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andypantsx3 · 4 years

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if i could keep cool | 3

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Things did not go back to normal.

You’d opened the door Tuesday morning, expecting the usual empty apartment for your next shift. Only, Todoroki had been there again, stretched out on his couch, a book in hand and what looked like an empty tea mug perched on the coffee table next to him. He was in a pair of dark slacks and another soft looking button up, rolled up at the elbows, and he did not look like he was planning on going anywhere.

“Oh, um, is now not a good time?” you asked, freezing in the doorway.

Todoroki looked up from his book, and you took a surprised step back. Damn, he was handsome. Apparently the weekend had dimmed your memory of just how handsome.

“I have the day off,” he said in his low, even tone. “I hope I won’t be in your way.”

You stared. “Oh, no. Just...uh, do your thing.”

He nodded, and you ducked down under the sink to grab your supplies again, then beat a hasty retreat to start in his bedroom while he wasn’t in it. It felt weird being in his room when he was just outside, but you powered through your usual checklist of items, making his bed, sweeping the floor, and wiping down all the furniture. When you got to the ensuite, you couldn’t help but check around for evidence of a secret lover, now that it was a hot topic of discussion, but didn’t find much beyond his sparse collection of toiletries.

It was disappointing that you’d been subjected to so much for a rumor that apparently wasn’t even true.

When you made it back to the kitchen, Todoroki was already there, seated at the island like he meant to talk to you again.

You startled and fumbled the disinfectant. “W-will I be in your way?”

He watched you evenly, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “I did tell you I planned on protecting my countertops.”

You let out a shocked laugh, delighted he’d remembered your conversation from last week. “We’ll see about that, hero. I have my ways.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not to worry, I have a backup plan if careful supervision fails.”

You looked at him curiously, and he produced a thin package in plain brown paper, sliding it across the granite at you like money in a television drug deal. He looked so suspiciously blank while he did it, the whole move almost made you want to laugh.

You settled for staring instead, wondering what he wanted you to do with the package. Were you supposed to put it somewhere? He sensed your confusion and gestured at it with one long-fingered hand.

“For you," he said. "A bribe to ensure the safety of my kitchen surfaces. It seemed to work last time.”

Oh, he meant the tulips. Had he really gotten you something else? Did he really still feel that guilty?

You smiled and waved a brash hand at him. “Oh! You don’t--that isn’t, I mean--you don’t need to give me anything. I meant what I said about calling it even.”

Then you remembered another unnecessary gift he’d given you and stuck your hand in your back pocket, fishing out the leftover tip from last time. “Oh, also this! You gave me too much last time. I took the amount your manager usually leaves.”

Todoroki looked at you strangely. You knew from your ventures on the internet that he was about your age, but he had this way of looking at you like he’d spent a hundred years traveling the world and still found you to be the strangest thing he’d encountered in it. You flushed pink.

“I was given to understand that there were vegetables in need of buying,” he said simply.

You pushed the money at him. “Yeah, which I can do with my normal amount, Todoroki. This is like buy a whole farmer’s market worth of vegetable money.”

He stared blankly at you. “I intended for you to keep it.”

You stared back. Of course he had intended that, but it wasn’t the right amount. Did he not understand how money worked? Why was he being like this?

Todoroki pushed both the package and the money back at you, fixing you with one of the most intent looks you’d ever been on the receiving end of. You felt your cheeks darken. “Last time...I don’t believe we introduced ourselves when we agreed to start over.”

You peered at him curiously. The conversation change seemed abrupt, and strange, like he was trying to distract you from arguing any further. Were you making him uncomfortable?

“Shouto,” he held out a large, long-fingered hand, like he intended for you to shake it.

You reached out hesitantly. His hand was warm, rough with callouses, and something shivery went down your spine when he closed his hand around yours. “Um, Y/N,” you supplied.

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself, and the sound of your name in his mouth fed the weird, shivery feeling. You pulled your hand away from his, and turned to the opposite counter to hide your face from him. God, was it impossible for you to keep your cool around him? Why were you so embarrassing?

Todoroki seemed undeterred by your sudden shyness, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as you worked your way through his kitchen. You wondered at his determination to speak to you, when in the media he seemed so aloof and kind of reclusive. His tone was quiet, and his manner fairly obtuse, as expected, but compared to what you’d heard of him previously, he seemed much kinder.

Todoroki surprised you even further by following up on topics from your previous conversation, which was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that everything he asked about seemed so normal and boring. You wondered why he’d even bothered to ask about the paper you’d complained about last time, when he spent his days literally fighting super villains. Papers were evil, sure, but nothing on the level of actual villains.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, when you failed to respond to his question about your paper.

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just--surprised that you would ask, is all. Hearing about university has to be boring after everything you do all day.”

You were surprised by a low laugh. “Not really. I’d never considered going--being a hero was all I’d ever given thought to. It’s all my friends ever considered as well. It's...interesting to talk about something that isn't villains or attacks or strategy.”

You thought this over. “Still, though. It can hardly be what you actually want to talk about.”

“It’s...relaxing,” Todoroki allowed. “Thinking about something that is so different from what I do. It’s...nice.”

You thought on this. You couldn’t tell if he was just being nice or if he truly meant it, as he was kind of hard to get a read on, but you supposed if he was telling the truth, you could humor him. Maybe it really was nice to take a break from heroics, to explore other topics of conversation that didn’t carry the weight of human lives on them.

“Well if you really want to know, then my paper’s almost finished,” you said. “The cranky roommate was distracting all weekend so I spent Sunday churning it out in a coffee shop. The fancy one near campus with the nice beans, so it was actually a pretty good time.”

He asked the name of it, and you gave it, wondering if he was into coffee too. He didn’t look like a coffee guy, but then it was hard to tell anything with him. He was so unlike anything you’d expected him to be.

Things got weird again when you finally worked your way over to the island where he’d apparently pushed the money and the brown paper package even closer to you. You stared down at them.

“I’d like for you to accept them,” Todoroki said firmly, once he noticed you looking.

“I didn’t get you anything,” you said, feeling strangely squirmish. “I thought we agreed we’d call it even.”

The look on his face told you he’d agreed to no such thing.

“They’re not apologies,” he said simply. “They’re gifts.”

You looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate any more than that, and your sense of confusion only swelled. What was this all about, really? Was this normal for him? You wondered at the strangeness of the situation you’d found yourself in, and had a hard time concluding what the right thing to do was. Eventually, however, you took a tentative step closer to the counter. Your curiosity about what was in the package was gradually overwhelming your good sense and confusion. Maybe you could accept that and leave the money?

You said as much to him. “This is---really nice of you. I do mean what I said about the tip, though. I can’t accept that,” you mourned the lost vegetables, “but, um, I will accept this? If that’s okay?”

Todoroki looked like he wanted to argue, but at your pointed look, he seemed to reconsider, watching you evenly with those heterochromatic eyes. “Very well,” he said by way of acknowledgement, but something in his tone told you this wasn’t over.

You eyed him. He might be a pro hero and have cash to fling around, but you weren’t a push over. If he thought he’d get his way by arguing more, he was in for a rude awakening. You apparently had no reservations about telling one of the world’s most famous heroes to go fuck himself if pressed. He wasn’t going to win this battle either.

Slowly, you turned back to the brown paper package, carefully sliding a nail under the tape and unwrapping carefully. A fresh copy of your favorite author’s newest book stared up at you, and you couldn’t help the way your fingers clenched down possessively. Oh no.

You gaped at Todoroki. “What--?”

He looked kind of smug, like he knew just how much you liked it. “You mentioned it, last time. You said you liked reading but didn’t have the budget for books during the semester.”

Christ, had he actually been listening the whole damn time? First the vegetables and your paper, and now this? What the hell else had you said to him? What was the fastest way to cause a concussion and make him forget it all? Was this a good enough reason for joining the witness protection program?

“Todoroki, I can’t accept this,” you said.

“You said you would,” he replied. “Am I to assume you lied to me?”

Your mouth dropped open. Was he...teasing you? It was almost impossible to tell with that controlled expression and tone...but there was a glint in his eye that spoke volumes. You’d seen it before, mostly in drunk friends who were about to make mischief. Who would have thought that the notoriously deadpan number four hero had it in him?

“I’m serious,” you said. “This is too much. I loved the flowers, but you seriously don’t need to get me stuff. I know you said they’re gifts but they feel like apologies and I really don’t want that.”

Todoroki watched you closely, then rifled a hand through that red and white mop of hair. “I propose a trade for it, then, if you won’t accept it as a gift.”

You peered at him in curiosity.

“You will call me Shouto in return,” he said.

You let out a flat laugh. “That’s hardly an even deal. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he replied, something like annoyance flecking his deep tone. He took a breath. “But one other condition, then, if you insist.”

You wondered what else he would ask for if his first request had been so ridiculous. Your first born child, maybe? A dress spun of moonlight? For you to solve these riddles three?

“Your phone number,” he said. “I’d like to text you.”

You gaped at him. He wanted what now?

“Todoroki, a name and a phone number are not payment for a gift like this,” you said slowly, trying to ignore the way your brain was rapidly entering what the fuck mode. He couldn’t be serious. “You need to trade for something you’d actually like.”

“Have you considered,” he said, “that I might like to be your friend?”

You stopped short. Oh that was...so straightforward. And also kind of nice? And also really cute?

You suddenly felt guilty for staring at him like he was a fool to ask. Was he really trying to be your friend? Was this just how deadpan rich boys did things?

“Oh, um, no,” you admitted. “I hadn’t, uh, considered. But I would like that. Being your friend.”

A slow warmth pooled in your fingertips at the idea. You did not understand this man at all, but you liked the little ironic sense of humor that sat under all the rest of it. And the way he’d apologized and had listened to your ramblings and was currently trying to befriend you was actually really sweet. You would actually like to be his friend, if that’s what he really wanted.

“Then my name and your phone number is my trade,” he said firmly.

You nodded slowly. There was a vague sense in the back of your mind like you’d just been tricked somehow, but you didn’t explore it. He’d seemed straightforward enough...right?

He handed off his phone to you for you to plug your number in, and you wondered wildly what your life was now, and what exactly Shouto Todoroki thought the two of you were going to text about.

Todoroki also hovered over you as you added him to your contacts, making sure he displayed as his first name specifically, and you laughed. “What if I know another Shouto?”

“Then you can change his contact to his family name,” Todoroki said dryly.

You huffed a laugh. Straightforward was definitely the right word for him.

After that, you fell into a somewhat easier conversation, buoyed by the knowledge that Todoroki intended to make friends. He asked you more about your life as a student, particularly interested in your thoughts on the books you’d read for lecture, your impressions of your professors this year, and your schedule and favorite haunts between classes.

In return, he shared details of his own work, stories of his time at UA, and details on some of his friends whose personal effects you’d seen around his apartment. It was so interesting to hear about the pros from someone who actually knew them personally, and it gave them dimension you would have never assigned to them yourself. It was certainly news to you that Katsuki Bakugou was a top-tier cook and could actually stop swearing and sit still long enough to make something.

You cleaned as you talked, and then found yourself lingering a little longer even after your shift had finished, enraptured by the conversation. Todoroki was so weirdly easy to talk to for someone who gave the impression of being so quiet and withdrawn, and coupled with his good looks and honest nature, it made him almost too charming.

Eventually, though, you could feel the phantom fingers of your uncompleted homework clawing at the back of your mind, and bade him a goodnight. This evening too, however, he insisted on an agency car, and moved like he would have literally shouldered the door closed on you when you started towards it before a car arrived. Then you again found yourself bundled into the back of a car, this time with a book stuffed into your hands and a vague sense of disorientation floating after you.

As you shed your jacket and backpack in the doorway of your apartment, you got a text from him as well. Goodnight, Y/N, it read, just as simple and straightforward as you would have expected from him.

You stared down at your phone for a long time, bewildered by the strange turn of events that had shaped your life these past weeks.

Shouto Todoroki had gotten you a book. Shouto Todoroki had an actual personality. Shouto Todoroki wanted to be your friend.

It seemed that after your kidnapping, returning to normal had not been an option.

If the warmth on your cheeks was any indication, you weren't so disappointed to find that out.

#shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki x reader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

* * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: alcoholism #tw: referenced death #tw: language

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the-void-i-scream-into · 3 years

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White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 2/3

Full Story: Part 1, Part 3

Hello Everyone! I hope you are all happy and healthy. Part 2 of my Junjin fanfic is finally up. Thank you so much to the beautiful and wonderful people who liked my fanfic. I am so sorry I have not been responding to your lovely comments. I had exams so I was really busy but I will get to them now. It took me a long time to post this next part because I wanted to finish both Part 2 and 3. I’ll be posting the other part too once I’ve proofread everything

As always, this chapter is dedicated to the Shooters GC (which I haven’t checked in so long, I’m so sorry) 🙈 🙈

Please do be warned, this does get a little dark. But it will pay off in Part 3, I promise.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 13.5k

Rating: T

TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the themes in this story are a little dark, specifically in section iii. Please be warned. I’ve added a summary for section iii in section iv so you can skip it if needed.

PART 2

They both spoke at the same time.

“Ya Kang Sujin…”

“Ya Han Seojun…”

“What the hell happened?”

Seojun had been in a strange state of mind all day. First it was waking up in the enemy’s bed, but that part he had completely blocked out. Then it was the massive hangover, the effects of which he was still reeling from. On top of that he had received a scolding for being late to practice, which caused him to be late to his commercial shoot, which caused him to be late for his recording session which was when he had been informed about his scandal.

Seojun normally didn’t care for rumors that spread about him. He relied on his performance to speak for itself; the people online with their uninformed opinions didn’t matter.

“But why did it have to be her?!” He had groaned when he first read the articles. But then he asked himself seriously, “Why did it have to be her?”

It all seemed too convenient. Additionally, she had been the one to drag him for drinks and then back to her apartment.

Was this another one of her schemes? What would she gain from doing this? Maybe it was because he was on to her and could see the truth about her and now she wanted him gone. Yes, it must have been that. Or was it not? Was his theory too farfetched? Maybe he was being too harsh. Maybe he was misunderstanding the situation.

Seojun felt conflicted. On the one hand, it would have been so easy to just blame Sujin and keep on hating her like he wanted to. On the other hand, he could hear Suho in his head, warning him about being too judgmental. Seojun normally trusted his instincts with everything but this time his own instincts were confused. Should be giving Sujin the benefit of the doubt?

Seojun knew that if he needed answers, he would need to go to the source.

“What the hell happened?” They both asked each other at the same time but neither had the answer.

“How the hell would I know? It was your apartment.”

“The pictures were obviously taken by someone was obsessed with you.” Sujin fumed.

“Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Then are you saying it’s mine?”

“I’m not the one who took us out drinking then brought me back home to her apartment!”

“I’m not the one with the crazy saesangs!”

“My fans are not crazy! They are way better than arrogant women with a princess complex like you!”

“Don’t call me princess.” Sujin said dangerously.

“Or what? You’ll get me drunk and back at your apartment again?”

“Ah shut up, you man-child!” Sujin hung up and Seojun flung his phone across the room where it bounced onto the couch. He was seething.

“Aish!” Seojun kicked the air.

“Did you talk to Sujin?” Heekyung’s calm voice startled Seojun.

“What? Oh, Noona.” Seojun gulped.

“How was she? Was she okay?”

“Umm…” Seojun blinked

“She must have been shaken. Facing something like this can be very upsetting.”

Seojun’s shoulders deflated. “Uh, yeah…” He hadn’t considered that.

“Did she agree to give a statement to help clear up this mess?”

Oh right, I was supposed to ask her…

Heekyung continued, “I do have good news. We’ve found the person who took the photographs. So he won’t be sharing them with anyone else.”

“You have?”

“Yes. It was unfortunate. A photographer happened to be there, just as you were leaving. He actually recognized you from your voice. Talk about having bad luck.”

Seojun frowned. So, it wasn’t Sujin.

“So will Sujin do it? We just need a simple statement. She can release a post on her socials and we’ll take care of the media articles.”

Seojun rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, I don’t think she’ll agree.” . Especially not after the blaming match that just happened. “Can’t we just clarify things on our end? Not get her involved?”

Heekyung smiled with a twinkle in her eye, “Oh I get it. You don’t want her to feel burdened.”

Seojun could tell what she was implying. “Ah-nee! Its not that at all!” His voice was pitched a little too high.

Heekyung laughed, “I’ve been at this for longer than you, Seojun-ah. You can be straight with me.”

“It’s not like that! I don’t care about Kang Sujin at all!”

But Heekyung wasn’t listening. “Just be careful. Your career has just started. You can’t afford scandals like these. People will turn against you in an instant, you know?”

Seojun swallowed. He knew all too well how people could turn against him in an instant, like the way thy did with Seyeon. But he wanted to believe that he would be able to face them.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

Heekyung nodded. “Good. Now I’ll go tell our PR team to release a statement about you and Sujin being just friends.” Seojun nodded gratefully. “I think the fact that you went to school together will help. Hopefully people will buy it when you tell them nothing happened between you two.” Heekyung winked as she walked away.

“It’s not like that!” Seojun called after her.

ii.

The situation subsided as quickly as it had risen. Move Entertainment published their official statement about how it was all a misunderstanding. That Seojun had only been visiting his friend from high school and the fact that the friend was also a mutual with rising online beauty guru Lim Jukyung helped establish the connection. Seojun had been glad that Jukyung had taken those selfies with Sujin with Seojun in the background otherwise people might have just taken the statement as an excuse.

What annoyed Seojun about the whole situation was not his reputation or the online speculation but how everyone else kept teasing him about it. This was made especially worse when they were all gathered around for drinks, including his own squad, Chorong and Co., who were eyeing Sujin with a mixture of adoration—that made them stare at her, and fear—that kept them from talking to her.

“Ooh, Han Seojun you better not drink too much or you’ll end up in Sujin’s apartment again.” Taehoon teased. Seojun gave him the death glare while Sujin made a disgusted face. Everyone else laughed.

“Guys! Don’t be mean.” Jukyung’s voice went unheard among the collective chatter.

“Han Seojun, I can see you’ve been keeping a very close eye on Kang Sujin.” Chorong whispered in his ear. Seojun elbowed his ribs.

“Pay up, Sujin didn’t kill him.” Suho asked from Suah.

“You guys had a bet?” Sujin asked icily. Seojun almost admired the scathing look Sujin gave Suho as she eyed the money being exchanged.

Suho’s and Suah��s hands froze right when they were exchanging the bills.

“No?” Suho said weakly.

“Kang Su, I bet on you okay?” Suah defended.

“Ah is that so? Well then you’re off the hook.”

Suah relaxed while Suho blinked forty times, sweating. “Kang Sujin. It was just a joke okay?”

Sujin just put her hand forward and Suho silently put the money in her hands.

“Wah, just 5 dollars? I’m worth 5 million you know.”

“Sure you are. And I’m the King of England.” Seojun said under his breath. Kang Sujin and her princess complex.

“What was that?” Sujin put her hand to her ear, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the apology you owe me.”

“What apology? I owe you nothing.” Seojun retorted, fully aware that he had actually come to this gathering to apologize to Sujin about the scandal and how he had behaved over the phone. That plan had since been abandoned.

For some reason, he could not spit out the three words ‘I am sorry’ to Kang Sujin. No matter how much he wanted to. There was just something about her that irritated him to the point of misbehavior.

Sujin clicked her tongue at Seojun but said nothing. Instead, reaching into her bag, she pulled out a notebook and a pen.

“Here, sign this.” She ordered, pushing the notebook and pen in his face.

“What is it?”

For Kang Sujin, the biggest issue from the scandal had not been the online noteriety and not even the teasing, but the fact that everyone in her office now knew that she was friends with an idol and had demanded that she get them his autographs.

“Its for my friends at work.”

“You have friends?” Seojun said with mock surprise.

“You know I was just as shocked to learn that you have actual fans. I always thought Suho was the one buying all your albums.” Sujin said.

“Of course I have fans! I am super popular you know!” Seojun defended, pulling the lapels of his jacket with pride.

“Yes I’m sure you’re veeeery popular.” Sujin’s words dripped with sarcasm. Seojun’s pride deflated like a balloon. “Just sign. And write something nice too.” She ordered. Seojun quietly picked up the notebook, not because he was nice but because he felt he owed her this much.

“You know my autographs are worth a lot of money, right?”

Sujin made a face. “Just sign the damn thing so that the girls at work stop harassing me about you.”

Seojun smiled as he signed. His fans were awesome. “How many?” He asked.

“Seven.”

He signed seven pages, each with a personalized note.

“Be nice to my fans at work.”

“I’m always nice.”

“Sure you are.” Seojun replied skeptically. He handed Sujin the notebook. “I better not find you selling these online.” He warned.

“I’d rather starve than live off of your autographs.” Sujin bit back.

“Okay, okay! No more fighting!” Jukyung pointed between the two. “Lets all enjoy our drinks in peace.” She looked pointedly at Sujin who pointed her chin at Seojun with a ‘he-started-it’ scowl.

“Han Seo, is it okay for you to meet us in public like this?” Suah asked. They weren’t in the usual private dining area that they frequented when it was just the core group of friends. They were out where everyone could see.

“We can always hang out at our place, if you want.” Suho offered. Seojun quickly shook his head. Seeing Suho and Jukyung together outside was one thing. Seeing how they lived together was quite another. Knowing they lived together was painful enough. He didn’t want even more fuel for his imagination.

“Its no trouble at all.” He put on a smile for Suho who seemed satisfied. But, to his surprise, he found Kang Sujin giving him a strange look. She chuckled to herself but said nothing.

As they all said their goodbyes, Seojun went out the back so that he could leave in privacy. He planned on taking the long route today. A bike ride would help him clear his mind.

“Han Seojun, wait up!”

He stopped just as he was about to put his helmet on. He was surprised to find Sujin there.

“What? Need more autographs?” He asked, cockily smiling.

Sujin made a sickened expression. “Not at all. I just… I had something to say.” She hesitated.

“Well say it.”

She cleared her throat. “It was neither of our faults. The scandal. It wasn’t that it was my building or your fans. It was someone shitty who didn’t respect our privacy. That’s… that’s all I wanted to say.”

Sujin waited for his response. Seojun could feel his face burning. He should have been the one to say all this to her, and yet here she was apologizing to him instead.

“I’msorryforwhathappened.” He said too quickly and too quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Seojun shoved his helmet on to hide his embarrassed face.

“Drive safe.” Sujin said.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rode away.

Kang Sujin was just glad she was able to spit out the words she had been meaning to say all night long. It had been weighing on her ever since they had spoken on the phone. She had promised herself a long time ago that she would try to be a nicer person and for the most part she had accomplished that. But that Han Seojun just had a way of bringing her old self back to the surface. And that bothered her.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She would learn how to get along with Han Seojun. It was only a matter of practice. And besides, it wasn’t as if she had to be overtly obvious about it. She just had to tolerate him.

For Jukyung. It’s for Jukyung. She would want us to get along, she lied to herself. The truth was, that Kang Sujin believed that she didn’t have a choice.

Everyone loved Han Seojun, even her best friends who had never paid much attention to him back in high school. It was all because Sujin had been absent for so long. She had missed a huge part of everyone’s lives while Han Seojun had been there for all of it.

Sujin wondered whether, if it came to choosing between her and Seojun, they would choose her. A part of her believed they wouldn’t.

She had made such a mess of things before and left things unresolved for too long. She was certain that things would never go back to the way they had been, not fully anyway. There would always be a part of them that wouldn’t trust her. And there would always be a part of her that would be heavy with guilt.

“Ah-nee-ya.” She reassured herself. “I don’t need to worry about this.”

She was glad that the whole matter of being mistaken as Han Seojun’s girlfriend had been settled. She laughed at the very idea.

“Me and Han Seojun dating. Ah, how funny.”

Sujin had heard of horror stories about how such scandals ruined people’s lives and got them shunned by society. Thank fully, none of that had happened. Her precious peace was safe again.

Sujin could see her future now; a life where she worked hard at her non-profit, where she shared dinners and lunches with her friends and laughed about the old days, where she wasn’t told she wasn’t good enough, where she did what she wanted instead of being forced to do what her father wanted. Yes, Kang Sujin could see her like ahead—a life where she was finally happy.

iii.

At first Sujin thought she was being paranoid. But her co-workers seemed to be acting stand-offish with her, with some outright avoiding her. They weren’t replying to her as enthusiastically they used to and were having hushed conversations that immediately stopped when she approached them. They even made plans for lunch without including her.

“Is something wrong?” Sujin asked one of them.

“Not at all. Shall we get to work?” It sounded more like a snub than reassurance.

Sujin also felt the hairs on her neck rise from time to time, as if she could feel someone watching her. But when she turned around, everyone would look away.

Convincing herself that it was all in her head, Sujin ignored it and went on with her work.

But then it happened again at the convenience store. She heard her name being said in whispers behind her. When she turned, she found a couple of teenagers quickly putting away their phone. Despite the anxiety bubbling in her stomach, Sujin dismissed the incident and went home.

Normally after a long day at work, Sujin would throw her phone away, have dinner while watching TV, shower and go to sleep. But today had been strange and she was feeling out of sorts. She needed a distraction to help her calm down.

So, after a shower, she settled back on her couch with her dinner and her phone. Jukyung normally posted a new make-up tutorial by this day of the week. Sujin loved watching her transform herself from an ordinary looking girl to a stunning beauty, while explaining each step.

To Kang Sujin, Jukyung was an artist who used her face as a canvas. Sujin herself had learned a lot just from watching Jukyung. She was excited about what she would learn today.

Sujin dismissed the dozens of Instagram notifications on her phone. Suah was always tagging her and messaging her about some post or the other. Sujin would get to them later. As Sujin searched for Jukyung’s channel, her Instagram notifications kept dinging. She put it on mute and played the video.

This time, Jukyung was giving a tutorial on American style makeup and how it was different from Korean style. Sujin grinned all the way through the video as Jukyung talked through her tutorial. Sujin scrolled through the comments as she watched.

My beauty Queen! I love you!

I tried your winged liner look and was able to finally do it for myself. Thank you.

I use the exact same foundation but it doesn’t work for my skin. But looks great on you. <3

You didn’t mention the eyeliner you used here. Can you please add it in the description?

This is why I have trust issues. She looks like a completely different person. This is fraud.

Sujin frowned at the last comment. “She looks beautiful either way.” She said angrily aloud as she typed it in, punching the buttons as if she could punch the commentor. Sujin scrolled further.

Who else came here after reading the Soompi article?

This comment had a lot of likes and comments. Maybe Jukyung was getting famous enough to be reported by entertainment websites now. Sujin smiled proudly.

Lim Jukyung, yours is the best makeup channel here!

Saranghae unnie

I was so sad to learn that you were bullied as a kid. So glad that you’ve found success now.

Sujin swallowed thickly. It would always bother her to know that she had once exploited Jukyung’s past bullying for her own gain. The fact that she had once contributed to her bullying would always fuel Sujin’s self hatred. She was just glad that Jukyung had moved on from her past and had become confident in herself. And more so, had found a community online that adored her.

As Sujin scrolled down some more, she noticed that most of the comments were talking about how Jukyung was a survivor of bullying.

“Mwo-ya…”

Wow, I had no idea this girl was so brave. Bravo!!!

I’m a survivor of bullying too. Its nice to know I’m not alone.

I bet her bully is watching this now and regretting what they did.

I don’t watch makeup tutorials. Came here cuz of the bullying scandal. But stayed cuz she is so good.

The last comment made Sujin stop. “Bullying scandal?”

