dropped an item into your hands.
“A delivery? From who?”
It was a letter, along with a eternal pose.
To Kuraigana Island.
Immediately recognizing the name, your grip tightened on the item, frustration and even anger quickly building up at you at the sight of it.
Leaving it alone for the moment, your eyes turn to the letter.
No signature or anything of the sorts. Just your name.
“[Name].”
Scoffing slightly, you carefully held the eternal pose and opened the letter and read it, the smallest part of your praying it wasn’t what you thought.
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“[Name].
I heard you were in the area. I apologize that I cannot come see you in person, as I am occupied with other matters. However, I’d like to speak with you. Come to my castle and we shall discuss matters. I’ve sent you an eternal pose to guide you. Expect to see you soon.
Best Regards, Mihawk”
-
You then turn to the eternal pose, the engraving of the island name across it. You wanted to break it, destroy it completely from your sight but you couldn’t. You didn’t know why.
After disregarding you, throwing you off and pushing you aside to focus on himself, always neglecting you, why.. why did he want to patch things up now?
The whites of your knuckles were seen from how hard you were gripping the letter, nearly crumpling it.
“Tch. All these years, why now?... doesn’t even have the decency to come see me himself.. ‘other matters’..”
No matter how much you wanted to ignore the letter, to shatter the eternal pose and completely ignore your father forever.. you just couldn’t.
Something in you was demanding to see him one last time.
Either, to hear what he has to say, to finally ask him why he even had you if he wasn’t going to care for you, or perhaps shout at him for all the pain and misery you’ve been given being his child, you weren’t quite sure.
“Damn it.”
Crushing up the letter into a ball, you shove it into your pocket and glance down at the eternal pose.
You were going to visit him.
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“Holy..shit..”
Admittedly, you were in awe.
Perhaps it was because you didn’t remember much, but the island was probably one of the best things you’ve ever seen.
The appearance seemed gloomy and dark, but it was just your style. The many trees that surrounded the center of the island and the giant castle with a beautiful view, you were sure of it.
Forcing yourself to ignore the actually really cool place, you trudge forward to look at the letter in your hands, Karasu resting on your shoulder.
“It’s not that cool.. we’ll take a look around after we see what the hell he wants from me..” you could only scoff so you wouldn’t give in to the aesthetic.
But it looked really cool.
Sighing, you continue forward and finally made it to the gate fo the castle, just to find someone sitting there on the step, holding three swords.
He was laying down, panting heavily. His green hair and forehead was soaked with sweat.
Though, it seemed as if he heard you because he snapped up within seconds and held out one of his swords towards you.
“Who the hell are you?”
Your brows furrowed at the male. He seemed around your age, or maybe a bit younger. Either way, he was weird.
“Uh.. I’m here for Mihawk.” You mutter, clearly not threatened nor intimidated by him. In actuality, the swordsman was a bit taken back.
To him, you were just some guy with weird tastes in clothes, since they seem so fancy and royal, and had such a dark aura, resembling Mihawk.
“What’s your business with Hawkeye Mihawk?”
“Are you his guard dog or something?”
The swordsman only scowls are your retorted question and clicks his tongue. “I’m his apprentice, dumbass.”
It made him even more annoyed at your stupid raven constantly staring at him with its sharp eyes and cawing every few seconds towards him.
“Like I’d know that, you stupid...green-hair weirdo.” You stare at him weirdly before walking past him before he could say anything.
He started to shout a few profanities but you simply ignore him, passing a pink-haired female with an umbrella and a teddy-bear along the way, but you paid no mind to her or her stares and calls.
Rubbing your temple, you started to question your choice of coming, and your ‘father’s’ choice of apprentice and his pink-haired girlfriend, you were assuming.
Looking around the hall as you walk, you just sigh and admired the interior design whilst muttering on how the hell you were supposed to know which room he was in.
Feeling lost, you groan a bit, turning to Karasu. “Karasu, should we just go? I have no idea where the hell I am.”
Finding a door, you walk over to it and open it abruptly, pushing it open just to find the person you were looking for.
The noise made Mihawk look up from his book in his hand and he stands up almost immediately when he realizes who it was.
“...”
“...”
You two just stared at each other, unable to say anything. Unable to handle the silence, you just turned and went to walk out, until he spoke.
“[Name].”
It nearly made you jump but you, fortunately, didn’t.
Slowly turning back, Mihawk gestures to the couch with the tilt of his head, before going over to a table drawer.
Whatever he was doing, you ignored as you reluctantly close the door behind you but let Karasu outside of the room to wait.
Slowly and cautiously, you went over to the couch and just stood beside it, not really feeling the need to sit down.
Mihawk returns, clutching a small wrapped box in his hand.
“...how was the journey? Did you come across any unwanted miscreants?”
“..naturally. It was handled with ease.. the journey was fine.” You mutter, forming your lips into a tight line as you frown.
Mihawk nods once at you and eyes your form, while you eye the box, wonder what it could be.
Then, he spoke up again. “Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not expecting any good news to result from this. Whatever you want, just say it so I can leave.”
You turn away from him, establishing the harshness and bitter feeling you felt towards him which he understood. He didn’t deserve any kindness you had to offer.
Though he didn’t voice it aloud, he was a bit impressed with how you grew up. You truly did seem like one powerful force to be reckon with, almost on the same level as himself. You had potential.
There was regret building up in him seeing you though. The fact that you grew up to be someone so strong like you were now..
.. but he didn’t aid in any of that. He wasn’t there and he couldn’t help raise you be the person you were now.