Sujin went to Naver and searched for scandals involving Lim Jukyung. The first few links were Jukyung’s most popular videos but beneath that were a slew of articles from slanderous gossip sites.

Girl from Han Seojun Scandal Turns Out to be a Bully

Online Star Lim Jukyung Gets Involved in Han Seojun Scandal

Han Seojun’s Alleged Girlfriend was a Bully in High School

“What?!” Sujin stood up on her feet in shock. With shaking hands, she went through the articles one by one. Somehow, someone had uncovered the post from her high school community page that had revealed what she had done to Jukyung. Except they had gotten their facts mixed up and had reported that Sujin had been the one to bully Lim Jukyung about her looks.

That girl is so despicable.

Han Seojun is hanging out with a girl like her? I can’t believe it. I actually used to like him.

I bet this girl seduced Oppa. Don’t dislike him!

I am so glad they’re not actually dating.

Her face is so evil. And she’s uglier than Lim Jukyung!

I bet Han Seojun was fooled by her. She feels like the type who uses her looks to manipulate men.

People like her should kill themselves.

Guys! I found her Inssa!

It really is her! This is authentic!

The room began to close in on Sujin. She immediately opened Instagram where her account was flooded with comments and direct messages from people either telling her to kill herself or threatening to kill her.

Her heart was beating so fast it felt like she would throw it up. She was equal parts shaken and angry. So many people were after her but she hated that these people felt they had a right to treat her this way.

Sujin opened up the messages on Instagram and began firing back to her haters, starting with the most recent messages.

Get off of my account before I report you.

No thanks, I’m not going to kill myself.

Threatening me will only get you sued.

You don’t have to follow me if you don’t like me.

“These assholes think they can bully me online? Well, they’ve got another thing coming.” Sujin growled through clenched teeth as she typed away with all her anger.

I did not bully her!

I made a mistake!

I apologized!

People immediately started responding.

You’re not even going to admit your mistake?

OMG! I can’t believe you actually replied!

Are you honestly defending what you did?

You can’t talk like that to me! I’m going to tell everyone you’re a total b****

How can you be so audacious after you bullied someone? Just kill yourself.

Do us all a favor and kill yourself.

Kill yourself.

KILL YOURSELF.

Sujin screamed in frustration and threw her phone away. It smashed into the wall and landed with a sickening thud. Her hands suddenly felt clammy. Clammy and sticky and sweaty and dirty, dirty, dirty. So dirty that they smelled.

She ran into the bathroom and furiously scrubbed her hands clean. Once, twice, three times. No matter how many times she washed or how hard she scrubbed, the dirty stench of the hate she had just received wouldn’t wash off.

Her hands became all red and felt raw and exposed. But she kept on washing till she ran out of soap. She fell to the floor, suddenly weak and exhausted. The cool tiles felt nice and it was then that she noticed how hot she felt.

Calm down. I have to calm down. She breathed in, then out. In, then out. She could hear her heart in her ears. Pounding and pounding. The walls were closing in. The messages on her Instagram suddenly had voices that shouted in her mind.

Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself.

A ringing broke through it all. First Sujin thought it was in her head but no, it was from the living room.

Her cellphone. Lim Jukyung was calling.

How could she face Jukyung? What would she say to her? Wouldn’t Jukyung say the same as everyone else?

Sujin cut the call. Notifications from Instagram were still coming in. She deactivated her account and deleted the app.

Lim Jukyung’s name lit up her phone again.

She turned it off and flopped down on her sofa, head pounding.

Her fragile little hope for a good life was now shattered completely. She could hear her father now. Hear him yell at her that she was useless, that she was pathetic, that she was stupid and inferior. Unable to beat even Lee Suho.

Kill yourself.

Her father had never told her this, but he might as well have. Even now it was his voice saying it over and over in her mind. It was his angry stare she felt on her back.

How would she face people now? People would hate her now that they knew what she had done. And her co-workers…. Of course they knew. That’s why everyone had been acting so strange.

This all felt so cruel and unfair. She had been so good these past couple of years. She didn’t want all of it to just be taken away like this.

But didn’t you do the same thing to Jukyung? Her father’s voice taunted. She was a good person too, wasn’t she? You’re nothing but a piece of trash.

I bet you think that you destroyed Lim Jukyung, Seojun’s voice said, but you’ve only destroyed yourself.

iv.

SUMMARY of iii: Because of the Han Seojun scandal, people find out about the community post that revealed what Sujin had done to Jukyung and people online start thinking that Sujin bullied Jukyung. They harrass her and it becomes a scandal of its own.

It was chaos at Move Entertainment.

“What the hell happened?! You told me you settled this!” The director threw a magazine in Heekyung’s face. Seojun saw this through the glass door and barged in.

“Is that how you treat your employees?” He demanded angrily.

“Get out. Get. Him. Out! Get him out of this company for good measure!”

Heekyung pushed Seojun out before he could do anything else, dragging him as far away as possible. “Don’t be an idiot. You can’t just barge in like that.”

“But he’s being an asshole. Should I just stand around and let you take it?”

“This is the adult world Han Seojun. Actions have consequences here.” Heekyung said reasonably. “And you’re the reason he’s so mad. A bullying scandal is serious. We’ve even publicly acknowledged that you and Sujin are friends. This doesn’t reflect well on you.”

“The articles are lying. Sujin didn’t bully Jukyung in high school. She just—”

“I know exactly what she did. You think I don’t know about what happened to my own sister?” For a brief moment, Heekyung’s professional demeanor slipped into anger. But she recovered quickly. “It infuriates me that my sister’s past is being brought up like this. But I have a job to do and I need you to cooperate with me. Okay?”

Seojun exhaled. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing. The situation will sort itself out. You will need to keep a low profile, however.”

Seojun exhaled. “Noona, we need to set the record straight. Sujin is—”

“Sujin isn’t represented by Move, you are. None of us here can do anything about what is happening to her.”

Seojun clenched his jaw. “Have you seen what is being said about her?”

Heekyung looked away. “Its not like I enjoy saying this. I’m only telling you what I was told when I made the same request. She’s not represented by us. She’s not our concern.”

“Was Seyeon not your concern either?”

Heekyung had nothing to say to that. “I have to go back in. You stay here, arachi? Don’t do anything rash and…” she yanked Seojun’s phone from his hand.

“Ah!” Seojun tried to get it but Heekyung had the phone out of reach.

“I’m keeping this for now.” She said and left.

Seojun exclaimed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. Despite the animosity he had towards Kang Sujin, this kind of exposure to such vitriol online didn’t sit well with him. Kang Sujin deserved a lot of things, but she didn’t deserve this.

He knew Sujin was tough. But this kind of incident would make anyone crumble. He just hoped she didn’t do anything stupid.

“Sujin-ah. Can you explain your side of things?”

Of course her office had heard about everything. Apparently her past misdeeds were a trending topic online. Her supervisor had called her in as soon as Sujin had shown up.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Her supervisor asked.

Sujin inhaled, “When I was in high school, I fell in love with a boy. But he had a girlfriend… she was a friend of mine. I got jealous… and petty. I published an unflattering video of her on our school’s online community. She had been bullied in her previous school because of her looks. So the video was especially traumatizing to her. I was responsible for what happened in Saebom High, but I wasn’t involved in anything that happened before that.”

Sujin looked at her hands, still red and raw, “I have made up with her since then. I’ve apologized. We’re both friends now. And I’m not a teenager anymore.”

Something stung Sujin’s hand. Water droplets? No, tears. She hadn’t noticed when she had started crying. But she kept her face straight even when the tears didn’t stop. She looked at her supervisor.

“I am ashamed of what I did. If I could take it all back… you have no idea what I would do to take it all back.” Sujin furiously wiped away her tears. She hated crying in front of anyone. “I love working here. I really do.”

Even as she was saying the words, she knew what was coming. Of course her company wouldn’t keep her on. Even non-profits couldn’t afford bad reputations and the fact that Move Entertainment had worked with her company for a lot of benefits hadn’t escaped her notice either.

“Sujin-ah.” Her co-worker said, peeking from the cubicle wall as Sujin packed up her things.

“What?”

“I never thanked you. For getting me Han Seojun’s signature.” The woman said meekly.

Sujin gave a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

The woman handed her a bunch of sticky notes. “These are goodbyes from everyone. We know you’re not getting a farewell party so we thought you should have our thoughts with you.”

Sujin looked down at the brightly colored notes that contained encouraging messages from some of her co-workers. Her dismissal had been so swift that she hadn’t even been given the chance to say anything.

“If its worth anything… I don’t believe any of it.”

Sujin smiled gratefully this time. “Thanks, Chulhee-yah. I appreciate it.”

vi.

Sujin was both grateful and surprised by how much her friends had reached out. Apparently they had showed up to her place multiple times to see if she was okay, given that she was not answering any of her calls. Sadly, Sujin had not been there to receive them. She had gone to her aunt’s place to get away from everything.

That had not proved to be a good idea.

“Have. You. Lost. Your. Mind!!” Each word was punctuated with a smack from a slipper. Her mother, the once elegant and graceful Mrs. Kang, chased her daughter around in the most inelegant and ungraceful manner. Mrs. Kang’s sister tried to save Sujin by stepping in between but Mrs. Kang still managed to get a few whacks in.

“How could you let a boy stay over at your place?!”

“Omma! That’s what you choose to focus on?!”

“Yes! How could you have disgraced your family this way? And not just any boy, an idol? What the hell were you doing with an idol? Come here.”

This was one fight Sujin would never win. Her mother was not a force of reason when she was this angry. And it took a lot for her to get this angry.

Sujin didn’t mind these smacks. They came from a place of love and worry. Eventually her mother calmed down enough to address the other issue with Sujin. She took her daughter in her arms and wailed.

“How could those people be so mean to my daughter?”

“Omma, I can’t breathe.” Her mother smushed Sujin to herself.

“My poor girl. My poor baby girl.”

In the end, Sujin was glad she had come back to her aunt’s place. It gave her the break she had needed. Away from all of the noise of her online haters, Sujin found she could finally breathe. She found great comfort in her mother’s arms and her aunt’s assurances her that everything would be fine.

However, the dread of returning to her normal life still loomed over her head. Sujin felt her throat close up every time she imagined going back to her apartment. Would the people point and laugh at her on the street? Would she be able to live a normal life from now on?

It was strange how deeply all of this had affected her. Even now, as Sujin walked from the grocery store to her aunt’s house, she felt the paranoia that people were talking about her, pointing and laughing, even though they weren’t.

“Sujin-ah.”

And now it felt like they were actually calling out to her.

“Kang Su!”

Sujin turned in surprise, ready to fight whoever had called her. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think? It’s Jukyungie! ” A human mass known as Lim Jukyung ran towards Kang Sujin with arms wide open. The girls hugged each other tightly, Jukyung grinning with her gummy smile while Sujin stood, mouth open in shock.

Not far behind, were Suah and Taehoon.

“Ya Kang Su, at least answer your phone! Do you know how worried I was?” Suah scolded.

Sujin laughed, almost tearing up. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had feared that her friends would turn away and curse at her after she had avoided them. But here they were, all gathered just for her.

“How’d you find me?” She asked the three. They all turned to Suho who stood there smiling.

“Hey Sujin. Have you been well?”

Of course, Suho knew where her aunt lived.

“What well? You all know what happened.” Sujin replied, not bothering to pretend that she was fine.

“Ya! What have you done to your hands.” Jukyung held up Sujin’s scabby hands with worry.

“It’ll heal.” Sujin smiled. Maybe it was the massive hug she had received, or the fact that her friends had traveled so far away to meet her, but suddenly, Sujin felt relieved. It was as if the entire situation was trivial and that she could see light at the end of the tunnel.

“Of course we know what happened.” Suho replied.

“And we know exactly how to fix it.” Jukyung grinned wider.

vii.

On the screen, in front of a ring light she had set up at her home, Lim Jukyung stood with a gummy smile and a warm welcome.

“Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. This is Lim Jukyung here with a new make up tutorial for all of my beautiful viewers. Uh, today I have a new kind of tutorial for you all. But before we begin, there is something that I think has been on all of our minds that needs to be addressed.”

Jukyung motioned to someone standing behind the camera to come forward. Kang Sujin entered the frame awkwardly, not knowing where exactly to look. The way Jukyung had set up her studio for this live event was to have the camera, the mirror with the ring light and her laptop screen facing her so that she could do her make up while also reading the comments. And while Jukyung was used to having all of this equipment focused on her, Sujin was not.

“Introduce yourself.” Jukyung said softly, nudging Sujin with her elbow.

“Ah, yes.” Sujin cleared her throat. “Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.” She waved robotically while staring in the camera like a deer caught in the headlights.

Jukyung couldn’t help but laugh. “Ya, Kang Su, are you afraid of the camera?”

“Ah-neeeee, it’s just so unnatural.” Sujin quickly countered.

“Don’t worry, the camera doesn’t bite.” Jukyung put an arm around her friend’s waist. “Okay everyone now that my friend Kang Sujin is here we can talk about the recent—”

“Lim Ju, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Sujin interrupted anxiously.

“Huh? But it’s already live.” Jukyung pointed at the camera.

“What?” Sujin on in panic.

Jukyung continued, “So everyone, as you all may have heard, Sujin and I went to the same high school together. However, before that I attended another high school where I was bullied for my looks. Sujin and I did not know each other back then and she had nothing to do with that part of my life so the allegations that she bullied me are completely false. That was another person and that person is no longer in my life.”

Sujin cut in, “However, it is true that I revealed Jukyung’s past to our school and posted an unflattering video of her online.”

Jukyung nodded, looking serious. “I won’t lie and say it was easy for me to have that happen. But… both of us have changed since then. We have grown up and grown past that time.”

The girls took each other’s hands in solidarity.

Jukyung continued, “I’m not the girl I used to be. Neither is Sujin. And while she did do something wrong… I’ve forgiven her. I would rather remember the good times we shared…” The time that Sujin caught that pervert, the time she helped rescue Jukyung from those kidnappers, the time she helped hide Jukyung’s bare face at the school trip. “There are things that I wish I had done differently too. I wish had been more confident in myself and honest about who I really was. I wish I had stood up for myself earlier. But the past is the past, and I would rather focus on the present.”

“Everyone, I am grateful for all of the love and support you showed to me. I know bullying isn’t something you get over easily and I saw a lot of you comment about the bullying that you suffered. I am grateful you shared your stories with me. I hope we can take this opportunity to help each other heal rather than put someone down.” Jukyung looked at Sujin. “Now you.”

Sujin recited nervously, “Ah. Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.”

Jukyung giggled. “We’ve done that already.”

“Oh, yes. Um… I uh…” Sujin took a pause to collect herself. “Let me be the first to say that I’m not a nice person—”

“Yah!” Jukyung protested but Sujin carried on.

“But I’m also not the girl who posted that video about her best friend, not anymore. At that time… I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung. I have regretted doing that every single day since it happened. I am sorry. I understand everyone’s anger towards me. I would be angry too if I heard this about someone else. However, I hope that you all will be able to forgive me, as Jukyung has.”

Sujin ended her speech with an apologetic bow. Jukyung bowed with her. The girls then shared a tearful hug. From the back, Sujin saw Suho give her a thumbs up. Sujin sent him a smile back. The girls parted, wiping their tears.

“Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, we can get on to the real reason why you are on here.” Jukyung clasped her hands together. “Sujin will be assisting me today.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So Kang Su, shall we bring out our model today?” Jukyung asked her with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

The girls nodded conspiratorially before turning to Suho who looked on, confused.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

viii.

“What is it? What are you laughing at?” Chorong asked Seojun as he leaned over his shoulder. They were at Chorong’s place where the boys were goofing off, playing video games and lounging about.

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong’s inquiry through his ear buds and kept on shaking with silent laughter.

“Hey, nobody said anything about me being in the video.” Suho was protesting on Seojun’s phone. Seojun turned up the volume to hear Suho’s annoyed grumbling more clearly. Of course, Seojun was going to make fun of Suho about this afterwards.

“Just sit down, Lee Su, before I get mad.” Sujin commanded.

“That attitude of yours has never worked on me,” Suho replied coolly.

“Come on, Suho-ya. I do your makeup all the time don’t I? It’ll be fine. I promise.” Of course, when Jukyung said this, Suho melted like butter on a hot pan. Sujin rolled her eyes but it was clear that it wasn’t out of spite.

“Okay everyone! Let’s begin with the base and then we’ll work our way up! I am going to keep this look as natural as possible so that its not modifying anything but merely enhancing his features.” Jukyung pushed Suho’s bangs out of his forehead with a giant pink bow shaped clip. Seojun was quick to get a screen shot of it.

“What are Lee Suho and Kang Sujin doing on Jukyung’s channel?” Chorong asked in Seojun’s ear, shocking him. Seojun almost screamed in fear. He pushed away Chorong’s face to watch the video in peace.

In the live video, Jukyung was explaining the differences of applying make up on a guy’s face, versus a girl’s face.

“Sujin-ah. Why don’t you read some of the comments while I’m buffing in his foundation? You have to buff it in for a long time to make it appear natural.” Jukyung told her audience.

Sujin moved towards the camera, blocking Jukyung a little as she read off of her laptop. Her unfiltered face was front and center for the world to see. At this position it looked unflattering, which made Seojun chuckle even more.

Sujin read the comments in a robotic monotone, “Jukyung Unnie, I don’t usually watch make up tutorials. But after today I’m your number one fan.”

“Mwo-ya, this girl has no camera sense.” Seojun said to himself.

“Thank you! I’m your fan too,” Jukyung replied brightly.

“Your looks are always so classy and stylish.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you liked them. Let me know if there are any other looks you’d like to see.”

“Will you do a tutorial on how to wear red lipstick properly?”

“I’m actually planning on doing that soon!”

“Lim Jukyung, you are so beautiful. Marry me please!”

Suho got up to see the screen, “Who asked that?”

“Sit down!” Jukyung pulled him back as he grumbled. “Sorry,” Jukyung said to the camera, “but I’m taken.”

“Are you and Kang Sujin really friends now?” Sujin turned to Jukyung and all Seojun could see was her shiny black hair on screen.

“Dangyunhaji! In fact, if I wasn’t dating Suho, Kang Sujin would be my boyfriend.”

Seojun scoffed, “As if. It would have been me.”

On the live, Sujin laughed, “Is that so? We can still be together though. Have an affair behind Suho’s back.”

“Sure.” Jukyung said casually.

“Yah!” Suho protested.

Both girls giggled.

Suho looked miffed, “Kang Sujin, you’re blocking the view.” He said peevishly.

“Oh sorry. I’ll move.” Sujin circled around the couple to stand behind Jukyung and read the comments over her shoulder.

Jukyung read something on the screen and pointed it to Sujin, “Read that one.”

Sujin hesitantly read, “Kang Sujin, I’m sorry for judging you.” She looked up, “It’s okay. I can be harsh in my judgements too. The key is to try to learn from your past.” Sujin smiled at the camera before turning back to the screen.

“Kang Sujin, you’re pretty.” Sujin recited in her monotone voice. “Yes. I know.” She said without looking up.

“She is also super smart!” Jukyung gushed. “She was one of the top students in class.”

“Could never beat me though.” Suho said smugly, still sore about the affair comment. Both girls turned to Suho and stared. His mouth became small. “Sorry.”

Jukyung went back to explaining her tutorial, slowly performing each step as Suho patiently sat. She made his eyes look bigger and applied a natural lip tint to finish off.

Both girls couldn’t help but gawk at how good Suho look by the end. Jukyung removed the pink blow clip from his hair in a daze.

“How do I look?” He asked Jukyung.

“Too good, Lee Suho.” Sujin clapped. “Too good.”

Jukyung blushed but couldn’t articulate her thoughts. She stuttered, “Uh-ah! Let’s look at the c-c-comments again!”

Suho grinned.

“Lim Jukyung, you were amazing as always!” Sujin read aloud.

“Thank you.” Jukyung bowed.

“Watch the latest and best movies for free at—”

“Sujin that’s just spam.”

“Oh. Right.” Sujin continued, “Lee Suho looks prettier than the both of you.”

The girls’ face fell flat. Suho just looked innocently at the camera. The girls cleared their throats.

“Ah that’s all the time we have!”

“Ah, yes! Time to move on!”

The two pushed Suho out of the frame together.

“I can still be on camera if you—”

“No, I think the people have seen enough of you.” Sujin said while smiling widely at the camera.

Jukyung went wide eyed when she looked into her computer screen. “Ya! This live got 3.3 thousand comments!”

“Daebak. Good job Lim Ju!” The girls grinned, but then Sujin squinted her eyes disapprovingly at something on the screen. “Lim Jukyung, you look so ugly without makeup? Ya, who wrote this comment? User name KimChee23? Why don’t you show yourself to me and then we can see who’s really ugly?”

“Sujin-ah. It’s just a comment.” Jukyung tried to calm her.

“Comments matter too! Otherwise people wouldn’t be writing them! Ya KimChee23 where do you live?”

Seojun laughed out loud as he saw Jukyung try to calm Sujin down on screen.

“So, is everything all settled now?” Chorong asked Seojun.

“I think, yes. Just look at all the comments praising Sujin.”

He was right, the comments section was flooded with statements of Sujin being a brave person for apologizing and changing her bad behavior.

“Great.” Chorong shook his friend’s shoulders. “Now you don’t have to be so troubled about Lim Jukyung.”

“Lim Jukyung? Why would I be troubled about her?”

Chorong was confused. He had not known about the scandal. The matter Chorong had been referring to was Seojun’s theory that Kang was apparently still after Lee Suho.

“I mean... haven’t you been in a bad mood all week because of her?”

“Why bother asking Chorong?” One of the boys said, “You know the answer to all of Seojun’s heartaches is Lim Jukyung.”

Seojun didn’t bother responding. He returned to his phone screen where Jukyung and Kang Sujin were wrapping up the live, waving at the camera with wide smiles. Suho was trying to get back in the frame and Sujin kept pushing his out of it.

“Ooh. Look at how Han Seojun is smiling.”

“Something good must have happened.”

“See! He’s always thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

“No I’m not!” Seojun protested. Quietly, he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

ix.

Han Seojun had arrived at Kang Sujin’s building an hour ago, but for the life of him he could not muster the courage to go up to her apartment.

“I have no reason to see her. So, why should I?” He argued with himself. He paced back and forth, going up the entrance and then going back again, unable to enter.

In his hands, Han Seojun held a beautiful arrangement of white tulips and yellow roses. White tulips as an apology and yellow roses as an offering of friendship. It was his way of apologizing for being a jerk.

After hearing everything she had said on the live event, Seojun had no doubt that Kang Sujin wasn’t who he thought she was. Certainly, if Jukyung and even Suho could trust her, then he could at least give her the benefit of the doubt.

It had felt like a good idea at the time to try to make amends with flowers. But now that he was actually here, at her home, he felt stupid.

What would Kang Sujin say when he showed up at her place? Would she laugh at him and tell him to go to hell? Would she be offended that he just showed up, unannounced? The uncertainly of it all made him anxious.

As he went back down the steps to the building entrance for the thousandth time, Seojun bumped into a lady.

“Oh ma’am. I’m so sorry!”

The woman had been carrying tote bags with plastic containers of food in them. The bags had fallen to the ground but luckily, the containers and the food inside them were unharmed, just a little shaken.

Seojun looked at the woman with an apologetic face. She appeared to be a very dignified lady, as old as his mother. Her hair was up in a chic bun and she wore well fitted, albeit a little worn out, clothes. Her brows were crinkled in disapproval. But upon seeing Seojun, her face softened.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Seojun asked and his humble words spoken in that rich baritone subsided the woman’s irritation further to the point where she smiled.

“Omo, how can someone be so handsome?”

Seojun beamed. Elders had always loved him. “Ah, thank you.” He responded shyly. “Let me help you carry these.” He took the heavy bags from her, putting the flowers under his arm, careful not to smush them.

“Oh no. I don’t want to bother.”

“It’s no bother at all, ma’am. I insist.” He didn’t let the woman say another word, walking past her into the building. The woman smiled and followed.

“Are you going to visit your girlfriend?” The woman asked, eyeing the flowers.

“A friend. A friend who is a girl.”

“Is that what the youngsters are calling it these days?”

“Ah-nee-heyo. It’s not like that.”

The woman just smiled knowingly. “I’m going to visit a special girl too. My daughter lives in this building.”

They entered the elevator. Seojun asked which floor the woman wanted to go to. “Oh, I’m going to the same floor. Maybe my friend knows your daughter.”

“I’m sure she does. My daughter is a wonderful girl.”

When the lady walked in the same direction as Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh. My friend lives this way too. What a coincidence. They might live right next to each other.”

“Then you should come over with your friend. I will cook for you.”

And when the woman stood in front of Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh, this is my friend’s apartment. Are they roommates?”

“Young man, is your friend’s name Kang Sujin?”

“Yes, ma’am. How did you know?” Seojun asked, surprised.

The lady patted Seojun’s face, “At least you have good looks.” She punched in Sujin’s passcode and went in. Han Seojun stood outside for a full minute before he connected the dots. And then his eyes went wide.

“Sujin isn’t home yet. Why don’t you wait inside?” Mrs. Kang called out.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I didn’t recognize you.” Seojun entered, placing the bags on Sujin’s counter.

“It’s okay, Son. You’ve known Sujin long?”

“I went to Sujin’s school. I knew her through Lee Suho.” He had only seen Sujin’s mother a couple of times at school. But never up close. She had seemed so stuck up like Sujin at the time; with her fur coats and expensive jewelry. Now she seemed like just another lady. Her appearance seemed to have humbled after the divorce.

“Oh Suho! Lovely child. How is he these days? Sujin doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He’s good ma’am.”

Mrs. Kang started lining the containers on the counter. It seemed like too much food for one person.

“Sujinnie never eats properly. She always scolds me for worrying but what can I do? She never takes care of herself.”

Indeed, when Mrs. Kang opened Sujin’s fridge, it was empty save a few water bottles and expired milk that Mrs. Kang threw away.

“And look at you! All skin and bones! It is unfashionable to be healthy these days?”

It was a complaint he had heard from his mother as well. But Seojun had to maintain a lean figure for his job, as he was about to explain to Mrs. Kang.

“Ma’am I actually have to diet beca—”

“I won’t hear it! Sit. I will get you something to eat. I’ve brought more than enough.” Mrs. Kang commanded. Seojun could see where Sujin got her tough exterior from.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Nonesense! It’s no bother at all. Especially not for,” she eyed the bouquet Seojun had placed on the counter, “Sujin’s friend.”

Seojun wanted to protest Mrs. Kang’s assumptions but figured that denying it would only reinforce the idea. He would let Sujin clear up the matter.

“Well if you’re going to cook Mrs. Kang, you might as well let me help.” Seojun often cooked with his mother and was used to being in the kitchen so his culinary prowess impressed Mrs. Kang greatly.

“Your mother must be so proud of you.” Seojun grinned at the compliment. He decided that he liked Mrs. Kang.

Likewise, Mrs. Kang decided that she liked Seojun. She put the flowers he had brought in a vase and brought it to the table. As they cooked, she went on and on about Sujin and her many accomplishments. The woman was very proud of her daughter.

Seojun listened diligently as Mrs. Kang explained how much she was worried about Sujin. The non-profit sector didn’t exactly offer a lucrative career. Not as much being a doctor would have.

“I remember how much she had wanted to be a doctor as a child. Omma, I want to heal everyone, she would tell me. But when her father started pushing her and pushing her… suddenly it was all about ranking number 1, not helping people and her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.” Mrs. Kang lamented. She gave Seojun a considering look. “Has she told you… about her father?”

About the divorce? “Yes. I know.”

Mrs. Kang looked at him tenderly, “You must really be close to my daughter then. She’s a very private girl.”

Seojun didn’t understand why the woman as acting like it was some secret. Everyone knew about Mr. and Mrs. Kang’s separation.

The woman stared into the distance. “If I look back, I can only blame myself. I should have stopped it the first day her father started hitting her. But I was blind. I believed that it would all stop if she got good grades and got into a good university. My husband was always a tough man, but had never been like that to me, you see. I didn’t realize what he was doing to Sujin till it was too late.”

Seojun froze. He felt he had been told something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“And then, she started taking her anger out on other people… it might have been late, but I finally put my foot down. I’m glad my girl is in a better place now.”

Mrs. Kang looked down in remorse. Seojun found it hard to keep looking at her. He suddenly recalled what Sujin had said in Jukyung’s video.

I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung.

Ah, crap. Seojun thought.

“My daughter is a sensitive girl, despite how strong she appears. I just want to know that she is with people who will care for her, and not hurt her.” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun meaningfully. He swallowed.

“She is Mrs. Kang. You don’t have to worry.”

The woman pressed his hands gratefully. “You must have heard… about what Sujin was involved in recently.”

Seojun was sure he was going to die today. His heart felt like guilt had wrapped its sharp claws around it and was squeezing tightly.

“Ah. Yes.”

“Don’t believe any of it! My Sujinnie isn’t that kind of girl”

“Ah. Yes.”

“She did go a little astray in school, but what kid doesn’t go through a phase like that? Show me a teenager who has never made a mistake!”

“You’re absolutely right ma’am.” Was all Seojun could say.

“If only I could get my hands on that Han Seojun.” Seojun felt his heart stop. It was then that he realized that he never really introduced himself to Mrs. Kang. “How dare that no good idol take advantage of my daughter? Ah-nee, what kind of a person stays over a girl’s place like that? And doesn’t even help when she gets into trouble because of him?”

Seojun could see his funeral now, his mother crying for him as his friends lined up to regret their loss.

Guys… take care. Please check on my mother for me.

The door chimed as Sujin entered. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Han Seojun and her mother sitting at a table full of food, waiting for her.

“Ah, Omma why have you come all this way again? Do you really like tiring yourself out so much?” Sujin scolded as she hurriedly put on her indoor slippers.

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Mrs. Kang scolded back.

Sujin was undeterred. “You know I can always come and visit you and Auntie. Why do you have to come here? And look at all this food! How is this okay for one person? It always goes bad and then I have to throw it out.”

“It goes bad because you don’t eat enough, bad girl! You see what I have to deal with?” Mrs. Kang turned to Seojun who had gone white.

“Ya Han Seojun, what are you doing here?” Sujin asked him.

There was a second of silence where no one spoke. A pin drop could be heard.

“Han Seojun?” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun. On stage, with makeup on, Seojun looked different. Here, in person, it was difficult to recognize him. But now that his name had been spoken, Mrs. Kang could see the young man whose face had been plastered all over the articles concerning Sujin.

“You… you’re the Han Seojun from the scandal?”

Sujin quickly caught on. “Seojun. Run.”

And then all hell exploded, or rather, one Mrs. Kang. Sujin jumped in her mother’s path as the woman got up with a slipper in her hand. Han Seojun lept off his chair and bowed furiously.

“I am so sorry Mrs. Kang. I am so sorry for all the trouble caused!”

Sujin desperately tried to block her mother’s blows but Mrs. Kang was a formidable woman. She smacked Han Seojun with her slipper.

“Do. You. Have. Any idea. What. Problems. You. Caused!” She punctuated each word with a smack. Seojun, for his part, did not run but rather took it like a man. He was just glad she was beating him with a slipper and not a heel.

“Run! Why aren’t you running?” Sujin asked him as she tried to grab her mother’s wrists.

“Are you protecting him? After everything that happened?”

“I’m really sorry Mrs. Kang.” Seojun said.

“Sorry? What good will an apology do? Will an apology undo the pain you’ve caused?” Her words sounded eerily familiar.

“Ah Omma, stop hitting him! He didn’t do anything. It was my fault. It was all my idea.”

Mrs. Kang stopped. “What?”

And thus, it became Kang Sujin’s turn to be given the mom-smack down.

“Ah Omma WAEEEE??”

“It was your idea to bring him home?!”

“Omma you’ve already beaten me about that!”

“I haven’t beaten you enough.”

“Mrs. Kang please! We were both drunk. Sujin had no choice but to—”

“What?” Mrs. Kang went ballistic.

Sujin glared at Seojun, “Han Seojun do you actually want us both to die?”

“YOU WERE DRUNK?!”

“Omma it wasn’t like that!”

“Mrs. Kang it really wasn’t.” Seojun chimed in.

“If it wasn’t then why is he bringing you flowers? Why is he showing up at your place?”

Sujin looked at the tulips and roses on her table. White tulips, a flower of regret. And yellow roses, flowers of friendship. Sujin knew exactly what they meant. She wondered if Han Seojun knew too or if he just got really lucky with his choices.

It was a while before Mrs. Kang calmed down. Seojun felt thoroughly sore. Both he and Sujin sat on the floor with guilty expressions on their faces, looking like school children being punished.

“Get out. I don’t want to see the likes of your around my daughter ever again.”

“Omma.”

Seojun bowed his head to the ground. “I am really sorry Mrs. Kang. I’m really sorry for all of the trouble that I’ve caused. I assure you I will never let anything like that happen again.”

Mrs. Kang crossed her arms and looked away.

“Omma. Neither of us had any idea that something like this would happen. Its not Seojun’s fault. And besides, he got into trouble too.” Sujin nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes, ma’am. I was almost kicked out of my company.” Which wasn’t exactly true but Seojun didn’t mind fibbing a little.

“You should have been!” Mrs. Kang fumed but then softened when she saw Seojun’s best puppy dog face. Han Seojun was always good with ladies, especially ones that were mad at him.

He inched closer to Mrs. Kang. “Mrs. Kang. I’m really regretful about what Sujin faced.” He took her hands in his. Sujin watched in astonishment as Han Seojun turned her mother’s boiling anger to a low simmer. “But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that this never happens again.”

Mrs. Kang cleared her throat.

“And look, the food we both prepared has gotten all cold. Wouldn’t it be better if we all eat and talk calmly?”

Sujin scoffed, not only at the blatant pandering but at the fact that it was working. Mrs. Kang’s anger all but disappeared. It came to a point that as they all ate, she began taking his side.

“How could you risk an idol’s reputation like that?” She asked Sujin who could only roll her eyes.

“Omma, how can you say that?”

“I mean, now that I think about it, it isn’t Seojun’s fault that his fans came after you.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this.” Sujin scowled.

As dumb as Han Seojun had appeared, Sujin had to admit this was pretty shrewd. It made her wonder what else she had misjudged him on. He even got himself invited by Mrs. Kang to come by again for dinner.

“Your mom is incredible.” Seojun told Sujin as they walked to the convenience store. Mrs. Hand had sent them out for some ice-cream since she had brought nothing for dessert.

“She’s changed a lot after the divorce. She’s more herself now.”

They walked slowly, enjoying the night air and the silence. Oddly enough the quiet didn’t feel awkward or strange. Neither of them felt any pressure to speak. They got papico, the ice-cream that came in squishy bottles, and sat by on the benches outside.

“Kang Sujin,” Seojun began, “about what happened… are you… You know when I, um… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Sujin laughed, a clear gurgle of joy that made Seojun feel strange in his stomach. “Mwo-ya? Has the great Han Seojun been rendered speechless?” She laughed some more and Seojun didn’t stop her. “Relax Han Seojun. I’m fine.”

Seojun looked at his feet. “I… wasn’t happy with what happened to do… with the articles and how everybody was talking about you.”

“Gwenchana. It’s over now. I mean I had to make another Instagram account but all in all, its not as bad now. Besides,” she tilted her chin, “do you think a bunch of cowards who hide behind usernames are enough to take me down? I’m Kang Sujin, remember? Badass of Saebom High.”

“I thought I was the badass of Saebom high.” Seojun raised a brow.

“You were the gangster.” Sujin grinned, eating her ice-cream.

“I’m glad you’re tough. You don’t let these things bother you.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. People telling me that I’m the worst and I should die wasn’t exactly easy.” She said grimly. “But you know what upset me the most?”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t beat those cowards up for saying what they did.” Sujin got up and punched the air. “If I could just get my hands on those twerps then I would teach them a lesson or two.” She punched the air.

The fire in Sujin’s eyes was so comical that Seojun burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh! Hajima! I’m not joking.”

“Kang Sujin, were you always such a fighter?”

“Yup!” Sujin stated simply. She sat back besides Seojun, closer this time. And he noticed. “What about you?” She asked. “How are you doing?”

Seojun leaned back leisurely, “Eh, I’m fine. I don’t worry about public perception anyway. The people who matter will know me. Everyone else is just noise.”

“I bet your fans would leave you in a second.” Sujin teased.

“Don’t diss my fans. They’re all cool and awesome.”

“What, all two of them? Do they also happen to be named Jukyung and Suho?”

“You’re forgetting Chorong.”

The two giggled.

“Did your co-workers ask for more autographs?”

“Nope. Got fired before they could.”

“What?” Seojun stood up. Sujin relayed how her company had let her go after details about her past misconduct were released online.

“How could they just fire you? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Calm down. It’s normal for that to happen.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Would you rather I get angry? There’s no point in doing that. I won’t get that job back.”

Seojun pressed his lips together in a tight line and sat back down.

“I’m surprised that you’re actually defending me.” Sujin sounded impressed.

“I mean… its wrong. Even if you and I don’t get along, what’s wrong is wrong.”

Sujin chuckled. She looked at the time on her phone. “I should get back. How are you getting home?”

“I brought my bike.”

“Your company lets you ride motorbikes?”

“Nope.” Seojun grinned.

“A’ight. Good night, Han Seojun. Stay safe.” Sujin walked back in the direction of the apartment. Feeling light and happy. While her online image hadn’t completely recovered, her relationship with Han Seojun had. She might not have to simply tolerate his presence now. They might genuinely get along.

“Kang Sujin!” Han Seojun called out to her, the woman who he thought was vile and destructive. The person that turned wasn’t that woman. It was the little girl who had looked to her father with love but only got his abuse in return.

“I’m sorry I misjudged you.” Seojun told the little girl.

The girl smiled. “I’m sorry I misjudged you too.”

It was unfamiliar territory, getting along with Kang Sujin. More for the group than Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. They all looked at the pair in wonder and shock when Sujin asked Seojun to pass the soy sauce and he obliged. It shocked them further when Sujin laughed when Seojun bragged about being recognized at a department store and being asked for pictures.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Jukyung asked Sujin quietly.

“Yeah, why?” Sujin replied.

“Nothing. Just asking.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Suho asked Seojun privately.

“What?”

“You’re acting all weird around Kang Sujin.”

“Weird how?”

“You’re being nice.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Okay! Who’s going to go first?” Taehoon asked the room, interrupting Suho and Seojun’s conversation.

They were at Suho’s apartment where he had a karaoke machine set up. Seojun had finally relented to visiting their place and it was just as painful as he had thought it would be. It was a mishmash to Jukyung’s bright and lively style with Suho’s dark and moody one.

The posters of rock bands and Junji Itou’s mangas were something both of them shared. It was fascinating how the two of the most caring people in Seojun’s life were into such dark things. Seojun saw Sujin eye one of the horror comic book posters suspiciously, as if the monster drawn in them could come out any second.

Chorong sang first, sharing a duet with his girlfriend. Then Taehoon and Suah went next. Duets seemed to be the theme of the night. Jukyung and Suho went next.

“Alright? Who else?”

Sujin was the only girl left.

“Well I’m not going up there.” She said when everyone looked at her. She eyed the other boys, all of whom were terrified of her. Even they could still hear Kang Sujin saying Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

“Jukyung-ah. Sing with me.” Sujin grabbed Jukyung’s hand and led her up before she could say anything.

“I’m singing too!” Suah joined.

Seojun went next. His was a solo and he clearly was the best performer. His rich baritone singing in a soft melody made everyone pay attention.

“Isn’t it nice to have an idol as a friend?” Suah asked. “Its like having a private concert.” Jukyung and Sujin nodded in agreement.

Everyone swayed their heads to the beat, except for Kang Sujin who was noticing the lyrics Han Seojun was singing.

I want to give you all of my days

I want to tell you all these feelings of mine

The sleepless blue winds

Brightly light up this night

He was singing about Lim Jukyung. Sujin looked over to her friend, who was looking longingly in Suho’s eyes. The two were entranced with each other, not noticing Han Seojun who stood just a couple of feet away, pouring his heart out.

After all the fun had been wrapped up, Seojun and Sujin had been the only two to stay back. Sujin had helped Jukyung clean up while Suho went to throw out the trash.

As Sujin cleaned the dishes, Seojun sat in the living room, looking at all of the pictures Jukyung and Suho had hung up. He could see how Suho and Jukyung would sit on the very couch he was on and watch TV together or lie around reading books.

He tried to replay those images, with himself there with Jukyung instead of Suho but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to himself about who she belonged to.

“You know, Han Seojun, I just realized something.” Sujin called from the kitchen.

“What?”

“You have two hands.”

Seojun looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Wow, Kang Sherlock. Your powers of deduction amaze me.”

“So, since you have those two hands, and you’re a gentleman, why not help me out over here? I assume you would feel bad that I’m the only one doing any actual cleaning.”

“You assume incorrectly. I have no issues with you doing all the cleaning.” Seojun turned back to the TV and was promptly hit in the head with a dish rag.

“Oops.” Sujin said flatly.

Seojun got up, dish rag in hand. Wordlessly, he took out the dishes from the washer and lined them up in the cabinets.

“Aren’t you ever afraid that Jukyung will be uncomfortable about you singing love songs to her?” Sujin asked in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“That song you sang. My heart is full of you, I’m starting to take after you?”

Seojun eyed her. “She won’t know.”

“I did.”

“Yeah but, you’re you and Jukyung’s Jukyung.”

“So?”

“So…” Seojun leaned closer, “you ranked number two in class for a reason.”

“Sujin-ah! I told you I would take care of everything.” Jukyung appeared from her bedroom.

“Don’t worry about it. Han Seojun helped.” Sujin assured.

The pair said their goodbyes to the couple and exited together. Han Seojun said nothing when he started walking his own way, while Kang Sujin turned to wave at him but was unseen. He was too lost in his own broken heart to notice anyone or anything.

She simply sighed, took it as just a Han Seojun thing and started walking in the other direction.

xi.

“I still can’t get used to this.” Suah said, waving a spoon between Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. The two sat opposite each other and were eating their food peacefully.

It was this peace that bothered Suah.

“I mean, how can you two just get along?”

“We’re adults Choi Su. We can learn how to get along.” Sujin stated.

Suho spluttered in laughter. “I thought you said that Seojun was a giant baby with no manners?”

Seojun gave Sujin a scathing look. Sujin went pink, “I never said that! You take that back!”

“It’s still strange.” Suah leaned closer. “What happened? Have you guys settled your differences?”

“Han Seojun got Sujin flowers.” Suho said cheekily.

“Yah!” Seojun protested. But it was in vain, the deed was done, and everyone oohed and aahed at this news.

“Did you really get her flowers?”

“Wait, when did this happen?”

“Does that mean that Seojun apologized first?”

“What kind of flowers?”

Seojun looked at Suho with the rage of a thousand suns. Suho just grinned back.

“Aren’t flowers romantic?”

“Ya! There was nothing romantic about it. All I got her were yellow roses and white tulips.” Seojun defended.

“OoooOoooh. Roooses. Roses are totally romantic.” Taehoon teased.

“They were yellow. Yellow roses are for friendship!”

“So, are you two friends?” Jukyung asked and everyone looked at Seojun and Sujin.

“Meh.” They both shrugged at the same time.

“Omo! Look at how in sync they are!”

“We are not.” They both said in sync.

Seojun had to admit, their group gatherings were much more comfortable now that he and Sujin had cleared the air between them. He enjoyed discovering how Sujin was less the ice princess he had thought her to be and more a regular girl. She also turned out to be much cooler than he had expected.

She had been the only one to see his discomfort when Jukyung and Suho suggested they all go on an overnight trip with them. Going to see their apartment; the very proof that Lim Jukyung and Lee Suho ate and slept—Oh God, don’t think about them sleeping—together was painful enough. Seojun didn’t need to see them canoodling for an entire weekend.

“What about it guys? Shall we go?” Jukyung looked around as everyone nodded excitedly, including Sujin.

But then her eye’s met Seojun’s. He said nothing but he didn’t need to.

“Lim Ju, it’ll be difficult for me to join. I just lost my job, remember? An overnight trip is...” Seojun knew Sujin was just making up an excuse.

“Oh, oh right. Sorry Kang Su-ya. I totally forgot. Something else then!”

The group moved on to discussing other options. Seojun sent Sujin a grateful look. She acted nonchalant, as if she had not just overturned everyone’s plans for him.

“Thanks. For what you did back in there.” He told her as they were all leaving.

“Forget about it.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

The next time the group gathered at a fancier restaurant than usual. A suggestion by Suho who had offered to pay for the food tonight.

“This place is so beautiful.” Suah commented looking around the interior.

“Are we celebrating something?” Sujin asked. “This doesn’t seem like a regular get-together.”

Sujin had only asked for the sake of asking. But something about the way Suho looked at her told Seojun that she was on to something.

“Well,” Jukyung held up her hand, “we do have something to announce.”

And announce she did. The big fat diamond resting on her ring finger had a lot to say. And suddenly everyone erupted with joy. The girls took Jukyung in their arms, squealing and crying with joy. The boys surrounded Suho, patting him on the back, congratulating him.

All except Seojun, who just sat there in a daze. Sujin happened to look over and see him, frozen in his seat. Sujin wasn’t alone in her observation. Taehoon also noticed but missed the implication.

“Look! Han Seojun is actually so shocked he—"

Sujin made it look like an accident, her bumping into the table and sending a glass down on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound shook Seojun out of his daze and also distracted everyone from realizing Seojun’s inner turmoil.

“Oh shit.” Sujin said looking down.

“Hey, be careful.” Jukyung said.

“You okay?” Suho asked Jukyung, taking her arm.

“Excuse me, can we get someone to clean this up?” Taehoon asked the waiter.

The fuss over the broken glass gave Seojun enough time to recover. He then congratulated Suho with a massive hug.

“You both deserve each other. I mean it.” He told Suho and he meant it.

Maintaining a fake smile over dinner was easy. Everyone else was so chatty that Seojun’s and Sujin’s relative silence went unnoticed. Suah pestered Jukyung for details: “How did it happen?”, “When?”, “Why didn’t you call me immediately?”. Taehoon made jokes about marriage being the end of romance to which Suah started an argument with him and then it became about settling matters between the two.

Sujin didn’t remember much of what happened after that, the rest of the night was a blur. She just hoped that she had maintained enough dignity to not appear as bitter as she actually felt.

Even though they all parted very late in the night, Sujin couldn’t go directly home. She needed something to ease the pain. So naturally, she went to the nearest tent bar she could find. The place seemed to be overcrowded, with people waiting outside for others to leave. Sujin managed to sneak in and grab a table.

She downed half of a soju bottle in one go but then couldn’t muster the energy to drink further. Her side dishes went untouched. All Sujin could do was stare and wonder if there was any way to just take her heart out of her chest and throw it away. Because there seemed to be no relief from this pain she was feeling.

She banged her head on the table. “Ah wae? Why can’t I just move on?” She asked herself in frustration.

“Ugh, why the hell are you here?” That irritated tone and deep voice could only belong to one person. And indeed, when Sujin looked up she saw Han Seojun a few tables over looking at her in disdain.

“Wae? You have a claim on this place?” Sujin raised a critical brow.

“And what if I do?”

“Then give me everything for free. Since we’re friends who get along.”

“No. Friends pay double.”

“How stingy.” Sujin took another shot of soju.

The man running the tent bar came over. “Why don’t you two share a table since you know each other? I have customers waiting to be seated.”

“No way, I’m not sitting with her.” Seojun grumbled.

“Aha! I knew it! Being all nice to me was just an act.”

The owner ignored Sujin, “How can two youngsters be so rude? Get up! I’m moving you over there.”

This was how Han Seojun came to drink with Kang Sujin for the second time. They both looked at each other with scowling faces.

“What happened, Kang Sujin? You were acting all happy for the lucky couple.” Seojun taunted. He seemed a little tipsy but so was Sujin.

“Of course, I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.” She said wistfully.

Seojun scoffed. “Is that why you were whining about not being able to move on? I thought you said you didn’t like Lee Suho anymore.”

Sujin narrowed her eyes. “I don’t. And even if I allegedly did, at least I held it all in. You were clearly about to run away with Jukyung before I saved you.”

“Saved me? Puh-lease.”

“Why? Do you think that glass fell on its own?”

Seojun gave her a sideways look before taking another shot.

“You gonna eat that?” He pointed a chin to her plate.

“Nah, have it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. A comfortable silence where neither felt compelled to say anything.

Sujin shook Seojun when she suddenly smacked her glass down on the table. “I’m over Lee Suho.” She declared. “I’m over Lee Suho… but…”

“Just because you’re over him, doesn’t mean you stopped loving him.” Seojun said what she was thinking.

She looked at him, her pain evident on her face. In that moment, he let himself be vulnerable too.

“Isn’t it funny? Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one who gets… this.” Sujin said.

Seojun chuckled. “Exactly. Who woulda thought? Kang Sujin and Han Seojun having something in common.”

“You know it’s gonna hurt even worse from now on, right? We’re the closest to those two. That means we’ll be involved in everything.”

Seojun rubbed his faced. “I can’t think about that right now. Or I really will die.”

Sujin understood what he meant. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want Suho to never find out that I still like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t help that I feel this way right? You can’t stop yourself from feeling what you feel. But… I wanna keep my dignity. I wanna still be cool and… not be seen as some pathetic loser who’s still after her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Seojun took a shot, nodding.

Sujin leaned forward. “That’s why, I suggest we help each other out.”

Seojun gave her a look. “How so?”

“Well, if we see the other being too transparent, then we stop them, or at least take the attention away so that the other can collect themselves.”

“Like the broken glass today?”

“Like the broken glass today. And if it’s getting too painful, then we can just talk about it.”

Seojun laughed. “Kang Sujin, offering therapy. That’s rich.”

“Not therapy. Friendship. It helps if you talk about stuff like this.” Sujin insisted.

Seojun gave her a considering look. “What’s in it for me? These seem like things you want to do.”

“You’ll be able to attend Jukyung’s wedding without feeling like you’re dying on the inside.”

“There’s no guarantee that will happen.”

“You’re right, there isn’t. But at least that’s what it’ll look like. Think about it Han Seojun. Do you want Jukyung to always see you as the friend who is in love with her? Or do you want her to see you as a cool friend who she can comfortably rely on, without wondering if she’s hurting his feelings.”

Seojun thought about it. It felt like a bad idea. But there was a part of Han Seojun that was tired of his own attachment to Lim Jukyung. If it meant that it would help him move on, then he was willing to try anything

“Alright, Kang Sujin.” He raised his glass. Sujin clinked hers with his. “Let’s try this.”

I am bad at making memes but I do it any way

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #true beauty fanfiction #true beauty soojin #kang sujin #kang soojin #kang soojin and han seojun #seojun x sujin #seojun x soojin #han seojun #kdrama #Sujin x Seojun #han seojun fanfiction #han seo jun #Kan Sujin Fanfiction #hwang in yeop #park yoona #junjin

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years

Note

Can we please get a yamairu story about Yamato sprouting flowers every time he sees iruka without realizing it. Maybe sprouts a bunch when he finally works up the courage to ask for a date and iruka says yes

AO3 Link

Iruka’s smile is stunning. There isn’t a single thing Tenzo can think of that lights up a room quite like it.

Soft and full of kindness it quickly becomes one of Tenzo’s favorite things to see. A ray of sunshine on his otherwise never ending days getting teased by his Senpai and trying to keep Naruto from doing something incredibly reckless.

“Captain Yamato,” Sakura’s voice brings him back to reality and forces him to drag his eyes from that beautiful smile. “What is this?”

As she speaks, Sakura reaches out to touch something on his arm. Following her hand with his eyes he groans when he sees a small light blue hydrangea blooming on his bicep.

This was the third flower to sprout up out of nowhere this week.

“It’s, just...” Sighing, he reached out and plucked the flower off of his arm. There was nothing quite like having flowers growing all over him to catch unwanted attention. “Just ignore it. That happens sometimes.”

Usually when he was feeling exceptionally emotional about something.

“It’s beautiful,” Sakura smiled up at him. “Your Mokuton really is amazing.”

Amazing. That was certainly one way to put it.

“Here,” holding the flower out to Sakura, he smiled. “You can have it.”

It wasn’t like he was short on flowers himself.

“I-thank you,” waiting for Sakura to take hold of the steam, he released his grip on the flower and smiled. It was always interesting to see how others reacted to some of the things that grew from his Mokuton. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It would look good in your hair,” He smiled over at her. “A nice little accessory for the day.”

She wouldn’t be the first to wear one of the flowers he had grown, though he didn’t think his Senpai would like it if he told her about how Kakashi-Sensei liked to wear flowers that Tenzo had grown on his uniform sometimes.

Now if only he could figure out why there were flowers growing on him this time.

“H-Hey, Naruto that’s not funny,” Iruka’s voice caught his attention, and he can’t help but smile when he looks back at the Academy Sensei. “You’re not being serious right now are you? please tell me this is a joke.”

He has no clue what Iruka’s talking about. All he knows is he can’t take his eyes off of that gorgeous face even when Sakura tries to talk to him again.

This is definitely worse than the puppy crush he had on Kakashi when he was younger.

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

A day off.

He had a whole day off with no responsibilities, no requirement to be anywhere and no expectations, and here he was.

Sitting in a tree watching Iruka teach his students Taijutsu.

“You’re hopeless,” Glaring over at the man beside him, Tenzo huffed when he saw him looking over the top of his book at Iruka. “You should just ask him out.”

“I don’t recall asking for advice,” he grumbled. “Especially not from the guy who asked his boyfriend out by challenging him to an eating competition.”

“You say that like it didn’t work,” There was actually no come back to that one. Kakashi’s plan had worked and not only did he end up with a dinner date from it, but he actually managed to act like enough of a functioning human for that date that Gai-san agreed to another. “This one’s purple, by the way.”

This one?

Purple!?

glancing down at his body he started to search for the flower his Senpai was talking about. That had to be what it was he was referring to.

But for some reason he didn’t find anything.

“Here,” seeing Kakashi reach out, Tenzo cringed when his hand went straight for his head and returned with a dark purple tulip. “See? Purple.”

Great. Whatever was wrong with him was starting to get annoying. The last thing his Senpai needed was more reason to tease him mercilessly.

“Just ask him out, Tenzo,” Kakashi sighes and turns his attention back down to his book. “He’s not going to say no.”

“You can’t know that,” Tenzo’s mind instantly starts to come up with all of the worst case scenarios. The look of disgust on Iruka’s face when he asks him out, the slap to the face. All the things that would make him feel like an idiot for having this crush. “I’ll get over it. I always do.”

“He’s not going to say no,” Kakashi repeats himself, giving Tenzo a soft look when he glares back at him. “Trust me, Tenzo.”