“Are you going to keep staring or start speaking?”
Though he didn’t appreciate your sass, he understood it. “I’ll get straight to the point then.”
“..I.. have no excuse for neglecting you.”
Mihawk admits, slowly taking a seat in his chair. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them.
“Other than that I’ve kept myself busy and away from you. I’ve been losing focus, settling matters on the side than focusing my attention on you.” He stood up again, gripping the box.
Your fists clenched at his words, mind recalling painful memories you’ve suppressed.
“But, before I could realize that I should be caring for you, you were already distant from me. I’ve became someone you despised even at such a young age.”
He continues, slowly stepping towards you as he holds out the wrapped box in his hand, which you slowly took.
“..You dress nice.” He nods at the outfit, appreciating the look. “I’ve had Shanks ask me if I had a son, since he’s also seen you on the news lately. I made sure he’d remember that you are my daughter.”
He didn’t judge you for looking so masculine. He accepted who you are as a person.
Finally stepping in front of you, gently placing a hand onto your shoulder.
“...Mi hija...I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He states firmly, looking down at you. You look up at him, trying to stay calm but it wasn’t working.
“But I’d like to be back into your life, a different way than the first time. However, I understand if you refuse it. Whatever you choose, I shall respect and go with you. I just want you happy.”
You weren’t the sentimental, emotional or sensitive type, but, tears slowly brimmed your eyes hearing him.
You hated the familiar ache in your chest, it pounding inside you and felt like it was ripping you to pieces..., yet, you weren’t angry.
Happy? He wanted you to be happy?... what did feeling happy feel like? Was the thought of finally having this father figure back into your life after missing it for so long, a reason to be happy?
Quietly, you just look down at the box that has your name written over it.
Opening it, you lift the top up and saw the all too familiar necklace inside. A gasp escaped your lips as you look up at Mihawk, realizing what it was and you whispered out.
“You’re giving this to me?” There was a hint of confusion and skepticism in your tone.
Mihawk nods. “I’m handing it down to you.”
Carefully, you lift up the mini cross and pull out the blade inside it and poked your finger, seeing it pricking the skin with ease and blood trickling down.
It was the real thing. And it was just as amazing as you always expected.
You close it back up and set it down onto the table beside you, forcing yourself to contain your excitement.
Though you hated him, you often saw photos of him and saw his familiar cross. Even when you were younger, his mini blade in his cross was extremely cool to you and you always wanted it.
And now he was giving it to you.
“Father, I..”
“I’m aware I may not have been the best father. But I plan on being a good one from now on.. if you’ll allow me to.” Seeing how serious and stoic his expression was, made your tears start to stream down your cheeks.
You were silent for a minute.
“..why now?”
It was all you could ask, you wiping your tear-stained cheeks as you look down, uncertain of how you should react.
How could you react?
Were you willing to give this man a second chance into your life, after he blatantly ignored you the first time?
Or were you going to reject the opportunity of finally experiencing what having a father was like?
Mihawk stares at you for a moment, an unreadable expression across his face before he closed his eyes. “..I’ve been watching you through the news, watching your bounty grow.. I.. I’m proud of how far you’ve come and how much you’ve grown.”
Your eyes widened.
Proud?
Tears streamed down your cheeks faster, your shutting your eyes tightly. You’ve never had someone say they were proud of you for something.
And even if Mihawk was barely in your life, the fact that he was your real father and trying to get back into your life... hearing him say he was proud of you just hit different. It snapped something in you.
“I hate you...”
Mihawk was a bit taken back but showed no emotion, slowly closing his eyes as he accepted your decision.
“I hate you for not being there for me. For not being my father when I needed you.. for leaving me alone for [—] years. For focusing more on yourself than your own child.”
He listened to every word, feeling a small pang in his heart with each statement but remained silent for you.
“But..”
You stare at him with teary eyes and a strained expression. “I’m so happy.. I’m so happy you’re changing.. to bring yourself back into my life.”
Mihawk widens his eyes just slightly, feeling an unknown heavy weight lifting off of his shoulders.
And he certainly didn’t expect you to wrap your arms around his waist tightly and hug him.
Though he was a bit uncomfortable since it was so sudden, and he wasn’t the affectionate type all too much, he quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms back around you.
“Thank you..father..”
“I should be thanking you, [Name].. for giving me a chance to be your father once more.”
His comment only made you lean closer into his touch as you shut your eyes tightly, sniffles being heard from you and staining his shirt.
But he didn’t care. Mihawk was happy. Happy to have you back into his life, and getting a second chance at fatherhood.
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bonus :
Perona and Zoro peek into the room from the door and watch the two hugging in the center of the room. On top of Zoro’s head sat your raven, using his hair as a nest.
“So who the hell is that?” Zoro bluntly questions and Perona flicked his head and hissed to shut him up, successfully making him quiet.
“That’s his kid, you moron!” She whispers out harshly to him as she turns back to the two.
“Why the hell is his kid here?” Zoro mutters quietly, rubbing his head, but he only received a smack.
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A/N : ooc~ also wth, this is so much longer than intended— and ugh I told myself to keep it short and do headcannons so I have more time to post but ahhhhhhh ;-; this is a little rushed too~ TuT
Also let me know which way is better for posting fics. Answering it in a ask or posting it as a separate post and copying / pasting the request like so? ^ thank you!
god, I’m so soft for some platonic relationships right now, like, I’m thinking about making an event for that, when it’s near March. But I’m already doing an event for my birthday AND White Day, in March so idk :((
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