Tenzo had learned long ago never to trust those words. The only thing that ever followed them was disaster and headache, even if their missions did end up being a success after Kakashi had dared to utter those terrifying words to him.

“Tenzo,” diverting his eyes, Tenzo huffed when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. “He’s not going to say no. If he does, I'll just stab him for you.”

“That’s not a solution, Senpai!” He knows he has made a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, but hearing Iruka calling out to them to ask if Kakashi’s bugging him isn’t any easier to handle just because he knows he screwed up.

He actually feels a pretty strong urge to die right then and there so he doesn’t have to deal with the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment that was now taking over. The only reason he didn’t drop dead in his spot was because of Kakashi, who had actually fallen out of the tree laughing and crashed into the ground.

That was actually funny enough to make him forget about dying for two seconds. At least he wasn’t suffering alone now.

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

This was it.

Today was the day he was going to do it. After three weeks of debating and struggling over the perfect plan, and collecting an entire three vases worth of flowers to decorate his apartment with just thinking about Iruka.

He was finally going to ask Iruka out.

Stepping into Iruka’s classroom, he smiled when he saw the man of his affections leaning over his desk marking papers frantically.

How was it that man could make even school work look good?

“You look like you’re having fun,” Iruka’s head shot up when he spoke. “Whoe, sorry. I didn’t think I would catch you off guard.” After all those years in Root and then ANBU he was so used to keeping his Chakra hidden that sometimes he forgot he didn’t actually have to do that in Konoha anymore.

“As long as it’s you and not someone worse,” Tenzo’s gut told him that ‘someone worse’ was Iruka’s way of saying ‘Hatake Kakashi’, and somehow he wasn’t surprised. He only wondered what his Senpai had done to set Iruka on edge like this. “What can i do for you, Captain Yamato?”

“Well, ummmm,” Suddenly hours of practice finding the perfect words disappeared, and Tenzo was left with an empty brain and an heart pounding so hard in his chest it was actually starting to hurt a bit. “I was just…”

“Hmmm?” Iruka tilted his head. “What is it?”

This was not going as easily as he had hoped. In fact, this was a disaster.

“I-N-Never mind,” turning on his heel he was about to make an escape when a hand came down on his shoulder and pulled him back, Iruka’s smiling face greeting him when he found the tiniest bit of courage to look at him again. “Ummm…”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is over Ramen?” Iruka suggested. “I was getting a little hungry anyways, and I could always use the company.”

Ramen? With Iruka?

How was he actually getting dinner with the man when he couldn’t even figure out how to form a coherent sentence around him?

“I-uh, s-sure…” His face feels like it’s on fire, and he’s certain he’s going to burst into flames when he sees Iruka reaching out towards him.

“Those are pretty,” Pretty? What in the world was he talking about. “Is this normal?”

Tenzo’s about to ask what Iruka is talking about when it clicks, and suddenly he feels like he’s going to melt into the floor. Actually, he kind of wishes he would. It would provide an easy escape, but he was stuck now. If he ran away Iruka may never talk to him again.

“It...it happens sometimes,” he grumbled under his breath. Reaching up, he sought out the flower in question and plucked it off of his shoulder. Bright yellow. It sort of reminded him of the bright smile Iruka always had on his face when he saw Naruto. “Sorry. I don’t always have full control over how my Mokuton responds to some things. The stray flowers get out once in a while.”

“Oh, Captain Yamato,” Iruka laughed, pulling his hand back to reveal another flower. This one vibrant purple like the one Kakashi had picked from his head a few weeks ago. “It’s more like a whole garden.”

A garden? Did he mean...was there…

Reaching up once again, Tenzo ran his hand over his shoulder. Too afraid to look and see how bad it really was, but needing to know anyways.

His entire soul left his body when he felt a whole row of flowers there on his shoulder. All bunched up close together.

“A-are they…”

“Everywhere?” Iruka chuckled when he nodded his head. “Oh ya. Yellows, blues, purples. There’s even a cute little orange tulip on your head.”

Why did the tulips like to grow from his head?

“Give me five minutes to make myself look human again,” he grumbled under his breath. The last thing he needed was for people to see him walking around with flowers sprouting everywhere on him. “Then, if you still want…”

“Ramen,” Iruka finished for him with a smile that lit up the room and somehow calmed Tenzo’s nerves a bit. “I’ll just put everything in here away and meet you outside?”

“That sounds…” perfect. Wonderful. Amazing. So many words ran through his mind but not one of them agreed to be spoken. “Beautiful.”

Finally something left his mouth, but he’s pretty sure it has more to do with that smile he can’t take his eyes off of than it does with the plans Iruka just laid out for him.

For the first time since he met Iruka, he doesn’t care.

Absolutely nothing he says could make him look worse than Iruka seeing him sprout flowers from every part of his body. He was a garden of his own emotional creation and there wasn’t a damn thing that could make this situation any more embarrassing.

“Beautiful works,” Iruka laughed, bright and happy. “It describes your face really well.”

Ok.

Maybe there was something that could make this whole scenario even more embarrassing. That thing was Iruka and his damn perfect complements.

“You, uhh… you have a few more,” Iruka pointed at his head, and this time Tenzo is certain his spirit has actually left his body.

#Tenzo Yamato #Hatake Kakashi #Umino Iruka #Haruno Sakura #Poor Tenzo

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lunasilvermorny · 4 years

Text

Festival Fun SQ - Part 1 - It’s already all over the place, and we’re just starting.

Okay, let’s do this!

Ooooh, I love this loading screen.

2 out of 4 pairings are actually together in the headcanon, so I approve!

Ah, yes. We all know that every love story always starts with... gardening? Anyway, JC, can you pick up the pace already?

I promised myself I’ll try to be patient, but...

Okay, okay.

Positive attitude. Let’s continue...

Ahhhhh.... Care to elaborate a bit, MC?

I feel like we need a bit more context.

Jesus Christ, who did you murder?

So, it’s been a while since I played this game...

But you all see that dragon in the task-bar, right?

Charlie, what did you do?

Charlie: First the task-bar, then the world!

(Future me: I get it, it’s a clubs thing... I’m sharing some of my original notes too, okay? Just roll with it...)

Hagrid: Nothin’ like child-labor, I always say.

Just wait till 2020, mate.

No one is laughing now...

You’re talking to Luna... obviously, class would be the best part for her.

I can see her and Rowan squealing in excitement already.

Wait a minute, Rowan’s going to be here, right? Right, JC?!

It’s a year-5 achievement. You better make sure he’s there!

Well, that’s a huge leap... I think you added 10 levels by mistake.

Not that I'm complaining, but...

It caught me off guard.

Why do I feel like Tonks is contemplating their friendship as Luna’s talking?

I can’t be the only one that immediately thought of the "There’s a horse in the hospital” bit by John Mulaney.

Either Tonks has the biggest “bro” attitude out there, or she lives vicariously through MC.

Damn, so bitter...

But he’s 100% right, to be fair.

JC, lamp-shading it won’t make it less creepy, you know. I hated how everyone ganged up on her in the Valentine’s Day SQ. I really hope it will be a bit more subtle this time.

You mean the one where you’re still not a romantic option?

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s cool they added Jae and Chiara, but I don’t get why Badeea is an option but Liz isn’t. It’s not like Badeea is super popular in the fandom. I really hope some day my girl Liz would get the love she deserves.

Wait, wait, wait, wait... Stop, stop, stop.

This is happening during year 5, right?

Okay, I actually really like it because in my headcanon Barnaby remains good friends with Ismelda and Merula, so it fits perfectly.

Okay, let’s get back to the plot.

Is Badeea painting a Puffskein in the background?

(Once again the background sub-plot is more interesting than the main plot.)

Wow, the change in attitude once MC arrives is... Yikes.

Sure, JC. Merula likes MC. Very convincing.

Stop making me relate to Ismelda!

Again, I feel like I’m going to mention it a lot - it’s a year-5 SQ, JC!

You better not shove year-6 Ben down my throat.

Also, Rowan is nowhere to be found... You’re so damn lazy!

My angel deserves so much better than this... At least now I know that JC doesn’t give a shit about players that aren’t up-to-date with the latest chapters...

But why, though? I get why Penny, but Merula is not popular and she never showed any kind of social-initiative before. She wants to be the strongest witch, but it doesn’t have anything to do with a popularity-based title.

If I remember correctly. she criticized MC in one of the previous SQs for listening to Penny and said that power is more important than popularity.

So why would she want to win something that is completely dependent on a popularity status?

Oh right, it’s a JC game. There is no logic or consistency. Sorry. Carry on...

I was so bored, I didn’t even notice the “neither” choice...

Okay, let’s just be a supportive friend, then.

I mean, if it’s between Penny and Merula, then it’s a no-brainer.

But literally anyone else, and my answer would change. (Chiara FTW!)

Awww, see what I mean by her being a bro?

So damn supportive when she's not screwing everything up.

I-

I gotta say, I like this little Ravenclaw gathering.

I wish there were more activities for MC and the other characters from her house. Because even though Tulip is not technically a part of this, it’s still nice to have a scene with Talbott, Andre and Badeea.

Also, this skunk spell... Tulip is going to abuse it, I guarantee it.

To be fair, just making all the outfits is enough work already.

But wait, isn’t he a dateable option as well? I’m confused.

I said it before, but in these type of SQs, Andre is the best!

Of course she understands, mate. You deserve way more than you’re getting out of this whole deal, trust me.

Haha, Tulip’s blank stare in the background... Cue the “They ask you how you are, and you just have to say you're fine, when you're not really fine...” meme.

Can we all embrace a collective headcanon where Andre’s actually getting compensation for all his hard work?

Luna has enough money to spare, there’s no way this bloke is not getting paid for this.

That’s usually how it works, mate.

No, no, no... Please don’t make it that everyone’s pushing her into a corner again, it was so awkward!

I can’t go through it again...

Also, it’s Luna. She chooses her dates, not the other way around.

Called it!

Though, to be fair, who didn’t see it coming?

Guess...

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Wow, they really didn’t give me a lot to work with, huh?

Well, the post is long enough, so... Hopefully there will be enough interesting stuff happening in the next post.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #festival fun sq #hphm mc #hphm year 5 #luna silver #andre egwu #badeea ali #talbott winger #tulip kasaru #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #rubeus hagrid

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sandpumpkin · 3 years

Text

Birthday King

Happy Birthday dear Tulip!!!

Selfship ahoy.

Under the cut because it’s a little long.

The moment Hana learnt of Kid’s birthday, she knew exactly what to make for it. Sure it could have been for Christmas but she held birthdays in higher regard. Locking herself in her sewing room, she sketched up her ideas. Needs a hat too..yes..and..some chains?..spikes?...Red..what shade..what fabric?

Once she was happy with the design she hurried to find the one person that knew Kid the best.

“Killer,” she found Killer in the kitchen as usual. He was in the middle of preparing the marinade the beef for cooking later, “sorry..I can come back later-”

“Did you need something?” he asked, noticing the drawing pad she was holding at her chest protectively.

“Yes..I just need your advice on something for Kid’s birthday.” she explained, shuffling nervously on the spot. Maybe this is a bad idea..maybe I should do something less extravagant?

“His birthday? You’ve got a while for that-” Killer hummed, setting a bottle of soy sauce down.

“Oh well..I need to start it soon or I won’t finish it,” walking towards Killer opening the book and showing him it “Sorry about the terrible drawing but..what do you think?” she asked, Killer cleaned his hands and took hold of the sketch pad.

“Isn’t this similar to Roger’s coat?” Killer stated, Hana jolted and panicked.

“Is it too similar? I wanted it to be Pirate king but Kid’s theme..if that makes sense..” she rambled “Oh! This is too much isn’t it?” Killer rested a hand on her head as if he were stopping an alarm clock ringing.

“It's fine, but why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well. He’s going to be King of the pirates eventually right?” Killer nodded “So King needs his robes..or coat in this case. Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked squirming on the spot.

Killer’s shoulders shuddered in a silent laugh and handed her the book back “he’ll love it. Don’t make it too red, a darker red would be better like his old coat, he won’t admit but he liked that coat.”Killer suggested.

“Duly noted! Thank you so much!” Hana smiled brightly and hurried on her way. She had much to do and time was of the essence. Oh...how do I get his measurements?!

“Just measure his current coat.” she replied to her own question out loud “I’m such an idiot.”

She made sure she collected the best fabrics for the coat and used the crew’s help smuggling large amounts of deep red fur and other elements onto the ship. Plaster after plaster was applied to her hands and fingers from her severe concentration. Each chain was clipped and twisted together to get the perfect drape and length. Killer had been roped in to test the width of the coat, since he was closest in shoulder size to the coat’s desired host and Hana’s mannequin lacked big shoulders. “It’s nowhere near finished but what do you think so far?” she asked nervously as Killer carefully set the coat onto the small mannequin best he could.

“It’s good. What are these bits for?” Killer asked, gesturing to the loops and pockets on the inside of the jacket.

“Oh, well you can never have too many pockets and well..maybe a hipflask, extra knives, compass, bullets? Treasure map.. Small stuff..” she rambled nervously, which made Killer uncharastically snort “bad idea?”

“Great idea. You got all bases covered it seems.” Killer ruffled her head and patted her shoulder proudly “keep up the good work. Don’t forget to sleep though.” he scolded.

Hana spent most of her free time toiling away on Kid’s new coat. sometimes losing track of time. It was a lot of new techniques and a good chance to practise her embroidery a little more. I can’t rush it. It has to be perfect!

Thankfully Kid was easily as absorbed in his work but he did start to notice her absence during the day when she would bring him lunch now it was Killer. Kid would grumble when Killer set his lunch on his workbench.

“She’s not your maid you know.” Killer chided,

“I know that, where is she?” Kid asked, sourly shoveling cabbage rolls into his mouth

Killer shrugged “busy.” Killer’s short responses made Kid grumble more.

Kid was not completely blind, he saw the plasters decorated most of her fingers and the weariness in her eyes when she finally shuffled into his cabin at night. But she was tight lipped as ever with her project. Kid had an inkling what she was making, he knew it was for him since everyone went to great lengths to keep him away from her sewing room, ushering him elsewhere with fake problems or promises of alcohol.

What a little troublemaker.

The day of Kid’s birthday came around sooner than she’d realised but it was done. She was proud of it. I hope Kid likes it...maybe I shouldn’t have made the hat. She held the large tricorn with Kid’s pirate logo embroidered on the front with a large feather and golden chain hanging between two of the points in her hands. It’s fine..it looks good.. I just hope he likes it...

Kid was a party person, he loved a good excuse to celebrate and drink and what better excuse than his birthday. Killer had made a huge feast, including his personal favourite: cabbage rolls. The crew often gifted Kid alcohol for his birthday or sometimes they enjoyed giving him prank gifts like: an udon bowl one year. Courtesy of Killer’s mentioning he later found out.

This year was different. This year there was a new addition to the crew. Hana had dressed up especially for this ‘little’ party wearing her best tartan dress and she was smiling and laughing with everyone, enjoying the atmosphere.

Childish as it was, Kid waited expectantly for her gift to be presented but everyone elses gifts were brought round in rotation. Once the last gift had been brought forward, Hana pushed her chair out “excuse me a moment.” she said, resting a hand on his arm and kissing his cheek softly.

Kid slumped in his chair and watched as she left the mess hall with Killer in tow. He grumbled reaching for one of the bottles of whiskey. The crew quickly set to entertaining Kid with various card games.

It felt like an eternity until three sharp knocks at the kitchen door. Everyone stopped what they were doing. “Oh, they're done.”

Kid frowned and watched them all rise looking at him expectantly. Some of the crew have huge grins across their faces: terrible poker faces these idiots.

Wire went first, his tall stature hiding the scene in front of them. They part as they get on deck, Kid still feeling salty about being ditched on his birthday but those feelings are quickly swept away by the crisp sea air when he spotted Hana shuffling nervously.

Once Kid was properly on deck, she stepped aside revealing the mass behind her. She..what a woman.. Kid closed his eyes and chuckled deeply. He recognized the gift before him.

“Happy birthday Kid..” she smiled, watching him stare at the coat taking in all the intricate detail. He almost didn’t watch to touch it. It was a coat that rivaled the great Gol.D Roger. No..this is better. His hand reached for the spiked pauldrons on one side of the side, trailing down to gold chains that formed an elaborate design down the front, the soft short pile fur and on the back his pirate flag carefully embroidered in gold.

“Kid..”

He didn’t reply, pulling his coat off his shoulders, chucking it to one of the crew to catch before he picked up the new coat and threw it over his shoulders, putting his good arm through the sleeve. It was heavy from the fabric and the metal accents but the love that had been woven into the jacket made him feel light as a feather. On one of the inside pockets he noticed a little pumpkin stitched there, he smiled softly, she too shared his dream. One day he would be pirate king and this coat was proof of it. He finally turned to face her with a faux stern look on his face.

"well..Pirate King needs a coat...and I couldn't resist a hat too,” She said, holding out the hat to him. Kid blinked and pulled his goggles around his neck, kneeling slightly to allow her to place the hat upon his head. “Happy Birthday my king." She smiled brightly, cupping his face and kissing him boldly in front of the whole crew.

Kid grinned, scooping her up in his metal arm “guess that makes you my queen then.” Hana blushed and threw her arms around his neck “well then you idiots, let's party and get back to conquering this damn ocean!” The crew cheered around him. “I am going to be Pirate King!” he declared loudly, which made them cheer again. The feel of pride swelling in his chest, how could he fail now with such high hopes resting upon his shoulders as well as such a splendid coat. He was invincible.

#pumpkin writes #eustass kid x pumpkin #eustass captain kid #Selfship #Happy Birthday Kid #softest metal boi

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missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

The Other World- Part 1

Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to say my customary few words before you read this fic. As most in the HM community know on here, there are many who have drawn or written out our characters for this extremely flawed game that we’ve come to love one way or the other. One of the best and most thought out is the one created by @hogwartsmysterystory better known as Ethren Whitecross. I think we can all agree how incredible his writing is and how it’s inspired many people, including myself. This is my own way of saying thank you and to pay homage to his MC.

The following story is split into two parts, since the whole story is too long to release all at once. It is my tribute to him and his writing and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Part 2 will be released tomorrow.

If anyone needs background on my MC, please visit my tumblr page and MC info. I realize not everyone will get the context right away.

Enjoy!

A ringing in David Grant’s ears echoed as though it were the loudest noise on the planet. It was also hardly the only commotion going on at the moment. Within the confines of the Ministry, the scene could be described as quite chaotic.

It’s to be expected. Especially given that You Know Who has been dead for less than forty eight hours.

Standing within the spacious halls of the atrium, the once precocious curse breaker of Hogwarts was a much different man from the days of chasing after his long lost brother. Gone was the easy going smirk, the baby faced features of a teenager ready to take on whatever the world had to throw at him. What remained was a tired, unshaved, long haired ex-Auror who had suffered the trials of war, intrigue and then some. The once warm hazel-blue eyes were dulled to a flint like cynicism unrivaled even by the hardiest of warriors.

With the exception of Harry Potter (the stories were certainly true about his exploits), the law enforcement of Magical Britain had suffered more than most. Some had kept up the charade of the blue robes by staying in the Ministry after Voldemort’s takeover, others were placed under the imperious curse (poor Dawlish), while others yet defected and joined the resistance. But to David, that mattered not. The end of the battle of Hogwarts only brought a simple question to his mind.

Where was his wife?

Memories of the battle against her parents flashed in his mind once more- the sickening crunch of Matthias Snyde’s neck breaking, the unhinged screams of his wife, Lyra, who ordered her daughter to kill him. The battle for the soul of Merula Snyde. It had taken every once of his willpower to break through to her and he was certain she had been placed under the imperius curse herself. No one could control his wife, not unless they were prepared to do so by using the Dark Arts. However, that did not change the fact that she still carried the Dark Mark on her forearm and that in turn marked her as a Death Eater and a traitor.

Funny how fast things can change in the span of two days, he thought humorlessly.

There was no joy in his heart, no consolation to be had. He had stepped into the halls of this Merlin forsaken place for a single purpose and would not leave without knowing that Merula would not spend an eternity in Azkaban for crimes she was not culpable for. Consequences be damned, he would spend an eternity in there with her if he had to.

He needed to see someone with the authority to release her. Someone close to the newly appointed Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, his mentor and friend. Surely, he would listen.

Finally, amongst the crowd of hectic witches and wizards, he spotted a familiar face, Williamson, one of the few Aurors that had actually been clever enough to escape the Ministry and resist the dark regime before it happened. He was also a protégé of Kingsley and was probably in a position to speak to him given the circumstances, even if they were not the closest of blokes in the past.

He grabbed the shorter man by the shoulder as he hurried by.

“Williamson.”

“Grant?” the dirty blond haired Auror exclaimed. “Is that really you?”

“No, it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury. Of course, it’s me.”

Williamson shook his head.

“Still haven’t lost that infamous sarcasm, have you Grant? It used to be a lot funnier.”

David’s patience, already on thin ice, showed signs of cracking. He had not gone traveled thousands of miles and collected numerous bounties across Europe and the U.S. to bandy words with a lesser Auror.

“You know why I’m here, Williamson. I need to speak to Kingsley.”

The man gave a haughty sigh, though similar to everyone else, he too showed signs of immense fatigue and stress.

“The Minister,” he corrected. “Is not seeing anyone at the current moment as he has quite enough on his plate. Namely, the envoys from France and the United States.”

“He can make time for me. My wife is currently locked up in a cell somewhere in this fucking hellhole and I want assurances she’s not going to be charged with anything.”

Williamson tried to tug himself out of his grip, but David was much stronger and much more seasoned than his counterpart. The former recognized this and attempted to placate him as best he could.

“For God’s sake David, let me go,” he said, shaking his shoulder away. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to your wife. And I don’t think the Minister does either.”

That evasive response got his blood boiling again. Even with Britain and shambles, red tape and bureaucracy still impeded him.

“She’s innocent,” he growled. “She was under the imperius curse and nothing she did was voluntary.”

“We can’t prove that one way or the other. She’s got the mark and is the suspect of several crimes perpetuated against muggle born families.”

David could feel himself going numb, refusing to believe that Merula ever did anything so horrific under her own willpower. It wasn’t possible. Even as young children, when she was at her worst, he never truly believed she was capable of such atrocity.

“You’re wrong….”he managed to choke out. “You’re wrong and I can prove it. I just need to see Kingsley.”

This time it was Williamson’s turn to get serious as he received a hard stare.

“Frankly, you don’t have much to stand on either. Your own conduct in this war is under scrutiny as well. We’ve received word from the American, German, and Russian governments about various undertakings that occurred under your watch. Bounties, assassinations…”

“I did what I had to,” David replied with quiet fury. “You have no right to judge me for anything, Williamson. I’ve suffered through enough, I’ve…” he barely contained the lump in his throat as thoughts of the deceased permeated through his mind, people he’d never talk to or interact with again. People he loved.

“I just want my wife back. Please, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like the rest of those monsters.”

A flicker of sympathy appeared on his colleague’s face, but it was clear from his defeated posture there was nothing he could or was willing to do.

“I’m sorry, Grant. My hands are tied. The dust hasn’t even settled at Hogwarts nor on this new Ministry and you come barging in here demanding a Death Eater be released? Not only can I not guarantee such an action, but the question of your reinstatement among the Auror office remains to be seen as well. I’m sure the Minister will see you when he has sufficient time. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.”

And with that he walked off without another word, leaving David with no prospects or immediate solutions to his problem. He was completely and truly alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Quiet. Then again, this place was always quiet.

In the aftermath of his plea falling on deaf ears, David did not heed Williamson or any other Ministry official. Given the chaos surrounding Britain, there was no one to stop him from going into the Department of Mysteries, namely the room of death.

He had only been in here once. And that was in the aftermath of a massive battle between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters over some ancient prophecy that You Know Who had desired for some reason or another (the circumstances surrounding his connection with Harry Potter were still dubious). That basically had been mop up duty and ensuring that Tonks was not too seriously hurt.

A massive lump formed in his throat at the thought of the pink haired witch, one of his best friends and partners in crime. Seeing her body- pale, cold, and fragile body on the stone floor of Hogwarts- was too much to bear. Despite Tulip’s attempts to console him, there was no consolation to be had.

David shut his eyes as silent tears rolled down.

Tonks, Fred, Talbott, Badeea, Ben….they’re all gone. They’re gone and I’ll never be able to see them again.

If there had been a stray rock or pebble, he would have flung it into the archway itself. But there was none to be had. The emptiness was symbolic of room itself, black and devoid of life. Personification of death, the lives robbed by its random cruelty. Because that’s what this was in his mind: simply cruel

Dropping to his knees, he ran his hands through his almost-shoulder length hair, the tears dripping off the stubble of his chin and onto the floor. By now the shock of the battle had well worn off and the only thing remained was the unadulterated, raw pain that marked its end. Hundreds were dead, including numerous friends and coworkers. And now his wife was essentially condemned to live out the rest of her days in prison, victim of a family legacy forced upon her.

It’s my fault, he thought to himself. I couldn’t protect her. I let her fucking manipulative, piece of shit parents get their hands on her and now our entire lives are bloody dead on arrival.

After all the fighting, after all of his efforts to find Merula and end the pestilential war that plagued the U.K. for almost twenty years, he had failed. Even with You Know Who dead, the ideology he perpetuated took a piece of himself and his life with him.

What was the point? What was there left to live for or hold onto? Merula wasn’t dead but she might as well have been- a fantasy of something that wasn’t coming back. Just like Tonks.

Like Ben….

Like Badeea…

Like Talbott….

There is no point, came the internal conclusion.

Suddenly, David felt another presence within the room. At first, he believed it to be some stuck up official who was about to order him to leave (in which case he would have been in for a rude awakening) but he found that the feeling was much different than sensing a person sneaking up behind you. No, this was…supernatural.

The presence was not one entity, rather it felt like multiple. Even more unsettling was that these entities seemed to speaking to him.

David Grant…..David Grant

It was barely more than a whisper, but it was extremely audible, as though the message was specifically designed for his ears only.

David Grant….David Grant

He looked around and realized that this voice, or voices, were coming from the mysterious archway itself. Even more mysterious, he felt drawn to it, despite his own fear.

“Who…who are you?” he said standing up walking towards the archway.

Come….Come….

“Come where? I don’t understand.”

Come see….come see….

At this point, David was so delirious, so filled with grief and emotion he didn’t even consider he might be going mad. Who were these spirits that desired to speak with him? What did they want to show him?

“Tonks?” he asked aloud, swallowing his throat. “Ben? Talbott? Grandpa? Is that you?

He reached his hand toward the shadowy, white substance that moved about within the archway, all rationality forgotten. The knowledge that this door was the veil to a world beyond life, to death itself, did not register.

I can see my friends again. Maybe I can go to a place and be with Merula again and start over. No war, no pain. Just a life worth living, a life better than this…

As the tip of his index finger touched the veil a white, hot flash blinded him as a force more powerful than he had ever experienced tore into the very soul of his being. Time and space seemed to be ripping itself apart and back again as he was plunged into an unknown cosmic channel that seemed to go faster than the speed of light, yet slower than the oldest tortoise. Just as David thought he might go mad from the insanity around him, everything went black.

Then he knew no more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The scent of daisies and wildflowers wafted in the air, carried by a soft breeze. The air was warm and tender as it was on a summer day in Britain. The chirping of birds signified the season and the promise it offered to all creatures.

Hazel blue eyes fluttered open.

Thinking back to what just occurred, David sat up and saw that he was in a meadow on the edge of a forest of some sort. Tall grasses partially obscured his view, and the ground itself was so soft, he almost wished to remain there. However, curiosity got the better of him.

Standing up, the scene became more familiar. This was no ordinary meadow. It was a place he and someone very dear to him had once visited during a weekend at Hogwarts. A peaceful place that had been the spot of one of the greatest moments of his life.

This is Hogwarts. Or at least the edge of the grounds.

He saw the forest, the same one he once saw Fenrir Greyback emerge from in his first year, its tall trees just as imposing as ever, though less so in daylight. To his north, was the castle itself, its massive presence right where he left it…except it wasn’t. There were no visible signs of damage to the longstanding magical institution, at least none that he could see. It was as if the Giants who had wreaked havoc with their clubs on the towers, never existed in the first place.

Frowning, David turned his gaze downward. Though the day was cloudy, visibility was still strong. The hoops of the Quidditch pitch could be seen even from this distance. Sloping all the way across the hill was Hagrid’s hut, the fire damage to its roof also gone.

“What on earth?” he muttered to himself. This couldn’t be Hogwarts, he was just there. The state of the school was a mess and the physical damage immeasurable. How could it have been gone in the span of one day? Come to think of it, how long had he actually been out for after he touched that veil?

“Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, after all,” he said aloud. “But how in the hell did I get here?”

Whatever the case, he needed to find out what exactly was going on. If a significant amount of time had passed, Merlin only knew what happened since his absence.

But before he did, another marking caught his eye, one that he was unfamiliar with. To the untrained eye, it looked like a piece of dark granite stuck in the middle of the ground, but David knew better. Whatever it was, it warranted a closer look. As Kingsley always told him- “Check every aspect of your surroundings. If something is out of the ordinary, investigate with caution and care.” As David often joked, it was his own version of ‘constant vigilance’ employed by Mad-Eye Moody. Really, it wasn’t a surprise the smooth and capable man became Minister.

Deciding to test apparation this far from the school itself, he discovered that there were no wards and saved himself the walk.

Upon closer inspection, he saw that the gray semi-obelisk was actually a monument. A monument to those who had died in the fighting against Voldemort and his forces during that fateful night. He read the inscription.

Here lies those who willingly gave their lives in the face of the greatest evil our world has yet seen. May their sacrifice never be forgotten, and their memories preserved by the love of family and friends. This monument is a tribute to them and the day of May 2nd, 1998.

David could feel goosebumps rush down his body as he glanced at the names engraved on the stone. There was at a least a hundred, which thinking back to the official dead count was about the number killed in the battle. His heart sank as the casualties remained unchanged, ‘Nymphadora Tonks’, ‘Remus Lupin’, ‘Fred Weasley’, ‘Ben Copper’, and others were all listed. Curiously, however, there were others he didn’t even recognize while some were conspicuously absent. Badeea’s name was not among the dead nor was Talbott Winger. One of the names, a man by the name of ‘Ethren Whitecross’ had the stars and stripes flag next to it, signifying he was American.

“There were no Americans at that battle as far as I know,” David said to himself. “I spent the last two weeks of the war trying to bloody well convince them not to intervene, didn’t I?”

It suddenly occurred to him, that this monument had to have been created after the epic battle and sure enough when he checked the creation date, his guess proved to correct.

“Commemorated September 1st, 1998,” he said. “Paid for by the Board of Governors with the consent of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.”

David almost had to sit down again and suddenly felt very disoriented.

I’m…I’m in the future, he realized. But how is this possible? Has such a thing ever been confirmed?

Sure, there were stories, but they were usually old wives tales, legends that carried no bearing on reality. Though time turners technically had the ability to send someone back in time, they were all destroyed three years prior and besides, it could only send you to the maximum of thirty-six hours back in time not forward.

There was no question, he needed answers. And the sooner he received them the better. What year was it? Were people wondering where he went? What was the state of the Ministry? Was Kingsley still in charge? Were the Death Eaters given trial or executed? His stomach then dropped a few notches.

Merula

Above all else, the fate of his wife was the most important aspect of this investigation. If something had happened to her without him there to defend her honor…well he didn’t want to think about that just yet.

“She’d come and find me no matter where she was and tear my ear off,” he said with a dry chuckle.

Wasting no more time, David decided to visit the Ministry first. They would surely hold the records and documents about all trials, prisoners, and even the status of current, ex, or retired Aurors. People might be shocked or incredulous to see him barge in randomly, but it was worth a shot.

Making sure he maintained the necessary distance from the wards, David apparated away and in a flash was gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Unbeknownst to everyone aside from the Minister and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, there was a secret entrance to the Auror Office in a random pay phone booth in Manchester. As part of their training and oath, they were not allowed to use it except in cases of extreme emergency such as an attack or during a war. And though David’s situation didn’t qualify under either circumstance, he figured that going missing for God knows how long and not knowing what happened was enough of an excuse. Besides, if Tonks didn’t get caught for sneaking a whole case of beer during training, it was a safe bet no one would give him grief over this either.

Trying not to think about Tonks and making sure no muggles were looking, David stepped into the booth, awaiting to be transported to the main Auror office. It was quite a simple process. The old muggle machine had been charmed to recognize the magical signature of any law enforcement officer in its ranks. All you had to do was place your wand in the tray, say aloud your name and you’d be whisked away to the halls of the Aurors.

David did just that, as he could feel the magical sensors checking him over including multiple dark detectors.

“David John Grant,” he said, showing his badge.

However, instead of finding himself inside the Ministry in the next second, a wave of green slime appeared out of nowhere, drenching him from head to toe in a disgusting ooze.

“ACK! What the f-”

He quickly exited the booth to the curious glances of some muggle onlookers, who were no doubt attracted by the minor commotion. Giving them all a quick smile and a wave, David ducked behind one of the brick buildings the city was known for, cursing himself and the booth.

A few cleaning charms later, there was little trace of the substance on him (save for his vans) but the incident only brought more questions. Why had the secret entrance denied him? Technically speaking, he hadn’t officially resigned from the Aurors when he went into hiding and took up being a vigilante. His magical signature and badge should have been more than enough to avoid the pitfall of having that odious slime dropped all over him. It was merely a safeguard against dark wizards, but it also revealed something else.

Whatever the reason, the Ministry no longer recognized his credentials. That in itself was an ominous sign. If he wanted answers, he would have to go about it the old fashioned way.

Ensuring no one was peering into the alley, David apparated out of sight once more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One trip to London and a red phone booth later, David was finally inside the Ministry. Walking down the sleek, marble halls, it was almost exactly as he had remembered- the same statues, same fountain, same amounts of flying memos zooming in and out of their respective stations. The hustle and bustle was back and there was no sign of any damage from the war.

If the Ministry looks this good, it must be a fairly long time since the last battle.

Even more promising was the person sitting at the front entrance desk. David recognized those dark features and orange sideburns anywhere: Talbott Winger. He was wearing the blue robes most Aurors did while on duty and that was also a good sign. He, Tonks, and Talbott were the last ones accepted for mentorship in 1991 which meant he would know just what the hell was going on.

He was just about to greet his old friend, until he stopped dead in his tracks, recalling the monument and how Talbott’s name wasn’t on the list of the fallen. Seeing him alive and well at the Ministry all but confirmed this was the case. But this only brought more confusion to David’s already very bamboozled mind.

He died during the battle. I witnessed it with my own eyes. So if this is the future, how can he still be alive?

None of this was making any sense at all. Nevertheless, David knew that he had to try and do something to figure this mess out. Though naturally reserved, Talbott did not hesitate to help the rare few he called ‘friend’. Perhaps he could provide some assistance, whatever the reason for this madness.

“Hey, Talbott.”

The ebony skinned wizard looked up, his sharp eyes penetrating him like the hawk of his animagus form.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice betraying no hint of recognition.

David rolled his eyes playfully as he leaned on the desk.

“Come on, mate. Quite having me on. It’s Dave.”

An awkward silence followed as he sought to clarify.

“David Grant.”

Again, the name did not compute as Talbott merely gaze a polite look of bewilderment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Okay, now this was definitely getting weird. How did Talbott, even if he was somehow not dead, not even know who he was?

“Talbott, I’m your friend. David Grant. We went to Hogwarts together. I helped you find your lost necklace that your mother gave you.”

That statement lit up the dark, brown eyes of the animagus though it was not out of familiarity, rather the emotion seemed to be pain and shock.

“I don’t know how you know about that, but I can assure you, you were not the one to help me find my necklace nor did I attend Hogwarts with you. Now, is there something I can help you with?”

David was practically reeling. How was it possible that the man he had gone through so much with didn’t even so much as recognize him? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

Alright, at the very least, I can get in here, find my old office and pour through some old files. I’m sure whoever’s in charge now can clear this up.

“Yeah…uh…I’m an Auror,” he said showing his badge. “Listen, I’ve been gone awhile for reasons you wouldn’t believe anyway but I just need to get to my old office and talk to someone. Is that possible at least?”

“Give me your badge and wand.”

Short and to the point, no time for idle chit chat. That was Talbott alright, which made the situation all the more disconcerting.

Talbott took his items and examined them, muttering a few standard identification and security spells, before getting up from his chair.

“One moment, please.”

David raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. Though he didn’t know why a simple identification spell required going into a backroom, he was sure whatever issue popped up would be cleared soon enough. After what seemed like half an hour (it was only ten minutes, but it seemed longer), Talbott returned and handed his wand and badge back to him.

“I’m not quite sure what the issue is, sir. But there’s no record of any David Grant of having worked for the Auror Department, or any other Ministry job for that matter.”

The twenty five year old leaned forward slightly, as if not hearing him correctly.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Your badge is authentic but there’s no employment history of anybody with your name here. When I applied more tests to your wand, it didn’t match any current witch or wizard in the entirety of the United Kingdom, nor anything ever sold from Ollivanders.”

This time the confusion was shared by both men, as David looked incredulously at his wand and badge as though he no longer knew what they were, while Talbott appeared to be a cross between dumbfounded and even a tad sympathetic.

“Nothing at all? No David, or John Grant or anyone with that name?”

“Nothing. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never seen anything like this before. I want to believe you. But as far as the government is concerned, you don’t exist.”

David let those words hit him a few times before even contemplating a course of action.

As far as the government is concerned, you don’t exist

You don’t exist…

You don’t exist….

“I-I don’t understand,” he finally spoke aloud.

“Neither do I,” Talbott affirmed. “But unfortunately, I can’t let you in the Ministry at this time. I’m sorry.”

David didn’t even bother to argue the point. It seemed as though every time he found a simple method to answer his questions, the end result would just add more to his ‘to-do’ list. The revelation that the British Ministry held no record of anyone with his name was the icing on the cake.

“Well…uh…thank you anyway.”

Turning around to leave, there was one more question burning on David’s mind, one that he was sure even this version of Talbott wouldn’t mind revealing.

“Would you at least mind telling me this? What day and year is it?”

Talbott gave him a questioning look but gave him a straight answer.

“May 4th, 1999,” he answered.

So a whole year has passed? That explains why the war damage has been fixed. But not everything else. Including my own status as living, breathing person.

Then he noticed something else. A small pin attached to the front of Talbott’s Auror robes. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was an American Flag, the second one he had seen today.

“I beg your pardon but why do you have a lapel of the United States flag?”

“Full of questions, aren’t we? It’s a commemoration.”

David didn’t understand but then again what else was new. He needed to ask for more.

“What does America have to do with the commemoration of the end of the war?”

There was no mistaking the obvious look of pain and sorrow on Talbott’s face this time. So distraught that look was, he shifted his gaze to the side.

“The citizens of the United Kingdom weren’t the only ones who gave up their lives in order to stop You Know Who.”

It was there that David ceased, prudently unwilling to press the matter further. Talbott wasn’t going to speak more on the subject anyway and to do so would have been inappropriate anyway.

“Thank you for your help, good day.”

David didn’t turn to witness Talbott’s reaction. He had seen enough. From being thrusted a year forward in time, to seeing an old friend alive, right down to his own seemingly non-existence, this whole scenario was becoming positively ridiculous. And if he couldn’t find information at the Ministry there was another source he could turn to.

It was a time for a trip to Diagon Alley.

#ethren whitecross #david grant #harry potter #hogwarts mystery #tribute #fanfiction #talbott winger #nymphadora tonks #battle of hogwarts #au #hphm #hphm fanfiction

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flying-elliska · 5 years

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salut ellie! someone once asked you about your writing and you recommended falling in love with language and finding ways of writing you love. i was wondering, what books and/or writing styles are you in love with? it's just so interesting to know what somehow had an impact on the way you're writing bc i honestly adore your style

wow do you remember that ? that is such a flattering question oh my god. well, i’m still working on it. some of my favorites are (i’m very eclectic lmao) :

- His Dark Materials (it’s a fantasy book series ‘for kids’ but it’s actually insanely deep and philosophic) is pretty much the first book series that made me fall in love with stories, and made me want to write. I think I found it when I was 10, and it completely shaped me. It’s so ambitious and clever, it never talks down to the reader, brings up those amazing worlds and philosophical concepts and is still accessible to kids. Most of all it is so committed to atmosphere, to making it vivid, to really make you go through what the characters are. I’m thinking of it and I can remember exactly certain passages in an almost sensory way : the witch Serafina Pekkala describing what it feels like to feel the Aurora Borealis on her bare skin as she is flying through the arctic. The polar bear Iorek giving Lyra frozen moss to help bandage his wounds after a battle. The grilled poppy heads that the Jordan College scholars at Oxford eat during a meeting. The little Gallivespians on their dragonflies and the way the sun reflects off their poisonous spurs. That’s how you make a story stick ; that’s how you can put in deep stuff without ever making it boring. I am so excited they’re making a tv series because that shit deserves some recognition. And I mean the whole plot about the importance of stories, free will, the horror of religious fundamentalism....always relevant. Philip Pullman’s stuff is great in general, I love his Sally Lockhart series, which is more adult and adventure focused, and is a great deal of fun. And of course, the sequel to HDM he’s been putting out recently.

- I spent a lot of my teen years reading either crime novels or historical novels. (When I think of some of the stuff I read when I was 13 I’m like oh my god what were my parents doing lmao some of that was really horrible.) And I think it gave me a good feeling for suspense and setting, and how important tension is. One of my all time faves is Andrea Japp. She is a French writer who does mostly crime, involving complex/monstrous woman characters and a very sensory, poetic approach to language, often involving food, plants and poisons. My favorite by her is the “Season of the Beast”/Agnès de Souarcy chronicles, which is a crime series set in medieval times, with a cool independent lady at its core, crimes in a monastery, and this very gloomy end of times vibe that I love. I also read a lot of Scandi Noir stuff, I love the kind of ...laconic approach to life. And again : vibe. Vibe is so important. And Sherlock Holmes stories. I love the Mary Russell series that take place in that universe and are basically a big Mary Sue self insert guilty pleasure but are just. So much fun.

- I like poetry a lot - not stuff that is too wordy, but something short, sharp and vivid. i think reading poetry is essential to feeding your inner ‘metaphor culture’. I love Mary Oliver. Rimbaud, too, that I read at 17 and rocked my world. One of my underrated faves is Hồ Xuân Hương, a Vietnamese poet from the 18th century who was adept at using nature metaphors to hide both erotic stuff, irreverent jokes, and political criticism, and correspond with all the great scholars of her time under a pseudonym. Badass. Recently I bought ‘Soft Science’ by Franny Choi, which is about cyborgs, having a female body, emotions and politics and it’s absolutely brilliant.

- I love reading fairy tales, too. Currently reading (i always read a lot of books at once lol) Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales, basically fairy tales for grown ups, collected from folklore all over the world, with an amazing kind of gruesome humor and wisdom. Norse mythology is also so damn funny. That one bit with Thor dressing up as a bride or Loki’s shenanigans...amazing. And I like fantasy, I find it very soothing to read for some reason, my fave has to be Robin Hobb and her Realm of the Elderlings series. And Terry Pratchett, especially the series with Death or the Witches. Just brilliant. Neil Gaiman too.

- I tend to be very impatient when it comes to literary fiction, I find a lot of it is self-indulgent, dreary. I’m a genre reader through and through, I need to be amazed. I loved ‘the Elegance of the Hedgehog’ by Muriel Barbery though. Some stuff by Amélie Nothomb, Virginie Despentes occasionally (they’re French writers with a very dark, wry approach to life, tho the first is more polished acid and the second very punk rock). And ‘Special Topics in Calamity Physics’ by Marisha Pessl is pretentious as hell but a lot of fun, if you like dark academia. Salman Rushdie has a way with language that is amazing.

- I read a lot of non-fiction. At the moment : the Cabaret of Plants (about the symbolic/socio historical meaning of plants and how they shaped history) by Richard Mabey and ‘Feminist Fight Club’ by Jessica Bennett. One I absolutely love is ‘the Botany of Desire’ by Michael Pollan in which he traces the history of four plant species (apple, potato, cannabis, tulip) and how they impacted us as much as we impacted them. I was obsessed with plants for most of my life as you can see lol (my mother is a herbalist and I wanted to become a botanist for quite a while.). Also philosophy/anthropology in little bits. I love Tim Ingold. Things about witches. Anything by Rebecca Solnit is incredible.

- I’ve been reading a lot of YA recently, because it’s fun and quick and keeps me reading, and has a lot of good female characters. Big fave recently : Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore. It’s about a young bisexual woman who’s grieving and comes to this weird house full of doors, each of which leads to a different path in life, and we follow her through each choice she can potentially make, each of one becomes a different genre of story : creepy ghost story, spy story, sci-fi, cute romance, etc. It’s so innovative and it’s a story that is also bisexual culture at its core. Also I absolutely love love love love love (etc forever) the Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater. What she does with language is just so cool, because she stays simple and efficient but uses her metaphors in such a fulgurant, vivid way. Some of her lines are just. bam! genius. #goals. Also Ronan Lynch is probably THE character that helped me the most with my coming out. He’s one of my forever faves. Of course Harry Potter, lmao, I was of the generation that pretty much grew up with him, the last book came out when I was 17. JK Rowling really should just stop rn. But I learned so much from those, about the importance of making your story feel like home, and having a clear emotional journey. And Harry is such a sarcastic little shit, I love him. And I love a Series of Unfortunate Events too, the darkly funny tone of it, the celebration of knowledge and resilience.

- I think in terms of the classics (I had to read in school lmao), I do like Victor Hugo a lot even though some of his stuff just doesn’t fucking stop. I also like Balzac and his Comédie Humaine, he’s very observant, mean and funny when it comes to people (even though it’s depressing.) Colette is my grandma’s fave writer and she is a rockstar, I love her (also hella bi culture). Jane Austen is great, I read Pride and Prejudice in one night straight, I was so hooked. Love Jane Eyre too. I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac while hopped up on opioid pain killers and that’s probably the only way to appreciate it, but it did mark me.

- But to be completely fucking candid, I probably read the most fanfic nowadays still. Esp since I got to college, I need to unwind when I read, and having characters you already know can be so comforting. Now, of course, there’s a lot of fanfic that is just fluff (nothing wrong with that) but I honestly really believe in the literary value of fanfic. Because some of that shit simply just really slaps and is well written. But also as a genre on its own : you just simply don’t get so much emotional nuance, and depth in most other things. Because these are characters we already know and the writers are not afraid to be self-indulgent and plot is secondary, we see shades of things that we never see anywhere else, we see relationships developping in the small things and wow that shit is breathtaking, bro, sometimes. The art of infinite variation on a theme. Even though a lot of fic writers could use a bit of stricter editing, and do stuff a bit too many unnecessary details in here, so does Victor Hugo soooooooo....

lol i could go on forever. i love book soooo much. uni kinda killed my reading appetite, I used to read several books a week when I was in middle school. hope i can get back there (although maybe not as much bc i have a life now lol.) but thinking about everything i have yet to read makes me sooooo happy. I want to get more into sci-fi, English lit classics. Basically I like stuff that’s witty, dark, political, hedonistic, with dry humor, but a warm heart. Stories that celebrate knowledge, curiosity and human weirdness. And that gets to the point. When I get bored by a book, I put it down, because I just don’t have the time. I also hate writers where you can tell that they think they’re better than other people. Misanthropy is boring. Thank you for this question anon I had a blast

#reading #books #book recs #literature #anon asks

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torannosaurusrexy · 5 years

Text

Tongue Tied

➝ Genre: Fluff

➝ Pairing: Slight Kim Seokjin | Reader

➝ Word Count: 7250

➝ Summary: Curse tongues, why do they tend to get in the way of every word in the English language? No, scratch that. Any language for that matter, and why did God feel the need to place a stutter atop your already useless tongue? Jin thinks it’s cute, why wouldn’t he really? The role of Supportive Best Friend is and always has been played perfectly by him. Then again, your stutter only grew in intensity when you spoke to those you didn’t know well, or your already shaky social skills teetered even closer to the edge of implosion.

This curse laid upon you shines brightly like a neon sign when Jin suggests meeting his drop-dead gorgeous set of friends that you’ve only ever seen in pictures, and that alone had you choking on your overly zealous tongue and the endless supply of drool you hold.

“So I was thinking it’d be nice for you to finally meet them.” Jin says before sipping his black coffee, sighing as the hot beverage glides down his throat.

You fiddle with the different colored sugar packets gracing the center of your table, “I don’t know Jinie. It’s just…you know…” You trail off, slipping into a state of half there and half elsewhere…trying to end the conversation as well by separating the cinnamon on top of your freshly brewed latte, avoiding Jin’s captivating eyes.

“It doesn’t slip when you’re around me…so why should it when i’ll be right next to you the entire time?” He smiles when you look back up at him, adjusting the falling shoulder of your jean jacket as a distraction. You both sit in silence as he stares at you, hoping it will make you crack. You stay solid as a rock until he wiggles his eyebrows with a childish smirk painted across his face. “Come on….You keep saying that they sound like so much fun! Not to mention you practically drool when you see pictures of them.”

“I-I-I do not!” Your stutter comes through, a deep blush forming on your face. It’s rare that it slips around Jin, with you and him being so comfortable with each other.

“Ah! Can’t fool me.” He laughs, throwing his head back, exposing the bottom of his beautifully sculpted jawline. “Just this once, please? I promise if you’re uncomfortable…we’ll leave and get Ben & Jerry’s” He calms down, grabbing your petite hands, running his rather large one over the knuckles and kissing the top of it, something he does often. To be completely honest…you’re surprised people don’t ask you if the two of you are dating more often. The touchiness and flirtatious conversations that seem regularly scheduled at this point probably make you two look like the average couple, especially to strangers and even to friends. However, Jin is like a brother to you, always has been and always will be. He’s always been there for you…so you should at least do this one thing for him. Not to mention part of you is itching to meet the statuesque boys from the pictures Jin has shown you.

Not that you’d ever admit it…

You give in, “Okay…I g-g-guess I could give it a try, only for t-the ice cream though.” You end the sentence with a smile, practically beaming once you see the look of pure happiness that has coated Jin’s perfect features.

“That’s my girl. Come on, They should all be at Joons’ place.” Jin smiles, obviously forming a mental image of his group of friends getting into some kind of hilarious trouble. “He just got this killer TV set and Jungkook brought over his Xbox.” He stands, collecting his jacket, throwing it over his arm and reaching out for you with the other.

You look up into Jin’s gleaming eyes like a wounded puppy, cowering into your latte as if the thick cream could swallow you whole and quickly evict you from the situation at hand. “We’re going now?” Your sentence forms but a sense of overwhelming stress and fear start to run rampant through your mind. And despite your best efforts…you can only fit so well into your latte mug.

“Mhm. Namjoon almost burned down his house trying to cook for everyone.” He pulls out his phone, the device vibrating violently in his hand. “See?” You look the screen up and down, reading only the conversations relevant to the topic at hand. A back and forth conversation with a contact labeled Hobi is bright with many emoji’s and caps lock letters dancing across the chat bubbles. You sort through your mind to find the connection to the name and then remember Jin referring to Hoseok as Hobi on occasion. You can’t help but smile when you see Namjoon butt into the conversation to try and argue for his sake. He fails and by the end of the exchange, Jin agreed to come over and cook for them.

Jin to the rescue as always.

You scrunch your eyebrows when a particular message he sent has you confused, “You’re bringing a surprise? What does that mean?” Jin kneads either side of his nose, shame glazing his form.

“I’m talking about you dipshit.” He smiles, holding out his hand for you, “Grab your coat, I need to buy groceries before we head over there.” You accept his gesture, intermingling your fingers and letting him yank you towards the door. You pull him back and take one last swig of your latte only to turn back to find Jin holding your purse.

Seriously…you aren’t dating.

Grabbing groceries was the easy part. Jin did practically everything, placing bread, vegetables, and various types of meat into the small basket you were holding for him, clutching the handle so tight that your knuckles were turning into a white color equal to that of your bones. “I can hear you breathing.” Jin mentions, eyeing you sincerely while placing a few packages of ramen in your basket. “I promise you they’re good guys, nothing to worry about. If anything, the worst that can happen is a tickle fight.” Jin grins, his cute round-framed glasses–that he doesn’t need–completing the look he sports with ease. Seokjin’s looks were never short of beguiling. He’s just so damn gorgeous. His cheeks scrunched up when he smiled, his shoulders were perfect for resting your head on; and he always comforted you when you had a bad day. You were ever grateful to him. Oh, and how could you forget his laugh, his uniquely Jin laugh was the one noise that no matter how bad the situation was, the sound never ceased to make you smile.

“I-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath–to compose yourself and repel your stutter–closing your eyes and opening them as you exhale. “I know that, you talk about them all the time. I’m just nervous. You know how I get…around new people.” You pause. “Especially hot ones.” You mumble the last part under your breath, not wanting to announce it to the demigod to your right. Regardless, Somehow Jin hears it and turns to you, eyebrows furrowed, almost offended.

“You’ve already seen the hottest person on Earth.” He points to himself, flicking his head to the side all to expose his forehead and allow you a pristine image of his face. You hit just below his shoulder after registering his ego pumped comment, nearly dropping the basket full of food as you do so. He winces, pulling away from you but chuckling along.

Minutes later–after placing multiple well-deserved bruises on Jin’s body–you’ve gone through the self-checkout, sprinting to the car with your arms resting underneath your chin. The super cool temperatures already have you chilled to the bone. You start the heat immediately and warm your hands. Jin drives off after putting the groceries into the back seat, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of the low music coming from the cars’ speakers.

The heat may be turning the small car into a toaster by the second, even so, you’re shivering…and Jin notices. “Are you still cold? The heats at full blast.” The car rolls up to a red light, the most opportune moment for Jin to raise a hand and touch your forehead, making sure you aren’t coming down with something.

“I feel fine, nervous jitters that’s all.” You run a hand through your hair repeatedly, trying to find a good spot for it to lay, unsatisfied every time and moving back and forth.

Jin snorts, sliding his hand to the bottom of the steering wheel only to move it back to the top, “I’ll be there the whole time, i’ll even let you cut an onion instead of socializing.” You nod and place your hand under his on the armrest, allowing him to kiss the top of it like he did in the restaurant and run his thumb over the soft valleys between each knuckle.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You tease, raising a blush to Jin’s face.

You passed countless opulent houses on your way to Namjoon’s home. Jin continues to hold your hand while you stared out the window, an attempt at trying to dilute your nerves further. Little changes however when Jin turns left into a driveway that circles around a beautiful fountain surrounded by bushes spotted with tulips. The setting sun allows rays of light to bounce off the tall domineering windows that catch your eye immediately. Jin releases your hand to park, cool air hitting your knuckles in replacement. “Don’t move.” Jin orders when you sit up and reach for the door handle, unbuckling yourself.

Before you can protest, Jin exits the car and runs around the side to open your door. “M’lady.” He stands straight, holding out his hand and waiting for you to take it.

“What a gentleman.” You smile, accepting his gesture and stepping out of the low ground vehicle. Now standing, the sheer size of Namjoons bachelor pad becomes even more apparent as you take the lead and approach the front door, Jin carrying the grocery bags. What kind of man needs this much space?

You turn and take a grocery bag from Jin so he can knock on the door which not a second later opens to expose a man with flour clinging to his fluffy strands of dirty blonde hair. “Jin!” He smiles, trying to shake some of the flour from his head. Then his eyes land on you, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Who’s this?” You see his mouth move, but all sound has faded out to instead be replaced by the hard pounding of your heart ringing through your ears. You gulp, your ears popping to allow sound to once again flood through.

Before Jin has a chance to comment in tune to the words his comrade–and who you believe to be Namjoon himself–said, a deep yet eccentric tone lifts itself from inside the house, “Joon! Is Jin here?!” Someone rushes towards you, their shadow distorted against the eggshell white wall as they gallivant down the hallway.

“About time.” Someone breathes out, a preoccupied voice.

As assumed, the tall dusty blonde male standing relaxed against his door frame is Namjoon. To be frank, you aren’t sure if the light emanating through the doorway is coming from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling or the handsome young man ahead of you, shaking his head with exhaustion. “I’m so glad you’re here. They’re driving me insane.” Namjoon whispers, running another hand over his dusty locks, shaking more flower from them.

“If you learned how to cook you wouldn’t need to endure the teasing!”

“It is your fault we’re on the verge of willowing away here.”

Jin chuckles, nudging you. “As I was saying…” Namjoon laughs, his grin ending at his cute dimples. He’s even more breathtaking in person, which of course doesn’t help to calm your nerves or subdue the huge lump still renting out square footage in your throat.

“Hyung!” Namjoon isn’t able to continue his delicate conversation with you thanks to a cheerful tone floating through the entrance, belonging to that of the young man whos shadow you saw skidding it’s way closer. You’d recognize that bright red hair anywhere. It’s Hoseok, or so you recall as “‘Hobi”, thanks to the contact info in Jin’s phone. He doesn’t even realize you’re there, either blinded by his stomach or clearly you’ve developed superpowers and can turn invisible at will.

If only…

He pats Namjoon’s shoulder, looking down into the grocery bags Jin holds. “So what did you bring? Better be something worth the wait-” He rants, cut off by his comrade.

“Echem.” Namjoon clears his throat, hitting Hoseok shoulder with his own. Hoseok stutters a turn, looking at Namjoon only to follow his line of sight.

“Woah! Hi!” His enthusiasm only makes your heart beat faster, leaping for your throat.

Jin obviously didn’t warn them or tell them anything about you, exhibited by the sudden embrace Hobi pulls you into. He squeezes you, cutting off your air supply and making you gasp. You drop the multitude of grocery bags as the breath escapes you. Your eyes shoot open wide, expanding into large discs. Hoseok holds you for a second longer before releasing you at arm’s length. “So you were the surprise!” Hobi’s smile is so large it illuminates the entire entrance way. The chandelier hanging above, not standing a chance when compared. Jin nods, smiling at you. You manage to return a struggled smile, lingering there until you look down at your feet.

Egg yolk starts to seep through the bottom of the brown paper grocery bag, tainting the stone steps below you. “Oh n-no.” You whimper, sounding as if you’re on the verge of breaking into a fit tears. “I-I- d-didn’t-” The words fumble out of your mouth, barely audible over the firmament laughter ringing in your ears. It’s Hoseok, laughing up a storm at your mistake and making you flush rose.

Namjoon smacks the back of the red-headed boys’ skull from behind him, stopping the young man’s laughter and instead commenting on your fumble. “No big deal, there’s plenty in the fridge.” Namjoon shrugs, winking at you as he mentions the cracked eggs. And you thought you couldn’t flush any deeper. “Hobi.” He calls, hesitantly breaking eye contact with you. “Grab those for her okay? Then get one of the others to help clean that up.” Hoseok groans but does as ordered, relinquishing you of the heavy bags filled to the brim with miscellaneous ingredients picked up on the ride here. “Jin.” Namjoon cocks his head in the direction of the threshold, telling Jin with that motion to follow and that he’s more than welcome inside. He ushers you forward, placing his hand over yours reassuringly. Namjoon gives off a welcoming aura, one that –despite your pounding heart–helps to ensure you safety and move you forward. He pulls you down the same egg white walkway Hoseok practically danced down and into a drafty living room. Nervous, you risk a glance backward, eyeing Jin who nods slowly and provides you a whisper of a smile, one that may be slight but is all the while reassuring nonetheless.

Once in the open area, you realize that the house is beyond what you first thought it would be.

The walls are all a dark grey, brick and concrete sub walls scattered and far between. The floors change from a dusty desert tile into a light grey wood as you walk. Jin’s presence noticeably diminished from behind you as he enters a kitchen off to the left of the large sitting space Namjoon ushers you into, a bar-like counter allows you to see Hoseok place down the grocery bags he hastily took from you.

He’s still close. You tell yourself, feeling the need to rush to the kitchen and stand behind Jin like a child frightened by a smiling stranger amongst their mother’s legs, her hand stroking their head as a mother should.

Not that Jin would ever stroke your head…

Someone from a couch just up ahead bellows out a yell of displeasure, all in good fun it sounded to be, but alarming to you just the same. You jump, unintentionally clinging to Namjoons muscular arm with your free hand out of pure fear. A sudden wash of anxiety flows through you. Your hands, you fear, have grown excessively sweaty since you walked in and counted just how many friends Seokjin has. The anxiety you feel strengthening due to the fact the Namjoon’s hand clings to yours…and you worry he feels the condensation forming a thin barrier between his skin and yours.

What if he thinks i’m gross…and strange…Oh god!

His expression displays no depiction of discomfort, he’s calm, happy even, and the most he does to show any sign of discomfort is opening and closing his fingers back around your knuckles. A move most certainly done only to adjust his grip in yours. “Looks like Tae’s still getting fed his ass from a silver spoon.”

“Assuredly.” A smaller looking blonde boy chuckles, his face glistening under the shadows of a lit fireplace blazing proudly beneath the wide flat screen. “His vie to win sure is strong, not that he’ll ever beat…” Mid-sentence the sinewy young man with golden blonde tresses clinging around his cheekbones turns to face you, expecting to find Namjoon and Namjoon alone. He raises his eyebrows, neglecting his previously formed soliloquy to instead merge onto a new topic of conversation. You. “Well do my eyes deceive me or is there a pretty girl standing on your arm Joon?” He coos, smiling wide at you and turning towards you slightly. Namjoon looks at you, and it’s not until then that you realize you haven’t even told them your name.

As if possessing mind reading skills… “Her name’s ___!” Jin yells from the kitchen, his volume raised over the running faucet he washes his hands underneath. He smiles, clearly proud of himself for coming into the conversation at the perfect time.

You gulp.

Jin earns you a pausing of the multiplayer shooting game, no doubt some testosterone pumped violent simulation made to make innocent boys into couch potatoes. The boy Namjoon acknowledged as “Tae” turns towards you. Seeing his face, handsome, with glittering eyes hiding a sensual man beneath a soft exterior that you’ve seen break down to reveal a deity of lust. His name is one you’ve engraved into your brain. How could you forget those ethereal features…and his shy expressions. Kim Taehyung. Better known as Tae. He blushes pink, his already bright complection reddening to a deep flush as he looks you up and down. He nods a hello, whispering the word. It takes a mere second, but the dark-haired fit boy next to him on the leather cushions throws his thumbs away from the joystick in annoyance, eyeing the TV and the pause screen flittering across the pixels. He furrows his eyebrows, side-eyeing Taehyung in the attempt of regaining his enemies attention. Then he follows his friends’ gaze to you, and you find yourself to be the one blushing with embarrassment now.

“Hoseok wouldn’t shut up about some surprise Jin was bringing. That’s you?” The boy who was first to acknowledge you asks, smirking suggestively. The tug at his lips pulls a sharp breath from your lungs, the air forcibly ejected from the muscle as it contracts. Curse God for making these men so breathtaking, for you wish some of their beauty was bestowed upon you instead. You struggle to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence as the boys mouth opens to allow his tongue to snake across the plump plain…all you are capable of mustering is a slow perfunctory nod.

The dark haired boy with a billion angry facial expressions sighs, turning back towards the television to instead begin a single player run through, rightfully ejecting the otherwise distracted–and flushed–Taehyung from the game. “Nice to see Jin Hyung finally grew some balls and got a girlfriend.” Your head spins fast enough to draw a quick breeze from the stagnant air, microscopic motes dancing through the hues of orange and yellow that wave in the brick fireplace. Your eyes lock onto Mr. Attitude, clearly, someone needs to get their facts straight, along with a copy of Being Nice For Dummies.

“J-J-Jin and I are–are j-just friends.” You wince at the sound of your stutter, horrified by the syllables and wishing it’d just disappear and allow this encounter to go smoother. Little do you know that the boys sitting and standing in front of you all think you’re completely normal. Nothing has phased them–besides perhaps your sex and beauty–and for that…you’re grateful. You’ve had people approach you, bring up the one thing you are so keen on hiding and insulting your way of speech. Those people are the reason you can’t embrace the way you talk, the very reason you reject your own tongue and dream of a life without the very thing that makes you--you. However improbable it may come across as…you can’t help but wish on blown dandelions, or pray on shooting stars, and of course…rub gravy boars in the hope a magical genie will glide out and whisp away any and all hatred you may possess against your tongue.

You’re free to dream.

“Well in that case,” One of the adonis’s stands, his stature lean and lanky, but encasing thick–dare you say meaty–thighs beneath melanin skin. “I’m Jimin.” Jimin gives you a million dollar smile, earning a rare bat of your eyelashes as payment. “And the ass at the end of the couch is Kookie.” He gestures with a flick of his head towards the young man dubbed Mr. Attitude.

“Jungkook.” The ass at the end of the couch corrects, growling as his avatar throws a hand grenade towards what can only be labeled as a computer, a game operated antagonist. Before being able to show him a piece of your mind, a loud crash from the kitchen calls the attention of all except for Jungkook, who’s already engrossed in the next round of one on one dancing with a computer, except this dancing includes landmines rather than pointe shoes.

“Dammit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath, unweaving his fingers from between your own, “I don’t need them breaking anything besides eggshells in there.” You exhale a laugh, reluctantly letting go of his hand, seeing that it was the only outlet you had to keep from falling to the floor in a puddle of tears. He walks off, the material of his dark jeans caressing the sway of his hips. You can’t help but cock your head to the side slightly as he takes his wide strided steps one after the other.

“Wanna sit?” Jimin’s soft tone calls you back to the ache of your legs, all the walking you did with Jin really drained you…and you hate to admit it, but your not one to exercise for long periods of time, even if it is with Jin who you’d do backflips for if you could manage. You nod, eyeing the plush leather of the couch as Jimin gestures for you to come nearer before he sits. He removes an accent pillow from the mass of the large loveseat, clearing space for you to cuddle up against the warmth of the couch.

A comfortable silence ensues, only broken by Jimin shifting to get comfortable or his whispering, asking fondly if you need anything to which you shake your head with a weak but endearing smile. “Hi.” A deep glimmer of a voice coos from next to you. The voice belongs to a blushing Tae whose smiling, his box-like smile earning a bite of your lip and smile in return.

“Hey loverboy,” Jungkook beckons, “Are you going to play with me or not? Pass the controller to Jimin if you aren’t.” Taehyung’s inner glimmer of pride shrivels to nothing as Jungkook calls him out. Innocent flirtations are cute…not that you deserve them from him let alone anyone in this room. Despite that fact nestled deep into the crooks and crannies of your brain, you still grow tense and feel for Taehyung. Jimin’s been staring holes into you since he turned and saw you clinging to Namjoon for dear life and Jungkook hadn’t said a word about it. Jungkook’s attitude has you filled with a confident filled ire, a sense of ass whooping adrenaline coursing through you, fanning the need to teach him some manners purely evident now.

“I’ll play.” You take the remote from Tae’s long slender fingers and wipe

your hands on the denim of your black jeans, cracking your neck and kicking off your wedge heels. Jimin lifts his hands from their resting place on his lap in a defensive manner, raising his eyebrows and leaving you free to hopefully show Jungkook who the real boss at video games is. You’ve mastered the art of the couch potato. And of course, the position in which only professional blanket tots have mastered. You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting criss-cross applesauce with your elbows resting on your knees, bent over in preparation for battle. Taehyung sits in awe, his eyes follow you as if he’d never seen a woman before…or perhaps, just one of your swelling uniqueness. To be honest, his schoolboy staring only adds to your adrenaline filled and fast crashing confidence.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word, patiently waiting as you to pick a weapon and choose character before he quickly picks a map he’s obviously familiar with and without a moment’s hesitation, sprints off to find you. With the rapidly decreasing time you have between the initial spawn in and Jungkook finding you, you take in your surroundings and then his, trying to point out any familiarities in order to take him out first. You load your weapon, sprinting off into the nearest building and out a window on its opposite wall. You continue to glance back and forth at his section of the screen and yours. It’s so blatantly obvious that Jungkook is doing his damndest to dig into the depths of his sourpuss brain and pull out your exact coordinates. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve always had a knack for catching on quickly. This is effective when your opponent pinpoints your location and comes running at you. You barely hesitate, using the controls as designed, taking him out with hand to hand combat instead of your pistols; barely breaking a sweat and looking pretty while doing it.

Shocked, Jimin and Taehyung both sit up. Even Jungkook himself is surprised, sitting up straighter as he respawns. You cockily smile and gratefully watch as the previously seen anger floods from Jungkook’s face.

The dominance war continues until he manages to kill you an equal amount of times to you, it’ll only take one more kill to win the round and along with it, win the bragging rights over Jungkook. But breaking the tie won’t be easy. The two of you memorized the map and therefore know where you respawn…Jungkook was practically waiting for you in order to take the last kill.

“Jesus riding a skateboard through New York City, does that fucking TV have to be so damn loud?!” A grumbling voice emerges from behind you, causing you to jump, drop the remote and throw the game. Jungkook leaps at the opportunity, taking the last kill and along with it…flushing your confidence down the toilet. The boys were so engrossed that it isn’t until after the kill that they even notice the presence of another. He’s a pastel teal headed boy, wrapped in an oversized sweater and joggers. He looks as if he just woke up, hair astrew, eyes harboring lilac half moons beneath them and a lingering innocence to him that only the lull of sleep can offer. He yawns, opening his eyes and stretching halfway through only to practically choke on the incoming air upon spotting you.

“Fuck Kook! She had that one! I call disorderly conduct and request a rematch!” Tae argues on your behalf, turning to pat your knee in a supportive manner. You wince at the contact and feel yourself start to feel sick. Bile starts to crawl its way into the back of your throat. The all too familiar taste of stomach acid and your previously drunken latte coming back up to greet you. The overwhelming wash of confidence you had just minutes ago is gone…and now you’ve been thrown back into reality. The reality where you’re a mouse in a room of cats, angelic felines that want nothing more than to devour you whole. Your heart starts to beat exceedingly fast, pushing blood through your body quicker than it can register safely. Your face turns pale, and the mass of your lips starts to tremble.

“You can’t just call disorderly conduct Tae!” Jungkook fires back, fueling a raging fire of an argument between Taehyung and himself. The quarrel goes largely unnoticed, ignored by all in the room except the two participants.

Jimin, one of who rightfully chose to ignore the toddler's’ tantrums notices the rapidly decreasing color in your face, taking the opportunity to move closer and check your well being, simultaneously popping your personal space bubble. “Hey, ___? You alright? You don’t look so good…” Jimin’s hand meets your own as a means of comforting you, sadly you pull away from the gesture quickly, earning a surprised gulp from the man trying his best to bring color back to your features. He looks like a wounded puppy, not unlike a man left at the altar. Almost as if he can feel your sorrow. Who are you kidding? How could he ever truly understand how you feel? How could any of them truly understand how you feel?

“I-I-I-I- n-need to go to the bath- bathroom.” You blink, trying to keep

tears from welling up in your eyes by furiously blinking and swallowing, just barely choking them down.

The tired messy haired boy standing behind the couch speaks up, yawning halfway through his uttered words. “Oh, it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” He starts to move towards the hallway in which the bathroom must lay, but you stop him by standing abruptly, tensing your every muscle.

“N-no that’s not necessary…I can-can find it m-myself.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, smoothing down your jeans despite their already smooth exterior and begin walking around the couch, pairs of eyes cauterizing holes into you as you pass, your skin burning beneath their worryful gazes. Darkness envelops you in the connecting hallway, and something about not being able to see down it is comforting. Odd, considering Satan himself could be sitting at the end of it. You find the bathroom, clicking on the lights and softly shutting the door behind you before releasing a harbored breath.

“Should one of us follow her? She looked like she was about to be sick.” Jimin looks back to the others worryingly, his eyes creasing with the motion as his lips purse..

“No, we should leave her be…I think she needed some time to herself.” Taehyung suggests, rising from the soft leather sofa and stretching out a yawn with an arch of his back and twist of his back muscles. Seeing him do so most definitely would’ve made you combust into a smoking ball of ash.

“‘Kay.” Jimin concedes, following Taehyung’s suggestion and relaxing back against the couch cushions, sighing.

“Damn, smells good. Is Jin here?” Yoongi points out. The others nod.

“Who else do you think brought ___?” Jungkook twists his head to the side, glancing briefly at his elder with a tinge of sarcasm to his voice.

At the same time, Hoseok comes crawling from the kitchen with tears streaming down his face. He runs up to Taehyung, bunching up his dongsaengs shirt and wiping his eyes on it. “Yah!” Taehyung yelps in protest, trying to pull the article from his elder’s strong grip.

Yoongi can’t help but snort at Hoseok’s predicament, watching as an endless flow of tears leak from the redheaded boy’s eyes. “What happened to you? Tear gas?”

“Funny.” Hoseok croaks, finally releasing Taehyung’s shirt and tilting his head back to keep any more salt crested tears from falling. Jimin chuckles and points at Taehyung’s shirt, now covered in spots of moisture. “Jin made me cut onions.” He whimpers, “ ___ was going to do it originally but Jin wanted her to hang with you guys.” He finally looks back down, blinking to subdue gathered streams amongst his waterline. He notices your absence immediately. “Speaking of which. Did the maknae line eat her or something? Where’d she go?” The three youngest look at each other with half amusement half betrayal laced within their gazes, staring daggers at Hoseok after acknowledging their shared emotions.

“Bathroom. She looked like she was about to hurl.” Jungkook answers, being the least bit affected by his hyungs jab.

Hoseok nods, licking his lips before taking a seat on the big coffee table that looks as if it’s meant to double as an extra seat if the need was ever to arise. “What did you guys do to her to make her sick to her stomach?” He asks, grabbing the extra controller you left in your wake and logging in to join Jungkook’s round of assault.

“Nothing!” Jimin yelps, clearly disconcerted. “It was Yoongi who made her uncomfortable!” He points at the boy still trying to tame his flowing locks, walking to the overbearing mantel of the fireplace to warm himself.

“Oh please, if you ask me it seemed like she wasn’t really all that interested in you guys.” Yoongi scratches his neck, outstretching his hands for warmth before starting to walk towards the kitchen, dragging his feet.

“Yah! Get back here! What do you mean by that?!” Jimin looks offended, trying to sound tough when his soft exterior only cancels out the attempt.

Yoongi shrugs. “It just didn’t seem like she was enthralled with being in the presence of you guys.” He thinks before continuing, “I wouldn’t take it too hard, most girls don’t like the three of you anyway.” He smirks, clearly proud of his last gib.

“Gee, thanks hyung.” Jungkook says sarcastically, firing his weapon in the direction he believes Hoseok to be. “You could’ve just said that she doesn’t like us.” He adds, killing his enemy with a sniper shot. Hoseok sighs, sweat-drenched as if that one round took more out of him than actually working out does. Jungkook on the other hand looks like he won that round with ease, finding it easy to place down his controller and follow Yoongi into the dining room, the rest of the group following with Hoseok trailing sluggishly behind in defeat.

“Too bland for my liking. I prefer the finer things in life.” Yoongi wrinkles his nose innocently, dropping his end of the conversation.

“She…doesn’t?” Tae whines, fiddling with his utensils. Namjoon joins them at the table, taking the head of the table as usual.

Namjoon reads the room, picking up on a major whiff of discomfort.“Who doesn’t what?” He asks, remembering the last uttered words.

“___. She went to the bathroom. Yoongi thinks she doesn’t like us.” Jimin complains.

“What’d you guys do to her?” Namjoon calmly requests an answer, pouring a glass of soju for himself before handing Jimin the bottle to calm his nerves.

“We didn’t do anything!” Taehyung yells. “Well…Jungkookie beat her in the game we were playing.” Taehyung relinquishes, slipping his gaze over to look at Jungkook who looks the least bit phased if not proud.

“By the skin of his teeth…” Jimin teases, erupting the table in laughter.

“Dinner is served.” Jin boasts, looking up from the colorful pot at the table of starving boys, practically foaming at the mouth. The only thing the room lacks in is you. “Where’s ___?” Taehyung prepares to pounce the contents of the pot, but Jin pulls it away as he takes a glance towards the opening to the hallway, you’re silhouette nowhere in sight.

“She’s in the bathroom.” Jin relaxes. “The guys were just telling me that they think she doesn’t like them.” Namjoon chuckles, following Jin with his eyes as he places down and opens a large bowl of ramen with various types of vegetables and meat tangled beneath the broth.

“You’re lying. She’s wanted to meet you guys for a while, sure she was nervous about tonight but I highly doubt she hates you all.” He smacks Jungkooks hand away before he can serve himself. We’re waiting for her. Jin’s eyes say. “What makes you think otherwise?” He scans the table, looking for a viable answer, finding all eyes landing on Yoongi. “Besides Yoongi being Yoongi of course.” He chuckles, playfully nudging the mint-haired boy.

“While trying to beat Kook, Yoongi walked in. She lost the round and looked like she was about to be sick. Her face got all pale and splotchy…that’s when she excused herself to the bathroom.” Jimin relives the moment that took place mere minutes prior, his eyes filling with worry and sadness.

“Sore loser?” Yoongi offers, shrugging.

Jin’s too lost in thought to hear Yoongi’s words. Was bringing her here the wrong move…?

“I was hoping to hit it off with her” Jimin blushes, “She’s so sweet and pretty.” Jimin sighs like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“Mhm. Me too.” Hobi pouts, ashamed at himself for putting his hopes up when he believes you dislike them all.

“She’d probably implode if she heard you two say those things. It’s just that her stutter just makes her nervous. That’s probably why she disappeared so suddenly…my bad for not warning you guys.” The room falls silent, all the boys suddenly shell-shocked into a large gap of lingering breaths. Even Namjoon, the brains at the table is utterly shocked.

“She…has a stutter?” Taehyung blinks quickly, his eyes searching for answers as they flutter back and forth across the table’s surface. All eyes lock onto the eldest, a shot of soju gliding down his throat as he swallows.

He coughs, clearing his throat. “I figured you would’ve guessed, she must’ve done a pretty good job at hiding it.” He swallows, looking from pair of eyes to pair of eyes. “It used to be really bad, she barely talked at all.” Jin finally takes a seat next to Jimin, nearest to your impending spot.

“Fuck,” Jungkook says, tracing his fingers along the fabric of the tablecloth. “I feel bad for being such an ass to her now.”

Jungkook winks at Jungkook, smiling. “Don’t worry Kook, she’s a tough cookie. Stronger than she looks.”

“Is that so?” Namjoon’s tone drops suggestively, leaning on his hand.

“Well yeah, she probably just got overwhelmed when Yoongi walked in.” Namjoons’ suggestive tone completely went over Jin’s head. For such a handsome young man, Jin lacks in spatial reasoning occasionally.

“Yoongi, no more assuming alright? Let’s make sure she feels at home here. It’s important to Jin.” Namjoon leans back in his seat, looking out into the sea of faces all belonging to his closest friends.

“Look at you guys. Since when were we the serious group?” Everyone shakes their head in laughter and Jimin shoves Jin playfully.

You hear laughter from the living room where you originally expected to find everyone. It took some time to compose yourself in the restroom. Seeing another attractive young man while previously being surrounded by countless others was your breaking point. You could feel yourself choking up, nerves parking themselves in your throat as a sort of roadblock for words. Embarrassing yourself was the last thing you wanted.

Ugh.

And you were doing so good too. Sure you stuttered a few times, but each one went unnoticed as far as you know. You wet the back of your neck to calm down, fixed your mascara and sauntered back into the main house, greeted by an empty living room and a billion thoughts. That was when you heard it, the welcoming chorus of deep voices laughing together. You entered the large dining space with a faint smile plastered to your lips, the seven handsome young men seated at scattered spaces at the suffocatingly dark wood dining table.

“Just who we were waiting for.” Namjoon stands, calling the attention of the others who do the same. He saunters over to you, his stature much taller than yours. He holds out his hand, offering it to you. Grateful, you accept his kind motion and allow him to walk you to a seat between Jimin and Jin.

“I’m sorry f-for making you all wait. I-I can practically feel the hunger emanating from this room.” The boys are all looking at you, bright smiles plastered on their faces that are almost mechanical, clown-like in nature. The unnecessary and unneeded attention is rather strong but comical, you can’t help but smile and look to Jin who’s the only one with his face in his hands in amused disappointment. Trying to break the tension you inhale and begin the meal, “It smells great Jin. I wish you asked me to help.” He shrugs. “I- uh, I don’t even know where to start. C-can someone pass me the-”

“I’LL GET IT!” Everyone except for Jin yells. He seems just as taken aback as you are, silently subduing his entire hand to instead knead the small space on either side of his nose.

“The…pepper…thanks.” Taehyung obliges, handing you what was requested. The other’s grow sheepish, wearing expressions washed away by varying hues of red. The meal starts off silent, small talk appears to be a thing of the past, and for the sake of the evening, you take a deep breath and pipe up. “Thank you for allowing me to accompany Jin tonight.” You pause, analyzing surrounding expressions. “I’m sure you all had better things to do.” You continue to eat, being an avid enthusiast of Jin’s cooking, it’s nothing short of delicious.

“Are you kidding?” Hobi grows soft, leaning towards the center of the

table, causing you to meet his gaze. “I’m beyond glad that Jin brought you along tonight.” He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I’m a little jealous that Jin’s been hogging you all for himself. We don’t get to be around pretty girls very often. You’re a real treat.” You can’t help to conceal the laugh that escapes your lips as Hoseok finishes speaking, but the room is deathly serious. A chill rides the length of your spine, alerting you that yes, Hoseok and the others don’t get some often.

“What Hobi means is, that despite only knowing you for an evening, we’re happy to have met you and enjoy your company. I personally cannot wait to become better acquainted.” Namjoon, always the one to save the others in tight situations, speaks up and makes you blush. You almost want to thank him for serving as the life vest keeping this gang afloat.

“I second that, not to mention that keeping you around means that I can learn how to kick Kook’s ass like you do.” Tae giggles, earning a zeal filled hit in return from Jungkook.

“Your love for reading as well. Jin tells me you’re quite the avid reader. Perhaps we can talk about it over coffee sometime?” Namjoon smiles, cocking his head to the side sweetly.

“Woah wait! Namjoon gets to hit on her but I can’t?!” Jimin slams down his fist, mock anger displayed across his sublime features.

Namjoon sighs, “Chim, i’m asking her to talk about books over coffee. I’m just making small talk.”

“Oh yeah sure sure.” Jimin jibes sarcastically, smirking at you.

Despite the attention you continue to be fed, your eyes drift to meet Jin’s. His soft aura allowing you to feel comforted again. He reaches for your hand under the table…and for the first time…you think about how you’ll have to let Jimin down gently.

You turn back to Namjoon, answering his plea for a slight book club, “Yeah…I’d like that.”

#okay #as a certified dumbass #I tend to do stupid things #like deleting this original post by accident so here have it again #tada #Tongue Tied

37 notes · View notes

hinasouda · 6 years

Note

omg I love your fics so much so here’s another saimota prompt if you wanna do it!: flowers

oh my, thank you v much!! these are for u:💐💐💐

saimota / fluff / 1.8k / college au

[AO3 link]

Spring finally bloomed on Hope’s Peak academy, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and exams were right around the corner.

Shuichi was studying over lunch with a few of his friends. He, Kaito, and Maki shared a table with Korekiyo and Rantaro in the busy dining hall - Kiyo was lecturing no one in particular about his current favourite topic of anthropology.

“While its fame is accredited to the English Victorian era, floriography has been practiced in many different cultures for thousands of years, taking root in the Ottoman empire. Even today, flower arrangements are used to convey messages, most often romantic in nature…”

Rantaro nodded absently, and Kaito seemed deep in thought, probably working through his astronomy textbook. Shuichi tuned out the rest of Kiyo’s lesson, unwilling to let himself think on romantic matters while studying. He and Kaito had returned to their usual easy friendship - Kaito’s sidekick, any other feelings or flirting forgotten.

But sometimes, Shuichi still found himself wondering…

Kaito shifted beside him and Shuichi ignored the flutter in his chest as their knees brushed for a second. He smothered that line of thought. The notes in his book suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world, focusing on an example case, taking notes, and nothing but studying. It almost worked.

Shuichi found the first flowers as he left his room the next day. Tucked into his newspaper box, three short, delicate white and lilac flowers, and one yellow flower with a thick stem.

At first, he wondered if they were for his roommate, Ryoma. He left for his class two hours ago - he probably would’ve taken them or mentioned it, at least. It’d be worth asking him later. Was this the act of a secret admirer?

Then Shuichi remembered yesterday at lunch, when Kiyo had been talking about flowers for a whole hour. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Shuichi was still curious. Before plucking them from the box, he took a picture, and sent it to Kiyo. Thankfully, he responded soon.

10:31amShuichi: hey sorry for the random text - do you know what these are?Korekiyo: Those are flowers, detective.Shuichi: ok, yeah, they areShuichi: do you recognise which kind they are?

10:33amKorekiyo: From my textbook, you appear to have violets and a crocus.Shuichi: thanks :)

10:36amShuichi: do they have a special meaning or anything?Korekiyo: Crocuses are very positive flowers. They can mean happiness, cheer, and a wish for success.Korekiyo: Violets depend on the colour. The white means innocence, while the purple means you are in someone’s thoughts.Korekiyo: I have to wonder, are you sending these to a suitor? Perhaps I could help you define a better meaning.Shuichi: oh, no, i found them outside my door this morning. was just curious. thanks again, kiyo!

He chewed on his lip. It was even cheesier than he expected, and Shuichi almost regret asking. Based off his reaction, he could clear Kiyo from the current list of suspected senders. Unless it was a stranger, or someone else who studied anthropology, then he guessed it was one of his friends. More likely, someone sat with him yesterday

That meant Rantaro, Maki, or Kaito.

Shuichi couldn’t imagine Kaito or Maki to be the type to send flowers, especially to him. Maki wasn’t the romantic type, and Kaito would just say what he wanted to say, without some cryptic present.

For now, Rantaro was at the top of the suspect list. He’d ask Ryoma about it, too, just in case. Shuichi left the flowers in a coffee cup filled with water before heading to his class.

Shuichi found the second flower during a lecture. He was copying charts from his textbook, when Rantaro tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“Hey, Shuichi! How are you doing?”

He had to turn all the way around to face him. “I’m alright, thanks… Do you, ah, need something?”

“Do I need something…?” Rantaro tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Uh, yes! I need a hand with the problem we’re working on. I don’t understand this, um, equation stuff.”

He opened a page in the textbook, leaning over, and pointed at an equation. Rantaro ignored Shuichi’s suspicious look. Every time he went to turn back, he quickly asked another question. He wasn’t happy until Shuichi explained everything twice.

“Thanks, Shuichi, I get it now.” Rantaro had a somewhat-nervous grin. Shuichi nodded, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

When he looked back at his notes, there was a single yellow daffodil resting on the page. Everything else was the same; no one was standing nearby, the lecture was going on as normal. He shot a glance at Rantaro. He was avoiding his eyes, apparently completely focused on the lecture.

Shuichi picked up the flower and twirled it in his fingers. That narrowed his list of suspects some more, as Rantaro had a strong alibi. At least he was sure what kind this was.

The search result gave him a few words: admiration, vitality, and new beginnings.

Rantaro caught Shuichi smiling right up to the end of the class.

Shuichi didn’t find the third flowers until after his classes the next day.

In the morning, he got up early with a feeling of anticipation. It was no guarantee that he’d receive any more flowers, but he kept his ear out for anyone outside, and decided on how to further find the culprit. Only Kaito and Maki were left.

“Jeez, what’s got you up so early?”

He startled as he was making tea. “Ryoma! I-I’m just waiting for something.”

“Like a parcel?” Ryoma pulled his hat on, readying to go to his morning class.

“Well, remember I mentioned those flowers yesterday? I thought, if that person comes by again…”

“You’ll catch em in the act? Heh, you’re the detective, I guess…”

Shuichi pouted. “What would you do?”

“Talk to them. Don’t give me that look, I know you probably know a few people it could be… But I think you’ve got a pretty good idea who it is.”

Ryoma chuckled as Shuichi finished pouring his tea in silence. Out of the final two suspects, neither seemed likely. He wanted it to be Kaito. Was he letting his feelings interfere in a case? No, he’d prove it today.

“…Thanks, Ryoma.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid. I’ll see you later.” The door shut behind him, and Shuichi slumped into a chair. He spent a little time thinking if there was possibly anyone else who’d send him flowers, before drinking his tea and going back to bed.

He caught up with Maki later, between lectures. Time for the last step in his plan.

“Hey, Maki. Do you know if there’s a florist, or like a botany lab near the campus?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “I have no idea. Do you think I’d know where something like that was?”

Shuichi couldn’t help beaming at her, feeling light in his step.

“Ah, that’s a shame. Say, do you know where Kaito is?”

“No,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why, are you buying him flowers or something? What’s gotten into you?”

He remembered to breath. “Nothing! No, that’s… I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Maki only rolled her eyes and watched him practically skip to his next class. Unfortunately, that good mood didn’t last much longer. Shuichi saw no sign of Kaito all day, nor of any new flowers, and he was starting to think he’d gotten his hopes up.

Only as he returned to his room, trying to hide his disappointment, he saw two flowers sitting in his newspaper box. A red tulip and a yellow tulip - another of the few flowers he knew on sight.

Shuichi’s heart soared. He added them to the coffee cup with the rest, which was beginning to look like a bright bouquet. Shuichi was too occupied thinking about how to bring up the flowers with Kaito, and neglected to research their meaning.

The fourth flower took Shuichi by surprise. He bumped into it on the way to the library.

“Oh Sh-Shuichi!” Kaito was stunned, one hand hidden behind his back.

He kept a cool face. “Hey Kaito. Where’re you headed to?”

“Ah, nowhere really, just taking something somewhere, y’know…”

Shuichi thought he looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his face flushing bright red. It was kind of adorable.

“Well…I just thought I’d tell you…” Shuichi broke into a grin, “my favourite flowers are actually lilies.”

For a moment, Kaito was going to protest, but he laughed instead. Rubbing his neck nervously, he kept his other hand behind his back.

“So the jig is up, huh? I should’ve known the resident detective would figure me out easily.”

“What- why did you…?” At this point, Shuichi wasn’t sure what to say.

“Why’d I do it? I got the idea from Kiyo, and I thought…it’d be fun, and you’d get a puzzle to solve. I, uh, like seeing you smile.”

Now Shuichi was blushing furiously, as well as Kaito.

“Damn it, Kaito, you’re too…cute…” He brought his hand to his face, muffling the last word.

Kaito ducked his head. “Hm, what’d you call me?”

“I said you’re too cheesy.”

“Guess I got that coming,” he chuckled. “Sorry if it came off as creepy, or anything.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s made my week, really.” Week, month, year, who could say?

“Oh! Here.”

As if remembering, Kaito pulled his hand from behind him, and stepped forward to present Shuichi with a small bloom of pale pink rose-like flowers. He glanced around, checking they were alone, and gently pressed them into Shuichi’s hand.

“They’re no lilies, but they’re my favourite flower. Might as well finish the collection, right?”

“Y-yeah…thanks…” Shuichi felt like he might keel over any second.

“Are you alright? Was it too much? Sorry, I guess I got carried away and…”

Shuichi shook his head. “I-I’ve just never been given flowers before. They’re, um, really nice.”

“I’m glad,” Kaito sighed in relief, then took a step back. “I should get to class.”

“Kaito. I am really happy.”

They shared a flustered smile as people started to move through the corridor. Shuichi clutched the flowers, and Kaito spoke in a low voice.

“I’m happy when my best friend is happy. Remember, I’m always here for you. If you wanna…talk.”

He felt his palms sweating and his head buzzing. He could do it right now… But what if that ruined everything? Shuichi only nodded. Kaito gave him a thumbs up with a dazzling smile, then went to his class.

Back in his room, Shuichi kept the all of the flowers in the coffee cup for as long as he could, changing the water everyday. They wilted eventually, but he had almost made up his mind.

[hello! thanks for reading! please like/reblog if you like! my other saimota fics are here.]

[i won’t be able to work on any more until next weekend bc work, but keep sending prompts!! i love em]

[the tulips mean ‘confession’, and the last ones are lisianthus - i’ll let u guys figure that out ;p ]

#saimota #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #waitlist: the fluff machine #ndrv3 #not feeling as great abt this as the others #Anonymous

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setepenre-set · 6 years

Text

Floriography

Megamind/Roxanne, outside perspective, K rating

prequel/sequel to Poetry and Flowers

A florist in Metro City helps an odd man with an unusual watch put together a very strange and weirdly specific bouquet.

AO3 | FFN

It’s almost closing time at the florist shop when the man walks in. As the bell over the door jingles, Aubrey puts on their best customer service smile and represses a groan.

Everybody in Metro City seems to have suddenly remembered that Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, the collective citizenry has been descending on the florist shop in a non-stop desperate horde of romantic procrastinators.

The shop is, by now, extremely picked over, nothing left but floral odds and ends, a circumstance that the last six customers did not hesitate to complain about bitterly. Aubrey had bitten their tongue and refrained from pointing out that it was their own damn fault for waiting so long to buy flowers.

This guy, at least, walks purposefully towards the counter, instead of meandering around the shop, which, Aubrey thinks, is one point in his favor.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“—I would like to order a bouquet of flowers please,” the guy says in a rush, the words running together.

Aubrey blinks in surprise, and the man winces, his dark skin flushing. He’s holding a slim dark blue book in his hands, turning it over and over again restlessly.

“Sorry,” the guy adds. “Thank you.” He grimaces again, a pained look in his disconcertingly bright green eyes.

“…sure,” Aubrey says, feeling a rush of sympathy at the guy’s clear nervousness. “Did you—have something specific in mind? I’m afraid we’re all out of roses, but we’ve got a few carnations left—I can show you what we have in stock, still—”

“Not roses,” the man says, with a quick, dismissive wave of his hand. “Much too ordinary for—red tulips; do you have those?”

“We do,” Aubrey says, turning to retrieve the tulips from the shelf behind them, “but only a couple—”

“That’s fine,” the guy says. “Clematis?”

Aubrey gives him a sidelong look, but wordlessly adds the showy pink clematis flower to the tulips, diplomatically not pointing out that the pairing is…not really visually ideal.

“Gardenias.”

Ah, okay, that looks a little better, Aubrey has to admit. The white gardenias pull the classy tulips and ostentatious clematis together, and help balance the color scheme.

“Daffodils.”

Aaand there goes the harmony of the bouquet; the bright yellow daffodils make it just look weird again.

“Iris.”

Purple? Really? With the daffodils, okay, or with the white gardenias, or with the red tulips. But not with all of them, and pink clematis in the bargain—

“Apple blossoms. Peach blossoms.”

“Er—which?” Aubrey asks, hand hovering between the two.

“Both.”

Aubrey winces and adds them both. This bouquet is going to be such a mess; should they warn the guy how much of a mess this is going to be? A really expensive mess, too—

“Cypress,” the man says, mouth twisting as if he’s tasted something bitter.

Maybe he’s realized how bad this bouquet looks, Aubrey thinks. The guy doesn’t say anything, though, so Aubrey goes ahead and adds the christmas-y green cypress to the bouquet.

The man hesitates, after that.

“Do you have anything—blue?” he asks, sounding uncertain for the first time.

“Blue?” Aubrey asks. Surely this bouquet doesn’t need another color—

The man’s mouth twists again, his eyes falling.

“—yes,” he says. “Blue.”

“…I mean, we’ve got bluebells,” Aubrey says.

“Bluebells. Thank you. Yes.”

Aubrey adds the bluebells.

“That’s all,” the man says.

Aubrey blinks in surprise; somehow, they’d felt as if the guy might just keep on adding flowers to the bouquet forever. They glance down at the bouquet in their hands.

—huh. It actually—doesn’t look that bad.

Vividly colored, and more than a little bit odd, but not actually bad.

What had the guy said before, about roses? Too ordinary for whoever this bouquet was meant for? Well, this certainly isn’t any kind of ordinary.

“Great!” Aubrey says, with another customer service smile. “We have complimentary cards to put in the bouquet, if you’d like to add a message or a signature. Pens and cards are on the counter to your right!”

They turn away to tie up the bouquet and add the plastic card holder; when they turn back around, the man is looking down at a blank card, pen in his hand, biting his lip as if uncertain what to write. Finally he writes a crisp M on the paper, pushes the card across the counter to Aubrey, and replaces the pen in the cup.

“Would you like to pick out a vase?” Aubrey ask.

“A—oh—yes—I—”

The man swallows visibly, his hands moving restlessly, fingertips running along the spine of the book.

“That—that one,” he says, pointing at a tall, clear vase on the shelf behind Aubrey.

Aubrey puts the flowers in the vase and sets them on the counter. The man fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his wallet.

“And will you be taking the flowers with you?” Aubrey asks. “Or would you like them delivered?”

“I—I—” the man looks even more nervous now than when he first walked into the shop.

There is a long, strangely fraught silence, the man’s expression of anxiety deepening until finally— his whole expression twists, not just bitter or worried this time, but absolutely anguished and filled with despair.

He shakes his head with a sudden violence, breath hissing through his teeth.

“—god,” he says, “never—”

Aubrey takes half a step back in shock, and then the man yanks a handful of bills from his wallet and tosses them on the counter.

“—forget it,” he says rapidly, “forget it; forget it; never mind—”

He almost runs for the door.

“But—” Aubrey says. “Are you sure you don’t want—”

“Keep it,” the man says, “keep it; keep the flowers; keep the money; thank you for trying—”

“Your change—”

The man shakes his head violently again, and disappears out the door.

The bell over top of it jangles as it closes. Aubrey stares after him for a moment, and then looks back down at what is really entirely too much money on the counter. Their eyes widen as they count it, then they give a low whistle.

The guy had been severely weird, but he certainly hadn’t been stingy. He technically hadn’t even had to pay for the bouquet at all; Aubrey’s had customers before who made them go through the whole production of making a bouquet only to refuse to pay at the end when they decided they didn’t want it after all. And certainly none of them had tipped Aubrey afterwards.

Aubrey glances at the bouquet, pulls the card from it, and looks at it curiously. M.

They wonder if whoever M had meant this strange bouquet for would have liked it, and feel a little twist of melancholy. It’s too bad, really. Aubrey had liked the guy, in spite of the weirdness. Even before the tip.

They shake their head, shaking off the sympathetic sadness, and put the card down on the counter.

It’s closing time, and Aubrey is more than ready to go home.

The next day is even more hectic; there are three other people working behind the counter with Aubrey today, all of them making bouquets out of odds and ends for customers who have suddenly decided that Valentine’s Day is some kind of emergency.

It’s actually Clarissa who answers the phone call.

“—Wayne Scott,” she says, pausing in filling out the delivery form. She gives a panicked little laugh. “Well—I’m afraid we don’t—we don’t have a very wide selection left, Mr. Scott; I—oh. Oh. Um. That’s—all right, then, let me just—”

She cradles the headset between her head and shoulder and looks around frantically for something to scrounge up. His reassurances that it doesn’t really matter what the bouquet looks like notwithstanding; she can’t give Metro Man’s girlfriend something that’s—”

Her eyes fall on the already made up bouquet, leftover from yesterday. An odd selection of flowers, but it doesn’t look quite so bad as the things they’ve been forced to make up today. She swiftly adds up the total and reads it off to Mr. Scott, punches in his credit card number after he recites it for her.

As soon as she hangs up, another customer comes in—and Clarissa forgets to finish filling out the form, and to write a card for the holder. And then another customer comes in, and then the phone rings again and—

When José comes in to pick up the next batch of flowers to be delivered, she’s on the phone again, and she mimes desperately at him to pick up the vase and the form.

The card Aubrey put down on the counter last night is still there, beside the vase. Seeing it, José assumes that it must have fallen, and goes to replace it in the bouquet’s plastic holder. Then he hesitates, uncertain as to if the letter on the card is meant to be a W or an M.

He glances at the form, but the sender’s name has been left off.

He looks back at the card.

M. It looks more like an M.

He puts the card in the plastic holder.

There are a lot of deliveries to make; a lot of bouquets. By the time José puts that particular vase of flowers down on Roxanne Ritchi’s desk, he’s forgotten all about the question of the card.

(There’s a slim blue book on her desk already. José puts the vase down on that.)

“—what made you think the flowers were from me?” Megamind asks, sitting on Roxanne’s couch beside her three weeks later. “Besides the card?”

“Oh!” she says, and laughs. “Well—okay, so the card, yeah, and then the poems seemed like you, and then—okay, so, honestly, I looked up the flowers that were in the bouquet, and the florigraphic meaning of all of them was—”

Megamind’s expression goes steadily odder as she describes the bouquet.

“—but I mean,” Roxanne says, “you can see why I thought that they were from you, right? I don’t sound completely—”

“They were.”

Roxanne tilts her head curiously.

“They—Wayne said the florist told him they just—gave you whatever they had, right?” Megamind says.

Roxanne nods.

“They—they must not have thrown it away,” Megamind says, a happy, incredulous smile beginning to curve the edges of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Roxanne asks, smiling bemusedly back at him.

Megamind laughs, a breathless, wondering sound—and then he explains.

...the end.

notes:

The flower language interpretation of the bouquet that Megamind has them make up for Roxanne is:

apple blossom - temptation

iris - a message

peach blossom - I am your captive

clematis - mental beauty

gardenias - secret love

daffodils - unrequited love

cypress - despair

red tulips - a declaration of love

bluebells - (the color is a symbol for Megamind)

It basically translates to:

"A message for you, Temptress. You are brilliant and I am your captive. I've been in love with you secretly, and I know you don't love me back, but I'm telling you now that I love you."

-Megamind

Happy day 5 of my birthday fic month! I hope you are all enjoying it!

Someone asked if all of the stories for my birthday fic month would be new ones, or if any of my in-progress stories would be updated. Scroll down if you would like to know the answer; don't scroll down if you'd rather be surprised!

...

Most of the stories will be new ones, but this one is obviously a sequel to another story; another day's update will be an additional chapter to one of my one-shots; one will be a multi-chapter sequel to one of my one-shots; one will be a new chapter of Old, New, Borrowed, and Blue; and one will be the first chapter of the next story in the Safe If We Stand Close Together series.

#megamind #megamind/roxanne #floriography #poetry and flowers #fanfiction

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parkerrogersgirl · 7 years

Text

Happy Accident- Part I

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,588

Warnings: Steve being cute, fluff, more fluff, mentions of cheating, swearing,

Summary: After he saves you from being injured at the gym, THE Steve Rogers asks you out. Little by little, you start falling in love with every part of him, his quirks, his old-fashionedness, and his charm. But are you ready to let your guard down and let him in?

Author’s Note: HI EVERYONE! This is my first ever fic, so please give me feedback in my asks and reblog! And I will be taking requests, so feel free to send me some of those. Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! On another note, I have to mention @sis-tafics because this fic probably wouldn’t exist without her support. She encouraged me to write this, and I’m eternally grateful. Thanks, Jill! Also thanks to the marvelous @my-emotional-self for pretty much inspiring me with her KILLLLLLLER Chris Evans fanfic!

You were at the gym on the treadmill, running a good 8 mph pace. Most people say “don’t run away from your problems,” but what did they know? They weren’t you. They had no idea what was going on in your life. They weren’t at work, where you’d just lost the big promotion to LINDA (honestly just go home to your stupid grandkids, Linda). They weren’t in your personal life, where you had caught your boyfriend of 2 years having Skype sex with someone he met in med school. Nor were they part of your family, which- never mind, that’s too much to focus on. Back to your mental soliloquy…. screw everyone else! If you wanted to sprint on a cycling trail of rubber than by God, you were going to!

That is until your feet started going too fast for the treadmill and you started falling backward. Everything was moving in slow motion as you shrieked, but the world froze when you felt a strong pair of hands wrapped around your waist. You stopped, turning to thank your savior, seeing a gorgeous, tall, muscular man with blond hair. And not just any man.

Steve. Fucking. Rogers. Captain America himself had saved you from certain injury. His mouth started moving, but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. You blinked a few times, shaking your head.

“Hello??? Are you okay, ma’am? Can you hear me?” He shook you gently, and your stomach flipped as you registered his facial expression as one of true concern.

You looked up at him, trying to put on your least awkward smile “I’m fine, thank you so much. I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t caught me. I’m (Y/N).” He sets you upright and you internally frown, longing for his touch around you again.

He smiles back at you, “a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I’m-“

“Steve. I know.” You blush as you cut him off.

“Of course you know who I am, sorry. I’m still getting used to being popular. This era is so weird.” He lets out a laugh, a glorious sound that you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life- whoa where did that come from? You’ve known him for 2 whole minutes! Get a grip, (Y/N)!

You raise an eyebrow at him, “weird? How so?”

“Well, for one thing, now it’s not considered rude to ask a woman out on a date after only knowing them for a few minutes. In the 40s, you couldn’t even talk to a woman without having the entire town talking about you.”

You blush, looking down at your feet. “I’m sure whomever you’re referring to will say yes when you ask her. Good luck,” you say as you smile up at him.

He smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. “I hope you know I was talking about you. I would love to get to know you better. Is there a chance you would let me take you out sometime?”

Your mouth falls open as he speaks, and you stare at him absolutely dumbfounded. “Um- I- er- sure- yes?” You curse at yourself in your head, permanently embarrassed having made an absolute fool of yourself.

“Great, just go ahead and type your number in my phone.” He fumbles as he pulls his phone out of pocket, flustered that you accepted the date. He hands you the phone, “it might take me a bit to respond, I have no idea how these things work. It takes time.”

You type your number in and text yourself, then add yourself as a contact before giving him phone back to him. “Well, maybe I’ll teach you how to use it on our date.”

He puts the phone in his pocket, smiling sweetly at you, “I look forward to seeing you again soon, sweet (Y/N).” He kisses you on the cheek as he heads to the locker room, and you stand frozen in your place as you watch him walk away.

(Y/N), you are so screwed, you think to yourself.

—————

3 hours later

You’re sitting in your bed studying when your phone vibrates with a text.

Steve: “I know the general rule is to wait a few days, but I couldn’t resist texting you.”

You giggle to yourself, then stop immediately. You can’t fall for him this fast, remember what happened last time… you collect yourself for a moment, then start to type a response.

You: “new phone who dis?”

You: “hey, hot stuff”

You: “hi, Captain Rogers. What are you up to?”

There, much better. You send the text, and the typing bubbles pop up almost immediately.

Steve: “not much, just daydreaming about this girl whose life I saved at the gym earlier. She almost took a nasty spill off the treadmill. Thank gosh I was there.”

You laugh out loud. ‘Thank gosh?’ This man needed to stop being so cute before you fell in love with him.

You: “wow, you sound like a real hero. I’m sure she appreciated it more than you know.”

Steve: “I’m not sure, maybe she’d let me take her out to dinner tonight so I can ask her in person how much she appreciated it.”

You groan to yourself. Why is this stupid man SO SMOOTH?

You: “I would love that, just name the time and place.”

Steve: “I have a better idea. I’ll pick you up around 6:30 and we can walk there together.”

You: “Sounds good, what should I wear?”

Steve: “You can dress up a little, but to be honest I know you’d look gorgeous in even a garbage bag.”

You blush as you type out a response.

You: “I sincerely doubt that, but I’ll see you at 6:30, just press the buzzer when you get here and I’ll buzz you up.” You send him your address and go back to studying, not expecting a response. You’re surprised when your phone buzzes again.

Steve: “I can’t wait. See you in a bit, (Y/N).”

A bit? It’s only 4:30. You look at the clock and gasp. In your studying, You had completely lost track of time and it was already 6pm. You panic, jumping up as you run to the bathroom and turn on the shower. This would have to be the fastest shower you’d ever taken in your life.

You quickly undress, practically sprinting into the shower as you speed wash your hair and body. You put on a robe and quickly blow dry your shoulder-length auburn hair. You put on light makeup, only applying mascara, eyeliner, and a bright red lipstick. Steve’s from the 40s, red lipstick was the trend back then, right? Oh well, you didn’t have time to Google and check anyway.

You check the time on your phone, which read 6:10. Damn, you go girl. You would have time to curl your hair after all. You do so, making sure to pin it back away from your face before using hairspray.

You check your phone again, this time going back over Steve’s text. “Dress up a little?” What does that mean? You shrugged, walking over to your closet and picking out a knee-length baby blue dress with black flats. You smirked, congratulating yourself on the perfect choice. You get dressed, checking yourself and smoothing out your dress in the mirror.

You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, shaking your head as you walk over to open it.

“Hey, doll.” Steve is standing outside your door, holding a bouquet of pink tulips. You smile up at him, opening the door wider so he can enter.

“You caught me off guard, I was waiting for you to press the button so I could let you up,” you say to him as he enters, closing the door behind him as he hands you the flowers.

He kisses you on the cheek and you blush. “Sorry, someone buzzed up a pizza delivery guy and I couldn’t wait to see you, so I snuck in with him. It was a good idea, too, because you look incredible.”

You blush an even brighter red. “Thank you, you clean up pretty well yourself. I’ll be right back.” You turn and head to the kitchen, sticking the flowers in a vase and filling it up with water. You set the vase on the counter, leaning over the sink for a minute. Get it together, (Y/N). You are fine. Breathe. You take a deep breath and bring the flowers out to the dining room table, then walk over and rejoin Steve.

“Shall we go?” He smiles at you, holding the door open. You walk out, with Steve following you as he closes the door. You lock the door, turning around to see Steve holding out his arm. You smile and link your arm with his, starting to walk toward the elevator. You press the button and he turns to face you as you wait. He looks at you, then smiles, reaching out to get a stray eyelash off your face.

“Make a wish,” he says. You do so, then blow the eyelash off his finger. He kisses your cheek, the reaches down to take your hand as the elevator doors open and you both step in.

This is bad. You thought as the elevator doors closed.

You were starting to fall for him.

Part II here!

Taglist: @sis-tafics @my-emotional-self

#Steve Rogers #captain america #Steve rogers x reader #marvel #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers Fanfic #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Steve Rogers imagine #captain america fanfiction #fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Captain Steve rogers

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itsclydebitches · 7 years

Text

AO3: x

Prompt: the Preacherkinkmeme’s prompt “Cassidy gets tortured and Jesse needs to let the guy feed on him to recover.”

~~~

Things were dead silent in this part of Texas. Nothing but desert and a dusty road—which hadn't seen another car in hours, if not days. It made the crying in the backseat quite loud, sort of ricocheting off the torn seats and seeping out the bullet holes in their roof. Jesse swallowed around the sound. Anyone passing might have thought they were hearing a ghost on this old, deserted stretch.

For all that though, Cass still cried like a human.

"Easy, easy," Jesse murmured. He wasn't much for comfort. Not unless you needed a free drink and an awkward pat on the back. This though... this was different. More. Cass was curled into a ball with his face pressed hard between his knees, the shiny surface of his back glinting in the twilight; raw strips of flesh casting shadows. It was bad. Holy fuck it was bad, yet Jesse couldn't help but think that Cass had suffered worse, hadn't he? What was a flaying to burning yourself alive just to prove a point?

Yeah. This was why he sucked at comfort.

Cass was shaking. No, he was rocking. With a curse Jesse realized that Tulip just wasn't getting back in time. Funny thing about escape plans: no one ever thought about the gas, and there was no one in this empty hell hole for Jesse to command. Tulip had slipped off her heels and hoofed it straight ahead over ten minutes ago, shouting promises over her shoulder that she'd come back with gas and supplies and anything else that might need. It was a shaky promise, but it calmed Jesse a little. He pictured the gravel outside, Tulip's bare feet, and he wondered just how torn up they'd be by the time she got back. They'd probably look a lot like Cass' back.

"Alright," Jesse said, mostly to himself. "Get your shit together, Custer. Alright."

If Cass heard him he gave no indication. His cries, far from tapering off, seemed to be growing in intensity. Jesse watched as dirtied fingers dug hard into Cass' jeans, knuckle-white from distress or outright pain. The hiccupping sobs were wet due to emotion or blood. Jesse just couldn't tell anymore. He ran hands through his hair, gripping the strands, and forced himself to look at Cass because he wasn't some fucking coward. No. Not with this. Because sure, men weren't supposed to cry, or if they did they did it alone. They did it soft. And somehow the vamparism just made it worse because what guy tore men's throats out and then sobbed like this, open and endless like a child? It felt wrong. It looked worse. But Jesse wouldn't turn away. It...

It was Cass.

His own hands were shaking as he clamored forward to the front of the car, snatching Tulip's almost-empty slushy cup from three days back. Before the kidnapping and everything went to hell. Jesse cranked down the manual window and tossed the remnants out into the dirt, nose curling at the smell and dead flies. That done, he fished in his back pocket for his swiss army knife.

Here Jesse paused. He didn't want to slice into his hand—he might need it later, in case those bastards caught up with them. Carving a chunk of his arm didn't seem particularly useful either. With a curse Jesse pulled up his jeans and cut a thin slice along his calf, muttering about how the movies always made this look so damn easy. Gravity helped though and the pain meant shit all to him. Within a minute Jesse had a couple inches of blood pooled into the slushy cup. He tugged his jeans back down without bothering to bind the wound.

"Here," he said. Fuck. Was that his voice shaking? Jesse ground his teeth and slid a little closer. He went to drape his arm around Cass' shoulders and then realized what a fucking colossally bad idea that would be. Jesus. What was wrong with him?

You're panicking, a little voice whispered and Jesse wanted to scream with laughter. He hadn't panicked through any of the shit he’d been dealt over the years. He hadn't even panicked when Tulip said, "My baby."

Maybe that was because, throughout it all, Tulip had never cried.

Jesse pushed the cup against Cass' knees, right between his shaking hands. "Drink," he said, insistent. "C'mon, Cass. Haven't you ever had Blue Raspberry Blood before?"

It didn't get him a weak chuckle like Jesse had hoped. If anything the sob that sounded right after his joke was more heart rending than all the others, so much so that Jesse nearly dropped the precious blood as his whole body went nerveless.

Fuck it, he thought.

His daddy had never taught him this, and Cass wasn't Tulip, but for all that there was hardly any hesitation as Jesse closed the distance between them, pressing a hand into the back of Cass' neck since he couldn't touch any lower. He felt the exact moment Cass felt him: the way his entire body tightened and then loosened like Jello. Tenderly, Jesse dragged his hand up into Cass' hair, petting him.

"Drink," he said again.

He'd thought about his child. How it would be to cradle and rock them, care in an abstract, all-encompassing way. Jesse felt like he had an infant under his hand now as Cass stirred—fragile and miraculous. Cass raised his head and Jesse helped him down the blood he'd collected. Steading the cup wasn't necessary, though in another sense it absolutely was.

Cass was still crying lightly. Tiny, jittering breaths that made swallowing difficult. Jesse didn't realize why until Cass finished and leaned his face into Jesse's palm, shutting his eyes.

"I thought they had you," he whispered, broken. "I thought they were doing this to you."

#Preacher #AMC Preacher #drabbles

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caspinn · 7 years

Text

Repeating Apologies - Chapter 2

Summary: Dean is searching for his soulmate to be able to cure himself from The Mark Of Cain. In this chapter, he gets a first impression of who/what he has to deal with, by the help of two psychic nannies... . Jup, you just read that!

Warnings: Violence!

“Poor Charlie, babysitting the witch…” Cas mumbled quietly from his place in the backseat.

“Yeah, well, someone needed to stay with that witch. We can’t leave Rowena locked up without a guard,” Sam answered. “And besides, she’ll manage, she’s badass.” The hunter then took a sip from the fresh smoothie he made himself that morning. They had been on the road for a few hours already, but so far it’s only been quiet. Dean hadn’t said much yet ever since they left, and he had been clenching his jaw from that moment – it’s a wonder it isn’t hurting yet.

To say that he had a rough morning was an understatement.

He was really doing his best not to be angry or irritated by anything Sam and Cas said, which was probably why the other two mostly kept quiet. Not that they usually talked about annoying or boring stuff, of course! Dean just had one of these mornings where only the sound of their voices would drive him mad.

The oldest brother had been biting his tongue for some hours now, and they still were another day’s ride away from the psychics called Rose and Violet. Sam had found their number in one of Uncle Bobby’s old books and he had immediately checked if the two ladies were still alive – one can never be too sure in this sort of life, after all – by calling them up. According to him, the two ladies sounded very glad – though unsurprised – that they could help the Winchesters. Despite better judgement, the two brothers and the angel quickly jumped in the Impala and hit the road.

“This smells fishy,” Dean finally said, staring at the road in front of him. After all these hours of silence, Dean was a bit surprised that he actually managed to get a sound out of his mouth.

“Oh, I really thought I bought the tacos with chicken this time? These damn fish tacos,” Castiel responded in confusion, looking at his own hands as if they had betrayed him.

“No, no!” Sam quickly countered. “You bought the right ones, Cas! Dean is talking about the psychics.” Sam couldn’t help but smile at Cas’ naivety, though. Dean’s frown only went harder and his knuckles turned white from squeezing the steering wheel.

Dean felt a sort of pain. It wasn’t physical, but rather mental. But, at the same time, it also felt like heartache, because Dean knew that he normally would have laughed with Cas’ bluntness if he didn’t have that stupid piece of scar on his arm.

Without the Mark, he would never have gotten so irritated by the Angel’s confusion. But, no, irritated was even too innocent to describe what Dean was feeling. Instead, his hands were itching to punch someone right in the face. If Cas wouldn’t be careful, Dean’s best friend would become the unnecessary victim.

And thinking about these kinds of things made Dean even more pissed off. No, he had to keep driving. He had to clear his head; thinking too much was already too much of a provocation to him.

When Dean saw the sign of a gas station that was nearby, it took all of his effort to get himself to the building slowly showing up. His jaw was still clenched shut, teeth strongly pressed together to keep himself from raging against his brother and best friend.

Once he pulled over, a short growl escaped from his lips as he aggressively announced that he needed a break. After that, he slammed his door shut, and took wide steps away from the car. He was glad Sam didn’t ask any questions, but it wasn’t like Dean gave him the chance to do that, anyway. After a while, Dean stopped his little, slow walk around the big gas station, and he took a seat on a block of concrete.

They continued their drive about half an hour later. Sam apparently had gotten inside the gas station to get some food for them, but Dean quickly found that he wasn’t hungry.

After driving a grand total of 20 hours, Dean should have been relieved to enter Blackstone. But he didn’t feel it.

“Do you really think this is the right house?” Dean asked, being suspicious as he looked the yellow cottage over, seeing it surrounded with thousands of pink and red flowers and bushes in the front yard.

“Well, uh, the address is right?” Sam responded, though not sounding certain at all. He, too, was looking at the house just like Dean. It definitely was the ‘loudest’ and most ‘notable’ building of the street, maybe even of the entire town. The mailbox was shaped like a cat and on their way to the front door the three men saw a whole collection of very white animal sculptures.

The doorbell looked like a little fairy and it made the sound of a cuckoo bird when Sam pressed the button. The three guys waited a few minutes before they heard someone opening the locks. When the door opened, they saw two old women smiling at them.

Dean stood behind Cas and Sam, trying to keep his annoyed scowl away as much as possible.

“Hi, uhm, Rose and Violet?” Sam asked politely.

“Yes, I’m Rose and-“

“I’m Violet.” The two old ladies didn’t have any differences to identify one or another with. Dean scoffed softly so nobody but Cas heard. He couldn’t help it, especially when the ladies started finishing each other’s sentences.

The two elder ladies signaled that the guys should follow them into their house by waving with their hands… together of course.

“We’re Sam and Dean Winchester and this is our loyal friend, Castiel,” Sam said to introduce themselves while walking through the hallway. Dean wondered if the introduction wasn’t unnecessary.

The wallpaper looked like an explosion of flowers and everywhere Dean looked, he saw all kinds of mirrors. Small ones, big bombastic ones. More of them were just laying on little decorative tables.

“Oh an angel in our midst, how exciting!” one of the two replied. This answer raised a lot of eyebrows, because how could they know? Dean didn’t recall Sam introducing Cas as an Angel?

“That’s smart,” Cas suddenly said from behind Dean, and the hunter and his brother both turned around to see Cas staring at an old photograph hanging against the wall. It seemed like it was one of the first colored pictures that was ever made, and Dean noticed two young ladies on it, one with bright pink hair and the other with purple. “Coloring your hair in the color your names describe.”

Dean snorted, wondering what exactly Cas described as ‘smart’ here. One of the old ladies walked closer and took a quick look at the picture before laughing as well.

“Oh, no silly! Rose had purple hair, I had pink hair! We didn’t want to be too obvious!” the woman – Dean suspected it was Violet – answered. Then she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along to where her sister was. The brothers silently followed behind them.

They led the boys to their living room. This room was less bombastic, but there were still vases with big flowers and mirrors everywhere.

“Take a seat, boys!” the other one – probably Rose – said happily, so the three men sat down in a huge, soft but comfortable sofa.

“Haha, you’re a giant, wow! You almost make our sofa look small!” Rose, Dean guessed, laughed at Sam while the other one, Violet, disappeared in the kitchen. Sam gave them a little smile for the joke he had probably already heard a thousand times.

“Here’s some pie,” Violet said when she came back from the kitchen with a tasty-looking pie with all kinds of fruits on it.

Sam took a piece out of civility. Dean simply shook his head when they offered him one wich made Cas look at him with that annoying sad look. True, pie was sacred no matter what form it came in, but Dean simply didn’t feel hungry at the time.

The two grannies sat down in the sofa in front of the guys. There was a little glass coffee table in between them, and on that were two small mirrors, about the size of a standard sheet of paper.

“So, Winchester brothers, you are looking for a soul mate?” Violet asked. The two ladies sure didn’t mince around. “Will you give us your hand, dear boy?” The women were both reaching out for Dean with their arms hovering over the table. Dean quickly looked at Sam and Cas when he laid his hands in the palms of the two women.

“Before we begin-“

“-we want you to know how we will proceed.”

“Now we’re adjusting-“

“-to your weird energy. After that we’ll-“

“-start to focus and some things, signs or words we’ll see-“

“-we’ll write down on the mirror.”

So they used there mirrors for their sessions; that explained why the house was filled with them. Dean frowned a bit more, mostly because of the headache he was getting with the two women constantly finishing each other’s sentences.

“But, why mirrors?” Sam asked curiously. The two ladies smiled at the younger brother while still holding on to Dean’s hands. Dean, in turn, was starting to feel uncomfortable with that.

“Because mirrors open possibilities, worlds, dimensions…” Violet answered dreamily. “Hush now, it’s time!” And the two ladies closed their eyes. When Sam looked at Dean, Dean mouthed the word ‘vague’. Sam nodded, seeming just as puzzled as Dean was feeling.

Dean felt really uneasy and hoped his hands wouldn’t start sweating. The two ladies were dead silent. Dean didn’t want to interrupt them, he started counting the flowers in the living room. When he counted 21 tulips, 4 lilies and 17 roses, his headache got even stronger, and it got more and more intense until Dean almost pulled out his hands to press them against his forehead.

The moment the pain seemed to be getting too much, he saw a thick blackness. The whole room disappeared around him. Sam and Cas were no longer there, just gone. Through the blackness he felt… impressions? Very, very negative impressions and emotions.

It was too much at the same time, like Dean had stumbled in a thick black wave. And that was when he started seeing glimpses trough the dark cloud he was currently in. Dean shockingly broke out of this weird and extremely uncomfortable trance by pulling his hands back as quick as like they were being held in fire. Rose and Violet opened their eyes and looked shocked at Dean.

“You saw it as well?” Rose asked in utter surprise and confusion. Dean nodded while he rubbed his eyes. The other woman then hummed next to her sister.

“It must be a very strong connection then,” Violet clarified to herself. Then she looked at Dean. “We can’t assure that what you will see will be pleasant. Are you sure you still want to do this?”

Well, Dean didn’t come all this way to stop a reading because of a little complication as stupid as the freaking weird and sick vibes and impressions he got from it. Sam looked at Dean and seemed to understand that Dean didn’t like the little experience he just had in his head. It was clear now that he wasn’t going to like the whole experience of the reading at all, mildly said. Still, Dean nodded again and laid his hands back in the ladies’ hands.

For Sam and Cas, it was probably quite nerve-wrecking. They could only watch the three of them turning white, looking shocked, desperate and angry. All they could do was wait until Dean and the two sisters opened their eyes.

At first, they nothing, instead only felt certain emotions, impressions. This wasn’t what usually happened when they start their reading, Dean felt one of the sisters think inside his head. But the two women seemed to know that their profession wasn’t really predictable. They felt like something negative and heavy started running through their veins and they started seeing glimpses through the blackness.

At that moment the negative feeling split in two… no wait, three? Dean couldn't really do anything but watch as Rose and Violet followed three strains of impressions which seemed extremely hard. He was also aware that his headache was returning. They had to hurry.

One of the strains felt panicked when Rose wanted to focus on it. Dean felt the trouble she had to go through to get to it, and he almost thought she’d get a panic attack. Rose finally saw something, revealing it to Dean as well since Dean saw everything she saw

Before Dean really understood it, Dean found himself looking through somebody else’s eyes, staring at his own hands. Much to his surprise, the person whose head he was currently in seemed to have his hands strongly holding another man by the shoulders. The man’s face was covered with blood, and so were his fingers – which were desperately trying to pull Dean’s hands away from his body. The man seemed to be shivering. The strongest emotion Dean felt was anger, especially when, for a short few seconds, his gaze passes over the lifeless body lying on the floor.

Much to his surprise, he saw one of the steady hands reaching for the other person’s head. It wasn’t anything new to him when his fingers touched the man’s forehead. He had seen Cas do that multiple times before. So he wasn’t surprised when he saw the eyes of the man turning into bright lights. Dean expected the man to fall down, dead. But instead the vision suddenly was shut down with a shock. Dean never saw what happened, did the man die or not? He probably did.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the strong feeling of disgust and fear coming from the psychic woman he was travelling with. Right, she might not have seen anything like this before. It wasn’t too surprising when she lost the connection, and despite trying to get it back, it didn’t seem to work. Right before Rose shut down, she gave Dean a signal. It took a while before he got it. She wanted him to know that the panicked, scared feeling she got came from the person they were looking through. They were the emotions that person was feeling, and they were so intense that Rose couldn’t shake them off.

Suddenly, as Rose shut down, Dean’s mind found Violet’s instead. He felt her inside his head, but both were just moving around more in the darkness. He felt the effort she was making to get a grip on one of the three strains, seemingly avoiding the one Rose had just been connected to.While the first strain had been panicked, this one seemed extremely calm. It was almost sickening, Dean found. When Violet wrapped her mind around the strain, both of them were once again looking through somebody else’s eyes.

This time they saw a young woman, panicked and exhausted, trying as quickly as possible to put her pants back on. The girls’ make up was completely leaked out by the tears running over cheeks. Dean also saw an aggressive looking man who was suddenly way too close.

Then Dean’s hands – well technically, not his, but okay – grabbed the man and knock him against the wall of the alley they were standing in. The man tried to fight back and his eyes looked furious while he was spitting ugly words. But the person Violet and Dean were looking through stayed calm. It wasn’t a happy calmness, but more a worn calmness. Like this person already went through this again and again it was almost like routine to him or her – Dean didn’t really know if it was a woman or man.

One hand held the man with a painful and tight grasp while the person lifted their other hand and then pressed two fingers on the man’s forehead. The man simply squeaked before falling on the ground.

Well, only his body fell, because Dean saw the man also standing where his hands kept him, but now he was more… glowing? And somehow also kind of fading? Dean had seen enough in his life to know that that was probably the man’s soul the way a psychic would see it. The soul looked like nothing Dean had seen before, nothing alike to the small ball of light he remembers Death holding when he returned Sam’s back to them. At that exact moment a lot of murmur went through Violet’s ears and her perception started fading back to the moving blackness, bringing Dean along with her again.

(In the meantime, Sam and Cas were looking at the ladies who were writing unreadable things on their mirrors with closed eyes. Their facial expressions went from shock to disgust to surprise to incomprehension. It sure didn’t look positive at all and the reading took a suspicious long time.

“Dean really shouldn’t drive after this,” Cas whispered to Sam. Sam nodded in agreement.)

Now there was only one more strain of the impression left. The two ladies, both having recovered from whatever they just saw, wrapped their minds around it, taking Dean along with them without any of them having choice on the matter.

Once they were back inside somebody’s head, Dean suddenly felt cold, emotionless, uncaring. In front of them, there was a little boy, lying in bed. The kid looked pale and ill. Next to him stood a woman who took a little box of pills from the kid’s nightstand. With her other hand, the woman opened the boy’s mouth. At the exact moment the woman wanted to put the pills into the kid’s mouth, the body Dean was currently inside of took action.

The person planted a knife into the woman’s back, surely touching some vital organs there. Dean hadn’t even been aware he was holding the weapon in the first place. The woman screamed and fell on the bed, over the sick boy who didn’t notice and kept his eyes firmly shut. The woman wasn’t dead – not yet – instead moaning angrily and trying to get up.

The person rose his hand and at exactly the same time Dean felt his fingers snap, the woman’s neck broke with a horrifying noise, reminding Dean of Lucifer inside Sam’s body, snapping Bobby’s neck that exact same way.

With a loud gasp, Rose and Violet let go of Deans hands, pulling him all the way back into the real world where everything was suddenly so bright. Dean felt Sam pulling on his arm to get his attention, but Dean just held up his hand to stop him. The two women looked at each other and started mumbling some incoherent words.

“Did you see-?”

“-yes! Have you noticed-?”

“Exactly!”

Right before Dean could get angry at them for being mysterious like that again after everything that just happened, the ladies looked at the three men.

“Sorry, boys, we need to do some research,” they both said at the same time. They took each others hands and closed their eyes again, not paying any more attention to the three guests in their living room.

“How did it go?” Dean heard Sam ask next to him. When his eyes were finally accustomed back to the reality that was their world, Dean simply shrugged.

“I have no clue, but I'm never, ever doing that again!” Dean shuddered for a moment, thinking back of whatever strange vision he had just witnessed.

“Of course it was surely vague,” Cas replied calmly. “The search for a soul mate has never been easy. I heard it’s quite a challenge.”

“And you’re only thinking about telling me that now?” Dean muttered bitterly, shaking his head once more and rubbing his eyes. “The Mark probably didn’t make it easier, you guys should’ve seen it… it was just… strange.” Dean didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet. He wasn’t a psychic; maybe everything he saw was normal and needed to be decoded some way by Rose and Violet. There was probably just some sort of hidden message in these people randomly murdering other people.

After a what felt like hours but were only a few minutes, Rose and Violet opened their eyes again and faced the guys who were sitting in their ginormous sofa.

“We have weird news,” one of the said. Dean didn’t even care who it was that spoke.

“Great!” he said, not even hiding his sarcasm anymore. Sam gave him a poke in the side, and Dean slapped his arm away.

Violet looked at Rose and Rose started explaining. “So, we’ll lead you through what we saw for Sam and Castiel. And afterwards, Dean, we’ll explain what it all meant.”

The three of them nodded in agreement. Rose then continued.

“We didn’t see one person, we saw three-“

“Persons, Rose?” Violet interrupted. Rose glared at her and waved at her to shut her up.

“I’m trying to explain it here, one thing at a time!” Ah, the way they acted reminded Dean a little bit of Sam. Of course, whatever they were talking about, Dean had no clue.

“Is it normal that you saw three… persons? I thought you could only have one soulmate?” Sam asked when the twins seemed a bit distracted by their bickering.

“Not so quickly, boy, let us explain. This isn’t easy to understand so you better pay attention,” Violet said.

“So, these three persons punished some bad people: a murderer, a rapist and a lady with a very severe case of the syndrome of Munchausen by Proxy.”

“That’s that thing when people make their kids ill on purpose, right? Like that woman we saw who wanted to give her kid those pills?” Dean asked, just to be sure. The women nodded.

“Well, that’s very simply put, but yes.” Violet answered. “And we are sure that one of these three persons is your soul mate but-“

“- we just couldn’t get a grip on who it is exactly,” Rose finished for her sister. Dean then sighed.

“Okay,” he said while trying to remain calm. ‘Did you get their names at least?”

Rose nodded “Yes, yes, when we checked each other’s visions, we went looking for identity cards and stuff to get their names, but…” Oh, now they were hesitating… What was it now? This sure didn’t feel right.

“What? What is it?” Sam asked impatiently. Violet seemed to think for a second, then replied.

“They aren’t normal people,” she started.

“We think they are an extremely rare species. Well, more like a breed whose existence hasn’t really been proven before,” Rose continued.

“Wait, what? My soul mate isn’t even human?” Dean asked, baffled at this sudden revelation.

“Of course your soul mate is human! He or she just isn’t a normal kind of human. The three handled magic like it was their daily tool.” Rose explained. Great, Dean thought to himself. He was surely stuck with a friggin’ witch or something.

“We think they are a species that were made era’s ago when the humanity started acting like brainless murder machines and evil makers for the first time after God created humanity. We believe they are made to destroy the dark part of humanity. But there exists no lore about them, because there was no proof, they were even too mysterious to become myths. Besides, they only seemed to be born when the world was loaded by the misery that humanity caused. Last time other psychics spotted them was during world war two. These persons didn’t survive, so these were definitely new ones.” Violet continued

“Nobody ever gave a name to this species, until that woman Bernadette came along!” Rose looked furious. “These species were a secret that only real psychics knew about. Hell, we were the only people seeing them, why would we discuss something like that with normal people? They would freak out! But no, Bernadette, a young psychic who hadn’t even seen one of these special persons in her whole life, decided she wanted to research this species together with this innocent, parapsychologist Nancy!”

“Yes, so after a while this Nancy, a smart girl, found some correct characteristics, but of course she never found out about the magic part. So Nancy unknowingly described them as peaceful, filled with empathy, just some real good doers who appear to have psychic abilities like telepathy. And Bernadette stopped helping her because she didn’t know anything about it! She didn’t have her facts straight! There was only one positive result from her craving to become a famous parapsychologist, and that is that we have a name for the species now-“

“The Indigo Children,’ Cas interrupted their continuous rambling. Good, it was driving Dean mad! He wasn’t even able to follow anymore! Who was Bernadette? Who was Nancy? Did that even matter? Still, he threw Cas a questioning glance, and the Angel cleared his throat as he clarified. “They’re creations who are born like normal humans, but they are each in turn gifted with angelic, demonic and human powers. They appear to be very creative with these powers and combine them in ways no other creature can.”

Well, that didn’t sound dangerous. How was it that they had never heard about this before?

“They all have these three power sources, but one Child is more bound with the angelic power, one more with the demonic power and one is more bound with the human power.”

Dean then nodded, and next to him, Sam seemed to follow as well. Despite that they were actually able to understand whatever Cas was saying, it still mostly sounded like nonsense to Dean.

“Okay, but why the name Indigo Children?” Sam asked.

“Because Nancy saw a lot of talented, sensitive, spiritually gifted and empathic children getting born with a bright, indigo aura. She linked this to the powers she was studying,” Rose explained. Dean sighed, why did he see this coming? Couldn’t his soul mate just be a normal bus driver of mailman? Was that so hard?

“So, how do we find them?” Sam asked, he was ready to take action and solve this problem that was haunting them for a long time now.

“Well,” Violet replied, “we saw their names and the countries they live in-“

“-but we didn’t see their exact location. Seeing three people at the same time is… hard and complicated,” Rose filled in. Dean couldn’t blame them, he had seen what they saw and he thought it was a miracle that the two ladies found the identity of these Indigo’s in the first place.

“I still don’t get why I can’t drive,” Dean grumbled, sitting next to Sam, but this time in the passenger seat. His younger brother was currently driving his baby, which normally Dean did allow, but right now he could have used the distraction of the road. His mood had sunk very deep after Rose and Violet gave them the identity and location from the Indigo Children.

“Why aren’t they all just living in freaking America?!” He grumbled right after complaining about the car.

“The US isn’t the only country in the entire world, Dean,” Sam replied calmly. Of course, both of them knew exactly what was bothering Dean so much right now; international travel. That meant that the three of them surely had to jump into a plane to get there. Oh, where had the time gone when Cas would have just flown them there in only a matter of seconds?

“Cas, can you read their info again, please?” Dean asked. He could probably already mouth the details along with Cas, since it was about the twelfth time he asked for this. Castiel cleared his throat and started reading the little piece of paper the psychic sisters had given them… again.

“Valo Watson from England, male. Eryn Mundis from Greece, female. Liv Reinaerts from Belgium, female.”

#winchester sister #dean winchester #sam winchester #charlie #psychic #mark of cain #mark of cain cure #castiel

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